we each had six

No Control | Chapter Eighteen

Summary: 

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

WARNING: Smut ahead. Daddy kink.

EIGHTEEN

After a day out with Harry’s friends, where all of them so kindly include me in their shenanigans and conversations as we walk around London, Harry and I head back to his house to relax. Nick wore us ragged with at least eight or nine miles worth of walking around the city, teasing Harry and telling me embarrassing stories whenever he had the opportunity. By the end of the day, I felt like Nick was a close friend, and it was good to feel like I actually fit in with some of the important people in Harry’s life. 

While we were out, of course, there were a few times the group was stopped by fans wanting photos of them all together, so I did the same thing I did in New York, and offered to take the photo for them, ensuring I was nowhere in the frame. However, there were paps outside a few of the shoppes we visited, and a text from Trevor confirmed they were already on Twitter by the time we had made it to the next store. I didn’t even bother to look at them and thought it was best to just stay away from social media for the rest of the day. When I relayed the information to Harry, he decided the same thing and turned off all notifications on his phone except for texts. 

It’s half seven when Harry and I get back to his home, both of us dragging our feet. We immediately go up to Harry’s room and change into something more comfortable, but Harry stops me midway through pulling a pair of leggings on. I look up at him with a raised eyebrow in question.

“Take a bath with me,” he offers, already stripped down to just his boxers. The thought of a warm, scented bath nearly makes me moan, so I nod and following him into his bathroom, which I’m just now seeing for the first time. 

Keep reading

I am a man. But I am not “men.”
I am Achilles and Patroclus, Alexander and Hephaestion; but not the men I sit next to in class.
When I’m with most men I cannot see myself in them. We are uncomfortable with each other, resonating on different frequencies and never quite understanding.
It’s different with queer men. My soul belongs with them, with masculinity bound by love.
I am not whole without that love. I am a man who loves men, complete when my love completes me.
— 

my lines from a piece on gender in my Auto-Cours class today

One of the core classes at my college is something known as Auto-Cours, a generative class that pushes students to collaboratively create a piece of theatre based on a “provocation” or prompt every week with very little information or direction. This week’s assignment was to split into groups according to gender–one for men, two for women, and one for those who didn’t identify with either group. Our provocation: choose a piece of art by Kaye Sage and create a piece fueled by that and the idea that the conscious mind cannot be conscious of the subconscious. I’ve been having some questions about how I identify lately, so I opted to go with the nonbinary group.

Today, after two days of rehearsal, we performed our piece. The audience sat in front of a mirrored wall, staring at their own reflections and images of Kay Sage’s “Self Portrait” that were taped to the mirror. Behind them, I stood alongside three other actors who were in the process of discovering how they identify. Today we had each distilled our thoughts on our identities into six lines, which we read alternatingly. The above lines are what I came up with after a lot of thought and self-discovery. This project helped me clarify for myself who I am, and how I relate to the world.

I decided to share this on this blog because I think it’s worth noting that not only is there a place in theatre for trans people and those who don’t know where they fit; it can also be a safe space to explore identity in.

Ruby Rose x Reader imagine

Title: A day to remember

Summary: You have a flashback to the time Ruby said “I love you” first.

Word Count: 448

Finally. After so much time we were apart. Not because we wanted to but because we had to. Ruby had been touring around Australia with Nicki Minaj for the last six months and I, as the great girlfriend I am, stayed behind in our home. She said she didn’t care, although I honestly don’t believe her. She obviously cared but she, as always, didn’t say anything.

Her plane landed early in the morning and she had asked me to pick her up. As soon as I saw her I felt my cheeks wet and the biggest smile on my face. I ran up to her and didn’t mind all the bags by her sides or if someone was to see us kiss. I didn’t mind at all. The only thing in my head was I miss you and I miss your touch and I miss your lips. Damn, it felt like we hadn’t seen each other for years when it had only been six months.

I hugged her. I hugged her with all my might. I heard a faint sigh followed by a giggle by my ear and I was finally at home. I retrieved a bit to look at those big green eyes. They were bloodshot red and watery as well. We smiled for a few seconds, or maybe an eternity when she finally closed the space in between us and crashed her lips with mine. The electricity and millions of shocks roamed every space and every bit of my body. The things Ruby did to me. I’ve never felt like this with anybody.

When we finally separated I grabbed one of her bags and put it on my left shoulder and held her carry-on with the same hand.

“Babe, you don’t have to-”

“I know you can do it, but I will,” I said as I kissed her lips once again. “And I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” A smile appeared in that lovely face of hers and I melted.

“I love you.”

What?

Did she-…

No way….

I didn’t think my eyes could open wider but once again I was proven wrong. Disbelief was plastered on my face and I still couldn’t believe my ears. My feet and my whole body seemed to have frozen to the ground. As the seconds passed her smile started fading from her lips making me snap out of my trance. Her eyes fell to the ground and I felt my stomach churn.

“Ruby,” I took my fingers up to her chin making her look at me. “I love you too.”

Light reached her eyes and her whole self seemed to glow brighter than the stars.

anonymous asked:

Yesterday I went out with the cutest, smiliest, happiest, funniest girl for the first time and honestly... just thinking about it makes me smile. We just walked and talked for six hours. It felt like we had known each other for ever even though it was our first time meeting. God it was so nice. All thanks to Her might I add! Sorry, just had to get that off my chest!

wow im crying I hope u gays hit it off and have more dates ily both!!!! may sappho b forever in ur favor

Catching Up to You

Summary: Charlie tries to hide from Negan and his men

Pairings: Daryl xOC / Negan x OC

Warnings: Non-con/violence

Author’s note: You’re not suppose to love Negan (in this story), and this chapter may prove it

Chapter Two

——

Kicking In Doors

My breathing grew heavier as Negan sauntered in, saying things I couldn’t make out, then he turned to Rick. I knew for sure that was the Negan I had known; a man I hoped to have never seen again. As soon as he was away from my eyesight, I pulled Isaac inside, shut and locked the door; kneeling down to eye level with my son, I held his arms gently, “I want you to go upstairs ‘n go in your room with Judith. Lock the door, okay?”

Isaac nodded obediently, “Is the bad man gonna hurt us?”

I shook my head, “No. I’ll hurt him first.”

My little boy smiled and hugged me; I held him close, kissing his cheek, “Go, try to be as quiet as you can. Don’t open the door.”

Isaac left my embrace, hurrying up the stairs. As I stood, I felt my hands shaking and my stomach churning; I hurried to the kitchen sink as bile shot up my throat. Vomiting in the sink, my entire body began shaking uncontrollably; I rinsed the sink with my shaking hands and tried to rinse my mouth.

I managed to clean up and head to the front window; there I saw a gang of men splitting up and heading to houses, and two men were headed up my porch. I rushed away, still shaking and feeling more bile churn, and got the handgun hidden under the coffee table. Daryl had left it for me, having told me that sometimes my knife wouldn’t come in handy, and at this moment he was right.

I heard the heavy footfalls of men just outside the door. One jiggled the knob, my heart shot into my throat once more; I held the gun in both hands like Daryl taught me, noticing how heavy it felt in them. The door handle jiggled more, forcibly; my hands began to shake even more violently. Then, after a few seconds of silence, the door was kicked open, and I fired a shot through it, splintering the wood and causing the door to fly back and shut. The men yelled, my ears began to ring, and I placed the gun down; the door was kicked open again and the two large men rushed in, grabbing me and forcing me to the floor.

“Where’s the gun, bitch?” A heavy set man set his knee hard on my back.

“Get the fuck off!” I screamed at him; my cheek was crushed into the hardwood floor, the side of my cheek were bruising hard against my teeth.

“Where’s the fucking gun?” He pronounced each word slowly, close to my face.

“Get the fuck off,” I mimicked his tone, “and you’ll get it, asshole.”

“Negan’s comin’,” the other man said in a huff, “he can turn this out of control bitch straight.”

The man removed his knee, and I immediately got to my knees and vomited. The men made grunts of disgust, but the one who had his knee to my back grabbed the gun that had been lying beside me. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and looked up; the man near the door was black with a large smile on his face and the other man too was smiling, he was overweight, bald and pink as a pig.

“Why the hell are you smiling?” I snapped, struggling to stand.

“Negan’s here,” the pink man snickered.

That’s when I heard him, stomping up the porch. My knees felt weak, I gripped the wooden kitchen chair, managing to sit before I got sick again.

“What in the fuck is that smell?” Negan demanded in his gruff tone.

I turned my head, praying he would just see the mess and go. But as he stepped in, he made it apparent he wasn’t leaving. The room grew silent, then he chuckled, “Which one of you assholes puked?”

“Wasn’t us,” the man near the door said coolly. “It was that bitch.”

I could feel his eyes on me, burning a hole in my back. I shut my eyes, shaking even more; my entire body again felt like it was out of control. My mind and body couldn’t handle being near Negan again, I said a silent pray to myself, “Please go away, please go away.”

“Hey!” Someone shouted outside, “Get back here!”

Negan turned from me, stomping out the door, along with the men. I shakily turned my head and saw the entry empty, my stomach settled with my nerves and I stood up, walking slowly towards the broken and open door frame. I saw two men, no bigger than Rick, kneeling on a man in a dirty gray sweat shirt and pants. Negan stood over the man, his barbed wired baseball bat near the man’s head; I peeked out the door, holding my breath.

“Oh, Daryl,” Negan said in an amused tone as he leaned down with his bat. “What am I gonna do with you?”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t react. My body wouldn’t allow it.

Daryl grunted on the ground turning his head on the hot pavement, facing me. We locked eyes, mine filling with tears, but Daryl shook his head; a signal. He began to blink quickly, each in rapid secession; I took a breath and watched his movements. His nods and blinks: .. .—-. – / — -.- ; meaning: I’m OK.

I wiped my eyes, wishing I had told Daryl the truth about Negan. He knew about Negan, he just didn’t know his real name.

I tried to code back before I heard Judith cries coming from upstairs. Moving quick, I ran from the front of the door and up the stairs. I heard Negan call out something and the heavy men rush back into the house. I was nearly out of breath once I got to the top of the stairs, but got some wind back when I saw Isaac at the end of the hall, by his bedroom door; Judith’s wails were getting louder.

“In! In!” I called to him; Isaac rushed back into the room; I followed, closing and locking the door. “Under the bed,” I ordered him, then I went to the bed, where Judith was sitting up and crying.

The men were at the top of the stairs before I could comfort Judith and get her quiet. She cried against my chest, I bounced her and cooed to her, “Hush, hush, honey, it’s okay.”

One of them twisted the handle harshly, calling out to me, “We ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he said this in a teasing tone; I knew he was lying. “Come on out with your baby, darlin’.”

I didn’t answer, I only rocked Judith, who was now settled and whining softly. Kissing the top of her head, I leaned against the far end of the wall, looking down at the floor, under the child size bed Isaac was hiding under. My heart was racing, my breathing heavy; the men used their fist to knock at the door, yelling for me to open it up.

The yells and banging brought me back to the moment I left Negan.

The relationship I had with Negan was really just sex. Sex every moment we could get. Yes, he took me out on a date, but within a week I let him into my shitty twin bed and fucked him.

And I cannot lie, I loved every moment of it.

Negan is a god when it comes to sex, but I definitely wanted more. We had been seeing each other for six months when I asked him, “What are we?”

We were sitting in his pick-up truck outside my shitty apartment complex; his hand was creeping up my exposed thigh, up the skirt of my dress. It wasn’t going to be the first time we fooled around and fucked in his truck. This time, I wasn’t in the mood; my parole had just ended and I was ready to get my hands on more now that I never had to watch what I do.

“What are we?” He squinted at me, his hand froze on the inside of my thigh.

“Yeah,” I swallowed, “are we together?”

“Shit, yeah,” he laughed, his hand continued, “don’t think about it.”

When he moved in to attack my neck; I felt as if he said this to shut me up. I shut my eyes momentarily, trying to let it go, but I couldn’t. Even his mind blowing necking and kisses couldn’t push the thought away.

“It’s just, you never invite me over except sometimes…” he continued on kissing, pulling me closer, “'N we barely make it to the living room…”

Negan paused and pulled back a bit, “So?”

I looked down at him, “So…I was thinkin’, why don’t we move in together or somethin’?”

He cocked a brow, “My wife wouldn’t like that.”

If he had punched me in the gut, the pain would’ve hurt less. It was as if he shattered my world. Everything about our relationship seemed to make sense.

He tried to kiss me again, to which I pushed him away. I couldn’t speak, I only wanted to look at him, to see if he was joking. I hoped he was joking.

“Your wife?” I muttered, “Are you kidding?”

He furrowed his brow, “No. What’s the problem?”

I shoved him completely away, snapping, “You have a fucking wife! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Negan laughed. Tears started to build as he laughed so freely.

He then smiled at me, but he frowned once he saw I wasn’t laughing, “I thought you knew!”

I felt my lip quiver as I pulled open the passenger door and climbed out. I ran to my apartment, cursing angrily that the door was lock; I heard Negan calling my name as I shoved the key in and closed the door behind me. He began banging on my door as soon as I locked it and I ran to my room; I didn’t have a lock on that door, but I didn’t think it would be a problem.

Outside the plywood doors, everyone could hear Negan cursing and calling my name; “Charlotte, open the fucking door! Now!”

One of my neighbors, a man who lived right next door had come out and told Negan to go away. Then it got quiet. I grew fearful, and walked out of my room, through the tiny kitchen and to the front door. I looked through the peephole and saw my neighbor holding his jaw and struggling to stand, but Negan was nowhere in sight.

I believed it was safe to go out, so I opened my door and helped my neighbor; “I’m so sorry! I don’t know why–”

The man waved me off, “It’s okay. Just help me inside.”

Living in a complex with other former criminals meant no one would call the police unless they absolutely had to. Unless either one of us were on fire or being hacked to pieces out in front where everyone could see, none of us called the police. So I knew that this man would go back into his home and keep quiet.

The man went inside his apartment, thanking me before I retreated back to mine, believing that Negan had given up. I was stupid to think he would give up so easily; as soon as I got to my apartment, the door shut loudly behind me. There was Negan, an angry, dark look upon his face; his pupils were dilated, making his entire irises look black.

I jumped and took off, running to my bedroom, shutting the door, and then to my bathroom. He called my name in a loud roar, “Charlotte! Don’t fuckin’ make me come after you!”

The bathroom door had no lock either, so I placed my entire back against the door, trying to barricade it. I could hear him kick my bedroom door open, and then he let out a loud sigh, “Baby, really?” His tone was softer this time.

His tone of voice made me cry; tears clouded my vision, and my body began to hiccup with sobs. Perhaps I had overreacted, but I was glad I had, because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen this side of Negan come out until it was too late. I felt stupid for not seeing the signs earlier on, I knew he wouldn’t ever be mine and it hurt me.

It hurt me even more that he continued on as if it was normal to have a wife and girlfriend. But seeing him so angry replaced my hurt with fear.

He placed his hand hard on the door, causing me to jump, “Open the door, Charlie.”

I sobbed and shook my head, “N-n-no!”

“Baby,” he cooed, “c'mon, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I never told you about Lucille, but I thought you knew.”

I found anger bubbling up at his careless reply, “Fuck you, Negan!”

Then it was silent.

I held my breath as I waited and listened. I wasn’t going to move an inch until I felt it was safe. But, within a few seconds, Negan began to bang his fist repeatedly against the door, yelling things I couldn’t make out over the blood rushing through my ears and heart. My body jolted as the door rocked under his strength; I continued to push myself against it, hoping he’d just give up.

But he didn’t.

He began kicking the door, causing my body to jerk forward. I still pushed, anchoring myself until one hard kick broke the door and threw my body forward, causing me to hit my face against the body of the tub. I whimpered audibly, trying to get up and back to the door, but ultimately, I was too slow and Negan was already coming in. Before I could make another move, he grabbed me by the strap of my dress, pulling me up to my feet, as if I was a kitten being looked at by the fur of its neck.

“See what you did?” He spoke angrily, grabbing my arm and pulling me out the bathroom. “If you fuckin’ listen to me, shit like this wouldn’t happen!”

He threw me on my bed; it creaked loudly under my weight, “Get out,” I managed to say. My face hurt, it felt as if someone took a shovel and scooped a chunk out the side of my face.

Negan grabbed the back of my hair, yanking my head back so I was looking up at him, “You don’t run shit around here, you hear me? I do!”

I snarled, “Fuck you.”

He gripped my hair harder, “You love to piss me off, don’t ya?”

I didn’t answer, my entire head was engulfed in pain, yet I defied him. It was a reflex; in prison, you had to assert your dominance, you couldn’t let anyone intimidate you. No matter what, I wouldn’t give in; not even for Negan, who I thought I loved, and who loved me.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” He yanked my hair again.

I winced but kept my tears in, “No, I’m not. Never was and never will be!”

He picked me up easily and tossed me further onto my shitty bed, climbing on top of me, his hands gripped my neck, and mine grabbed at them. He added pressure but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I believed that he was trying to scare me.

“What did I fucking say?” He stared down at me; the lust was more than apparent in his eyes; I could feel his erection against my stomach.

“Screw you,” I tilted my head back and spat at him.

Negan gripped my neck tighter, “Is this what you fucking want?” He let one hand go and yanked at the skirt of my black dress, pulling it up, “You want me to fuck you?”

I held my tongue; as much as I didn’t want him, I did want him. I wanted Negan so bad, but my entire head was all fucked up. One moment I hated him and the next, I was dying for him and his touch.

He pulled my panties down, and I squeezed my hands to his arm around my neck, trying to remove it, and in one swift move, he hand both of my wrists above my head. I whimpered and turned my head, burying my face into my arm. Negan had wrestled his button and zipper down and pulled his dick from the confines of his boxers.

“If you’re gonna do this, get a condom,” I muttered, my face still turned away.

Negan grabbed my chin, forcing me to gaze into his eyes, his dick was just at the threshold of my opening, “Look at me,” he ignored what I had said, “look at me baby.”

I stared him down with hate, trying to show him how much I was angry with him; he pushed into me and sighed, moaning my name, “You’re mine, Charlie.”

Nothing seemed to phase Negan.

I kept silent as he fucked me, his hand still holding my wrists down above my head. Tears rolled down the sides of my eyes as he continued; his lips left sloppy kisses against my neck, causing more tears. I had been so eager for love that I thought this was it, but I knew down deeply that this wasn’t what I deserved. Even as a criminal, I deserved something better than Negan.

He continued to thrust, his free hand pulling my leg up to his hip, his mouth still kissing my skin. I loved the feeling, though I hated the man. I moaned softly, wanting more, to which he chuckled darkly, “There’s my girl.”

Negan gave one hard thrust after I came and relaxed against the bedsheets, grunting and finishing inside me. I didn’t say a word as he kissed at my jaw, his teeth nipping at my skin before he kissed up to my lips, continuing on deeply.

“I love you too, Charlie,” he said after rolling off of me.

My lip trembled; I rolled over onto my side, not speaking a word. Negan too rolled over, his fingers moving up and down my arm, his lips pressed against the bare skin of my shoulders and back.

“I’m sorry,” he added, “I’ll get ya your own apartment close to me,” he kissed the back of my neck. “We can see each other all the time.”

I stared out the window, seeing the sun began to set. I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t say a word without breaking down and crying, and I didn’t want to show any more of my weakness in front of Negan.

“You’re the only other one I’m fucking,” he said softly.

I shut my eyes and tried to sleep, pretending Negan wasn’t there, but it was hard with his hard body dipping into my tiny bed.

“I gotta go,” he said after a few minutes of silence. The bed dipped and creaked as he got up; I heard his zipper and then heard him sigh. “Tomorrow, baby, I’ll fix everything.”

I swallowed, my voice cracked as I finally spoke, “Goodbye, Negan.”

He let out a small chuckle, “Goodnight, Charlotte.”

The banging on the door outside Isaac’s room had stopped; Judith was quiet too, suckling her thumb and resting against me. Isaac popped his head from under the bed, “I c'n come out?”

I shook my head, ready to tell him no when the door burst open. There was Negan and that bloody, barbed wire bat I heard so much about.

—–

@writteninthestars288 @negans-network @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @jdmnetwork

Walking Disasters (pt.8)

And I don’t get this and I know why/You see sometimes things are just beyond control/But I don’t mind/But I’m not surprised to find that you do/I’m not surprised to find that you do/I know you do

Read part 7 for this to make lots more sense! Part 7 is found here.

Word Count: 1020

Warnings: major mentions of mental illness, strong language, family tension, romance

IN which Connor Murphy falls in love with a girl he met from group therapy.

I laid in bed beside him as if we had done this for years. We’d only known each other for six months. My fingers gently ran through Connor’s hair. His back was facing me, closing himself off from me. Closing himself off from the world. I pulled his newly washed sheets closer around him. Cotton woven fabric enveloped him. The angles of his elbows and knees made hills and valleys out of the sheets.

“Connor?” I whispered to him. He didn’t respond. I didn’t expect him to. “Connor, I’m going to get you some water from your kitchen. Okay?” I said softly to him as I sat up. A soft sigh escaped his lips. I looked down at him as he laid beside me. His paper-thin eyelids were closed but I knew he was awake. I knew he could hear me. His hair felt soft as I gently tucked it behind his ear. My lips pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

I slipped from his bed as quietly as possible. Pulling my cardigan closer to my frame, I made my way down carpeted stairs towards the Murphy’s kitchen. I stopped awkwardly in the kitchen entryway when I saw Connor’s mom and sister talking in hushed voices as they washed a few dishes.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there. How’s Connor doing?” his mom asked me when she noticed I was in their presence. She dried her hands on a dish towel as she spoke and turned to look at me. I couldn’t help but feel like she was faking concern.

“He’s fine. I was just going to get some water,” I started, stepping closer to the sink.

“I’ll get it,” Connor’s sister, Zoe, said bluntly as she reached into a cupboard and grabbed a clean glass.

“Thank you for answering my phone call tonight. Sometimes Connor has depressive episodes,” Cynthia tried to explain. I didn’t need her to explain anything about Connor to me. Her words were cheap.

“I know. We met in group therapy,” I replied in a bitter tone. Silence filled the room as I pulled at the sleeves of my cardigan. I shouldn’t have been bitter. Connor’s parents were letting me stay the night, and yet I still felt like they were doing an awful job at handling the predicament we were in.

“You should also know that sometimes… sometimes Connor has an overwhelming amount of energy,” Cynthia struggled to say. Her words made no sense to me. I felt like I was reading the same page of a book over and over again.

“He has manic episodes, mom. Why can’t you just say that?” Zoe interrupted, placing the glass of water she had poured a little too loudly on the kitchen counter.

“Zoe, now is not the time to be hostile,” Cynthia said through her teeth.

“Connor stole your car, drove two hours, and then broke into someone’s lake house to take her on a date. Don’t tell me this isn’t the right time to say that he’s bipolar. Don’t tell me this isn’t the right time to say that he’s messed up and that we’re lucky that the cops aren’t involved with the little stunt he pulled tonight!” Zoe said harshly to her mother. My eyes were trained on the ground as she spoke. Tears pricked the edge of my eyes. I just came to get water and now I was faced with this.

“Zoe. He hasn’t been diagnosed,” Cynthia spoke up. Zoe just shook her head.

“It’s all bullshit, anyways. Isn’t it? Who cares what some person with a doctorate says? Connor is a disaster,” Zoe snapped. Anger was apparent in the way she stood. One of her hands was on the edge of the kitchen counter. The other was on her hip. She turned and looked at me. “Connor is a disaster and you need to know that. I’m not saying this to be rude. I’m saying this because you’re kind and good and Connor… Connor’s neither of those and you deserve better. It shouldn’t be your job to pick up Connor’s broken pieces.”

“Thank you for your concern,” I said softly. I took the glass of water on the kitchen counter and turned to leave.

“Thank you for keeping Connor safe,” Cynthia offered a bit of solace. Her expression was broken. Each of us had a different opinion about who Connor was and I hated that. I hated that Connor couldn’t just be Connor. He had to live in people’s minds as something different. He lived as a monster, a weakness, and a lover all at the same time.

When I returned to Connor’s room, he was sitting up and leaning his back against the headboard of his bed. I placed the glass of water on his bedside table. The sound of the glass on the wood of the table sounded harsh, even though I didn’t mean it to.

“What’d they say to you?” Connor mumbled to me as he reached out and took my hand.

“They didn’t say anything to me,” I answered with a soft smile. My fingers intertwined with his as I stood at the side of his bed.

“I heard talking. These walls are thin.”

“Your mom just thanked me for keeping you safe,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a lie, but I still felt apprehensive towards keeping the whole truth from him. What Zoe had said to me stung, and I knew it would hurt Connor even more.

“You sure?” Connor whispered as he pulled me into bed with him. I didn’t know why we were whispering. No one in the house was sleeping and even though it was night time, it wasn’t that late yet.

“I’m sure,” I hummed in response. We continued to hold hands as I sat beside him. Silence took the room captive. It was a comfortable silence, though. The type of silence that came after a storm.

“Connor?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We’re going to be okay.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let anyone tell you that we won’t be okay.”

“I won’t.”

Imagine Jared is your ex and you see him with his new girlfriend

Feel free to leave comments and give me some feedback so I could write even better posts.
Also, if you have any ideas about the next Imagine, but don’t know how to write an entire story, feel free to message me, and I’ll be more than happy to try to write as better story as possible, and mention you as the source of inspiration of course. :)

Much love, Rhina


Imagine you’ve dated Jared for two years, but because of his constant travelling, and all the distance that you had to deal with you started to fight a lot, and you decided to leave him. Six months later you meet him in the city with his new girlfriend and suddenly all the feelings come rushing back. 


It’s a beautiful spring day. You’re in your office ready to head out and have lunch in your favorite cafe restaurant. It was actually the place where you and your ex, Jared Leto, always had coffee to go and sometimes you liked to have lunch there. Fortunately you haven’t seen him coming to this place ever since the break up happened, so you continued coming to that place.

It’s been six months since you’ve ended the two years long relationship. You’ve never loved anyone the way you loved Jared. No one has ever made you feel the way you felt with him. It was a special bond and such an intense relationship. Never in your life have you imagined you’d have something like that. Nevertheless, you felt lucky you had the chance to experience such a strong love, even if it wasn’t meant to last forever. 

 After your break up with Jared you were crushed. Both of you were. Jared even tried to make it work again, and convince you to give your relationship another chance, but you were determined to break it off. He used to come to your door every day, left you flowers and begged you to talk to him, but it was all in vain. You just needed your life to be normal. Without any pressure. 

The break up was a true agony. You couldn’t get out of your bed for two weeks. You loved him so much, but you couldn’t handle all the gossip about him and other girls, and him being away most of the time. 

Now, you’ve started seeing someone new, and with every day you’re more sure that you’ve gotten over Jared. You and Chad have been on a couple of dates and he seems like a really nice guy who could actually make you happy. Chad is tall, dark, charming, extremely handsome and he knows how to make you laugh. He’s a PR manager for various celebrities and he’s very well situated. He was even supposed to join you for lunch today but he had an urgent meeting and had to call for a rain check. 

You came to the restaurant, sat outside to enjoy the spring air and ordered lunch. Once you started eating you heard your phone ringing. It’s Chad. He just sent you a photo of his messed up shirt and loosen up tie and the caption says 

 ***Sooo tired. Wish I was with you instead. XO. *** 

You smile and send him your selfie, with puckered lips sending him a kiss. Your phone rings and it’s your BFF. 

 “Hey girl, what’s up? Where have you been these days? I can’t seem to find you anywhere?”, she asks 

“Hey honey, I’m having lunch at The Pinot . I know, we have to meet up. It’s been so hectic these few weeks. You know the fashion week’s coming up and we’re completely swamped with work. How are you? Anything new?”

“Pinot? Really?”, she asks with a strange tone in her voice. She knows that was yours and Jared’s favorite place so she’s a bit worried. 

“Of course. You know I’ve been coming here forever.”, you answer. 

“Have you seen anyone familiar?”, she asks insinuating you’re waiting for Jared to pop up from somewhere. 

“Very funny. No, I haven’t seen anyone. I told you he’s not coming here anymore, otherwise I would’ve bumped into him eventually. ”, you answer. 

“OK, just checking. So, when are the two of us having coffee, or dinner, or something? I really miss you.” , she says. 

“How about tomorrow night? Right here at The Pinot.”, you suggest. 

“Wow, you really love that place. Sure, it’s a date. See you then”, she says and you both hang up. 

As you check your phone to see if you’ve got any messages, and finish the last bite of your lunch you look up and can’t believe your eyes. It’s Jared. Crossing the street and coming right towards the restaurant, holding some girl’s hand. They start smiling and she hugs him, but he’s not that happy as she is. He feels a bit forced to a hug. 

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Eugenides is great, but he’s seventeen. When he was born I was six, which means if we had known each other then he would have been a baby. I don’t know anything about infant care. Oh gods, I could have killed him.
—  Irene (to Helen about Gen)
compulsory heterosexuality as i experienced it

this post is obviously inspired by @clextra​ and many other people i’ve seen sharing their experiences. they are such an interesting read and i thought i would say something too because its a good reflection tool and it could potentially help someone through their own feelings. so here goes.

  • “she has a lot of boy friends. uh oh, that’s a worry!”
    • i found my old baby journal and my mum wrote that when i was barely a toddler. its not pleasant to think about but the root of my compulsory heterosexuality was my mother’s attitudes when i was younger. she would repeatedly insist that i had crushes on every boy i met when i was little. the most prominent time was when i was six and my best friend was a boy called sean. both of our mothers thought we had crushes on each other. i was six and he was just my friend. mum said she could tell because she ‘knew these things’, and because i believed her, i grew up thinking that what i was feeling (friendship with a boy) was romantic love. meanwhile, i idolised and adored my first grade teacher (who was a lot like miss honey mind you) and i kissed girls on self appointed dares. but because i was little and they werent boys, i didnt question it.
  • “no dating til you’re 18!” “ok”
    • i am my parents’ first child and only daughter, and though it wasn’t said in so many words, it was a given that i would not be allowed to have a boyfriend until my parents said so. and i was okay with that. i coasted through primary school without crushes on boys. most of my friends were getting their first boyfriends and i was confused. like, ‘why would they want to do that?’. while my friends noticed boys for the first time, i noticed girls’ breasts and stared at my friends when they were getting changed. but because i was young and they weren’t boys, i didnt question it.
  • “they think you’re gay”
    • i was about two weeks into high school when a few girls spread a nasty rumour that i was a lesbian. i lost 90% of the female friends i’d made, girls would move away when i sat next to them. although it wasn’t the first time others thought i was gay, it was the first time it got really awful. i cried a lot and told me mum as soon as i got in the car. without missing a beat, my mum said, ‘well you’re not gay, so there’s nothing to worry about’, which calmed me down quickly. i went home and rewatched my avril lavigne dvd for the third time that week. but because i was young and she wasnt a boy, i didnt question it.
  • “eeny meeny miny moe”
    • it seems to be a common thing that baby wlw chose boys to have crushes on, but i took it to an extreme. in an effort to convince people that i was straight, i got out the class pictures and played eeny meeny miny moe to choose which boy i liked and what my backup options were. the boy i chose i had a crush on for about 2 years. he was barely my friend, we’d spoken about three times, but i was In Love TM with him. i watched how my friends talked about their crushes so i tried to copy them. they were obsessed with their crushes, so i became obsessed with making sure i acted obsessed enough. meanwhile, i had sex dreams about girls, but because i was young and they weren’t boys, i didn’t question it.
  • “you’re smiling, that means you like him!”
    • my friends insisted that i had a crush on one my best friends. he was the aforementioned ‘backup’ from a few years earlier, and because he was nice and i liked spending time with him because he was my friend, i assumed that i did have a crush on him. about a year later my friends about this and manipulated me into asking him out, which i didnt want to do at all. even though i liked him, i didn’t want to date him. i wasn’t heartbroken or even sad really when he said no, if anything i was relieved that my crush was over. but i was also embarrassed and i avoided him for a long time out of shame. meanwhile that same year i recognised i had a crush on a girl in my art class so i panicked and dropped the class. i rationalised that it was a one time thing and it didnt count. i was young and she wasn’t a boy, so i didn’t question it.
  • “i don’t get it”
    • after panicking about having a crush on a girl, i went straight back into the compulsive behaviour of obsessively choosing crushes but i would only like boys that were boring and way below my standards so i wouldn’t ever date them anyway. it was a safe way to keep my Heterosexual Identity while avoiding actually needing to date boys. however i did have my first and only boyfriend when i was 15. he asked me out and other girls liked him a lot, so i said yes. the ‘relationship’ lasted two weeks. i didn’t want to touch him at all, i didn’t even want to hold his hand, and because i didn’t see the point, i broke up with him. it was at this time that i first recognised that how other girls felt about boys was very different to how i did. at lunch my friends would talk about how hot their boyfriends were or and share stories about their sex lives. i spent a lot of time listening with a disgusted and disturbed look on my face. i didn’t get it. upon realising that i never wanted to have sex with boys, i came to the conclusion that i was not like other girls and that i was better than them (which was an awful way to think). i then delved into fiction. i wrote from boys pov to gush about how pretty girls were, i became very emotionally invested in brittany and santana from glee, and created oc’s who were questioning. bonus gay points because i envisioned the characters as phoebe tonkin, who i ‘admired’ so much i made an ultra gay video about how hot she was. but because she wasn’t a boy, i didn’t question it.
  • “oh shit??????”
    • (tmi coming up dudes) so i graduated high school and i was finally free from that toxic environment. not long later i discovered masturbation (years after everyone else had because i never even thought of doing it), and although i really made an effort to fantasise about whatever male celebrity i had a crush on, i would daze out and just focus on the feelings. christmas 2012 i saw clara oswald / jenna coleman’s face and i was suddenly Really Interested in doctor who and i plowed through seven seasons in a few weeks just to get to her two episodes. i counted down how many episodes i had to get through to finally get to clara. “thirty episodes until clara! ten episodes until clara! next episode is clara!” sometime in the middle of all this i started entertaining the idea that i wasn’t straight. i tried to see if i could masturbate thinking about clara, and oh yes i could.
  • “i am bi but with a really really really really really strong preference for women”
    • (just a preface that this is my personal experience and that bisexuality is a real orientation) i like boys, i like girls. that means i’m bi, right? i was ready to embrace that i wasn’t straight and for me that meant having an identifier. i jumped the gun and said i was bi before i was sure of it, because that had to be what i was. i didn’t even consider that i could be a lesbian. i went through my first years of uni developing crushes on a lot of girls who i knew, but never on guys. as i discovered what it felt like to like girls, men paled in comparison and i realised that i only found like two men in the whole world attractive, and they were unobtainable celebrities. i envisioned my future and it was always with a woman. i would fantasise about women all the time, but never about men. it didn’t cross my mind to anymore. i thought i was bi with a really strong preference for women until the beginning of last year, when a man hit on me. i walked home absolutely certain that i was a lesbian, because i realised that i never ever wanted to interact with men in a sexual/romantic way. and i’ve identified as a lesbian ever since.

looking back i’m sort of like how the hell did i not know i was a lesbian? i really should have, but compulsory heterosexuality fucked me up big time for 21 years. i hope putting this all into words helped someone. compulsory heterosexuality is a bitch.

I Was Made For Loving You - Pt. 1

Slight trigger warning. Part one of a two parter. Enjoy :-)

The most important part about being with someone physically was trust. This was the person that you were going to give your body to, the person who you were going to show your most vulnerable side to. It wasn’t something to take lightly or just give away to anyone. There had to be a foundation built, a deep connection, and most of all, pure love. At least, that’s what it had to be for me. Of course I knew many people that barely even needed to know the person’s name before hopping into bed with them. Then again, not many people were in my situation.

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Gravity Falls - Mabel’s Mind Palace Ch.7

Chapter 7 of Mabel’s Mind Palace


Got some excellent feedback on Chapter 6, so I’m happy that people are enjoying the series. All chapters are in the links here, in case you want to read the previous six chapters. We’re nearing the finale, and although we may be nearing the end of this particular story, that doesn’t mean that this is the end of my Mind Palace AU. *hint hint* Please enjoy Chapter 7! (Btw if you haven’t figured it out by now, yes, this is a Pinecest fic. If it’s not your cup of tea, then please respect my writing and refrain from reading the rest of my fic, although I must say that I keep Pinecest to a minimum in this story.) [Word Count: 3723 words]


[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 2 ] || [ Chapter 3 ] || [ Chapter 4 ] || [ Chapter 5 ] || [ Chapter 6 ] || [ Chapter 7 ] || [ Chapter 8 ] ||  [Chapter 9 - FINAL CHAPTER]


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Not the last message ever, but it was the last message I received after he left for Indiana after visiting me in Minnesota. It had been six months since we last saw each other, and now it’s been a week since he left. I love him with all my heart.

Dazzling And Tremendous - part ten- Complete

Two summers ago I wrote Mad Naked Summer  or, the summer of sexual experimentation. An anon asked if I might revisit the story, so I thought I’d try. Picks up around the time that canon leaves off, in NYC in the summertime. 

Now complete and I’ll be posting this to AO3 and a masterlist soon. 

Part One / Part Two  / Part Three  / Part Four  / Part Five / 

Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight  / Part Nine

The ferry bellows and the gate is lifted and then they’re shuffled on board with the crowd, off the pier and onto the ship deck.

“Starboard,” Kurt announces, and gives some sort of jaunty salute.  “Or is it port? I can never keep them straight.”

“Port,” Blaine says, and then he’s swept up the stairs and away from Kurt with a huge extended family that chatters happily the whole way and before he knows it he’s on the second floor of the ferry, trying to snag two seats together before he loses Kurt entirely.

He would have preferred a spot on the deck outside, but at least it smells a little less like gasoline and fish guts in here. The air conditioning doesn’t hurt, either. Blaine sits in a sticky vinyl seat next to the thick plastic window, crosses one knee over the other and cranes his head over the seat in front of him to locate Kurt.

Finally he appears, scowling a little but no worse for the wear, in his “nautical-themed” outfit: Navy snug-fit hooded sweater and shorts in stripes of white on white on slightly darker white with a blue and white striped belt. He has a neckerchief printed with little anchors tied around his throat, white boots and a straw boater hat placed so that his bangs lift like the crest of a wave over the brim.

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Coffee #7: Clementine Bastow (friends on Facebook 2.0 since November 2013, 46 mutual friends)

Clem and I first met at Ding Dong Lounge in 2006 and had what could be considered a whirl-wind relationship. Within a few weeks of seeing each other I had moved into her place (my first time moving out of home) and over the next 18 months we lived together in two different places both in Carlton North.

In hindsight, Clem and I were at very different points in our life when we got together, however she taught me invaluable lessons about myself, life’s ups and downs, feminism, music and relationships in general. Overall, it’s safe to say that I wish I had been a better boyfriend to Clem.

Today was the first time Clem and I had seen each other in six years, so we had a huge amount to catch up on. She packed up and moved to LA a couple of years ago and has since been back in Melbourne tying up loose ends before heading back over to the U.S. with her partner.

Clem is a hugely talented writer and has been writing freelance for numerous online and print media for 15 years now and excitingly has recently completed two feature-length screen plays. She’s also very involved in millinery and “leather work with a focus on Western floral and Sheridan-style tooling and carving” and creates amazing costumes for Comic-Con and cos-play conventions around the world. Since we dated, I was proud to hear that she’s also mastered the art of creating the perfect jam (jelly for U.S. readers), having won multiple blue ribbons at the Royal Melbourne Show.

Today Clem and I caught up on our families, chatted about pop-culture and the time she rapped Die Antwoord’s remix of ’Orinoco Flow’ to a room of gobsmacked LA-types. Oh, she’s also a musical encyclopaedia and I still listen to a huge amount of mix CDs she’s given me over the years.

Clem drank a Coca Cola and I drank a flat white.

So great to see you, Clem!

On and off ex-boyfriend/friends with benefits. We had been in each others lives for six years before this fight. It’s been very hard to move past because I cared for him so much. But I realized I was just making the same mistake over and over and over again. It’s not easy, but it’s time.