making this hole thing was a pain

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar’s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way
—  Hurt by Nine Inch Nails

binders

i personally use a binder for every class except one (mostly bc i like binders and some teachers require them hehe) you could decorate it to make it pretty or put useful guides in the clear cover pocket so you can glance at your binder rlly quickly before a test starts. anyways, some problems with binders are that papers often get shoved in without a single thought or the holes rip.

use plastic pocket tab dividers.
they should sell these at your average store. they’re basically tab dividers that have pockets to put stuff in. this can be very helpful for the things that you get that aren’t already hole-punched or you can’t hole punch them.
you should divide your binder up into categories such as homework, handouts, notes, etc. it makes your binder so much neater and helps you find things faster too.

get a hole-puncher
it is a pain to drag around a binder filled with unpunched papers and even if you do have pocket tab dividers, they have their limits. i have a portable 3 hole-puncher that you can place on your binder rings and it was like $2 usd.
if it’s something that you can hole-punch (margins are big enough, you can keep the thing, you want it in your binder, etc), then hole-punch it and stick it in before you lose it.

label your binder
most binders have a pocket on the spine. make a paper strip that fits the size and label that thing. all of my binders are white, so it’s difficult for me to tell which one is which right away. labels help so so much. put your name, class, period, and fun doodles on it if you wish.

folders

downside of binders: they can get heavy
how to fix that: i use folders

folders are great for classes that don’t require a lot of handouts, assignments, etc. i carry around folders for subjects like math and then file graded assignments and what not into a binder at home. this is so so much lighter than carrying 219246321 binders / expandable files.

as for me, i just carry around a general “homework” folder that has notebook paper, graph paper, and my homework. i find that it’s helpful to have all of my homework in one place, but tbh having a folder for each subject is probably more organized hehe. i have separate folders for classes like ap hugs or principles of design, tech, and engineering because the amount of handouts i get from those classes clutters up my homework folder.

pls pls for ur sanity, label your folders. get different colors or something. figure out a way to quickly differentiate between your calculus folder and your chemistry folder. it would be terrible to go to class and realize that you brought your literature folder instead of your math folder or something.

expandable files

these are like the mom of folders; folders upgraded; a family of folders

the nice thing about these is that you don’t have to get anything hole-punched, you already have stuff divided + tabs for you, and it’s pretty easy to organize.
some people like having one expandable file for their entire day while others like to have one for each subject. it all depends on you and your preferences.

it’s kinda like organized shoving.
graded homework? shove it in tab 3. syllabus? shove it in tab 1.
just make sure that you don’t shove stuff in with too much excitement (or laziness or you just want to get out of that class sooner) because the papers can get wrinkled and all folded up and possibly ripped. and nobody likes that, right?

i personally didn’t like it bc i was too lazy to undo the little loop thing and open the thing up bahahahhaha. also, i think i would’ve broken the loop at one point during the school year. but it’s portable, it’s easy to use, and there’s not much to fuss about it.

hope this helped and good luck! if you’d like to request a post, go here and if you’d like to see more helpful posts, go here!! thanks :)

“10 things I learned when he left me.
1. Smoking 3 packs of cigarettes a day won’t numb the pain.
2. Your friends will do anything to distract you from missing him but the only thing you’ll be thinking about is him.
3. Checking if he’s online all the time will only remind you that he’ll never call again.
4. Don’t listen to music for a while because every damn song will remind you of him.
5. Kissing strangers won’t fill the hole he left in you.
6. Being drunk almost everyday won’t help you to forget him.
7. Seeing him with someone else will make you wanna throw up. But you’ll turn around and act like you didn’t see him holding her hand, because it’s been almost 6 months and people expect you to be over it by now.
8. Hearing someone say his name will make you ache.
9. You’ll want to scream when you see how pretty she is.
10. Blocking his number and deleting every picture of him won’t help you forget what happened and how much you loved him.”

- It’s you, forever, T.

anonymous asked:

I want you to destroy me. Tear me apart. Fuck every hole I have, and then keep making more until there is nothing left of me but blood and your cum. Wrap your hands around my neck and squeeze until you feel the Too-fragile vertebrae snap beneath your fingers. Crush my windpipe and watch me choke. Watch tears fill my glazed eyes, leak down my cheeks. Laugh because you love the pain you're causing me. the last sound I hear will be your laughter. The last thing I feel: your lips on my broken body

*Insert an encouraging title*

You know, BPD sucks in so many ways. It’s really hard to explain to a person who doesn’t have it how you feel everything just so much more intensely. How your emotions cause you physical pain all the time. How your destructive urges take over your mind and how it’s sometimes impossible not to lose control.

I had one of those days today. Throughout the entire day I felt this suffocating emptiness, the hole in my chest burning right through my flesh. The loneliness overwhelmed me, the feeling of my life being useless, pointless and inescapable was almost intolerable. It never fails to make me extremely irritable, needy and pretty much hard to be around. Relationships suffer, self-esteem goes down the drain.

But there are so many things to be grateful for. I used to be like that for days, weeks in a row. Now it shows up only a couple of days a month and usually doesn’t last more than a day. I haven’t figured out a cure for it yet, except for keeping in mind that it will only last until I go to sleep, and tomorrow will be a brand new day that I can completely turn around.

Days like this can make you curse your condition, despise your life and drown in self-pity. But it’s worth remembering that most of the time I feel happy, and when I do, I REALLY feel it to the max. And I would never be able to experience this wide spectrum of emotions if it wasn’t for BPD.

I’ve seen some BPD-sufferer write something along the lines of “The biggest pain in life is that I can understand how you feel but you will never be able to understand how I feel”. But is it really so necessary? I mean, it makes you somewhat special, like a superpower. It comes with a price tag, of course, but what in life doesn’t? Isn’t having a life so much more vibrant and intense than a regular one and the ability to experience things in such a deep way worth a bit of pain? I think it is, and even during days when I only want to lay on the floor until melt into it and stop existing, I am grateful for the way my psyche is. And I consider it a big victory.

The moral of this rant is: enjoy your life no matter what. We all have our ups and downs, our lives are unique and no one’s experience is the same. What is constant from one person to another is the ability to shift the perspective to the good things life has to offer. And there’s always a lot, sometimes you just have to look a bit harder.

I promise.

Love

xx

100 daydreams 
In the dark. 
100 memories I wish 
I could put in a box 
Under my bed 
100 things I 
should (or shouldn’t)
Have said.

Who’s keeping tally? 
Why do I record 
Pain, and reference it 
Like a calendar
To try to figure out if I've 
Become more or less
Insane? 

I’m poking holes in the sun,
I’m pretending that clouds
In the sky 
Are what makes all my memories 
So forgettable, 
Mist. 

If I continue to 
Walk backwards 
100 times, 
I am sure that maybe 
Somewhere on the sidewalk
I could find the ashes
I left behind of my life

100 more times 
I love you,
100 more times 
I will not say
100 more times 
I will walk away. 

And for what? 
I torture myself with 
Sooty dusk, 
I light my heart 
On fire 
With a rusty zippo,
And I claim
100 more times
that I will 
Find a way

—  Tessa Young
Sorry means you feel the pulse of other people’s pain as well as your own, and saying it means you take a share of it. And so it binds us together, makes us trodden and sodden as one another. Sorry is a lot of things. It’s a hole refilled. A debt repaid. Sorry is the wake of misdeed. It’s the crippling ripple of consequence. Sorry is sadness, just as knowing is sadness. Sorry is sometimes self-pity. But Sorry, really, is not about you. It’s theirs to take or leave.
—  Craig Silvey, Jasper Jones
Sweeter

Jason x reader

Part 1 here


It hurt waking up.

The light filtering through the buildings dazzled you; it made your skin burn and stung your eyes. Your mind was still fuzzy and what happened last night looked almost like a blank space to you, though the pain in your body seemed to remember what your head couldn’t. Last thing you could remember was walking away from your ex´s house after you broke up; from then on you only had flashes of it. Getting dragged to an alley, your head smashing against the wall, a burning pain on your body and someone cutting through your neck.

Your hand reached for the spot instinctively, expecting a huge hole or teared skin, only to find a fine scar and clotted blood.

Your body was still resting on the wall, the hard bricks pressed deep against you back making you flinch once you moved as you tried making account of yourself, hopping for the worst. Surprise came to you when nothing was out of normal, everything was there, even the things on your bag, not even a thing was moved.

“Probably a failed robbery”, you thought, “guy must have thought I was dead from all the blood that came out of the cut.” Your hand reaching again for your wound.

You tried to remember your attacker; something that may give the police a clue on who to look for but the only thing that came to your mind was a man a white streak of hair and a pair of red eyes looking at you

A cold shiver ran through your spine. Red eyes, that’s impossible, almost laughable, things like that, belonged only to nightmares or stories, but still, the thought lingered in your head for a while up to the moment you decided to leave.

It was a long way from there to your apartment. With a bit of effort you finally managed to stand up but just as soon you wanted to sit again, not daring to leave, hoping to avoid the next, it wasn’t the pain you got from moving but the fear of facing the judging looks from people what wanted you stay, you couldn’t blame them though, even if everything was in its place, the blood could make them think the worst.

Once in your apartment you finally took a bath. Under the cold water your skin still burned, blisters covering your arms from the long exposure to sun. Hot tears left your eyes as you tried to get the blood of your body and hair. You couldn’t stop feeling scared; you didn’t remember what happened or who did it. And even if you could attribute it to a robbery, something still felt off, and those red eyes, why did they haunt you so much?

As weeks passed, the few memories from that day had already started to fade. You kept going on with your life as if nothing had happened; though you had to make a few changes, as your skin became more sensitive to the sun you had to change your shift, now having to work at night. You tried filling a police report the day after the attack but all you got were pieces of a broken memory and something that just couldn’t be, nothing that could help you.

Aside from your night shift, after some time everything seemed to be back to normal but as the worries started to go down, something else was growing.

You noticed it a week after that night, how your food portions were getting bigger. When before a spoonful of it was enough, now you were eating twice as much. You were getting hungrier. By the third week, full meals enough to feed two people, was barely satisfying. Worry started to grow inside you as you feared you might have gotten something from that night, a bacteria or a parasite that had made at home in your stomach or worse.

You never cared going to the doctor after what happened, the fewer things you could associate with it the better, but now it was time to face it. The studies brought more doubts than answers as everything was fine, nothing out of the usual. No explanation for your increasing hunger, no changes on your weight either, and nothing out of normal.

You couldn’t help letting out a laugh, “It’s just your imagination [Y/N], there’s nothing wrong.” Your body trembling as you moved. “It’s going to be okay, don’t worry, we are going to be fine.” You told yourself until you finally calmed down.

But soon things became worst.

It happened soon after your diagnosis. A pain on your chest woke you up and it became harder to breathe, air passing like fire through your throat. Damn, it hurt so much! Your whole head felt like it was breaking apart, the pain coming from your mouth.

You were less conscious of yourself as pain began to grow in your body. You were so thirsty it was hard to think. Your moves became faster as you tried desperately to subdue your thirst, but no amount of water seemed to be enough to do it.

Before you finished thinking you were already outside, still on your night clothes, hopping the night breeze would calm you, until you smelled it. A sweet fragrance, coming from somewhere down the street, so sweet it made your mouth water and the pain on your head now feel like needles on your lips.

The smell was now the only thing you could think of. You started to run, looking for it, desperate to put your hands on it, to finally taste it, so bad it made your throat burn even more, until you finally found it, or better said, you found her. A girl laid on the sidewalk, clutching her hand to wound on her abdomen, blood dirtying her dress and the concrete as she tried to stand.

You inhaled a long breath, tasting the sweetness her blood brought to you. A feral growl left your mouth as you pounced. Everything happened so fast you weren’t even conscious of what was going on, your mind focused only on the thirst. Your moves where swift and quick, she tried to scream but your hand was already there, using all your strength you managed to get over the girl, pinning her to the floor. She started to move, trying to break free of your grip, after all, you were just another girl but just like her, you found out you were too strong for that.

Wanting to end the pain you finally gave into your instincts. Taking a deep breath you bit into her neck, piercing her flesh with the fangs you had just grown. Hot liquid started to run into your mouth, even better than it smelled, passing through your burning throat like ice, taking the thirst away. I was nothing like you’ve ever tasted, nothing you could compare it to. A faint sound made you stop, her heart gave its last beating before finally stopping, leaving you disappointed. You wanted more.

By the time you were done your face was covered in blood, your clothes and hands soaked in it too. As if you were still on a trance your feet began to move, looking for something else to calm your thirst until coming from a diferent street you found it, but there was something different, another smell reached you, something familiar.

Following your feet you came to a darkened street. It wasn’t until you were at the entrance you finally noticed where you were. It was the same alley, the same floor, the same walls but a different scenario. This time it wasn’t you on the floor. You had to thank Gotham for this; it was now a man’s turn to learn from this city. He just had a hit on his head, lying unconscious on the floor, and blood trailing from the cut, the same familiar smell still lingered in the air, making you thirstier than ever as it was now closer.

You were ready to attack until you felt yourself grabbed by the back by someone strong enough to hold you. A steady hold kept you from your pray, making it hard to move. Noticing the smell come from them you tried to break free of his grip. You used all your strength, trying as many tricks you could make out until you finally broke free.

You turned yourself to face your attacker, hissing and baring your fangs, coming face to face to a man you were sure didn’t exist, a white streak of hair too familiar, and a pair of red eyes looking at you with surprise.


A/N: It’s done!! i finally finished the second part of the vampire Jason story. It was much larger than I expected. Thank you all who liked the first part and everyone who asked for a second part, hope you guys like it @cait-writes-stuff @dove-among-bats @batlog @noobwing @uncpanda @roseangel013bf

Sorry.
Sorry means you feel the pulse of other people’s pain as well as your own, and saying it means you take a share of it. And so it binds us together, makes us trodden and sodden as one another. Sorry is a lot of things. It’s a hole refilled. A debt repaid. Sorry is the wake of misdeed. It’s the crippling ripple of consequence. Sorry is sadness, just as knowing is sadness. Sorry is sometimes self-pity. But Sorry, really, is not about you. It’s theirs to take or leave.
Sorry means you leave yourself open, to embrace or to ridicule or to revenge. Sorry is a question that begs forgiveness, because the metronome of a good heart won’t settle until things are set right and true. Sorry doesn’t take things back, but it pushes things forward. It bridges the gap. Sorry is a sacrament. It’s an offering. A gift.
Hole in my chest

You know that heavy pain in your chest
Where it feels like you’re just heaving and gasping because the hole in your chest seems too much.
Where loneliness is creating a new emotion within you that’s way deeper than depression,
The way it feels when someone tells you they don’t love you anymore, or they never loved you in the first place. I’m full with blood and guts but the absence of love and human kindness make these organs feel weightless, that an invisible thing- weighs on me heavier than the need to breathe the need to eat, talk, text makes me feel like i need to retreat inside myself, go deep into the hole in my chest and hide because I’m so fucking focused on being beautiful and wanted I don’t know who I am anymore
I just want to be loved
I just want to be loved
I just want to be loved
I just want to be loved
I just want to be loved
I just want to be loved
I just want to be loved

This hole in my chest hurts

anonymous asked:

Is it just my brain or I actually feel like the world wants to destroy me? Why do I always feel like this when everyone tells me otherwise?

I don’t know, honey, because I don’t know who or how you are.

I say that, because I can use my own means to compare to your upset, but it won’t do any good if we’re actually different.

I personally compare myself to others who have it better than me, or who I think, have it better than me, and it makes me cry and feel miserable—like I don’t deserve something good. It makes me feel like, yes, the world is out to crush me and say ‘see there—they have a much better like than you’.

In the end, the best thing we can do for ourselves is try to find a bright light somewhere. Only finding the darkness in it will get us deeper in a hole. =(

In the end, however, your pain is valid. *hugs* Just hang in there, hon.

anonymous asked:

when you saw Stefan after all these years how did it feel? :) and how is it living finally the dream you've always dreamed of?

At first I was relieved, it was good to see someone I love, after all these years of being alone. But then I realized something’s wrong. I could see it in Stefan’s eyes. Can’t describe how I felt then… he left a hole in my heart and no one will ever be able to fill it. 

I’m happy, even though my life is not the one I dreamed of. Why? Because I wanted a life without sadness and pain. Now I know it’s impossible and I’m okay with that. All those terrible things that have happened to me, and my friends and family, taught me that pain can’t be avoided. It’s a part of your life. It makes you feel alive. Bad things will never stop happening, life will never be easy and you just have to accept that. Every bad thing can teach you something about yourself. What a sad and boring life it would be, if we didn’t learn, if we didn’t change. It’s beautiful when you see how people can change, how you can change. Damon’s a new man now, he’s the man Stefan wanted me to get to know and I’m very thankful to him for giving me that opportunity. 

youtube

LYRICS:

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar’s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

anonymous asked:

Living life, don't you cry. my life pain is hard. Many night, painful thought occur. Yell at me, I am wrong. in denial, I tried to be your friend. All i see is hate deep inside. Startling, someone save me. Now this memories fill my heart, they bury me. You made my life, not so. I watched you change, it's like you never had wings now you feel so alive. Buried so far away, into my life of nothing. Sick of the same old thing, so I dig a hole to bury pain. Burying my life so slowly.

this makes me sad

“Sorry.”

“Sorry means you feel the pulse of other people’s pain as well as your own, and saying it means you take a share of it. And so it binds us together, makes us trodden and sodden as one another. Sorry is a lot of things. It’s a hole refilled. A debt repaid. Sorry is the wake of misdeed. It’s the crippling ripple of consequence. Sorry is sadness, just as knowing is sadness. Sorry is sometimes self-pity. But Sorry, really, is not about you. It’s theirs to take or leave.

Sorry means you leave yourself open, to embrace or to ridicule or to revenge. Sorry is a question that begs forgiveness, because the metronome of a good heart won’t settle until things are set right and true. Sorry doesn’t take things back, but it pushes things forward. It bridges the gap. Sorry is a sacrament. It’s an offering. A gift.”
― Craig Silvey, Jasper Jones

I made myself sad…

Click here for larger pic

Personal Tumblr ~ Main BlogLife Is Strange ~ SideblogSociety6

2

“I apologize again Y/N… I should have been here earlier.” Castiel rose up as the grace coming out of him and into your wounds faded.

“No Cas… You came and that’s what matters.” You lifted your head up to look at him. His face stoned cold with grief.

“Please don’t be worried.. You got here, healed me and I can’t thank you enough for that. Don’t feel guilty for something you didn’t cause. It’s that damn wendigo that did this who should regret it.”

“But after everything I have done.. All the pain that I caused…I have to make sure things are alright.” Bright blue eyes burning a hole in your Y/C/E ones.. You saw the raw pain that made him human, even if just for a second.

4

Chat Noir is finally done!

His base doll is a Deuce Gorgon, which means I had to take off the snakes and scales, fill holes, and root from there. 

His costume was all hand made by myself, and the zipper is a functional zipper, as is the bell which will jingle if you poke it. The belt-tail is also posable. The ears were left over from my Val custom and I just set those into a headband. 

His hair was the biggest pain, as it’s not a style that translates the best to rooted hair. All things considered I think I got decently close. Overall I’m pretty happy with him. 

As for whether I’ll make Ladybug, depends on if I find the right base doll as I might not’ve made him if I hadn’t had the base doll already lying about. 

Sorry.

Sorry means you feel the pulse of other people’s pain as well as your own, and saying it means you take a share of it. And so it binds us together, makes us trodden and sodden as one another. Sorry is a lot of things. It’s a hole refilled. A debt repaid. Sorry is the wake of misdeed. It’s the crippling ripple of consequence. Sorry is sadness, just as knowing is sadness. Sorry is sometimes self-pity. But Sorry, really, is not about you. It’s theirs to take or leave.

Sorry means you leave yourself open, to embrace or to ridicule or to revenge. Sorry is a question that begs forgiveness, because the metronome of a good heart won’t settle until things are set right and true. Sorry doesn’t take things back, but it pushes things forward. It bridges the gap. Sorry is a sacrament. It’s an offering. A gift.

—  Craig Silvey, Jasper Jones
Neighbours (PART 2): Teen Wolf Imagine (Brett Talbot)

HELLO EVERYBODY! Emma here! I promise that part 2 of this imagine will be much better than part 1 (which was pretty lame, you can’t lie) so i really hope you love it. Enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, sex references (the usual)
Prompt: After catching your boyfriend Theo cheating Brett comforts you with his infinite warmth and kindness. (do you guys ever find it hard to make your prompts sound as least-smut-ey as possible? don’t want to mislead you guys cause I don’t write smut (sorry) although I can get damn close)

“Hey, Brett.” Was the best response you could come up with having your head full of bitter nasty things you would like to shove up Theo’s wolf-hole.

“Y/N wha-” he put his gentle hands on your shoulders and pulled you inside the warm blanket of his home. “what are you doing here?” You cranked up the painful smile trying to hold back tears in Brett’s presence. He’d never seen you cry, or sad for that matter, and you didn’t want that to change.

“It’s a long story.” He opened a closet and pulled out a towel, then wrapped it around your soaked sholders.

“Then let me hear it.” He took your hand and began leading you to the couch when he suddenly turned around and said, “You know what? You should get out of those wet clothes, if you got sick I would never forgive myself.” The smile you were wearing dropped its fakeness. The thought of Brett caring for you and taking responsibility for your well being was enough to shove Theo’s face into the back of your mind.

“You’re right, I’ll run home and put on dry clothes.” Brett let out one of the cutest chuckles you’ve ever heard and turned around.

“There’s no point going back into the rain. You can use some of my clothes.” You smiled graciously. So instead of moving to the couch Brett led you up the stairs to his room where he picked out a pair of grey sweatpants and a green Devenford Prep tee-shirt. Brett smiled as he left, closing the door, but you stopped him.

“Hey, Brett?” You blurted out. He turned around and poked his head in the door like an obnoxious parent would.

“Yes Princess?” Your heart exploded as your lungs stopped working. Brett calling you princess sent shivers down your spine and gave you instant goosebumps, all in a split second. Brett’s face dropped into an expression of horror as he had no idea how you would react to the name. “Oh my god I am so sorry Y/N I didn’t mean to call you that, well I mean I did, but not, I just, I don’t want to offend you and-” This did not help the growing want to snuggle up with Brett and stay there forever. You smiled at his innocence and simply said “No worries, I just wanted to say thank you, for everything. It means so much to me.” Brett forced a ‘sorry’ grin and left bashfully. You chuckled once he was gone and whispered a cute “He thinks I’m a princess.” before changing into his dry, warm, musky clothes.

Once you were dressed and began walking down the stairs you could hear Brett criticizing himself about calling you anything other than your name.

“Brett you’re so fucking stupid!” He was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. “Now the love of your life is going to think you’re a condescending dick who just wants to sleep with her or something.” He buried his face even further into his palms and for the eight-hundredth time that day your heart was bursting at every seem. “How the hell could you do that? You’ve lost her Brett! You’ve lo-”

“Brett you’ll never lose me.” His head whipped around and you caught yourself looking at Brett’s horrified face again.

“Oh my god, Y/N I’m-” He wiped tears from his infinite green eyes. “I’m so sorry you-” He sniffled. “you must hate me!” Seeing him like this broke your heart, more than Theo ever could.

“I’m trying to make a habit out of not hating people I love.” You muttered out. Brett’s face went completely blank trying to take in the words you pushed from your lips. He stopped crying and stood up from the couch.

“You-you what?” He stammered.

“Brett Talbot,” You said stepping down from the stairs. “I love you.” The smile that lit up his face could have provided the world with power for several years.

“You love me.” He had to repeat, still smiling.

“I love you.” Your smile matched his as Brett ran towards you and picked you up in the hug you so desperately needed. He set you down, still holding you in his warm, inviting grasp, as you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. You kissed him with everything you had. What Theo put you through, your sadness, your hatred, your love, want, happiness, all of it, and Brett kissed you back with the same passion. Two tsunami waves colliding. When the two of you stopped kissing you rested your head on his chest, breathing in his scent. You raised your eyes to his and got caught in his gaze.

“So,” He said. “You were going to tell me a story.”

—————————————————————————– AAAAAHHHH I LOVED WRITING THIS IMAGINE SOOO MUCH!!!! I really hope you all loved it as much as I did. I would love any requests you guys send in and (as i’m on a writing rampage) I will get it in to you ASAP. I love you all so much and I hope you have a great day, evening, or work break. as always, PEACE OUT GIRL SCOUTS!

paschalthebae  asked:

Laurent having nightmares and trouble sleeping and maybe Damen waking him up, but just talking, not touching, because of past incidents where Laurent didn't realize who was touching him and also fluff? ☺️

“Laurent, wake up. It’s just me. There is nobody else here. Laurent.”

There is sweat on Laurent’s brow and his throat. He is breathing erratically, with creases of pain on his lovely face. Damen’s chest feels as though he has swallowed a bowl of burning soup; he has to move quickly, when Laurent’s entire upper body jerks to the side, in order to avoid Laurent touching him. He raises his voice, but keeps it steady. Calm.

“Wake up. It’s a dream. Laurent.”

The sound Laurent makes as his eyes fly open is the worst thing that Damen has ever heard. Damen looks down at his clenched hands, tight and aching with futile anger, and sees that he has ripped a hole in the sheet.

Laurent’s ribcage is heaving. He fumbles with his left hand and takes hold of his right shoulder, over the thick knot of scar tissue. His blue eyes are still dazed, but the mist is clearing from them, moment by moment.

“You’re safe,” Damen says. “We both are.”

Laurent closes his eyes again. Damen doesn’t move. He watches the shivers subside, and the breaths come more evenly through Laurent’s parted lips.

After a short while, Laurent extends one hand, blindly, in Damen’s direction, sliding it palm-upwards on the sheets. Damen picks it up in both of his own and holds Laurent’s fingers against his own closed lips. All of him is longing to do more, do gather Laurent entirely into his arms, to kiss him until the sour fright is gone and there’s nothing left in their minds but pleasure. But this isn’t about what Damen wants.

Laurent’s cool gaze finds him.

“It could have been worse,” Laurent says. “The night after we fought, at Marlas, I dreamed I killed you. I’ve been waiting to have that one again.”

Damen tightens his grip before he can think better of it, but Laurent doesn’t seem to mind. His own fingers tighten as well, and he uses their joined hands as an anchor to haul himself closer, his silvery moonlit head invading Damen’s pillow with calm entitlement. He rests a foot over Damen’s ankle, settles his face in the hollow of Damen’s neck and exhales.

Damen has dreamt of the flogging post, and of Laurent’s hand around his on the hilt of a knife angled towards Laurent’s heart; Laurent’s arrogant gaze commanding him, and Damen helplessly obeying. Blood spilling between Laurent’s full lips.

He wraps one arm around Laurent, holding him close. He leaves the other between them, fingers tangled through Laurent’s, until Laurent settles back into sleep.