#I'm just saying it's the bare minimum and if they are unwilling to do even that

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

Pt.2 to Prodigy! Gojo Satoru (Readers pov : From the beginning)

___________________________________________________

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who was raised by your grandparents your whole life after a tragic accident that took away both your parents, making you an orphan in just a day.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who excels in all your classes with the bare minimum, hiding your true talents for years on end just so that you don't have to leave your grandparents behind. You know that they'll force you to move away for further studies if they find out afterall, they love you and want only the best for you.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who adores helping out in the bakery, why waste money in hiring workers when you're right there? You're eager and young; your grandparents pleads with you to study and enjoy your last year of middle-school life instead but no, you don't need to. Having a photogenic memory has its advantages, add your problem-solving skills and easily adapting body with it and you're unstoppable so no, you're not gonna let them work alone.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who notices that your grandmother is coughing a lot more than usual and your grandfather is clearly hiding something from the two of you. You saw him shred a piece of paper almost furiously which was very unlike him, he was usually the calm one. You catch sight of a shredded piece of paper on the floor with the letters 'ojo' on it .

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who panics when you find your grandmother lying on the floor, breathing shallowly. Anyone would think she's dead, you hurriedly rush her to the hospital.

"It's old age. It's finally catching up to her, nothing we can do about it," they say. Holding her frail, unconscious hands upto your lips, you kiss it gently.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who breaks the news about your grandmother collapsing to your grandfather and watch his heart shatter, your own heart quickly following after his. He finally breaks down and tells you the news that had him stressing for weeks on end, the bakery had to be sold. You can't believe your ears, the bakery had to be sold?!

"What do you mean, grandpa? You're selling the bakery?!" You whisper-yell, your mind unable to process the information as you watch your grandfather tearfully nod his head.

"But why?! Is it because of grandma?! We have enough money to pay for her hospital fees! Besides, we've been running this bakery for so long! We can't just sell it," you say softly, tears springing up in your eyes.

"I don't wanna do this but I have no either choice. Either we sell it or we get evicted with nothing to our name," he answers tearfully, his trembling hands holding onto your hands.

"But why?" Your voice cracks, feeling pathetic for the first time in your life. "Something about a construction, sweet pea. This foolish grandfather of yours destroyed the paper before reading it and now you have to face the consequences, I'm sorry," he whispers. You reassure him tearfully that it wasn't his fault, hugging him tight.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who finds out that the whole neighborhood was being bought one by one and the bakery was the last man standing. Unwilling to part with the land, you have a firm hold on it despite being so young; it wasn't a particularly hard concept to understand, for you at least.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who's closing the bakery up for the night but gets an unwanted visitor instead; you watch a black sedan pulling up, a white set of hair popping out of the back seat and gazing at the bakery sineage.

"He's weird," you think, creeped out by the fact that he was wearing tinted sunglasses at night. Who even does that? You clear your throat as you watch him enter, " we're closed for the night."

"Is it though?"

"It is," you answer, biting back a remark at his smug smile.

"Well, it's open now," he says, pulling down one of the up-turned chair and sitting on it, "manspreading of course, I'm not surprised," you sigh to yourself.

"I want a hot chocolate, lots of marshmallows with it," he orders, flicking his wrist at you as he looks around the bakery with a satisfied hum. You roll your eyes," coming right up," you mumble, opting to get it done and over with.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who's surprised by his eyes as you put the mug down in front of him, catching a look of the bright cerulean blues from above, hidden beneath the glasses.

"Shame that I didn't find this place sooner, the hot chocolate's good," he says between sips, looking at you...well at least you think he is, his glasses makes it difficult to know where he's looking. "Well now that you know you're welcome to come again," you answer with a small smile at the compliment, the bakery's hot chocolate was good. A skill your grandparents made sure to drill in you, the art of making hot chocolate.

He shakes his head," that won't be possible since this place is getting sold anyways, a shame really," he says, making you freeze. "It's not going anywhere," you say firmly, confused at the amused glance you're getting. Gulping his drink down, he slams the mug on the table with a smile," We'll see about that," he hums, pulling out his wallet and putting down an exorbitant amount of money on the table. You clear your throat, staring at him with surprise," that's too mu-"

"For your troubles," he cuts you off, you catch a quick sight of his ID before he snaps it shut and walks off. 'Gojo Satoru'. 'Gojo'.....you think back on the letters you saw before- 'ojo' and suddenly it all clicks; the white hair, the visit, the attitude.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who researches up on him and finds out that he's only two years older than you. Graduating middle school after two months, you cheerfully rush to the hospital to visit your grandma to tell her about your day, only to find out she died an hour ago. Your find your grandpa collapsed besides her bed unable to bear with the grief.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who is forced to sell the bakery to take care of your bedridden grandfather and continue your schooling simultaneously, rage running through high-school. Applying in the same university built upon the land that you grew up on, your fond memories and life all erased with no hint of it ever being there.

Baker's granddaughter!Reader who blames the Gojo clan for your misfortune, you were perfectly happy before they came and ruined your life. Your childhood home, gone. Your loving grandmother, gone. Your grandfather, bedridden and in a comatose state. "It's all their fault," you think.

"Only if they never interfered," you say bitterly, voice soft as you hold your grandfather's hand in yours. The beeping machine besides him the only proof that he's still breathing, still living. "I'll get our revenge for all the things they put us through, I promise," you continue, letting go of his hand and kissing his forehead softly.

"I'll give them what they gave us ten-fold, grandpa. You just wait and watch, I'll be back."

Vengeful! Reader who gets in the university with a whopping never seen before percentage and an ever-growing conviction; you were gonna burn this university and the Gojo clan to the ground, slowly but surely.

__________________________________________________

Series? I don't know what we call it but yea. Part.2, a small outlook on your life.

Pt.1 Prodigy Gojo Satoru

Should I write a spin-off where Reader is just a normal student without the tragic backstory?

Tags : @ritsatoru @virtuapicklequirkreader

Masterlist

#nuhuhwinniepooh #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #satoru x y/n

[macsimagines]

hii! Can I please request a headcannon of Izana, Taiju, and Kazutora where they try to normalize the kidnapped life their darling lives with them, but darling just wants to go home? if you don’t want to write this it’s okay!

I'm shocked to say this is the first imagine I've ever had with this scenario. I never thought about it till now but I figure this would've been a common trope?

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, PHYSICAL ABUSE, PSCHOLOGICAL TORTURE, MENTION OF KIDNAPPING, ISOLATION

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

Ok so depending on what type of darling you are and how he fell for you is really going to vary this type of situation.

If you two were in a relationship beforehand and he took you, he's going to treat your situation like it's the most natural thing in the world. Almost like he's delusional, but of course he isn't. Knows damn well you're an unwilling captive.

But he's good at mind games darling. Gaslight and gatekeeping KING, you're going to question whether or not this isn't something you always wanted.

If you never had a relationship though? If you had out right rejected him and honestly wanted nothing to do with Izana? Its going to be torture.

Isolation in a dark cold room with the bare minimum necessities, you're only form of contact is when Izana gives it to you. And that's when he treats you like you're an absolute queen.

When you scream and misbehave you're alone for days again, when you're quiet and docile you're rewarded with his warmth and affection.

He's smart and he's going to condition you to want him.

"I'm back, princess. What's it been, a week? You ready to eat some food again? Come here, I'll feed you."

Yandere!Taiju Shiba

Boy lets hope you've got a body made of steel, he'll beat the shit out of his 'wife' until they learn to behave.

He loves you. In his own sick and demented way, he truly loves you with all his heart. But if his wife keeps acting out, Taiju will get physical to put you in your place.

Tries to start small. Slaps across the cheek, as light as he can make it when your complaints get too loud and maybe spankings over his knee wen you're too bratty (and he's feeling kinky).

But on days where work was too much and he doesn't have the patience to come home and you're being a little shit he'll straight up punch you. Beat you down until he knows you're too weak to do anything other than lie on the ground.

Eventually, you'll learn to behave and when you do, he's going to treat you as gentle as his little housewife deserves. I think Taiju wants what he never had as a kid.

That picture perfect, "Honey, I'm home!" shit, with you waiting in the kitchen making him dinner. He might even bring you flowers, just because that's what the picture perfect home looks like to him.

You'll have such nice dresses, and only the best and classiest jewelry.

So long as his house is in perfect order, his meals are made how he wants them and you're on your best behavior. Don't ruin the illusion now.

Yandere!Kazutora Hanemiya

This boy is so deluded into thinking you two are living a perfectly normal life together. It doesn't matter how hard you protest or cry he really does think you love him and are where you are supposed to be.

Freak completely remodeled his own living space to match your own, so that; "It's just like home for you! Makes it all easier right baby?"

When that doesn't make you happy, and the fact that all of the stolen items from your old home are there don't seem to pacify you, its on to the second part of his plan.

Memory making. He's got this Creep-tastic wall of all the things you're going to do together. Pictures of both of your faces glues over wedding magazine photos and happy couples he found on Instagram.

"And this is when we'll go on our third year anniversary to the place where you bumped into me for 4th time back in June twenty-second two-thousand and- why are you backing away?"

Things are already normal to him. The universe is finally aligned and you're with your soulmate. All that's left is to get married and get started on making your big family with 5+ kids.

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere izana #yandere taiju shiba #yandere kazutora hanemiya

[massharp1971]

Hey! I saw your post on censorship in ao3 and the reality of grooming culture, this one: https://at.tumblr.com/massharp1971/hate-censorship-but-troubled-by-the-discourse-on/t4wxft92tqcb I wanted to comment. Ao3 was created as a reaction to people who claimed to be "protecting the children" and then turned around and targeted minority/lgbt spaces overwhelmingly. I think that relates very closely back into why many people on ao3 are unwilling to talk rationally about it now. Ao3 is a hotbed full of people who are sick of censorship and being told that they are horrible people, so they are pretty unwilling to go through that again. One thing I've heard a lot is "all lgbt people are predators" it's also that kind of thinking that lands the entire group back at square one. Once again, people in ao3 are unwilling to compromise/change because now their entire existence is being vilified. I would like a solution that makes things safer, but often times the problem has been that people have made situations worse by hiding bigotry behind protectiveness. For a lot of people on ao3, they ignore and somewhat judge the unhealthy fics, but usually elect to ignore it since in the past nothing good ever came of approaching the problem. What would you present as a solution? The main problem here is that people on ao3 are pretty unwilling to approach the topic because every attempt to solve it thus far has been a massive failure. Also, just generally demonizing one another. In my experience, regardless of what they've done when you demonize another person they become unwilling to consider what you're actually saying. Your example of Jenny reminded me of that. Jenny would probably become unwilling to face the problem because she believes it makes her an evil person, so then she avoids it like the plague and makes the existing problem worse.

CW CSA mentions This is really important and I'm glad you asked. Given my identity and my career, not exactly issues I'm unaware of.

My solution is we need to have hard conversations and talk about stuff out in the open. My solution is discourse that doesn't get shut down. If we want a site that contains adult material, the bare minimum is to be able to have grown-up conversations about it. We need to wrestle with ethics in our writing and we need to think a lot about consent and perpetuating harmful structures because we're part of a community and communities should take care of each other even when we disagree - especially taking care of the most marginalised among us, who are more vulnerable to all kinds of abuse.

One thing I want the free speech to say is that it is absolutely despicable when people throw pedophilia or bestiality, both of which cannot be consensual, alongside consensual LGBTQIA+ or kinky identities, or sex work. Especially when the very structures that enable child abuse stifle queer and other marginalised folx.

Whichever side people are on, that has to stop.

I'm not in favour of censorship, but I do not accept that my freedom as a queer person has anything whatsoever to do with people's right to read stories about adults fucking children "as long as they're well tagged". These are separate discussions and it's harmful to LGBTQIA+ people when they get dragged into this by both sides. "Protect the children from the kinksters and queers" is a vile right-wing authoritarian narrative, but equally "words can never harm anyone and people should be free to do and say whatever they like" is a vile right-wing libertarian narrative. I have no time for either of these positions.

LGBTQIA people and kinksters and sex workers should be safe and protected because we're not doing anything harmful just by being any of those things. This is, or should be, an entirely separate discussion to the pros and cons of censorship of morally reprehensible content.

My rights are not going to be won by some wildly generalised ideals that somehow mean we can't even talk about the fact we have child abusers in our spaces, because child abusers are everywhere and we really, really need to talk about this more. Abuse thrives on silence.

I think the following article could be helpful in thinking about an alternative to either a) kneejerk prohibition moves that never work and often cause harm or b) pretending like there isn't harmful af stuff on ao3, as there is everywhere (including places where prohibition is attempted). I cannot tell you the sick, abusive harrassment I've received for writing what I wrote, from people who are apparently pro free speech but not when someone says something they disagree with because they've wilfully misinterpreted it. Apparently, writing about fucking children is a-ok but writing about challenging grooming culture and having adult discussions about it makes me a terrible person who must be silenced at all costs. Interesting, isn't it? I don't want it censored but I don't have to like it. At the heart of anti-censorship arguments there has to be an understanding that we will be defending the right of material to exist that we personally find deeply troubling.

Nor is disapproving of something or wanting to discourage it necessarily demonising. To me, it's about having good boundaries and an ethic of care. Let's talk to people more about consent, self-consent, and how we uphold or dismantle harmful power structures within our spaces.

#csa mention #censorship #ao3

[riotseas]

starter for @taleswritten , joshua gives clive a gift .ᐟ

One would assume Joshua's got up to a lot in his years. Born into royalty, raised to lead the Duchy—he had his work cut out for him. Alas, he was hardly ten summers before his life upon the throne was stripped away, thrusting him into a world beyond shadows and under hoods.

Though he was able to maintain some sort of excitement by traveling, it wasn't anything like a vacation. There wasn't time to browse stores or pay for services that weren't but bare minimum, nor even a moment's rest; and most definitely, there wasn't time to dabble in the arts of gift giving.

He's not sure when's the last time he gave someone a gift. He has to guess it would've been to Clive or Jill way back when, but to say it with absolute certainty is when he begins to doubt.

Now, Joshua's out of practice and of course, it has to ail him the worst at the age of twenty-eight, when he's far more cognitive and can do better than little handmade cards or rocks he found when he was allowed to go outside.

Several weeks had gone by before he finally settled on the perfect gift for his brother.

For all that he knows about Clive, he is considerably hard to shop for. What to get a man that hardly takes a break from work? If it isn't something that can aid him in battle, all it'd be good for is collecting dust on a shelf. So it has to be useful, something he could keep on his person.

The gift he decides on is admittedly more for the both of them than it is for just Clive. Unless of course he's unwilling to use it as intended, or, worst case scenario—he hates it. Then Joshua could just pawn it off somewhere to be recycled. Still, he hopes that won't happen, and he's not sure there's any other way to bring up the concept than to just show Clive directly.

This proves to be a challenge in more ways than one, as well as the only time a downside to sharing a room with Clive has shown its face; as he can't exactly keep the present hidden from someone that might come upon it accidentally during planning or deliveries. So, with no other options, Joshua goes to Jill—and just like he knew she would, she agreed to help him hide the gift with teasing smiles.

Although that problem was solved, there's still the issue of whether or not Joshua can actually keep the secret. He's not exactly the best liar, and an even worse one when it comes to his brother. He knew he'd have to act fast once Clive began asking if he was alright more than usual. There's only so many I'm Fine's he can give before those big, watery, blue-eyes pierce his heart and he breaks.

The chance comes sooner rather than later, on a quiet evening in the solar. A quick and near leisurely mission that morning, meant the rest of the day was spent lazing about replying to missives and sipping on hot drinks. Joshua stuck to reading on the couch to give Clive the space to work, but his means of passing the time slowly goes to waste when he starts getting antsy yet again. The gift stays on his mind no matter how many pages he flips through, and eventually offers to rid their empty cups to prepare.

The transition is as smooth as he could've hoped—Jill is already sitting on a stool at the bar chatting up a couple patrons when Joshua swings by. She practically glows when he tells her he's ready, and quickly goes to retrieve it, placing it in his shaky palms with a gentleness that makes him flush.

Joshua's attempts at ridding himself of nerves goes about as well as he could've expected. He pauses in front of the door to the solar and looks down at the box that contains Clive's gift. He picks at the ribbon tied round the top, itching to undo it for the tenth time just to make sure the present is in there and made precisely how he'd imagined it. Nevertheless, he manages to fight the urge, and with a wavering breath he steps back into their chambers.

❝ Clive ? ❞

He cringes at the way his voice sounds, and refuses to meet his brother's gaze. Instead feigning interest at something on the floor.

❝ May I steal you for a moment ? ❞

#THE PHOENIX SLEEPS IN THE ROSEBED [ A; ] #taleswritten

[inun4ki]

RP Meme: From Yura, "Is that you, Kaede? I almost forgot what your voice sounded like."

"...You and I both know you couldn't forget, even if you wanted to," Kaede groaned, going to great lengths to conceal the sting within Yura's words, unwilling to properly address his recent absences lest he concern, frustrate, or otherwise offend him. It wasn't his intention to go completely silent, to ignore him as he dove head-long into his mission for the better part of a few months, but...putting some distance between them, he felt, had been the right thing to do. If they spent too much time together, too much time talking to one another, then the likelihood Yura's wife would become suspicious increased - and he didn't want to take any more risks, not when he couldn't be certain of Yura's safety.

This was...the only thing he could do to protect him. Staying away. Keeping communication to a relative bare minimum. Removing the papertrail from the equation so there'd be fewer threads for that woman to grasp and weave together-- But it ate him up inside, like a thousand curses ripping and tearing him apart from within, as there was no greater comfort than the familiar warmth of Yura's voice. He only wanted be with him, to spend their days living without fear of the retribution they'd faced, tangle into desperate knots when at last they were alone and the need for connection swallowed them whole - he wanted to be there, alongside him, through everything. Retreating, hiding himself away from him, burying himself in work...it was just the only way he could--

He grit his teeth, palming his forehead as it grew clammier and clammier.

In truth, he wanted to run away now, but he'd already locked the door to Yura's office, standing in the doorway, gaze locked on the back of that head of pretty blond. It was slightly longer than the last time Kaede saw him, but not a hair had been out of place, and there were no wrinkles in his clothes; Nothing in his office had changed either, everything still sitting right where he left it, down to the photo of Yura and his wife... He swallowed thinly, bare feet reluctantly slideing across the floor.

"Of course it's me," he rasped, doing his best to follow through and approach Yura from behind, fingers steadily curling around and gently rubbing into his shoulders. He was just as warm, too...firm, so strong underneath his clothes. Kaede's fingers travelled further, guiding his arms around Yura, chin resting atop his head. Gentle, unassuming, casual even - he couldn't bear to throw himself so transparently at Yura's mercy, sorry as he was for his wordless departure and subsequent disappearance. But he gave him a hard squeeze, embracing him with all he could possibly give, pressing a few chast kisses to his crown, breathing in his scent--

It took every ounce of strength he had not to fall apart under the weight of his combined shame and yearning, willing Yura not to turn around, not to hold him in turn. But the silence...was telling.

"How's business? Booming, as usual?" he tried, but the words were as stale as they sounded, canned and pathetic. It would be obvious, now, to Yura that Kaede was pointedly avoiding the elephant in the room, and he needn't say a word at all to know for sure - Kaede made it too easy, always so guilty. The price to pay for a close relationship of any kind; Yura would always know how to push his buttons and get him to spill his beans, and now was no different. He couldn't take this either. He felt like he was going insane just standing there, leaning over the back of Yura's hair, hugging him as if it made any difference. He gulped heartily and withdrew, arms falling to his sides.

"I'm...sorry, Yura-dono. For leaving you alone, the way I did." His stomach lurched and his nerves caught fire, but he had too few choices, and Yura had mattered far more than his pride. He would've hated it if he'd done the same. His eyes stung. "But I fear...it might be best for use to spend less time together. She came so close last time, I thought if she asked you about me, she'd have less to worry about if you said you didn't know and meant it. Stupid as that sounds. I-I should've left a note, or at least called you so you knew."

But I was afraid. I don't know what I'd do if anything else happened to you.

#死/// Inquiries. #死/// Secrets Worth Keeping; Yura. #/ i'm going to come up with a tag for them #/ this is referencing right about when wife starts to get a bit suspicious

[dzpenumbra]

3/12/23

How to sum up today. Hmm...

I did yoga. I signed up for the community car service, it's going to take a few days for them to approve my application, but it's set up. I got showered and then... I went out and skated. For about half an hour, maybe a bit longer. I went about 2.5 miles. My first time riding my board.

I had a really good time. I wasn't even really that self-conscious. My only difficult moments were... encountering a yelling homeless person and turning around... passing by a guy with a dog at a busy intersection and the dog was jumping around and excited, and I tried to say hi and... the dude seemed a little upset or bothered or flustered or something... and I guess getting stuck behind a group of people for a little bit but that wasn't really a big deal, I just practiced going slow. It was fun. The awkwardness didn't really stick, I just brushed it off. I could see myself doing that every day. There's a gas station up by the highway onramp that I could see myself regularly riding to if I want to pick up impulse buy stuff like ice cream or energy drinks or emergency snacks or whatever. It opens a lot of options for me to get the fuck out of the house, which is awesome. And it can handle the hills surprisingly well. Like... that puppy's got some fuckin legs on her. I got legit speed wobbles today and I didn't even come close to testing the full speed at all. That thing can go like 27 mph, I have no desire to come close to testing that.

So I had a blast doing that. I get home and I clean my board off - it had all kinds of mud and sand all over it from the roads. Then I hopped on my computer and started shopping for opaque fabric pens. I have been meaning to for a while and I just dove right in. Getting the check for my car just really opened up that door for me. I feel less bad about spending like 30 bucks on materials I need for my fucking job. And I just wanted something permanent and opaque to make my hoodie pop. Having opaque paint pens that are specifically designed for fabric should hopefully remedy this limitation I've had for 6 fucking months.

And as I was getting ready to put the markers in the digital cart... my mom called. And I caught her up on my art stuff. And then she brought up wanting to connect with the furniture store she went to, to get me some tables. The thing we had like 10 fucking fights about. And she said she would contact them and see if they would send her the furniture in pieces, then send them up to me. And it upset me. It felt... uninvolved. It felt like... like I could do that in 5 minutes. Like I could call them and say "hey, could you just send me unassembled tables and just ship them to my address." Like it's not even really saving me a step. And how I have so many avenues in my life that I need help with, and this is the kind of help I get. It feels like bare minimum. And it set off a chain reaction in my brain that was very difficult to contain. A lot of frustrations and pains. And I tried very hard to focus on the source. And just express how I really wish there was more involvement. I really wish I was getting more support. We have been going over furniture since fucking OCTOBER. It's mid-March. And, so far, the only furniture help has been paying for a desk and chair as I was in the process of moving in December, then footing the bill for the comfy chair in January. And the bookcase a few weeks ago. And it just. I swear, my lease is going to run out before I fucking move in here. And it just hit some really bad buttons for me. Specifically... being at the bottom of the priority list. Having to fucking wait. It's not even that she's unwilling to pay for stuff, or unwilling to help me. She will not make the time for it, it's like she keeps forgetting or something. But she has plenty of time for a 4+ hour finger-pointing session. When I'm supposed to be streaming. And eating dinner.

And I fucking stayed. I stayed. Like a complete fucking moron. I had no goddamn reason to stay. And I wasn't even that upset! I was just pissed that like... even the hint that we have some semblance of a normal family and she treats me like what I'm hoping for, what I ask for, is like... un-fucking-reasonable. Like... how dare I expect her to even consider coming up and visiting two of her sons and her grandson. How dare I expect her to like... care about why I feel the way I do. Care about why I'm upset.

Just to be crystal clear why I'm upset? Because the hours of gaslighting are making me feel like I'm the asshole here, and I feel I deserve a bit of peace with that. The furniture she was going to follow up on, that is at a store less than 5 minutes away from her house... The last time we talked about that? February 20th. A week shy of a month ago. The plants that I want to put on these tables? Indoor grow kits gifted to me by my older brother for Christmas. In December. They've been sitting on the fucking floor in boxes this whole time.

I swear to God. All. I. Do. Is. Wait. And that was a phrase that... floated around my life for a while. I have no idea if I encountered it, or if I came up with it, but it hit me hard.

"Hell is waiting."

I can sit in a marsh and let mosquitos feast on my blood and not flinch. I can walk barefoot on any terrain - dirt, grass, gravel, asphalt, raw stone. I can eat carolina reaper chocolate pretzels. All of that is fucking child's play compared to watching your life tick away in solitude while you wait for someone to make time for you.

My former "best friend"... when I finally reconnected with her after she... escorted herself off the phone at 2AM when I was going through an emotional traumatic crisis... because she had work the next morning... She, I guess unsurprisingly in hindsight... said she would "love to hang out soon" and tried to pencil me in the next month.

I think a good goal for me moving forward... would be to stop making time and room in my life for people who don't have time or room for me. Fuck. That. I deserve better. Really. And I guess if I don't enforce that I deserve better, then shitty people will decide how much I'm worth.

See... that came out again. That bullshit line - "you're not creating enough value for other people". YOU DO NOT VALUE ME. I am unvalued. Say it like it is. I am smart. I am talented, in a lot of ways. I am virtuous. I am ethical. I work really, really fucking hard, for absolutely nothing. I am honest. I have integrity. I do my very best to be accountable and reliable. I don't cheat. I don't steal. I don't lie. I don't betray. I don't sneak. I love with all my heart. I try as hard as I feel I can. And that's not valuable enough? That's not worth valuing?

I am not appreciated. I am no prodigy. I am no savant. I have plenty of flaws. I have deep scars. I have major shortcomings. And I am working on them gradually, at advisement of my council. And my progress has been vast. And again, I just get treated like... like a chore. Like I'm the trash that needs to be taken out to the street and "god, who's gonna buy this guy a table for his plants this time."

It clearly hit a nerve. A big one. See how much just came pouring out of me just going over this. And instead of being supportive, and listening, and apologizing for it taking so long, and saying "things have been really hectic, but I want to support you with this and I'm sorry you've had to wait so long. Let's make a concrete time right now." Instead of that... she defends herself. And points the finger at me. That my reaction, my frustration, my anger, my upset... that is the mistake. That is the error. That doesn't belong, and needs to be fixed. And to top it off. She should be thanked. I should be grateful.

And the worst part, I do see from her perspective that she brings up the topic of wanting to help with the tables and then suddenly I'm upset. It's... incongruent. It's because my brain is 28 miles away from that within a nanosecond. And I explain it as clearly as I can while trying to manage the emotion and keep it focused and contained. And she just... doesn't fucking listen.

My ex used to do the same thing. It was horrible. And it makes me flashback every time. That feeling of being misunderstood and flipped out on because I'm... voicing a concern. I'm bringing a critical example to the table and they just... lose their shit. They can't find the value in critique, they see it as a personal attack, and then they "return fire"... which is... the first actual shot fired...

If this sounds familiar? I'm really sorry. And not all interactions are this way. Growing up in an environment like the one I did, I didn't learn that until my mid-30's.

I've wasted enough of my energy on this. I have a pretty deep understanding of it now. It started with a mix of trauma and neglect responses. It started an emotional chain reaction, through associations, the way others have treated me, the fact that no one really seems to care whether I live or die right now. Even the people who come to my stream of their own free will barely chat at all and ignore questions asked specifically of them, likely because they're not even paying attention. Free viewers, by the way, they're not paying attention to free entertainment. The opulence of the elite in Ancient Rome had nothing on the middle class of modern America. It's fucking ridiculous. And I had to try to contain these emotions, this chain reaction... internally... alone... with someone who felt threated by my reaction actively pointing their defense systems directly at me. And again... in a moment where I needed kindness, sympathy, compassion, understanding, support... I get a proverbial fucking gun pointed in my face. "In self-defense."

Next time. I have to leave. Even if it means being alone, even if it means pissing her off more. And here's why.

When I went skating today, I skated past the board game cafe place. It looks really cool, actually, I'm really interested in dropping by. I wish I had, honestly. And... here's the crazy part, get ready for it. They're doing a singles mixer... tomorrow. From 1-5PM. And I read that... after over 4 hours of getting the emotional shit beat out of me, being convinced that I am to blame for all of that, treated like a monster. "Jekyll and Hyde" is what my ex used to call me. And my instant reaction is... "I can't go to that thing." Immediate.

I guarantee if that fight didn't happen today, I wouldn't hesitate to go tomorrow. Assuming I can like... get my day started and get out the door before 5. Ugh. Especially with Daylight Savings and all that. But for real. First thought through my head - "it's probably going to be younger people". Second - "I'm just going to sit in a corner or something, am I really ready for this?" Third - "I'm going to upset someone." It goes there really quickly. "I'm going to offend someone", "someone is going to be creeped out or feel uncomfortable because of me", "I'm going to be the odd one out", "I don't belong there." Shit like that. It happens so quickly. It's like wildfire.

And the worst part? I'm the only one fighting that fire. Just me and my therapist, who chats with me for 45 minutes every Wednesday evening. That's it. So it's just me... and myself... in an eternal conflict.

And when you have to choose between you and yourself... it can just get confusing. You can get to a point where you just... don't remember which one is right. You know? Like... I act as though the one saying "you're a nice talented attractive man and any woman would be lucky to have you, and any person would be lucky to have you as a friend" is the correct one... and yet... the one saying "you hurt people around you and you scare people, and it is really in the public's best interest if you avoid them" has all the fucking evidence. That motherfucker has all the evidence. So... I can doubt him. I can push back. I can say "fuck you, I'm a good person, I have a big heart, I just have a lot of feelings and lots of people have hurt and taken advantage of me." And all he has to do is point at the piles of evidence, the broken relationships, the countless fights, the empty friend roster, the phone calls and texts stopped coming in like... 3 years ago. He doesn't even need to talk half the time. He just needs to motion towards the evidence and just... shrug. "What? You think it's everyone else? Ha!"

So yeah. I wish I had the run-of-the-mill social anxiety that I've encountered in others throughout the years. I wish it was just overpowering nervousness before a date or a job interview - "what if I stumble and look stupid? What if they don't give me the job? What if he doesn't like me?" And I'm here with my inner fucking demon showing me a Pepe Silvia diagram of how literally every close friend and family member in my life left on bad terms and explosively, and plenty of newspaper-clipping-quotes from those people on how it is clearly my fault, and... how could I possibly think I wouldn't hurt the next person? Would it really be... ethical to introduce myself? Wouldn't I be... protecting them if I just... didn't go?

I can throw myself down a 6-stair-stairset and land on a piece of smooth PVC and wood and ride away. I can move, alone, to a city where I know no one. I can hike a major thru-hiking trail, alone, barefoot, with an old army surplus rucksack that weighs almost as much as I do with no back support, for 3 days. I can fly alone to a convention in Vegas without booking a hotel room, just all-in that someone there will let me crash with them. And now? Now? Now I can't go to a board game cafe social mixer because I'm afraid that I emit some kind of AOE curse that will ruin the entire event or even severely hurt someone if they happen to be foolish enough to try to get to know me. What the fuck happened.

Trauma.

It's times like these that I really, really, really wish I had... I really hate saying this, I don't even want to type it because of how fucking close this shit came to fucking killing me because I had to detox off of it unsupervised several times. ... I wish I had benzos. I wish I had Xanax. I wish I had Ativan. I wish I had a quick as-needed chill-pill to just... make that asshole shut the fuck up and let me sink into the back seat a bit, get comfy and then just... go. Just go to the event and see how it plays out.

I don't have weed - it makes me freak out and I just... emotionally... don't feel like it's worth the risk. I don't have alcohol - I get really bad heartburn, which makes me not sleep... which fucks everything else in my life up. I don't have cigarettes anymore - least side effects, ironically, but... Covid... yeah... I have zero ways of making this easier. I don't have social reassurance! I don't have a friend to fucking pep-talk me and just go "look dude, you're great, you really are! You've just had some pretty shitty, hurt people in your life, and that wasn't fair to you. You're not going to hurt anyone by just going, you're the one who is hurting! Go have fun! You've earned it!" I have... yoga in the mornings. I have... meditation - which I am very new at and... just... I don't know, I feel ignorant criticizing it.

I don't know what to do. And now it's 5AM due to Daylight Savings. So... yeah. I guess I'll just... figure it out tomorrow. Wing it. Fuck it.

-_-

Desperate need of good vibes right now. Um... okay... I mean, the board is all the good vibes I need. Riding that thing, I didn't give a shit if I looked dumb. I didn't care if I was being stared at. I was only minorly worried about being ticketed by the police for riding an electric skateboard on a sidewalk with no people on it. I was just... cruising. And carving. And listening to music (David Maxim Micic - Bilo IV, my snowskate anthem this winter). And I really enjoyed it. And I plan to do it every day that I can from now on. When it warms up, I'd like to make it a thing to skate over to the lake with a sketchbook and do some sketches or something. Be outside. Do some art. Like the old days, back when things were simple. Before this social media garbage. Before... all of this... It's something to aspire to.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

[lilithfairen]

And you know what's really gotten me deflated? Something that turned stuff I was really excited about into depressing realizations?

It was watching Kira Kira Precure a la Mode. Watching the show introduce Akira. Then Episode 10, where Akira compliments Yukari's hair, Yukari gives a pretty smile in return, and Akira's response is a dreamy smile and sigh.

That wasn't the least of it, certainly not, especially with Episode 25 having Akira flat-out and firmly declare that she loves Yukari and having that empower her for a badass moment. But it just made me think of so many other stories I'd seen. Games, animes, cartoons, whatever. Stories that clearly wanted the audience to look at female characters and think gay thoughts about them. Stories that set up suggestive scenes, had suggestive dialogue, or even had girls touch each other in suggestive ways.

Stories that could do all of this...without ever having female characters express actual romantic affection, or even having them show explicit attraction towards other girls.

It was watching a show for little girls and seeing that show be able to have a girl who was explicitly attracted to girls, who explicitly said she loved a girl, and coming to understand that this was something that so many other stories were completely unwilling to do, whether it was out of censorship from moral guardians or they just didn't care about anything but fanservice. That something as simple as a magical girl deriving strength from her romantic love for another girl was something I'll probably never see in any other such story, because it's so much more common (especially in "mature" stories) to have girls grope each other without even saying they're attracted to other girls.

And that a story that could manage to do the bare minimum of having a girl be attracted to other girls was not as well-known or beloved as so much fanservice-laden garbage, even a franchise that genuinely vilifies girls having love for other girls.

And with the amount of crap, stalking, harassment I've received from acknowledging how a series like Madoka Magica genuinely doesn't care about sapphic girls when it (quite literally) demonizes such relationships whenever they're explicit and relishes in them when they're "implied"...well, is it any surprise I'm so disillusioned with so much popular media and fandom nowadays.

(Hell, it's repeating again with Bumbleby, where anyone who isn't a fucking idiot can see that they're clearly affectionate for each other, and those fucking idiots are just being fucking idiots because they're pissed off that a girl is actually interested in the other girl instead of giving herself to a man and letting the sapphic ship exist solely for fantasizing.)

[broiunno]

License to Steal - Act IV

License to Steal

ACT IV

Act I // Act II // Act III // Act IV

---

summary: Min Yoongi is your new protection detail upon your return to your father's side after being sent away during a bloody gang war. Now the dust has settled, you've been called back to your old controlled life, and leaving you an unwilling participant in your family's plans. You don't know what they are but you are no longer willing to be the obedient, protected daughter. You don't really care in the least of it makes Yoongi's new assignment hell on earth- So you'll carve your own life out back home on your own terms.

-rating: 18+

-pairing: min yoongi x reader

-word count: 5.8k

-warnings: swearing, gang activities includes drug mention and eventual drug use, the slowest of burns, organized crime, toxic af family dynamics, BEWARE IN THIS ACT: graphic family abuse (father initiated verbal and physical assault- does not fade to black), violence, blood, graphic descriptions of torture, and graphic sex scenes will be included in this work.

-authors note: @chelsea-chee leading the au as usual. I love her the appreciate her as my love, writer, and my beta. Her works are *chefs kiss* Thank you again beautiful <3 PLEASE NOTE: I AM REALLY NOT EXCITED TO POST THE NEXT FEW ACTS. They deal with heavy subject matter and I don't fade to black at any point so please note my works are for mature audiences, warnings are there for a reason and in bold. You are an adult if you are reading this work (per the warnings) and you are responsible for the content you consume. Thank you. ILY all and I love asks about the characters. And that's all I have to say about that...I'm sorry for the wait. I've had covid. I'm back on a better schedule now.

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You fumbled with your hair as you tried to rip your fingers through the still damp strands to assemble it back into a semi-presentable pony tail as the door slid open to your father’s office. You really did wish that you had been able to go upstairs and shower. Or at least change your clothes from the workout gear you currently felt sticking to your skin from the cooling sweat. As a breeze drifted from the vent as the air kicked on, you shivered violently, shaking your head and shooting a hateful stare in Yoongi’s direction as you stepped into the office. Appearances were everything in your family. They were the first level of protection to ensure threats stayed at a minimum. A show of strength and cohesiveness discouraged any hair-brained ideas from a weaker or less organized opposition.

Your father raised a dark, thick brow, turning from the man was speaking quietly to, his expression unreadable as you inclined your head slightly in greeting. “You asked to see me?” you said quietly, keeping your eyes downcast. Since Yoongi had mentioned your father was summoning you, you knew it couldn’t be anything positive. This soon after your arrival? Nothing good would come of this. You had just grabbed onto the distraction of Yoongi until you both stood in the office, feeling stripped bare, awaiting whatever admonishment was about to be delivered.

“You couldn’t make it a full forty-eight hours without causing me a migraine,” your father said sharply and you kept your eyes trained on the floor, as you replayed yesterday in your mind.

“Father, I don’t know what you-”

“Y/N, you weren’t even back a day and you spent how much?” he said, aggravation lacing his tone. “I had to call in Kim to look at your accounts immediately. You’re a fucking hassle.” He huffed and your eyes finally lifted to the stranger that stood next to your father, noting that he stepped away from your father and bowed quickly.

“Nice to meet you, miss. I’m Kim Namjoon. I’ve been handling your accounts and will continue to do so.” You felt your lips part in a soft ‘oh’ as you studied the broad planes of his face, full lips and intense eyes. You felt like he was picking you apart in that moment as you took your time to absorb his ash blond hair in a relaxed, but carefully crafted style. His skin tone was golden; a contrast to Yoongi’s milk-like skin. He glowed, and you couldn’t tell if it from his melanin or the fact that he was radiating intelligence.

“N-Nice to meet you too,” you stammered and managed to close your mouth as he pushed up the rolled sleeves of his white button-down shirt. You swallowed hard and tried to claw through the mental fog that had overcome you. With the teasing from both Jungkook and Yoongi, being presented with another god-like man was the last thing you needed. “I will admit I’m a little confused; my spending was never a problem when I was away? I mean, it’s not like I bought a car.”

Your father barked a laugh and threw up his hands. “You have no grasp on what I do to make this money that you just piss away Y/N! And you COULD have bought a car with the amount you spent yesterday! Like I said: a god damn burden!” he hissed and you flushed slightly, taking a step back unconsciously as you watched his neck flush. Yoongi hadn’t said a word, but you knew you could still sense his dark presence in the corner of the room, not looking at him to notice his eyes narrowed slightly as the scene unfolded.

“Y/N, I’ve had an idea. You’re a daughter. I can’t do much with you. Your brother who I could actually have used is dead. Your mother-” He stopped as he watched your eyes bulge and he shook his head. “I can’t have more children. I’d consider it disrespectful to her memory,” he mused, a hand running along his chin and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you, but your jaw snapped shut audibly as your teeth clacked together after the noise passed your lips.

Your father’s eyes flared to life in challenge and he glanced at Namjoon, lip curling. “Did you calculate her estimated cost of living and monthly expenditures? Do you have solid numbers?” he said shortly and Namjoon just nodded, eyes flicking between the family members silently. “And did you adjust for a profit at the margin we discussed?”

“Yes sir,” came the deep steady voice, Namjoon’s eyes traveling your figure, his gaze not heavy with lust or desire, but full of curiosity. “The monthly amount that you should request for that profit is in the proposal if you would like to review it.” He finished and cleared his throat. “I can return if you want me to look over the contract,” he said softly, clearing fishing for a dismissal and your father granted it, offering his hand and you felt your mouth tighten in confusion.

“What contract?”

Namjoon grabbed a briefcase and inclined his head to you stiffly in farewell before his long legs carried him out the doorway. Your father’s gaze didn’t leave your eyes as he spoke. “Yoongi, see him out.” Yoongi nodded and started after the tall man in silence, not sparing you a second glance on his way out.

“I asked you what contract?” you said softly, struggling to keep your voice even as your father stepped closer to you.

“Well, you went out. Spent a lot of money that you’ve done nothing to earn, and caught someone’s eye in the process. Someone worth a lot of money and who would be an asset to have closer to the family at this point in his career.” Your father clasped his hands behind his back as he continued to close the distance between you, each step he made, you felt your heart plummet further.

“Father… what exactly are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, Y/N. I’m telling you. Someone’s made a bid for your hand, and it’s the only thing you’ll be good for at this point. The shopping sprees, your lifestyle. I can maintain them, but if someone else is willing to do so, and the marriage benefits me in my business, I’d be stupid not to pursue it. Do you think I’m stupid, Y/N?” he said, voice getting dangerously quiet as he reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had escaped the rapidly put-up ponytail behind your ear.

“You can’t sell me off like fucking cattle!-” you said, flinching away from his touch, and his large, calloused hand shot out to grab your chin tightly. He forced your face back towards his as you tried to jerk away, squeezing hard enough to make your eyes begin to water. Your heart thudded out a dangerous irregular rhythm as you breathed hard through your nose.

“I can’t? Y/N, you seem to be under the delusion that you are free from the responsibilities that come with being in this family. I suppose that may be my fault. I was too soft on you, pitied the losses I caused you to have. I always had your brother anyway; there was no harm in indulging you. But now, you’re the only one with my blood in your veins. You’re home to do a service for this family. Everyone else has given their lives in some way. Did you think you were special?” His words were measured and cold as he studied you, grip not loosening on your face. You would be bruised tomorrow as you felt the throb set in from the pressure he was applying.

“You may order me to do it, but I don’t have to go along with this,” you hissed, barely able to open your jaw, but clenching your teeth to get your words out, rage licking up and down your body. He had taken your entire life as a child, as an adolescent. Did he really think giving you a few years of freedom put you back in his debt so far that you owed him the rest of your life?!

No sooner than the words were out of your mouth you heard the sharp crack, and felt yourself stumbling backwards into the wall. You blinked quickly as you registered the pain in your head, immediately starting to pound as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You barely had time to regain a semblance of your bearings before your father was upon you again, face chillingly blank as his ringed fingers gripped the base of your ponytail, ripping your head back at an awkward angle, a scream breaching your bloody lips. The noise was cut short by another blow, snapping your head to the side before he jerked your face back to center.

“Who do you think you are, you little bitch?” he said with a lilt to his tone as you choked out a sob, unable to keep it from escaping your lips. “You really thought you weren’t going to do shit to replace that money you spent?” When he finished speaking he gave your head a violent shake, as if to scramble your thoughts further. It was completely unnecessary, as your head felt as if it was splitting with the pain he had rocked through you with his blows and harsh grip. You felt the start of a purely hysterical giggle break through, spitting out the fresh rush of blood that ran in your mouth due to the cuts in your cheek from your teeth. You noticed a piece of the skin from inside your mouth flapping loosely that made you nauseated if you dwelled on it.

The laugh was probably the worst response you could have had.

You heard a soft hiss, and your father stepped into your space further, hands darting from your head to wrap themselves around your throat and squeezing. As your hands scrambled to scratch at his hand, his arm, his face, anything, you wished you were surprised at this. You wished you were hurt because you were shocked, but you weren’t. There was blood in the water and he was a shark. He built his life this way.

“You don’t have to go along with this…” he said softly, voice void of emotion, “but you also don’t have to keep living here either. How long will you make it without this family? You’d never make it out of the city.” He mused and continued to squeeze, your vision starting to spot as you tried to draw in any bit of air within the hold he had, the choking heaves under the weight of him making the blood that had pooled in your mouth from his blows spill over your chin grotesquely as it began to stream onto his hand. “So will you behave for once in your fucking life?”

You were hyper aware of the tears streaming down your face as you managed the smallest of nods. You supposed he was right; you had never imagined you would be used in the family in any way. Your entire life had been lonely, and even though you hated it, you had resigned yourself to it. His hands unwrapped themselves from your neck, letting you inhale a burning gasp of air as you slid down the wall, and onto the floor. You coughed and rocked forward onto all fours as the shaking of your body didn’t allow for much more than consciousness.

Your father pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the crimson of your blood off his hand before tossing it to you on the floor. You could barely recognize the quick but unhurried footsteps coming back down the hallway to the office before they stopped short.

“Yoongi, take her upstairs.”

==

The flush from hustling back to his boss’s office drained from Yoongi’s face as his eyes widened at your figure hunched forward onto your elbows on the floor. He watched you hack as your body tried to clear your airway. Yoongi stayed silent as he reached down, crouching next to you and attempting to offer you a hand so you could stand on your own, for which you were thankful. You felt the physical pain, but no emotions as your mind sluggishly screamed at you to just accept his hand and stand. You needed to walk out of here on your own. You knew you wouldn’t make it all the way to your room after the assault, but you didn’t need to. Just to the elevator.

You reached out your hand, shaking hard, as you clasped at his large palm and hoisted yourself up, letting him pull lightly as he stood with you, noting that he was still silent. You tried to ignore how your vision swam before you, willing your knees not to buckle. You couldn’t pinpoint if the unsteadiness was from the blows to your face, the lack of oxygen, or the tears that had thankfully stopped streaming down your face but still filled your eyes.

Yoongi seemed to read your mind, shifting his grip from your hand to your upper arm, nestling in your underarm and gently steered you to the door, but let you support most of your weight on the way out. You walked in silence as he didn’t rush you down the hallway, both of your eyes trained on the lift door as he typed in the code. As you waited for the door to open you felt your shaking legs betray you and start to bend. You glanced away from him, the movement of your eyes causing a piercing pain to shoot through your head. “Please,” was all you rasped wetly as you put more weight and started to sink, but the pressure holding you up immediately doubled, Yoongi’s support forcing you upright, even if it made your shoulder raise. It would be almost imperceptible from your father’s office if he was still looking in your direction, but you doubted he would. He had already received your submission; he didn’t need you for anything else.

Yoongi didn’t seem to want to take the chance that he was still watching, stepping into the elevator and continuing to only hold you in one place. His grip was still disguised as if he was walking you out in the same way he may escort an associate who was no longer welcome - in such a manner that would deter any further escalation. No one would be able to tell he was the only thing keeping you upright.

As the door slid shut to the elevator the facade crumbled, you lurching forward and gasping out a sob of pain, tilting your head down to let the blood that had been collecting in your mouth pour out onto the floor. You forgot how much mouth wounds bled. Yoongi was not bothered with the grotesque display as he swiftly adjusted his grip to wrap around your shoulders, his other arm sweeping at your feet as he lifted you with apparent ease. You shut your eyes as the tears began to flow once more, unable to restrain the moans and whimpers of pain that escaped between gasps as you cried. He still hadn’t said a word, even as you turned your face into his suit jacket, inhaling jaggedly as you tried to focus on the scent permeating from him, trying to place it through your snot-filled nose. The only thing you could recognize was the warm, woodsy scent of patchouli as you reached a shaking hand up to hold onto his jacket tightly. You knew he wouldn’t drop you, but it grounded you all the same.

You tried to slow your breathing, but failed as the elevator door opened and Yoongi strode quickly to your bedroom door, bending at the knees and somehow using his crook of his elbow and his body to turn the door knob, the only change in your positioning being that you tilted slightly as he spun it. He kicked the door with his foot gently as he stepped in, by-passing your bed as he carried you into your bathroom, carefully getting on his knees as he lowered you into your large bathtub as he placed you there. You continued to breath quickly, your gasps becoming sharper as your gentle shaking soon became uncontrollable. You released his jacket as he stood and you pulled your knees to your chest, shutting your eyes finally as you heard the tap briefly run before a cool rag brushed your chin, eyes flying open as you flinched away.

“Shh, I need to see your face. I have to get the blood off,” Yoongi whispered, and you finally looked at him, noting his face was still paler than normal. “Princess, I need you to take a slow, deep breath okay? Can you do that? Your lips are turning blue; you’re hyperventilating. You’re safe,” he murmured, brows pinching together in a pained expression you had never seen on his face as you tried to nod, attempting to take a long breath in but ended up gulping in air multiple times on the way, the blurring of your vision worsening as Yoongi grimaced, your breathing speeding up again, your shoulders shrugging with the effort to take in air. The last thing you heard was Yoongi’s tense exclamation of “Shit!” before you blacked out.

==

When you awoke, you were under the covers of your large bed. You sat up quickly before groaning from the ache in your head, then realizing that opening your mouth made you want to scream from pain. Between the squeeze on your jaw and the cuts inside your mouth, it was safe to say you would be saying very little for a while. You glanced towards the window, noting it was inky black outside.

“How long has he hit you?” came a cool voice from beside your bedside and you turned to face the source, seeing a figure standing beside the small table, casting a shadow with the aid of a lamp. Had he even left? Yoongi had shed his stained suit jacket, but still wore the white shirt and same suit pants. You only knew it was the same shirt due to the blood stain from where your mouth must have painted him. Instead of attempting to speak, you shrugged in an attempt to get his gaze off of you. It was piercing and unnerving. You felt as if this was the beginning of an interrogation, and you didn’t fail to notice the color had still not returned to his normally pale face. Now that your mind was a bit clearer you were able to recognize why it registered so deeply with you. He was the embodiment of white with fury. “How. Long?” he said again with such harshness you swallowed hard, ignoring the fire that licked down your throat as you did so.

“That’s a joke right? He’s always been like that. I just normally am better at avoiding it,” you forced out; your words were almost incoherent as you tried to move your jaw as little as possible as you spoke. That was bearable. Good. Not that you had expected it to be, but at least your jaw wasn’t broken; that would have been a pain in the ass. “What time is it?”

“It’s three am,” Yoongi hissed as his eyes glimmered in the near darkness, pushing off the wall and grabbing a glass of water off the table and sweeping a few pills into his hand. “Take these.” You took his offering and a small sip of the water before carefully throwing the pills to the back of your throat and washing them down, sighing softly. “They’re pain pills. They’ll help and you’ll be able to go back to sleep in a bit.”

You didn’t answer but pulled back the cover of your bed and slid out, noting that your bloody shirt had been changed but you still had on your sports bra and leggings. And your ponytail had been taken down, which was probably a good thing since your scalp was still aching from the hold your father had you in.

“Y/N… don’t.” Came Yoongi’s voice, still unemotional but a bit gentler than his earlier tone. You didn’t turn back to him but stopped your path to your vanity, obviously trying to look at your reflection in the mirror to assess the damage.

“Is it that bad?” you grumbled, turning to him and you watched him shrug.

“It’s not good. Don’t worry about it tonight. No bones are broken from what I can tell. I wiped you down the best I could. Just change once I leave and get back into bed.”

You let out a deep breath but finally stepped towards your closet instead to grab an oversized t-shirt. You could work the bra off under it and slip your pants off once you had it on. “Why did you even stay?” you said softly as you set to work, your muscles aching as you attempted to change modestly. You don’t know why it even mattered, but in this moment it did.

“I needed to know if he had done this before. I needed to know if this was the first time. When we were kids, you weren’t around all the time. Sometimes, I’d go months without seeing you. I didn’t know if this was a part of it,” he spat out, visibly tensing as he took a loud steadying breath.

You shrugged as you pulled off your leggings, successful in stripping your bra off under the shirt, and padded back to your bed. “There were a few reasons he kept me separated from everyone. It wasn’t all because he thought I was too precious to see any of this.” You climbed back into bed and tried to settle back into the plushness. Yoongi took a step closer to you, his mouth slightly open as he watched you try to get comfortable, seemingly unable to stop himself.

“Y/N…” he said softly and reached a hand towards you and you stiffened, eyes narrowing, and he took note, dropping his hand slowly.

“Yoongi, I never asked for your fucking pity.”

“I know, and it makes me want to help you even more.”

You blinked and tried to register what he was implying. “Help me?” you repeated, shaking your head as you felt the same hysterical laugh bubble up that had made your assault that much worse in your father’s office. “No one can help me!” You laughed, eyes widening as the smile twisted your features. “This is my life, this is what I was born into. This is what all those shiny things cost, Yoongi! I always knew it but I forgot.” You watched as the pained expression from earlier slid back over his features, and you raised your eyebrows in response. “I appreciate it, but unless you’re willing to put a bullet in my fucking head there’s no saving anything.”

“Who says it has to be your head, Princess?” he said gently and you swear you felt the world stop.

“Don’t say shit like that Min,” you hissed, baring your teeth and shaking your head. “Even if we don’t always get along, I don’t want you dead too.”

“Whatever you say Princess,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he cocked his head to the side. “Are you alright to sleep? You don’t feel like you’re going to vomit?” he asked seriously, watching as you shook your head.

“I don’t have a concussion,” you grumbled but as you watched him smirk and go to grab his jacket you felt your heart speed up. “Yoongi- w-wait.” He immediately stopped, as if he was anticipating your words. “Can you stay here the rest of the night? I know he won’t do anything but I-”

“Let me go change my clothes. Is that okay Princess?”

“Yeah… I just don’t want to be-”

“It’s fine Y/N. I’ll be right back.” You stayed sitting up, watching him as he dismissed your attempts at explanations and justification as he walked out.

You sighed, leaning against the leather headboard and let your breathing even out, even as your heart still raced. The pain began to slowly ebb as the medication took effect; what had you even taken? It had to be something strong as a comfortable fog began to cloud your thoughts.

You didn’t know why you felt the need to have him here. Did you even need to explain? He was technically your bodyguard. You had known each other most of your lives. You had just suffered through an assault; staying with you was reasonable. Even if the assailant wasn’t unknown, nor were the motives. At the end of the day, Yoongi’s presence made breathing a bit easier. His presence made you feel safe.

The door opened again and you sucked in a breath as Yoongi re-entered your bedroom, one hand carrying his gun and holster, the other a hanger with a clean pressed suit. “I’ll wake up before you,” was all he said in response to your surprised expression as he studied you. He mistook the shock on your face as being accredited to the suit. He was an idiot if he thought you cared about the fact he would dress here. You were too busy drinking in the sight of his lean figure in low-slung grey sweatpants. You tried to rip your gaze back to his face but you got caught on the black ribbed tank top and the swirling black tattoos covering his shoulder and chest before disappearing under the material.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” you choked out, feeling your face flush and mentally slapping yourself. He may look like sex on legs, but you looked like you just had the shit beat out of you. Which to be fair to yourself, you actually just had the shit beat out of you.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, a small smirk tilting his lip up but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He draped his suit over the chair to your vanity and carried his gun with him towards the plush armchair in the corner of the room.

“The bed is big enough Min. I won’t touch you,” you said breathlessly, trying to force away the blush that was deepening across your face. He seemed to freeze and take a few steadying breaths.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Princess.” His voice was controlled but quiet.

“Please Yoongi…” you said just as quietly. “It’s just for tonight. I won’t feel safe if you’re all the way over there.”

It was definitely an over exaggeration. You hadn’t really expected him to even agree to stay in your room with you. The chair was the reasonable option. You knew you were pushing it.

“Princess, I-” He breathed, the airiness of his tone making your belly somersault and it gave you a tiny shiver.

“Yoongi, please. I need you next to me. Just tonight.” You shouldn’t be so worried about getting this man into bed with you, but now that he was here in front of you and it was so close to happening, you felt you might cry if he denied you.

You watched his back muscles rippled as he tensed and tried to relax. He turned wordlessly and walked to the opposite side of the bed, setting his holster down and climbing into the king-sized bed with you. “Go to sleep Princess.”

The drugs had to be prescriptions, not that you really expected a member of an organized crime family to just take a regular aspirin when they were in pain. “Is the oxy working yet? It should start soon if it hasn’t.” You hummed your assent as you squirmed down into the bed and tried to keep the smile from your face as you reached over and turned out the lamp. You took a deep breath and shut your eyes, savoring the heat that quickly built from having two bodies under the covers of your bed, ignoring the slightly annoyed sigh from the other side of the bed.

“Be quiet Min, I’m trying to rest,” you said softly and a soft dry chuckle cut through the silence as you let sleep take you.

==

Yoongi’s POV

Yoongi listened to the soft sounds of your breathing as they lengthened and deepened, the pain pills having done their job perfectly. If only he could have done his job in such a manner. He had been given a job: to keep you safe, and he took it seriously. Even if the one assigning his work was an abusive piece of shit. Yoongi let out a sigh, glancing over at your figure in the dark to make sure his huff hadn’t disturbed your slumber. It didn’t. You were still laying there, eyes closed and unaware, your face turned towards him to afford him a view of what exactly your father had done in his absence.

He felt his teeth grind against each other as even in the dark, he could make out the near black bruises covering your neck in the clear shape of hands, a bloom crossing your smooth cheek as well. Even your chin and jaw were dark from bruising; evidence that your father had held your face to force submission. It had worked. He opened his mouth and stretched his own jaw to try and stop himself from continuing to grind his molars down to nothing in rage. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to forget how you looked and how he felt when he entered the office, watching the blood drip onto the floor. How he wanted nothing more than to simply pull out his gun and lodge a bullet into your father’s knee before proceeding to swing the butt of his gun down onto him until he shattered every bone in the pig’s disgusting face.

Until he begged him to stop. Until he begged his daughter to tell Yoongi to stop.

The daydream made Yoongi smile a full gummy smile and chuckle for the first time today. He would stop when you told him to. If you told him to. Now that he knew your father had put his hands on you before this, he wondered if you would just let him continue until his mania at seeing what had been done to you was sated. He knew it wouldn’t be until he heard your father’s death rattle, knowing it had been at his own hands.

You stirred slightly to readjust in your sleep, drawing his attention back to the present as you moved closer to him in the bed and he sucked in a breath. Even beaten and bruised you affected him. Even carrying you in that elevator down the hall as you clutched onto him. He had been spiraling down into violence but as soon as you grabbed his jacket, he knew you wouldn’t withstand even him raising his voice to anyone without shattering. You were normally so fierce and seeing you broken made him want to tear apart this entire society you both lived in, even if it was all either of you had ever known.

It was then he had decided he would be what you were asking of him with your sobs and how you clutched onto him; he would be as gentle as could be and give you whatever you needed tonight. Tomorrow he would begin the undertaking of dismantling your father piece by fucking piece.

He had watched over you after you passed out; you had woken up briefly for him to get you to take pain medicine once before you actually were able to speak to him. Before you asked him to stay with you. He wanted to pretend it didn’t make his icy heart crack, the way you tried to explain and justify his presence. He would never ask you to in this kind of situation. When Yoongi returned to his room, he attempted to steel himself for a night of sitting in that uncomfortable chair, and a sleepless day tomorrow. He had gone more than twenty-four hours without sleep before.

But when your eyes, even if they had started to become glossy and dilated from the drugs, began to run over him, he had to try and think of every unsexy thing he could fathom. You had just been fucking violated and just with one look he felt the blood travel away from his brain and pool below his waist. Why did he think he would be able to wear sweatpants while staying with you? You destroyed every semblance of self control he had. He still hadn’t forgotten your teasing in the elevator prior to this shit show.

Then your soft drowsy voice had called out to him just as he had regained his mental fortitude and continued to the chair. You would be the fucking death of him and he didn’t think he would really mind. Now, as he laid here in bed with you trying to ignore the fact that you were shifting closer to him in your sleep, seeking his warmth, he closed his eyes. He had anticipated the pure fury of tonight keeping him awake, but instead it was the fact that he could feel your breath on his neck, that if he turned his head back to you he could still make out your absolutely gorgeous feminine form from under the blankets. The dip in your waist and the curve of your hips, sloping into your soft thigh. Yoongi’s eyes shot open as he let out a soft hiss as he felt his member stiffen in his sweats, one large hand reaching down to palm himself, and he willed his hard-on to disappear.

He dropped his eyes again, confident he would get his bulge to go down without waking you, and as he tended to it, a soft small hand reached across his middle, making his forehead furrow. He tried to take a steadying breath, and tried to not imagine that the events of last night weren’t the reason he was in your bed. That you had just invited him to bed because you wanted him there, not for security but because you wanted him as a man to share your bed and body. That he could roll over to face you, slip his own hand up that oversized shirt and rub soft circles into your skin before slipping his hand down in-between your thighs.

Yoongi felt his cock twitch and himself harden further, forcing another deep breath in and out as he circled back to try and think of grotesque things to make his longing subside. You at least had stopped wriggling in the bed in an attempt to get closer; he was thankful for that. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to calm his heart and regulate his breath to make it possible for him to drift off.

This was going to be a long night.

#bts suga #bts ff #bts x reader #mafia!bts #bts gang au #bts imagines #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #btsxarmy #License to steal

[missmentelle]

TW Suicide Attempt

Hey, I don't know who else to ask. I'm seeing a new therapist and I want to start fresh. I'm particularly haunted by my last relationship, and I'm not sure if I was abused, but I'd like to mention it to my therapist first if I was.

My ex started out normal, but after a while he asked me to delete pics with my exes. I thought nothing of it, because I didn't care if I had the pictures or not. I also used to be a model, and he asked me to delete nudes, and I did. Then he said I should stop modeling, and I agreed, even though I wanted to model. And then he made me take down non-nude modeling photos, and made me delete them off my hard drive. And would get mad if they were on a USB that I forgot to check, or if some were online because photographers didn't want to take them down (as was their right per our contracts). He'd stress me out, tell me to talk to everyone who had my pictures, etc. Then he asked me to throw out things that were my exes (presents, stuff that was theirs originally but they gave me, my stuff that I had left over at their houses), and after that, all my modeling clothes and prints. I didn't want to and we got into a huge fight. I generally don't raise my voice at all (actually I speak so low most people have trouble hearing me), but I did that time and every time it came up until I finally threw everything out. And then one day I found a sex toy his ex had left over (she had left over all her stuff and never picked it up, but he swore he'd thrown everything out), and I flipped out because it was in the nightstand we shared, just buried under stuff. And I felt gross and used, and well, he made me throw out all my exes stuff, even silly stuff that had no feelings attached and was just nice to have. And we had a big fight. We used to fight a lot at first, and it's all blurry, I just remember once he pinned me down, and choked me so I wouldn't leave, so the next time when I wanted to leave, I hit him with a perfume bottle (he was fine, didn't even get a bruise or anything).

And after he agreed to move to another place (a neutral location), things kind of calmed down, although we did fight once and neighbours heard. I don't know what to think because everyone says I abused him, and his family even blocked me after the break up.

Everyone thought I was unfair and treated him badly. I definitely don't see that, but I'm not sure if he abused me or not.

Most of the time I complied because I didn't have any place else to go, and didn't want to be homeless. When he broke up with me I attempted suicide and ended up hospitalized and later homeless anyway.

We had some happy times though, bug I just don't know what to think. I just feel weird and haunted and anxious after this relationship, and I'm scared to ever be in one again.

Oh, and I'm the anon who just asked if maybe I was abused by my ex. I forgot to say he didn't want to go to my parents house because he knew one of my exes stayed over when I was alone, and he didn't want me to go visit them often.

He also made me cut out everyone on my life who I ever dated, kissed/made out with, or had a crush on.

And he'd get mad if my family displayed my model photos, or photos with a vintage family dress that I wore as a model in a photoshoot with my ex.

He'd also complain if I made plans with friends, because I was going to spend too much money, or stay out too late, or walk home late at night (which I did frequently before).

He was abused by his previous girlfriend (or at least that's what he told me, he said I could look at the messages between them if I wanted, but I refused).

He also made me throw out my favorite top because he knew it's what I was wearing the last time I had sex with my ex before him (we were friends before and I told him, and he had seen me that night, so he knew what I was wearing, and it was a very very specific top).

For starters, I need you to know that what you’ve described is an extremely abusive relationship, not just a “possibly” abusive relationship, and I think it’s important for you to know exactly why that is:

He got violent with you. This alone is enough to make the relationship dangerously and severely abusive. Your ex pinned you down and choked you when you tried to walk away from an encounter. That’s an actual felony; people do prison time for that. Choking is a particularly dangerous form of abuse - he could have very easily killed you or caused some permanent damage. 

He couldn’t handle the fact that you had exes, and he dealt with it in the least healthy way possible. Your ex-partner’s obsession with your exes was beyond unhealthy. Forcing you to throw out perfectly good clothing or non-sentimental items because they had some association with your ex is unhinged. In a healthy relationship, both people understand that their partner is not with their ex anymore, and trust that the other person isn’t going to fall madly in love with their ex again just by using a toaster that the ex once used to make breakfast. Being able to cope with the fact that your partner once loved and had sex with someone else is a bare minimum requirement for a healthy adult relationship. No exceptions. It seems clear that you were never going to reach a point where he felt you’d done “enough” to purge your exes from your life - he was going to keep obsessing and keep whittling away at your life, without ever being satisfied that you were truly “his”. 

He was dangerously jealous. The level of jealousy that your ex showed was abusive, and potentially life-threatening. As I’ve already mentioned, it’s not normal for a partner to be fixated that hard on a partner’s ex. It’s also alarming that he was so obsessed with the fact that revealing photos of you might exist somewhere. You are allowed to have photos of yourself on your own hard drive, nude or otherwise. That’s your fucking business. You don’t have to justify keeping those photos - no one has a right to tell you to delete them. Not even a partner. You did nothing wrong here. It sounds like he couldn’t handle the fact that other men found you attractive, and he decided to punish you for it. That’s not okay. 

He was controlling. In a healthy relationship, you are allowed to wear what you want. You are allowed to decide which possessions you want to keep - even if that includes hanging onto old gifts from an ex. You are allowed to meet with friends, spend your money, and stay out late sometimes if you want to. You are allowed to model if you want to, and you are allowed to have photos of yourself on your own personal devices and give others the right to use and display those photos. It’s a bare minimum requirement that a partner treat you like an adult and respect your choices, even if they don’t always agree with them. The level of control that your ex tried to have over your life was absolutely unacceptable, and it was abusive. 

He intentionally sabotaged your career. You had a career as a model, and you enjoyed doing it. He made you stop. That’s not acceptable. Your partner couldn’t handle his own jealousy and insecurities, so he made you stop doing something that you were good at, something you did professionally. That’s another form of control, and it’s abusive. In a healthy relationship, partners support one another’s careers and passions. They don’t intentionally derail the other person for their own selfish reasons. He had no right to tell you to stop modelling, and he had no right to demand that you delete the products of your work. 

He socially isolated you. He kept you away from your friends and controlled how often you could see them. It sounds like he might have intentionally turned some of your loved ones against you. That’s a common tactic of abusers. When you are cut off from friends - or when they are no longer on your side - it’s harder for you to leave the relationship, because you no longer have someone to turn to for help leaving. In a healthy relationship, your partner encourages you to have friends and to make them a priority in your life. 

He made you responsible for his emotions, and held you to a double standard. Whenever HE was upset, YOU had to drastically change your life to suit his feelings. When YOU were upset at finding his ex’s sex toy in the nightstand, he got angry with you for being upset - he didn’t make changes to his life for your comfort, but expected you to do it for him. That’s not okay. A partner who is unwilling to take responsibility for their own emotions is a dangerous partner - and sure enough, he turned violent when you got upset with him. A healthy partner recognizes that their emotions are their responsibility, and they deal with their insecurities without taking it out on their partner. 

He trapped you in a situation where you could never win. Your abusive ex was fixated on things that you could never change - the fact that you had exes, the fact that you modelled, the fact that other people had old modelling shots of you. There was no way for you to ever change those things; you couldn’t go back in time and un-date your exes. So he just kept holding those things over your head, forever. He found a way to keep you in check by permanently trying to hold you accountable for things you did in the past that could never be changed. He made sure he always had the moral upper hand in the relationship, as a way to keep you down. 

Moving forward, I think it’s important for you to understand that you didn’t do anything wrong here. You are allowed to have exes. You are allowed to own things that you exes once touched. You are allowed to model. You are allowed to have photos of yourself. None of those things make you a bad person or a bad partner, and you should never have to apologize for any of them. If your ex had a problem with any of those things (and he clearly did), it was his responsibility to either deal with those issues on his own, or leave the relationship if he knew he couldn’t handle it. He did not have the right to stay and mistreat you. This is on him, not you, and there is absolutely no excuse for what he did. 

Whether or not your ex was abused by his ex-girlfriend is irrelevant here. It might not even be true - many abusers feel intensely victimized when their actual victims resist their control, and it’s very common for abusers to falsely claim that they were “abused” by the partners they terrorized. But even if it is true, it doesn’t matter. It’s not an excuse. There are no excuses for abuse - not mental illness, not addiction, not “anger issues”, nothing. There are no “get-out-of-being-a-good-partner FREE” cards. If someone is in a place where they are at risk of harming their partner, it’s up to them to get therapy and to avoid relationships until they are prepared for a healthy one. 

I think it would be a good idea for you to talk to a professional about what you experienced. If possible, look for a therapist who specializes in helping survivors of domestic violence. If you don’t have access to a therapist, contact a domestic violence agency or hotline, and see if they can find you some resources for free or affordable counselling. A professional can help you unpack what you experienced, work through the trauma, reach a deep understanding of how relationships should function, and prepare to move forward with healthier boundaries and self-esteem. 

You can also find online support groups for survivors of domestic violence - these groups can help you connect with other people who have had similar experiences and understand what you’ve been through. It can be a great place to get support from others and share advice for working through it. You can look for groups through Google, or on social media platforms like Facebook and Reddit. 

It’s also okay if you need to take some time - or a lot of time - to work through this before you feel comfortable dating again. That’s normal. That’s okay. Focus on building a life that is comfortable for you. If you want to return to modelling, that’s an option you can explore. You could pick up some new hobbies, look at going back to school, or reconnect with the friends who’ve been supportive of you through this. Some people find that art or journalling can be useful for working through these feelings - you could give that a try. Spend some time focusing on rebuilding your self-esteem and comfort in your own skin, and don’t feel pressure to start dating again until you feel ready.  Best of luck to you, MM

#Anonymous #AnsweredByMM

[irwinkitten]

do we get soft little princess content any time soon?? i'm missing dad!ash and his little princess

this has been sat in my inbox for like, weeks. i’m so sorry i’m this disaster who cant keep up with thingshowever for the first time in well over a year, i finally got that little princess update because i re-read it and i’m soft for my babies. warnings: sugary sweet fluffword count: 1.2kish. it’s a small one lmao 

masterlist for the little princess series

masterlist for all my writing

part twenty three

-

Landing back in LA felt like chaos personified, especially after the extended honeymoon the two of you had, but neither of you realised it was what you needed.

-

Lay next to Ashton, his body practically glowing in that post sex haze you were both in, you found yourself thanking whatever deity put him in your life.

“Baby?” Ashton’s eyes were watching you, his body shifting and you matched his movement, lay facing him. His arms pulled you closer, a kiss to your neck, leaving you with a soft smile as you hummed in appreciation.

“Just thinking.” 

“What about?” His eyes were curious now and you hesitated. But it felt right, at least, to talk. But not with your husband-god you still couldn’t believe that-looking so delicious lay next to you.

So you shifted your leg over his hip, pushing yourself to straddle him, a strangled moan escaping his lips as you rolled your hips against his, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

“In the morning. I think another round is in order.” 

The following morning had you both showered and in light clothes. You’d cooked breakfast and finally decided it was time to talk.

“You ready to hear what I was thinking about last night? Other than having you in every way possible?” The tease brought a blush to his cheeks with a smirk before he nodded.

“Honestly, part of my mind was stuck on the baby we lost. How difficult it had been for all of us. You especially.”

He frowned but didn’t interrupt as he held his arms open to you, and you took the silent invitation, settling in his lap as his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“What brought this on baby?” 

“I didn’t realise how sad we were till I saw your smile when I met you at the altar. The smile you had when our little girl realised that her daddy loved her just as much as she loves him and that you wanted her too. And last night, god it felt like when we were first dating all over again.” The giggle that escaped you as his lips found your neck, trying to pull your skin from his reach.

“All mine.” He muttered, making you laugh.

“Alright caveman. But everything we went through, I couldn’t see how sad you were, and I’m sorry. It was your baby too and my only reaction was like I was the only one suffering.” Ashton shook his head almost immediately.

“You had to feel every moment of that. I wasn’t expecting you to get over it, love. But we’ve got time on our side.” His voice was reassuring and soft and you couldn’t stop the smile from overtaking your lips.

“How about we spend longer out here? I’d feel bad asking your mum to keep our little girl for a month-” 

“It’s our honeymoon. We’ve got a village to help raise her and I think we needed to get away from everyone to really accept the recovery from losing the baby. I don’t think anyone is going to begrudge us this time together. I’ll talk to Luke and see if he can take our little miss for the last couple of weeks, that way it’s not all on my mum. And she’ll already be home when we get back.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Now Mister Irwin, there is a private pool with a view to die for and you’re wearing far too many clothes.” The coy smile you gave him as you made your way off his lap, had him smirking in return.

“I could say the same about you, Mrs Irwin.” You laughed as you shed your own clothes, stepping out to the secluded area as you heard Ashton’s footsteps join you.

-

The chaos that surrounded LA made you groan as the two of you collected your luggage, both of you having gained some colour to your skin in the Hawaiian heat.

“Is Luke meeting us home or here?” You questioned as Ashton checked his phone.

“Home. He doesn’t want to bring her out into the chaos we’re going to cause with the paps.” You snorted at that before you made your way to the pick up point. 

“Are we waiting for an Uber or-?”

“Taxi service for the Irwin’s.” Your head snapped around from Ashton to the source of the voice, grinning when you found Calum stood next to his car.

“Cal!” He laughed as he greeted you with a warm hug, giving the same treatment to Ashton before helping you both get your bags into the car.

“A little princess of yours wanted to hold a welcome home party. We kept the guest list to bare minimum because apparently she only wanted her favourite Uncles to be there as well as Shay. However, Shay is currently away for the weekend with Marc and so you get to deal with all of us.” You couldn’t resist giving Calum a deadpan look, waiting patiently before he laughed.

“It is just the three of us there and she did want to have a party for you both, but she then realised that it meant sharing you both and she’s missed you both too much to share at the moment.” Calum’s second explanation made your heart ache.

It’d been the longest you’d ever been away from her. Ashton had to stop you from facetiming her daily because he knew it would drive you insane. But it also gave him a chance to stop acting on his own urges to facetime daily to check in and see her. 

“I’ve loved this time away, but I genuinely don’t think I could leave her for that long again.” You shared a grin with Ashton once you were both in the car and Calum was pulling away from the airport.

“We fully don’t expect to see either of you at all this week because she will monopolise your time and we may or may not have been encouraging it. She’s really missed you guys.”

The rest of the car journey was filled with details of the flight, and the check in attendants amusement at how you didn’t even flinch at her saying that you both needed to pay the extra luggage fee. It was worth it in your eyes and it meant that your little girl got spoiled too.

When you got home, you’d managed to get the suitcases by the stairs before an excited scream came from the garden.

And then she was in your arms, the collision of her body into yours sending you stumbling back a little bit as she held onto you tightly.

“Nice to see that her old dad doesn’t even get the scream of delight.” Ashton teased, and it took her a second before she pulled away and wrapped herself around Ashton, not even caring at how he still picked her up despite the fact that she was getting bigger.

“Missed you too princess.” He murmured softly and your arms wrapped around both of them. 

Despite the honeymoon, she was what you’d missed the most.

It took the three of you a moment to finally pull away. You were unwilling to let go of her, but you finally moved and headed out to the back, grateful for Calum to give the three of you that moment in privacy. 

Ashton followed and your little girl hung onto him which made the other three laugh.

“Pay up. I know my niece well.” Luke crowed in amusement and you laughed as both Calum and Michael handed him some notes.

“C’mon little bird, you let me down!” Michael whined, but she merely stuck her tongue out as she rearranged herself when Ashton sat down, keeping herself firmly in his lap, but her hand had reached out for you.

You smiled as you took the spot next to Ashton, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Your mommy’s missed you baby. I know you told us everything you did with your nana and uncle lu, but fancy telling your dad and I properly now? I want to hear everything you did on the zoo trip.” 

“But you went on a bigger holiday!” She protested, a pout on her lips.

“Yeah mom and dad. You went on a bigger holiday so you’ve gotta tell us all about it.” Michael teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you both.

You shot him a dirty look which earned a round of laughter from the boys and you sighed as your daughter stared at you in confusion.

“Your uncle Mikey is being silly, princess. So what do you want to know about our trip? Because your daddy and I did so much, and we’re definitely going to take you back so you get to experience some of the stuff we did!” 

This seemed to be the right thing to say as her stern glare that had been directed at Michael shifted to a look of pure excitement and joy.

“Really? Oh please, what did you do that we’re gonna do?” 

Ashton grinned as he launched into the first story of many, the sun sinking into the ground slowly as she listened with rapt attention, the look of awe never once leaving her face.

It felt good to be home again.

#the little princess #the little princess series #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin blurbs #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin imagines #dad ash #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer blurbs #my writing #nonnie #ask you shall receive

[eelephantseal]

Anyway I'm sick of the lesser of two evil shit, because you people will be like "this guy is like hitler and this is other guy is also like hitler but hes a little better then the first guy, instead of just killing people, hes going to give them lollipops before he does" and you will all rally behind him even though he will commit human atrocities just the same. And then you will say but we had no other choice because that is how the system is. Also people always wonder how nazi Germany citizens just never did anything, and if you ever needed an example just look at yourself in the mirror tbh, you guys are so unwilling to step out of your comfort zone for anything and always look for the easy way out that you're willing to let innocent people suffer and die because you are to selfish to care about anything then you're own comfort, you're willing to scapegoat innocent people for you're own comfort because you're to lazy to do anything but the very little bare minimum. And then you'll get mad at people who tell you to do more and give you the resources to do more and say "what can I do, there's nothing for me to do but vote?" Even though the resources for it are right in front of you're fucking face but you to fucking lazy to even actually read or even do a simple Google search for something. This rant went twenty different ways but my main point is the lesser of two evils is a bullshit argument and you fuckers need to do more then vote and stop acting like all can do is vote when that isnt true in anyway

#politics #usa politics #democrats #republicans #donald trump #joe biden #liberals #neoliberalism #ask to tag #gem speaks

[hoopdiddies]

I'm Not Over You //Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 9)

A/N: All the fact checking had me reeling to be honest and this is one long-ass chapter, longer than the one where I said 'it's the longest I've written' but actually this wins the competition. I've used some lyrics from the song Photograph cos I felt like it would go nicely with the flow plus I am weak with hospital scenes because of the distresses that occur within it but I tried ya know ¯_(ツ)_/¯ It's a little messy and dramatic on a side note because I had to deal with some outside disturbances as well and my mind was on other things 😔 But again, thank you guys for supporting this series! Your feedbacks mean a lot ♥ Tag list is always open!! (seriously, I need more people to tag xd)

Summary: You had always loved Ben ever since you the two of you met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Warnings: That angst from 8? Yeah, it just upgraded, fluff if you, like, use a microscope, explicit description of blood and injuries, swearing but I kept it to a minimum, mentions of death but there's actually no death. Melodrama, ig? Sorry, I had a hard time writing consistently this week ^^'

WC: 6.5k (Someone got carried away.)

Tags: @haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

@loveandbeloved29

@hardzzellos

Parts: 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

"Someone please help! Help us! "

"Bloody bastard just drove off without even stopping! "

"Are you fu- you left your phone?! He's barely clinging on to life!! Ask a random person to dial 911!"

"Oh god, what- what do we do- his head, his freaking head! There is so much blood right now!"

"D-don't move his neck! He's critical!"

"Rosy. Rosy. Calm down...he has to be fine..he should be... "

"An ambulance is on its way!"

"His head is fucking bloody! Do you even want- fuck! Someone help here! Someone, please help! "

"Is he even breathing?! "

"Oh god, Y/N! He's not- he's not! "

"You better not be joking around!"

"Joe! He is bloody dying and you think I'm fucking joking?!"

"He has no pulse as well..."

"I got to- I have to make an attempt to resuscitate him. "

"Are you sure?"

"We're not waiting for that goddamn vehicle! If I don't do it, he's going to die!"

"Wake up, Ben! Please, wake up..."

Blur. That's what everything was. A huge, uncoordinated, focal blur. A sea of people had crowded the scene like a flock of sheep ready to graze on the pasture, except the only green they had for their eyes was the sight of six, dreadful friends taking it in their hands to keep the seventh one grounded while they wait for professional help.

The ones with flashing cameras hoisted up high to document the scene disgusted you down to the pits of your stomach and you had wished for them to scatter away. You all, especially you had to bear the agony of seeing him motionless on the asphalt ground– without breath, skin drained of color while the only color highlighted in the spectrum was the copious but graphic amount of blood that had tainted the spot he was lying in– his hair coated in the sticky, sanguinary puddle, creating a traumatizing mix of blond and deep red that you now couldn't forget. The tears pricking from your eyes when you had given him mouth to mouth mingling with his bleeding forehead.

He had lost all consciousness at a maximum.

You had ached to cradle his body right there and then but had you acted on impulse; it would've worsened the situation.

Medics had filled in the scene seconds after you had given Ben a well-thought out CPR undeterred by your raging adrenaline. He was then brought into the ambulance with Rosy tagging along to be there when they rush him into the ER. You had gone after with the others in Gwilym's car, your shaking hands coated with drying blood -his drying blood- as you made your way to the hospital in a blistering cruise.

You're still in your dress, only topped with Joe's designer blazer to shield you from the cold and a warm, half-empty cup of brew situated between your palms partially substituting the natural heat of your skin, waiting quietly in the lounging room. They had transferred Ben to a private room after performing an operation on his head and scanning him afterwards. One of the emergency doctors remarked that if it weren't for your initiative to follow first aid protocol and give him immediate resuscitation before help had arrived– he would have gone ten minutes early.

You've been waiting an hour and a half for the doctor to step out of the room and deliver the news about his condition. And while you do that, Joe and Lucy have gone off to collect a fresh pair of clothing from the hotel for you to change into. Rosy is stood at the entrance making some calls, Gwilym and Rami have gone back to their respective hotels to change clothes and come back for the news.

You felt light hearing that comment but it's nothing compared to the aftermath of the accident. It was a hit-and-run and the driver didn't even step on his breaks or bother to stop to take responsibility.

Rami's blazer that had been used to delay Ben's bleeding has been given back to him for dry cleaning. To complicate the situation, you're supposed to be boarded on a plane back to England eight hours from now yet that's something you have to cross out from the bucket list, entirely. You're not going anywhere unless Ben heaves out a single sigh of life.

Not a single step out the fucking institution unless he opens those eyes.

Unless he parts his lips.

Unless he says your name.

You owe it to him for saving your life, nearly costing his.

And it's just 2 in the morning.

You put down the cup on the space next to you, bringing your hands up to your lowered head, underneath your eyes watering from all of that's happened tonight.

"We're back." Two figures stand before you minutes after your eyelids have fluttered shut in despair. You lift your head to be met with Joe and Lucy in their casual clothes, smiling sadly at you with paperbags in hand.

You return that smile with a much weaker one. They settle the bags down and Joe sinks down on one knee in front of you, taking your face in his hands gently while he peeks up at you. "I see the news isn't out yet. You can change, we'll take care of it."

"You sure?" You mumble quietly. He nods and you prolong a sigh as you sit up, getting tenderly lulled into a hug by Lucy. "He's gonna be okay." She expresses definitely as she rubs your back. You thank her for the reassurance before taking one of the bags that contains your clothes.

Pulling the hem of your sweatshirt in place, you couldn't wait to escape the lavatory. It smells of newly applied bleach and the pungent odor is plain nauseating. You close the door with the bag in hand on your way out but freeze in your spot as a certain, exclusive news breaks out in the TV screen above you.

"Just 10pm tonight, Bohemian Rhapsody and EastEnders star, Ben Hardy, has reportedly been gravely involved and injured in a hit-and-run just outside of Wallis Annenberg Center during the ongoing Vanity Fair after party. Sources said that he had dashed headlong down the traffic-jammed streets to what they said was an attempt to save co-star's, Joe Mazzello, date from an incoming vehicle– which he had succeeded in as he failed to save himself–" The rest of the news anchor's words go unprocessed in your head as you hurriedly trace your way back to the lounging area, unwilling to hear recurring reports at yours or anyone's expense.

It already hurts enough that you think it's partly your fault for acting so careless.

By now, the attending physician should be out and conveying the news to Lucy and Joe and as you arrive– he is, hands in his lab coat pockets, informing them in the most serious of tones.

They see you approaching and you ask immediately, words stumbling out of your mouth like perceivable beats. "Doc, how is he? How's Ben?"

With Lucy and Joe already informed about it, the doctor decides to tell you himself to save them the hassle. "He should be fine soon. However I must be frank with you, miss," your heart loses a beat for a fraction of a second at the suspense rising, "he flat lined twice in the ER. It took three sets of defibs to get his heart beating again." Hearing him break to you that Ben was a simple step away from death as they tried to treat him drains the warm color palette in your face, even with the affirmation that he's going to be alright; knowing there were two moments in which he had slipped in and out of life at the same time just upsets your stomach.

The doctor continues with his report, telling you that he's suffered from a mild to severe head trauma caused by the blunt force when he had his scalp dragged along the asphalt. Apparently he fissured the the near front of his skull and underwent neurosurgery for it.  You quickly get the idea, having studied a series of medical topics of course, but it doesn't invalidate the fact that it still sounds like a bad thing.

The doctor sighs and adds. "Although he bled internally at a minimum, he's lucky to have bled externally for the most part."

Forming a steeple of your fingers and stealing a quick glimpse of Lucy and Joe, you gulp hard. "How long 'til he wakes up?"

"I'd say in about 48 hours. His scan results after the surgery showed promise for a stable recovery though he might wake up a little dazed at first due to the moderate concussion," at least you're getting the assurance that he's waking up, "your friend has a thick skull. He'll recover in time, but with short-term effects."

48 hours. Not enough time for you to stay or leave.

"Can we see him? Right now?" Setting your expectations to the highest, you ask with a glimmer of hope and the doctor approves, minding you to turn down the lights in the room as Ben would likely be sensitive to it by the time he wakes. "A nurse will come by and check on him every once in a while as well."

You nod weakly, thanking him professionally as you gradually hang your head in disappointment. He wishes Ben a speedy recovery before turning on his heels, leaving you to it.

Lucy brings her short hair up in a pigtail, asking as she lifts up her share of the paper bags. "Are we going in now? I mean, the doc said we're able to." She vaguely points at the door of the room and you and Joe swap looks before deciding on it. You collect your items from the seats and draw in breaths as you follow suit, stepping into the room and being welcomed by the almost odorless whiff of paint and medicine; along with the light to moderate blow of the air conditioner.

As the door clicks close, you stand motionless yet internally trembling at the heartbreaking sight of Ben lying unresponsive, surrounded by various machines working to keep him alive. Flanking his bed are the heart monitor -fully functional- and a medical ventilator from which he is breathing from. He's hooked up to an IV bag with a breathing tube put into his mouth, his left arm is propped upon his abdomen but protected around a plaster and supported within a blue arm sling and lastly, his head is wrapped in a layer of roller bandage– the giveaway of his major injury.

"Y/N..." Joe cooing breaks you off from your vacant gaze but you hand him a forlorn eye as bring yourself to Ben's side, glancing over his limp body. He's taken quite a hit to have fractured his arm like this. His complexion didn't appear as livid as it is now and marking his bottom lip -which has lost that luscious red tint as well- is a small bruise, parted from his upper lip as he involuntarily breathes through the tube in his mouth. You don't hear his slow exhales but the normal rise and fall of his chest consoles a small part of you; the stable beeping of the heart monitor being the only occuring noise in the room. Concerned with how awfully quiet you've gone, Lucy and Joe give each other fitting looks as they share the same thought on the situation. As one of them begins to step close to ensure you're taking it well, you pipe up before them, your once honey-laced voice diminished to a monotone. "It's...not my fault."

"Of course, it's not," Lucy, being the one who has taken that step close, tenderly agrees but you add.

"It's not but it feels like it is."

Now Joe steps up next but stop as you add once more.

"And I told him I wanted to forget him and for him to do the same." Now some tears are inevitable.

"Y/N-"

"As impractical as it is to think about it now, but what if he does?" your hand has now hovered over him, the nerves of the pads of your fingers itching to skim themselves over his free hand, "I don't want to go. But I have to and he's still not gonna wake up by the time I leave."

His condition just yearns for your touch but you don't want to lay a hand on him just yet, out of the fear that you might hurt a small part of him.

Joe sighs softly as he puts his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them with ease. "Why don't you just email the institution about it? Tell them you're gonna have to delay because of an urgent matter."

"I can do that, but only a day after. I can't take long."

"Rami and Gwilym are on their way," Lucy reminds as she gets off her phone from messaging them, "with some food and water."

"None of us are burning the midnight oil then," Joe stretches his limbs and returns to the couch to take a moment to relax, eyes snapping wide as he remembers something. "By the way, Y/N. If you spilled your heart out to him earlier, did you include the bit where our relationship was all but pretend?"

Surely the stare you and Lucy are sharing towards him could render the atmosphere painful but you answer regardless of the topic, shaking your head as you turn your attention to Ben once more. "No. But he's bound to question it. That is if he remembers what happened."

Lucy rests her hand on her hip as she glances at the heart monitor, the waves tempting her eyes to follow them. "Doctor never implied anything about amnesia."

The three of you fall silent again with you locking your gaze at the man who didn't want to let you go. Who chased you down a busy highway knowing he'd bite the dust if he did and ended up saving you at the expense of his own well-being.

And life.

And his own soul.

He'll recover in a short period, yes. But when you had gently grazed your trembling hand over his bloodied head in the middle of the street, it was as if he was bound to never wake up. A visual you want to shake off for the sake of composure.

Joe and Lucy take notice of your stilled silence again, their expressions low-spirited. Taking small steps towards you, Lucy wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind and pulls out a certain object from her back pocket, slipping it to you. "Found this in the inner pocket of Ben's tainted blazer when the doctors gave his clothes to us."

You cast your gaze to what she's holding and hear your heart shatter at what it is. You slowly take it from her and sweep your thumb over it.

Ben's share of your Homecoming picture.

And behind it, the same date and continuation of what was written on your half.

You piece it in your mind and feel your eyes cloud with tears, a droplet making a small patter as it lands on the polaroid.

He kept it. In his blazer. He brought it along with him.

_I'm not going... anywhere at all. _

"But I am." You mutter as opposed to  the words in your head. For as long as you love him and he doesn't in the way you do, distancing yourself is something that needs to be done to make sure you finally let go. You'd stick around but it would further fragment your soul.

Just in time to tear you from reaching your breakfing point, the door creaks open to two men and a red-haired woman, two of whom are grasping paper bags containing some food and water and one with an overwrought look, respectively.

Lucy leaves your side and walks over to Rami's, kissing his cheek and helping them unload their items on the coffee table. Gwilym gives the three of you, and Rosy who had followed in behind them, an individual hug– asking you about Ben's condition as he lays eyes on him.

You assure him of a smooth recovery and it unknots the lump of worry he's under.

"Oh, Ben, baby... " Breaks down Rosy, who whizzes past you to tear up over her injured fiance. She gazes down painfully at the man before her and delicately fondles his blanch cheek, eyes narrowed to the point where her face has contorted to a scowl which she throws directly at you. "This is all your fault. "

Your brows crease at her in absolute confusion. "What are you talking about?" Sensing that an altercation is about to take place, the rest stumble quiet in preparation for the worst. Joe readies himself to butt in in case it escalates further.

"What did you say to him?" She asks you in a form of a hiss.

"Nothing! I-"

"He chased you down! You must have said something that set him off!" Her demanding voice echoes off the walls, overlaying the beeping and whizzing of both the heart monitor and ventilator. You begin swearing to her that you didn't say anything of the sort but trail off as you realize that what you had actually said, was something that indeed hurt him.

You draw your lips between your teeth and clench your fist, unable to respond with the truth, fearing it might just fuel the fire.

"That's- that's not important now." You shake your head dismissively and turn around.

"It is. You led Ben out into the street, agitated."

"Rosy, please. Can we not talk about this now? We're squabbling in front of an unconscious man-"

"Okay girls. Our boy is out cold but that doesn't mean he can't hear, right?" Eager to quench the growing conflict, Gwilym slides in between the dangerous proximity you've put yourselves in and you huff an apology.

On the other hand, Rosy does the complete opposite. "No, Gwilym. He has been acting strange for weeks and to think tomorrow's supposed to be our wedding! And this is all because of her."

Gwilym turns to her firmly and tries calming - or rather shutting her up for the sake of the peace Ben needs to heal- her down. "We're not throwing fingers here. I know tomorrow's the day and you don't want to put him under pressure, right? I don't think he's going to succumb to waking up if this goes on."

Rami, Lucy and Joe have remained unbelievably quiet but are as keen as Gwilym to prevent something unnecessary as this. It's barely 3 am in the morning for the love of God and you're all in a hospital room. Sleeping patients could bang their fists on the walls from the other side any time.

You, on the other hand, have already made four steps towards the door, ready to leave the room to be alone with your thoughts for the night but you're unable to twist the knob as Rosy snaps once more with the hint, distressing with a clenched jaw.

She's unrelenting.

"Please Y/N, you're overstepping and frankly it's getting in the way of my relationship with Ben."

"You have no idea what I'm trying to do," You mumble in the most bitter of intonations for Rosy to get the message, your fingers clenching around the knob and producing a faint chink. "But he's my best friend. Let me be the person I've always been to him, " you whip your head at her -a stare you're certain could equal to a pelted javelin- and draw your brows together, pleading on account of choosing to be present in a crisis such as this, " he's all yours anyway."

With a strong swing of the door, you march angrily out of the room, making your way outside the building to blow off steam – the smooth rub of the polaroid between your fingers surrendering you to tears.

You give yourself exactly 48 hours to stay before heading back to England to board your flight for Spain.

10 hours

Ben's accident was a clean hit-and-run. Apparently some bystanders had snapped a shot of the license plate the moment the car slowed down and accelerated afterwards. It was then delivered to the police to be given further investigation. His parents have flown in from England to visit him and you badly wish you could greet them but some things are just too heavy to do right now. Back at the hospital, Ben's been given hourly checks and assessments, with each desired result constant. He's not responsive to any physical contact but the doctor is certain that he can perceive sound and sound only.  His body is asleep but his mind isn't.

The rest will be visiting him at dusk while you're going in late with Joe.

After sending an email to the university about your 24-hour delay, you spend the entire day just waiting to go down there and be by his side. Regarding your solitude in the hotel room, Rami had Lucy stay in with him for the meantime and being initially worried about leaving you, she had asked for your permission to which you said yes to.

Sometimes in the day, you can't hold back a few tears at the flashing memory.

17 hours

Loving can hurt

Standing in front of the private room, you clutch the collar of your shirt anxiously, hearing incoherent but distinct murmurs on the other side of the door. Joe looks down at you and squeezes your hand lightly to relieve you of pressure. He knows how much this is affecting you, and though not visually shown, he's taking it hard too.

Loving can hurt sometimes

The door opens to a couple you've familiarized yourself with for so long. Ben's parents.

"Y-Y/N?" Says his mum, unable to believe that it's you standing before her. Your breath hitches as you grin sadly, being pulled into her embrace. "It's been so long."

"It has, Mrs. Jones."

Joe shakes hands with his father as he introduces himself politely. Mr. Jones greets you in with a light hug as well and you can't help but spill a few tears.

But it's the only thing that I know

They give you full access to the room

as they themselves have to leave for a while, thereby trusting their son to his closest circle. Knowing how tight you and Ben are, they give you much of their trust on this one and you'd want nothing more than to make sure he'll wake up without any further complications. They obviously know about Rosy but witnessing how long you and Ben have grown on one another, they trust you the most.

They bid you and Joe goodbye, leaving access to the room exclusive.

When it gets hard

As you begin closing the door behind Joe, he insists that you have some alone time with him. Though it may feel weird but he feels as if you need this the most with time going against you now. Touched by his thoughtfulness, you give him a quick embrace before he leaves you to it.

You know it can get hard sometimes

The sight before you hasn't changed that much.

The same monitors and the same person.

Same feeling.

However you'd rather take everything

in a different light and situation.

You fiddle with your fingers as you accumulate the strength to swallow the lump in your throat, drawing yourself to his side. The mild, incessant whirring of both the air conditioner and ventilator occupies the silent atmosphere along with the steady beeps of the heart monitor, blocking the huge gulp you've taken.

It is the only thing that makes us feel alive

Slowly taking a seat on the stool positioned beside the guard rails of the bed,  you let out a quavery sigh– the byproduct of all the tearing up you've  done today. You take his free hand in yours and stroke his pale knuckles with your thumb, leaning in to plant a kiss on it.

We keep this love in a photograph

"Ben? It's me. Can you hear me?"

One-sided conversations are helpful according to experts and this is the perfect opportunity to tell him everything without having to bear the flits in his expression.

But you beg to differ.

We made these memories for ourselves. Where our eyes are never closing.

You continue, allowing every crack and quiver to manifest in your voice no matter how relatively pathetic it will make you sound.

"Ben, please, you gotta wake up. You're leaving us in a hot mess here, bud. Hell, you gave your parents the scare of their lives. I know I'm starting off rough with this, but it's all cause you had to leap in like that. But then again, it was- it was not your fault. This- all of this is not your doing. I should've been more careful on that road. Would've been better if I had cut back on the melodrama, huh? Haha..."

You lick your lips and resume, owning the patters your tears have soiled on the tiled floor.

Hearts are never broken

"I'm sorry if I had to hide it all from you, " you build it up slowly, tears tenacious to leave your eyes, "it's just that I was afraid you'd soon forget me once you've married and I wouldn't be part of your life anymore. To make matters worse, I have always loved you, Ben. On every level and aspect, I still do. Sticking around to see you spend the rest of your life with someone else when that feeling is still present is just toxic. And to think you're supposed to be wedded tomorrow, "you sniffle, taking a few seconds to form your following words, "that's why it would be easier if we- if we...oh god, I'm actually much more of an actor than you are..." You want to chuckle for it, but nothing resembling a chuckle mopes out of your mouth. Just...short breaths.

Time is forever frozen-

"But I truly am happy for you. I really am. But I can't be happy myself when you've taken a huge portion of my heart and I'm just...I just want to make sure nothing will ever ruin your happiness," You close the distance between you and the bed, your hot tears dripping on his arm sling, the cloth absorbing it. You're really taking advantage of his inability to respond.

"I'm s-sorry, Ben. I don't know how long I can stay by your side like this. Literally like this. But as long as I am able, " you lower your head onto his chest, now shamelessly sobbing like you haven't broken down in centuries, squeezing his free but chilly hand like it's the only thing that'll give you warmth tonight, "I'm sorry if I'm going somewhere."

And still

Despite promising to give you a moment alone with him, Joe -having recurring, inquisitive tendencies- has acted as opposed to his promise and  eavesdropped on your unrequited talk due to having to wait too long, not realizing that after hearing all your words exit in sobs, you've fallen asleep with your head on Ben's chest.

Joe glances around the hall before budging the door open, careful not to disturb you as he sees you out cold next to him. He presses his lips into a hard line and chuckles quietly, amused as he grabs an available sheet from the couch and drapes it over you. The moment he notices a tear droplet stuck in the corner of your eye, he wipes it away with his thumb, sighing profoundly.

"Rosy's gonna flip when she gets back and sees this. So, " Joe, mumbling on his own, tumbles back down onto the couch and kicks back, "I'll be here just in case."

20 hours

So you can keep me

A nurse opens the door with a tray and clipboard in hand to conduct an hourly assessment of his condition, not minding your head placement on his chest. He's still unresponsive to anything external.

I**nside the pocket of your ripped jeans **

As the test ends and the nurse closes the door on her way out, his finger twitches.

30 hours

Holding me closer til our eyes meet

Joe wakes you up softly with a bowl of soup in hand– something he bought from the cafeteria upstairs. You lift your heavy head from its recent spot and blink your bleary eyes at him, giving away a wry smile and telling him you'll eat later on.

You won't ever be alone

"By they way, this slipped from your pocket." He slips something off the table and hands it to you with a knowing look, that something being the dual polaroids you've taped together the other night. You take it from him deliberately and turn your head to Ben, before staring down at the joint pictures, nostalgia ever so sudden like a whiplash.

Wait for me to come home

35 hours

Loving can heal

Rami and Lucy have stopped by to visit and take your 'shifts' considering Rosy is still absent and you and Joe had to return to the hotel to change. The attending physician and a nurse come in to replace his breathing tube with a nasal cannula, since the assessment done hours prior has shown that he's already capable of breathing on his own.

39 hours

Loving can mend your soul

"Funny how today is supposed to be his wedding but we're getting a funeral instead. " Morbidly comments one of Ben's visitors and closest friends. Every single person in the room who has come by to visit Ben shoots a death glare at him for making that joke within a two feet radius of Ben who is sure to give him a bop on the head the minute he gets up.

41 hours

And it's the only thing that I know

Meanwhile Rosy had spent the entire day rescheduling the wedding and the once volatile reactions she's had do a 360 and is brought down to one, constant look as she bumps into you on your way to Ben's room.

42 hours

I swear it will get easier, remember that with every piece of you

You both don't say a word until you've settled down on the couch as she strays to Ben's side and wipes the glistening speckle of sweat on his cheek with her thumb, the silence coming to a close as you pry the words out of your mouth.

"Rosy, believe me. I have never harboured the thought of coming between you both. I'm only ever there for him as a friend."

And it's the only thing we take with us when we die

Giving you an impassive eye, she ignores your words entirely and turns her attention back to her fiance.

45 hours

We keep this love in a photograph

You don't leave the room with the hours progressing to the moment he's timed to wake up. A lot of people have paid him a visit, cracking jokes and talking to him notwithstanding the fact that he's utterly unresponsive. They've done all they can to lighten the mood in the room, hoping all their antics and bliss would lure Ben out of his induced insensibility. But he's nowhere near the edge.

We made these memories for ourselves

47 hours

With Rosy snuggled up against his side, Ben retains immobility and it's a sight you're not used to since he's one of the most fidgety arseholes who's ever graced your life. You know you'd be bombed by her if you do this with her close by, but you had given yourself exactly 48 hours to stay before heading back.

Where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken

And so you wander to the opposite side of the bed and peer at down your wristwatch for the time.

Time's forever frozen and still.

48 hours

"Ben?" You whimper close to his ear. He's not responding. You know he wouldn't wake up that quickly at the strike of the exact hour but you're impatient to say goodbye to him with his forest, green eyes on full display and wandering around your (Y/E/C) ones to bolster you up.

"Hey." You coax into his ear again, still no response. The racing beat of your heart has matched the beeps of the heart monitor. His heart beats. The similarity is sketchy but nearly symbolic. You're leaving in the morning and he's not up and lively for you to fervently crush in a parting embrace.

"Bud, please. I can't force you to wake up but I'm leaving tomorrow. You have to help me...here." At this point, though how eager you are to, you can't let some tears stream down from your eyes since the possibility of Rosy waking up to you catching sobs is feasible, but Ben's involuntary stillness is not helping you with that ordeal. Losing all hope for a night, you straighten up and collect your things from the couch, deciding to come back one last time tomorrow prior to your departure.

You quickly open the door to the attending physician who's about to step in to take physical tests but you whisk past him without taking a second look.

Easy to say you didn't have a good night sleep with all the stresses weighing down on you that night. Either you hyperventilated in your slumber or remained asleep but with tears seeping from your half-closed eyes.

You've sent Lucy a text in the early hours of the morning notifying her about your departure today. She hasn't responded yet.

"Just a 24-hour delay? Are they that heartless?" Leaning on the door frame of your hotel room with a bitten donut in his hand, Joe questions as he watches you prop your luggage against the open door. "I had to reschedule the flight thrice last month, this one being the latest. It's only reasonable," You huff as a matter of fact, fixing the scarf that has dangled loose around your neck and staring into oblivion barely a second after going tight-lipped.

Finishing his donut, Joe pokes you out of your momentary trance. "You alright?"

You shake your head.

"I don't even know if he's awake now. It's past 48 hours and what if he-"

"There's only one way to find out," appeasing your elevating worry, he grabs you by the shoulders and looks you square in the eye, silently guaranteeing you of his recovery.

Since he'll be driving you to the airport, your things are neatly stored in the confines of the backseat but of course, you have to see Ben one last time, setting aside all the excruciating anticipation.

You scurry into the entrance with Joe by your side, out of breaths by the time you arrive at the door of Ben's room. Taking precautionary measures, you knock firmly on the surface expecting someone or Rosy to answer. But nada. You swap some looks with Joe and twist the knob gently, finding the room free of visitors and medical staff. Perhaps they've assessed him an hour prior.

"No one's around."

As you begin slipping a foot through the ajar door, Joe puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you mid-step.

"Lucy's on her way."

His update on her reply makes you smile and you continue into the room, seeing the curtains that had blocked the sunlight for two days cast aside, spilling some sunlight into the room.

You take small, wobbly steps along the floor, unable to accept that until now he hasn't fluttered open those orbs you loved staring into so much. You suddenly fear that a complication has risen and is causing his extended unconsciousness but that must be the least of your worries.

So you can keep me, inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

He has to hear you. He has to. He has to.

He's gone really pasty. Dark circles under his eyes despite being asleep for two days. He has grown a scruff and looks painfully unruly, but still a face of an angel. You crouch and take his free hand in yours– careful not to disconnect the IV tube from his wrist, caressing it and drawing in a sharp inhale to free yourself of any doubt to speak up. "Ben. It's Y/N. You're scaring us, you know. The doctor said you'd wake up earlier but why? Why haven't you? What are you doing in there?"

This being the end of the long haul for you, you're not forcing anything at bay anymore– not your tears, not your peeves and certainly not your feelings. You interlace your fingers around his and kiss the back of his hand, your cheeks growing scarlet and wet with tears.

Holding me closer til our eyes meet, you won't ever be alone.

You get up from crouching and throw your arm around him in defiance of the possibility of applying a lot of pressure on his chest. It feels so different holding him that way. For the time you have left, an overly emotional, one-sided conversation should make up for the lost times that would've been great for those.

And if you hurt me, that's okay baby only words bleed

"You really kept that Homecoming picture, didn't you? Coincidentally I did too, just forgot it was there as well. But I pieced it back, by the way. Ironic that we both made a promise on those polaroids the night before graduation. I-I have it with me here, just so you know. Just thought I'd bring it out since...I'll be going soon." You pull the pictures out from the pocket of your coat with trembling hands, eager to wave them in front of him. Once out, you place it on the bedside table for him to keep once more but with your share of the picture.

Inside these pages you just hold me, and I won't ever let you go

You lay your forehead on his, your tears dripping onto his closed lids as you sob his name to get him to wake, at the same time feeling his soft exhales brush against your chin. " I told you I'd be strong and I'm trying to be. I know it sounds like a selfish thing to do but you have to trust me on this one. I want to move on, Ben. You're bound to be wedded soon and have a family of your own. I want to be there for that. I want to be that aunt who'll spoil your kids and make them fight you for the craziest demands. Those things I'd gladly do...if I wasn't this hopeless for you," Little by little, your voice comes out as broken whisper– losing your strength to add any more things to say in the process. On the other side of the door, Joe is finally joined by Lucy who has arrived not a minute late and they can't help but tear up a little at how uncontrolled your crying is slowly turning out, it's become audible enough to be heard from outside.

"Ben, buddy. Come on." He huffs against the hardwood as he and Lucy are tempted to barge in.

Burying your face into the exposed column of his neck with your arm slackening from being draped across his chest, you utter a voiceless but heartfelt statement.

Wait for me to come home

"I love you, Benjamin Jones. Be happy for me."

Your words hang thinly in the fragile air as you pull away from that proximity and leave a long kiss on his forehead, walking back sadly to the door with your hand outstretched ready to grab ahold of the knob.

"H-how could I be..."

The words released sound like a mere memory resonating in your head but you are proved wrong once you turn around.

#borhap #queen #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #borhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap imagine #ben hardy fanfic #imagine #fanfic

[academyofbrokenhearts]

F1 Reddit fans are wild as fuck, I pointed out that half of the grid doesn’t even kneel in solidarity with Lewis, so I don’t see why we should expect them to be human rights activists in private, and I was bombarded with replies like “how do you know they don’t care? maybe they care PRIVATELY, not everyone is an attention seeker” (if you truly believe that somehow not speaking up on social issues makes someone the better person in this context, then idk) and “kneeling is American cultural imperialism” (which is surely a weird hill to die on).

#Formula One #F1 #Reddit #racism #Lewis Hamilton #I'm not saying that everyone should kneel #I'm just saying it's the bare minimum and if they are unwilling to do even that #then it's safe to assume they don't care that much #we all know F1 is not known for its impeccable morals #so I don't see why I should try to find excuses for rich guys who don't even bother to do a symbolic gesture of solidarity #original posts