Request from @well-all-float-on-alright: “I was wondering if you would write a Drabble for Yoongi with #61 and #2.”
AN: hello! I wasn’t sure if you wanted an angsty or fluffy ending, so I just went along with whatever came to my mind. I hope this is alright for you :)
2. “You’ve only heard his side of the story. You never asked for mine.” 61. “Remember when you used to care?”
Word Count: 693
You sighed as you scrolled through the day old messages from your boyfriend Yoongi, full of bitter and hateful words, words you wished you would never see or hear from him again. You already regretted your choices, but you weren’t sure if Yoongi had regretted his own. You desperately wanted to talk to him, but you knew he wouldn’t bother listening to you, not what after he saw yesterday - or rather what he thought he saw.
You hadn’t gotten out of bed yet, and you didn’t plan to do so anytime soon. You just wanted to stay curled underneath the vanilla scented blankets and hide away from the world and your emotions.
Unfortunately, you couldn’t carry out your plans due to your doorbell ringing repeatedly, the shrilling sound piercing through your eardrums. You were hoping whoever was at the door would leave after a minute with no response, but they obviously weren’t going to let up as they also started to knock harshly on your front door.
You softly groaned as you rolled out of bed, leaving the sheets scattered as you walked towards the front door, slowly opening it with your eyes half-lidded.
“We need to talk.” Your eyes jolted open at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, and you almost didn’t want to look up at him. A faint voice in the back of your mind urged you to shut the door and let it be done with, but Yoongi already pushed past you and shut the door, purposefully avoiding any contact with your hand.
“Leave,” You mumbled, keeping your gaze down towards the hardwood floor.
“Y/N, you have been putting this off for too long. I’m sick and tired of it,” He said, raising his voice slightly.
“Maybe I’ve been putting it off because you’re believing a lie and you won’t even bother to listen to me!” You snapped, raising your head to face him.
“Jaebum already told me everything I need to know.”
“You’ve only heard his side of the story. You never asked for mine.”
“How can I even trust that you’re telling the truth?” He yelled as he clenched his fists.
“Min fucking Yoongi! I cannot believe you’d take Jaebum’s’ word for something rather than your own girlfriend! You’re ridiculous!”
“Jaebum is my close friend! Why would he ever lie to me? Why should I believe you?”
At that point, your throat was sore and your eyes were stinging, but something kept pushing you forward. Maybe it was your own stubbornness, or maybe it was pure anger, but whatever it was, you knew you’ve had enough of this.
“Because I love you!” You screamed, all of the tears you held in this entire time spilling out like a waterfall. You both knew this was the most you’ve ever cried in front of anyone.
You were completely broken, and you had nobody left that could piece you back together. Not your family, not your friends, and definitely not Yoongi. He was the one who tore you apart, so how could he manage to fix you if he only knew how to destroy?
“Remember when you used to care?” You choked out, hopelessly trying to stop the tears from coming out, but you just couldn’t stop. “When you used to care about me? About us?”
“Y/N…” Yoongi said softly, attempting to reach out to you, but you quickly slapped his hand away and shoved him out of your apartment, slamming your front door so hard you swear you could feel the ground shake beneath you. You sank to your knees and rested your forehead against the white wood of the door, your hands slowly sliding down and to the sides of your body. At that moment, you knew what was broken couldn’t be put back together, and you knew it was time to forgive and forget about the Min Yoongi you thought you used to know.
Im just sitting in bed thinking that one day, maybe not tomorrow or even a year from now I’ll be in a relationship. Like I’ll have someone that loves, respects, and appreciates me and I’ll be able to do the same for them. And we’ll be so in love, and plan a future together and we’ll think about marriage, and what kind of dogs we’ll adopt. It won’t all be rainbows and butterflies but she and the love we share will be enough to keep us going and it will be so magical and beautiful. If I’m promised that, I’ll have all the patience in the world and I won’t try to rush it. Love is a beautiful and just like most beautiful things it takes time to create. I love, Love, and as much as I try to be a cold and heartless person I can’t do it. Love is real and so are soulmates, and I love having faith and believing in magic. 💕
Oh god! I miss your mpreg soumako! How about during makoto 2nd trimester he has the sweetest pregnancy cravings. He suddenly got a sweet tooth you name it from ice-cream, to chocolate and cakes he had Sousuke making him sweets for every meal. Until one day he notice that his pants are getting a bit tighter than it should. During a routine checkup the doctor told him that he's gaining a bit of weight which got him depressed about getting fat. Sousuke comes to the rescue making him feel better.
Makoto stood in front of the kitchen
cupboard, gently nibbling his lip as he tried to decide what he wanted to eat. Since
he got pregnant Sousuke really had kept the cupboard well stocked, packed with
But that just made it all the more
difficult for Makoto to choose. Cakes, pastries, chocolate, biscuits, sweets.
All looked so inviting right now.
Deciding it would be unfair to have
just one, Makoto fashioned his own snack out of a battenberg cake, a tub of
vanilla frosting and sweet decorations. He walked to the table with a spring in
his step, well as much of a spring a pregnant man could have.
Summary: ‘We were building brick by brick and now it’s just a quicksand home.’ Lies ruin people. Especially the ones we tell ourself. Now you’re gone and he’s empty and all he had left is the memories.
This house doesn’t feel like a home anymore. Luke thought as he stepped inside the quaint abode. The lights were off, making the space seem even more foreign. The place looked bigger now with just one person living here and Luke wished he could make everything go back to how it was supposed to be before he had fucked it all up. Too many rooms. He thought. Too many rooms and too much space that would never be occupied by you ever again. He blew it and now he was left to assess to damage.
He shrugged off his coat, for once deciding to hang it in the closet instead of tossing it on the chair. He could almost hear your voice begging him to stop leaving his clothes all over the room and he smiled at the irony that the one time he picked up after himself you weren’t here to see it.
He wished he hadn’t opened the closet door though. Your yellow raincoat hung by itself, standing out against Luke’s many black articles of clothing. It was your favorite coat and you wore it every time it rained, insisting it went with the aesthetic of the weather. Luke had thought it was silly then, but he would kill to see you in your matching rain boots, dancing in the rain.
With a plop, he was sitting on the couch, staring at the opposite wall, drowning in his thoughts. He had countless memories of you on this sofa. Whether it be late night How I Met Your Mother reruns, or early morning sex that satisfied the craving you had for each other, or afternoon cuddles that made him the happiest man on the planet. Holding you close was his favorite pastime and quitting you gave him withdrawals. He could feel his body shaking, like he was being weaned off some drug he no longer had access to. He had lied and you were gone. It was his worst nightmare.
He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as if to shake away the memories of your perfection from his brain, walking into the kitchen just to pour himself a drink. Of course you had left your favorite mug here, as if to tease him, dangling what used to be in front of his face. It’s like you had done it one purpose, leaving traces of you in every room so that he had to choose whether to face them, face you, or rid himself of them and relive the pain of what is was to hurt you. He would leave them of course. Each item was adding members to the small flicker of hope that burned inside him, that one day the hurt he was feeling would spread to you and you would come back to him. But you wouldn’t, because you believed his lie.
He had probably put too much in the glass but tonight he was drinking to forget. Forget how much he had hurt you, forget how the reflection of your tear stained cheeks tore his heart out. Forget how he had told you the biggest lie he would ever tell, just because he thought he was saving you from the pain he had inflicted. It was his fault this house was empty, his fault his glass was full, his fault that the memories of you were all he had left in the world. He had considered trying to find a new girl to make the aching pain of sleeping alone fade just for one night, but the thought of anyone other than you laying in the spot next to him made him feel sick. You were the one. You were it for him and instead of a happy ending he had a broken record in his mind repeating the lies that he had spun so easily. It was a lie.
That whole night was a lie. He thought he was protecting you. Liar Liar. Protecting you from what? It all felt silly now.
As the alcohol washed down his throat he could feel its effects cleansing him. But you could never be erased from his memory. You were in him too deep to be removed by a few bitter drops.
He remembered the whole night. It started with the lie he told himself. The distance is too much. Bullshit. He could handle the distance if it meant having you again, but back then the temptations of his lifestyle were too much. How dare he look at other girls when he had you? How dare he think about wanting them and feeling them when everything he ever wanted he had in his arms. How could he possibly believe that the parties would ever fill the void in him like you did. It was a lie. But he had believed it.
The second lie, was the one he heard from his friends. She’s holding you back man, just have a good time. She’ll never know. You can do better. Wrong. How could he do better once he’s had the best? He should have proved them wrong. Should have told them right then and there that they didn’t know a thing about his love for you. Should’ve told them that you were perfection embodied and it was him that didn’t deserve you.
The third lie was the one that ruined his life. The lie that broke two hearts and tore apart two souls that were supposed to be together forever. The lie that still left a sour taste in his mouth. “I don’t love you.” You had been begging him before he said it, asking him why he was doing this and what you had done to deserve such a sudden breakup. You thought it was you. That’s the first lie you believed.
Your face was permanently etched in his brain. The horror, the anger, the despair.
“You don’t love me?” The echo of your words hurt more than his own. The second lie you believed. And how could you not? Before then you had every reason to trust him. But you weren’t broken yet. He had to break you if he wanted this to work.
“Did you ever love me?”
“No.” The third lie. The final nail in your coffin, the seal to your doom. It was like you couldn’t breathe, like all the oxygen was gone. He had sucked the life from you and he saw it written all over your face. You had stopped begging then. Stopped crying, stopped speaking, stopped breathing. You just turned and walked away. He had done it, he was free. But the pain of another is never inflicted easily and that was painted in your makeup stained cheeks that he would write songs about.
“I’m sorry.” True. “I don’t want to hurt you.” True. But the lies had cut too deep for the truth to make any sense now.
“I never want to see you again.” True. You had never told him a single lie.
Luke felt like his chest was on fire. He was six drinks in and you still occupied his every waking thought. Everything in the house was you. You were in the blankets on the chair and the sheets on the bed, your portrait the dishes in the sink and the songs on the radio. You were engraved in the very foundation that made up this place and he didn’t want to see any of it another second. You were infectious and he needed to heal. Heal from the wounds he had inflicted on himself when he lied to you.
His eyes were crazy, his feet two steps ahead of his mind as he flipped over the coffee table that sat in the middle of the room. You would always tell him to quit putting his feet on it and he would never listen. It reminded him of you, so it had to go. Next he projected his rage onto the sofa. The beloved sofa where he would spend hours holding you and kissing you, your body molding into his like two jigsaw pieces. With a yell of anguish, he tore the cushions from the frame, ripping the cloth and throwing them in all different directions until it was just as ruined as he was. He watched in his rage as the projectiles knocked over lamps and vases that used to be filled with flowers he would bring home for you.
He knocked over chairs and turned over tables, smashed dishes and threw knick knacks you had left here. Anything that reminded you of him had to go. He was blind with anger. Anger in himself for ruining the one piece of perfection he had in his life. Angry at you for believing his lies, angry that you had left pieces of you here for him to see and relive and angry that all his memories of you were still intact when all he wanted was to forget or turn back the clock. But the universe wasn’t going to give him either. He didn’t deserve it.
He moved the the bedroom, ripping off the sheets that still smelled like you, the faint traces of your perfume almost gone but still detectable to an expert like him. He flipped the mattress where it crashed into the nightstand, the pictures he had there falling to the floor.
As he surveyed the mess, the wreckage that he had caused yet again, Luke sunk to the floor with a sob. He had never been this angry, especially not when he had you to calm him down. Your touch instantly soothed him, your kiss like a healing remedy. With a heavy heart, he reached over to where one of the ruined picture frames lay. The glass was broken, but the picture inside hadn’t been damaged.
It was a simple picture. You were smiling into the camera, clad in a pink party dress. Luke stood next to you, one arm wrapped around securely around your waist. He remembered this time as clear as day. It had been your best friend’s birthday party, the theme something about matching couples, and you had insisted Luke wear a pink tie to match your dress. He obliged of course, just to make you happy. You had wanted a picture, pulling someone out of the crowd and handing them your phone to snap the shot. They had told him to smile at the camera but he couldn’t take his eyes off you for even a moment. That’s the way the picture had turned out, you looking forward and him looking at you. It was his favorite picture of the two of you.
Luke could feel the tears beginning to well in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he held the precious picture in his hands. A few drops landed on the photograph but he quickly wiped them away. This was one thing he didn’t want to damage. He had caused enough destruction already.
He wished he could tell you he loved you again, but you would never believe him. He had told too many lies for you to believe him now. He wished he could see the look on your face as the three little words came out of his mouth. He loved how they brightened up your face, loved how you would whisper it back to him, sealed with a kiss.
I love you. True. But it was too late to tell the truth now.
I wanna clear something up. When talking about Michael Jackson in regards to his skin color, many like to say ‘when MJ was Black’. That is misleading and incorrect. Having a skin disorder does not change your race. Michael was a proud Black man who had Vitiligo, a skin condition which destroys the pigment of the skin. Many people believed (and still believe) that Michael was ashamed to be Black. My own grandma who has Vitiligo believes that lie! He put effort into combating awful rumors, and I don’t want it to be in vain. So I encourage you to help others know the truth! Help them rephrase their sentences!
Just please be respectful when talking about my baby, please and thank you.
Let’s take a break for a sec and discuss a thing. Creative Writing. I can hear the groans of high school students across this nation as I speak. The thing is, it’s not fucking hard. Do you know what good writing is? It’s a whole bunch of bullshit put down on paper. I shit you not. You want to write a good, creative writing essay? Lie your ever-living ass off. Think of the largest lie possible, then put it down on paper. Then make it believable. This should be called Creative Bullshitting instead of Creative Writing, because that is exactly what it is.
“Let me sit in the chair.” I looked at him like he was crazy.
“Come lay here and pretend to be sleeping. I’ll talk to him.” I nodded and got up. I held his arm as he went to the chair. I got on the bed and put the blanket on.
I closed my eyes and tried my best to be calm. I rested my hands on baby belly. It’s what I did every night.
Joker slammed the door open and I could feel his eyes on me.
“How long has she been here?” He was angry and I feared for Jonny.
“Came after the hospital contacted her.”
“Didn’t think to tell me?”
“I didn’t have my work phone. I couldn’t risk calling you.”
I could feel his stare on me again. “Is she-”
“Pregnant? Apparently, she’s four months.”
“So it isn’t mine?”
“No. Told me she had a drunken one night stand. She’s happy about it, though.”
“Where was she?”
“Hasn’t told me. I’m guessing she wants to be left alone.”
“Not a choice I’m giving her.” He ran his hands through my hair. What was going on?
“You still want to be with her?”
“Why wouldn’t I want to? She’s mine.”
“She’s bearing another man’s child, sir.”
“We’ll work it out.” Joker tore his gaze from me and looked at Jonny. “Harley and I tried to have a child, it never worked.”
“Sorry, sir.” Frost mumbled. I got what he was trying to do. It didn’t work.
I decided to “wake up”. I rubbed my eyes and turned my head the other way trying to hide from the light. I rubbed my eyes and looked around. I yawned and looked at the Joker.
I just covered my mouth and yawned again. “Jonny, sorry I took your spot.”
“Don’t be.” I nodded and took his house keys and grabbed my purse. “I’ll see you in a bit. Gonna go rest up. Bye, Jonny.” I tried to leave before Joker could stop me.
“Where you going?” Well, I failed.
“To rest up.” I turned back to go.
“I’ll walk you to where you’re going.” Dang it. If I said I could handle it, he’d just say Gotham is dangerous. If I said I was taking a cab, he’d say he would give me a ride. Walking it is. He wouldn’t be able to lock me in his car.
“I can handle it. It’s just around the corner.”
He growled. Here it comes. “I’ll walk with you. Gotham is a dangerous place.” There it is.
“Sure.” I just continued walking. I waited for the elevator to arrive which allowed him time to catch up.
We got in the elevator and waited silently.
“Where were you?”
“I got a job offering and it was everything I wanted so I left. Not much reason to stay.” I shrugged.
He growled. “I’m not good enough?”
I looked at him confused. I should honestly be an actor. “It’s not like we were together or if you wanted that. I was just your fuck toy. Nothing more.” I stayed quiet after that. He stayed behind me not speaking again.
“Am I the father?”
I ignored him and kept walking.
“You should answer me, doll face. I’m not one for patience.”
“Yea, no shit.” I unlocked the door to Jonny’s apartment and stepped in. I faced him. “Listen, Mister J. I had fun and God was it fucking amazing. We both know I wasn’t something special to you. The baby isn’t yours. I got drunk celebrating my new job. I had a one night stand. You have nothing to worry about. Bye.” I tried to close the door but he put his foot in front of it before I could close it.
“Don’t make me angry.” I sighed and open the door.
“What could you possibly want from me?” I yelled. He was an incredibly arrogant, selfish, murderous man. He had nothing good about him. I shouldn’t have fucking stayed. Jonny isn’t healed yet. I could get thru this.
“I want what’s mine. That’s you.”
I laughed. “Are you serious right now?”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“Don’t get me started.” I faced him. “You know where the door is. Goodbye.” I went towards the guest bedroom but Jay blocked my past. “Move.” He just growled.
He punched the wall near me and screamed.
“FUCK YOU! GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU DO NOTHING BUT PUSH EVERYONE THAT LOVES YOU AWAY. I AM NOT AT YOUR BECK AND CALL. YOU PUT EVERYONE IN DANGER. THAT IS WHY I BELIEVE YOU WOULD LIE.” I took a deep breath. “Just get the hell out.”
I started crying. I was angry. He could have hurt the baby. I had to leave.
“I’m sorry.” He tried to wipe the tears away but I pushed him back.
“No. Not till we talk.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? There is nothing to talk about. I’m not yours and I never will be. Goodbye.” I walked into the bedroom and locked the door.
“Let me in.” He banged on the door. “(Y/N)! Right now. Daddy isn’t patient.” I just ignored him. He kept banging for what felt like hours. I eventually fell asleep when he quieted down.
Waking up allowed me to recall everything last night. I had to say bye to Jonny. I went to take a shower but when I opened the door Jay was still there. Thankfully, he was sleeping with a bottle in one hand and a gun in the other. I stepped over him and went to the bathroom. Once I was done taking a shower I realized I didn’t have clothes. Thankfully, Jonny had a pair of sweats and I filled up his shirt with my belly. I brushed my hair and left it loose. I toasted a bagel and was on my way out when Jay blocked the doorway. I couldn’t have an easy morning, could I?
Don't believe the lies others or the devil try to tell you
Lately I had been letting the devil win not on purpose but I got so distracted in the noise of the world and the circumstances of why i couldn’t do things. i was letting myself become isolated and that when we are most vulnerable the devil wants to make you feel defeated by steal your happiness. But when I started praying this verse popped into my head
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. (John 10:10)
My life was going to work and watching tv and sleeping. I had found excuses for not going to church which were the lamest because yes i had to get my dad up but he would have been willing to drive me. Things had changed so the group i was going to i wasn’t able to do anymore. All these things added up to equal a lonely me.
God reminded me there was other groups and opportunities to socialize once i put the noise and the excuses aside.
The huge Lie i was believing was that i had to be like the world. Granted i have never been that way but when people like grandparents and your father tell you to be like others your age and be normal. It makes you feel bad about yourself. I dress modestly, I don’t party…
but God reminded me that i am not of this world and that
I should not conform to the patterns of this world but be of gods by renewing my mind and spending time with him.
God has great plans for you beyond your wildest dreams but the devil wants to rob you of it so guard your heart.
Listen to your heart.
Where do your priorities lie? Do you put your energy into the things you believe in, or simply follow the same old routine? However otherwise it may seem, no-one is making you do anything. You are responsible for your life, and how you live it. So stop for a moment and reflect, ‘Am I doing the things that are important to me, or am I being sidetracked by convention and fear?’
At the end of your time, who’s life will you have lived, yours, or someone else’s?
Where the fuck did it go? I swear I put it right here. I yell inside of my head as I tear down the house in search of my wedding ring.
Zayn and I only just got married two months ago and I already lost my ring!
I move my search to the living room and start making a mess again.
Under the sofa?
Under the sofa cushions?
Next to the TV?
In the drawers beneath the TV?
It’s like my ring grew legs and ran away!
Zayn and I went to a party last night and I remember taking the ring off last night when we were home, I just don’t remember in which room I was or where I put it.
“Honey! I’m home!” Zayn says as he enters the door.
“Hey, babe! How was your day?” I ask him, keeping both my hands inside the pockets of the hoodie I am wearing.
“Great. We had an interview with Radio 1 and they kept asking me questions about what it’s like to be married.” He says, sliding his hand from my left shoulder all the down to my hand which is still in my pocket.
“And? What did you say?” I ask, desperately trying to distract him so he won’t notice that my ring is gone.
“I told them that it’s great, especially if you have a wife as wonderful as mine.” He says, taking my hands in his.
“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?” he asks, lifting my hand to his face so he can inspect my naked finger.
“I- uh- I just took a shower and I forgot to put it on.” I lie, hoping he’ll believe it.
“oh. Well go put it on then. We can’t have people thinking you’re available now, can we?” he says and I shake my head.
“I’m too lazy now. Let’s just watch a movie?” I ask, desperately trying to make him forget about my ring.
“I’ll go get it for you, then we can watch a movie.” He says but I tighten my arms around his waist.
“No. let’s just cuddle now. I’ll wear it again tomorrow.” I say and he shakes his head.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you lost you’re wedding ring.” He says with a smirk that I just want to slap right off of his face.
“Fine. I lost it. I remember taking it off last night, I just can’t remember where I put it and I’ve looked everywhere but I can’t find it.” I tell him and he just continues smiling.
“Why are you smiling? I just told you I lost my ring! You’re supposed to be mad at me and ask for a divorce or something!” I exaggerate and he let’s out a laugh.
“I don’t plan on divorcing you, love. I’m smiling because I know exactly where your ring is.” He says and my face lights up.
“Oh thank goodness! Where is it? I was so worried.” I say and he pulls my ring out of his pocket.
“You had it?” I ask, slapping his arm.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had it! I tore this entire house apart today and the entire time it was in your pocket!?” I say and he can’t stop laughing.
“I found it this morning. When I opened the fridge to get milk for coffee, I noticed your ring in the egg carton, so I put it in my pocket. I was wondering how long you’d take to tell me you couldn’t find it.” He says, still smiling.
I playfully hit his shoulder.
“I hate you, Zayn.” I mumble, pressing my face into his shoulder.
“Hate me all you want, at least I haven’t lost my wedding ring.” He says and I groan.
I will never hear the end of this.
Wait, if the username and password for the pilot were on the usb that was found with the statue, but we got the pilot for completing the puzzle? DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS? WE WERE GOING TO GET THE PILOT ANYWAYS! IT WAS ALL A LIE! A LIE TO PUT US THROUGH PUZZLE HELL!
Killian tried to ignore the waning
moon. Every night, he and Emma would lounge out on the balcony,
wrapped up together in silk skin to skin. They spent long hours
talking, watching the stars, indulging in their passion. Sometimes
they fell asleep out there, surely horrifying the servants when they
brought the morning meal. Five days after the games and Killian could
almost forget he was a prisoner.
Objectively, he knew his situation
could be far worse. He could have been captured by the Trojans, or
dead. Dying in battle would have reunited him with his brother in
Elysium. Liam had to be there, he was too good of a man. Killian
opened up about Liam to Emma, the first time he’d let himself pour
out his loss. It was late on the third night, his Princess curled in
his arms, almost purring in contentment from their more pleasurable
activities. He didn’t even know where it came from, but he simply
started talking and she listened. She held his hand when his throat
closed up, pressed loving kisses to his skin, waiting patiently as he
struggled to compose himself. She did not mock him or think him weak
for his emotions, something he had not expected. Alone in their
suite, she was not an Amazon; she was a loving, kind woman that shone
brighter than the sun. He could not tear himself away, even as little
reminders of his captivity remained.
You say skill. I say hope. You smile with a lie balanced on your tongue. I believe it. You put a hand on the bottom of my ribcage. I like steady things. You take the safety off. I wear a target on my back. You aim. I hold my breath. You push two fingers up the side of my neck. You know what you did and you weren’t sorry for any of it.