Zinh's GFM Can Be Found Here If You Want To Support Her Family During This Nightmare

you're losing me → e. hewson

pairing —elijah hewson x singer!fem!reader

summary —where you release a new single that sends your friends into a heartbroken panic

sarahskeetz guys, before you go crazy about the eli and y/n rumours, please use some common sense and reevaluate. y/n's wrote countless songs about how elijah is her soulmate AND how media is often so wrong and invasive in regards to their lives and that people shouldn't believe things unless either of them say it directly. plus, these pictures of them were literally posted last month. she'd hardly have prepped you're losing mebto be released in that amount of time

username no fr, even if they did split, they don't deserve the harassment they're both getting online for it

joshjenkily litch. they should be allowed to deal with it in their own time

ynbridgerss okay but the clear parallels between these songs and ylm....

pheebrodrighoe no I get you but y/n hasn't interacted with any of the inhaler guys in a month despite being active online for her tour and even camilla (the number one eliyn stan) hasn't mentioned them since those photos

ynkissmeee lowk hope the rumours are true, he's been leeching off her for years 😭

judebellinghams omg shut up what are you even talking about 💀

yourusername thank u for all the love tonight, la! it's been a hectic week at best so it was lovely to just enjoy the night with you all 💞 but onto the elephant in the room.... i'm still very happily in a relationship with my little babygirl. "you're losing me" is written about my former relationships (mostly platonic) with others that i finally realised were TOTALLY MESSED UP after being with someone who loves me wholeheartedly for so long xx thank you all for the people who did send kind messages my way but please stop listening to gossip sites 😭

sahraskeetz THANK YJE LORD

camillamorrone guys my tweet was bcs y/n ditched me to get food w 🤢eli🤢

yourusername i brought u back a tiramisu shut up

ynxcamistan QUEEN YOU HAD US GAGGED

gracieabrams mother!!

ynhq thank god, we didn't want to leave elijah completely alone in the divorce 💔

robertkeating ❤️❤️

phoebebridgers so in love with you

devonleecarlson stop girl i was giggling over the articles 😭

bellahadid ok stunner

don’t wanna break up again | oscar piastri

pairing: actress!reader x oscar piastri

summary: you never go to any of oscar races and he’s always been okay with it, until he’s not

fc: rachel zegler

warnings: angst

a/n: i am in such an oscar kick lately you cannot physically stop me (i’ve also never wrote angst before this is so fun!)

—

liked by oscarpiastri, gracieabrams and others

yourusername vacation barbie☀️

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username uhmmm ???

username obsessed with her going on vacation instead of supporting yet another one of his boyfriend’s races

username so now she’s not allowed to go on vacation after working for five months on a movie? grow up

oscarpiastri the prettiest🥰

username oh to be called the prettiest by oscar piastri 😩

username so beautiful 😍

username respectfully looking 👀

username day number 482927 praying for y/n to attend a race

username at this point i feel like the only way she’s attending is if she has to promote a movie or something

username petition for y/n to be in that f1 movie they’re making just so we can see her at the paddock once

liked by yourusername, mclaren and others

oscarpiastri absolutely love austria 🧡

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username that’s my driver right there !!!

yourusername so well deserved❤️ (liked by oscarpiastri)

username another podium where y/n wasn’t present😊

username i could treat you so much better i swear!

mclaren incredible drive oscar🧡

georgerusell63 👊🏽👊🏽

username next podium is a win👀

liked by gigihadid, oliviarodrigo and others

yourusername star of the year is insane! thank you so much for this award and to all of you, i love you all to the moon and back and without you this wouldn’t be possible🫶🏽 thank you thank you thank you ⭐️

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username so so well deserved y/n congrats! 🎉

username ms. rabbit has fainted

username oh she just looked unreal tonight 🤩

username she IS the star of our generation 👏🏽

oscarpiastri couldn’t be prouder❤️

yourusername love you! 💘

username she’s just THAT GOOD

username star of the year indeed😍

liked by yourusername, landonorris and others

oscarpiastri incredibly proud of the most talented, hard-working, brightest woman i know. you’re not only the star of the year you’re also the star of my life and i know there will be many more awards to come your way🌟

tagged yourusername

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username oh

yourusername i can’t put into words how much i love you❤️

oscarpiastri ❤️

username now i just know he did not went out of his way to go to this award show for her during a race week and she can’t even be bothered to go to one (1) race

username he literally made a post about the critics recognizing her work as an actress and you’re commenting stuff like this? jesus

mclaren congratulations, y/n! 🧡 (liked by yourusername)

username y/n they will never make me like you!

username cutest couple🥰

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and others

oscarpiastri hungary will always be in my heart 🇭🇺 🫶🏽

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username obsessed with the first picture

username about to tattoo this whole race in my forehead brb

logansargeant congratulations mate🎉

username TWO MCLAREN MAIDEN WINS THIS YEAR ARE YOU KIDDING ME

carlossainz55 congrats oscar👍🏼

username so rookie of the year of him 😩

landonorris congrats muppet 🍾

yourusername so so proud of you congratulations my love‼️❤️‍🔥

oscarpiastri 🥰

username girl you weren’t even there…

liked by lilymhe, taylorswift and others

yourusername six weeks of breathing clean air, i still miss the smoke.

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username no way they actually broke up😭

username can’t believe it’s been six weeks i thought they were gonna get back after two days

username but why is she calling her relationship with oscar toxic? 😔

username at least she’s going out!

username oh you know it’s getting serious when she’s pulling out the taylor lyrics

username refusing to believe my parents are divorced (i’m older than them)

username finally we’re out of the trenches‼️

username currently praying for oscar’s next girlfriend to be supportive🙏🏽

comments have been disabled.

identity is the root.

you are not manifesting random events. you are not manifesting based on what you want. you are manifesting based on who you believe you are. and that belief, your identity, is what determines what appears in your life, what repeats, what leaves, what stays, and how things unfold.

this is why neville said over and over: assume the feeling of the wish fulfilled. he wasn’t telling you to act like you’re playing pretend. he was telling you that your reality forms around your state of being. and your state of being is just your identity in action.

your identity is the foundation of your self-concept. it’s not just one belief, it’s the entire self-image you carry. it’s what you expect without thinking. it’s how you explain things to yourself. it’s the inner story you’ve been telling for so long, you forgot you were telling it.

identity is subtle. it hides in how you react to compliments. it hides in how you respond to silence. it hides in what you assume people mean when they don’t reply, or when they do. it shows up in what you think is normal, likely, or typical for you.

if you identify as someone who is always left out, you will unconsciously expect to be left out. you will anticipate abandonment, misread neutral situations as rejection, and replay painful assumptions until they harden into “facts.” if you identify as someone who is loved, special, and always chosen, the opposite becomes true. your mind will filter life through that lens. you’ll revise in your favor. you’ll remember support instead of abandonment. you’ll manifest people who reflect that version of you back to you.

you’re manifesting what your identity believes is true. and identity is not stable by default, it’s habitual. you’ve simply practiced it over time. that means you can choose a new one just as easily. you don’t have to “heal” before you change. (even though this is beneficial) and you definitely don’t have to “earn” a new self-concept. you just have to stop identifying with the version of you who doesn’t have what they want.

neville said, “change your conception of yourself and you will automatically change the world in which you live.” he also said, “to be transformed, the whole basis of your thoughts must change.” and that happens not by controlling every thought, but by choosing a new identity, a new center of being, from which your thoughts, assumptions, and reactions now arise.

a new identity changes what feels natural. and the law always reflects what is natural to you. once it feels normal to be adored, you’ll start getting adored. once it feels natural to have money, you’ll start finding yourself in circumstances where money is flowing. you’ll stop thinking it’s a sign when someone treats you well, you’ll start seeing it as the bare minimum. because it matches the self you’ve chosen to be.

this is why identity is everything. identity determines your assumptions. assumptions determine your perceptions. perceptions determine your reactions. reactions reinforce your reality. and your reality is always confirming the self you are being.

you don’t need to visualize harder. you don’t need to micromanage the 3D. you need to ask: who am i being? who do i assume i am right now? and if the answer doesn’t match the version of you who has it all, shift. right now. no delay. 

you are not here to chase the desire. you are here to realize you already are the version of you who has it. all that’s left to do is assume them. the 3D always reflects who you believe you are.

Its been too long since I've properly campaigned for Mona's initiatives on my main blog! Since the last update we have a wide array of projects your donations have contributed to!

She has distributed essential hygiene kits including pads for women!

And a lot lot lot of food package distributions as you can see below!

Please do not hesitate to donate! Every single dollar helps!! P*ypal.

G*f*ndme for distribution of necessities.

G*f*ndme to help Mona and her family.

Instagram to track progress + above links.

(If you live in India or Pakistan and want to donate, contact her through the means listed on her account).

　𝓶𝔂 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ this isn’t a self-help guide. i’m not your guru and this isn’t a powerpoint on gratitude. this is just me. sitting on the floor. i’m not here to raise your vibration. i’m here to ask why you think you need raising in the first place. i'm here because i’ve been hoarding revelations like they're concert wristbands. i'm here because reality is porous and i’ve got the straws. no, literally, i’ve sucked on time’s milkshake and found it lukewarm. we can do better.

you will not find steps here. there is no staircase. i burned it. we fly now.

　"how to"s . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to manifest.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to get what you want without affirmations.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀where is the stuff i manifested?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀i have it, i have it, i have it, so where is it?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀become the laziest manifestor.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifest anything in hours, minutes, and even seconds.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀banish resistance.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to stop looking at the 3d for results.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀how to manifest the future.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifesting faq.

　thesis's & concepts . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀energy and matter cannot be destroyed or created.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀barbie doll theory of self-concept.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀do less than nothing , get more than everything.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀i said what i said (and then it happened)

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀think it, know it, live it.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀hoping or remembering?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀manifestation and the eroticism of longing.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀what's meant for me will find me.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀screw trying.

　doubts & negatives . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀adrift on a sea of self-inflicted delays.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀it didn't work before, why would it now?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀the hardest pill to swallow.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀" there is no new information on tumblr "

　interactives . .

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀the manifesting seance club.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ﹐⠀pick a card and find out about your manifesting journey.

every day my friend siraj (#219) travels to central gaza to access wifi so he can come on this platform and beg people for 8 hours to donate to him so he can afford to rent an apartment for his family of 24 that includes 10 children and 2 elders who will undoubtedly suffer from severe illness without access to medical care over the coming winter

israel is doing everything it can to stop palestinians from giving each other medical care right now. just yesterday the world was shocked with the image of israel burning medical patients alive while they were still hooked up to their IVs in the medical tents in the ruins of al aqsa hospital - in central gaza, not far from where siraj spends his days on the internet.

please donate if you can. please share (i know you can). siraj puts himself in danger to appeal to you! the least we could do is make his effort worthwhile.

gofundme.com

Donate to Support Siraj's Family in Rebuilding Their Home, organized by Ahmad Abudayeh

hi, my name is ahmad and I'm raising a fund for my cousin Siraj and thi… Ahmad Abudayeh needs your support for Support Siraj's Family in Reb

(x)

you're doing the lords work fr

LET ME IN || elijah hewson

PAIRING: elijah x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

GENRE(S): fluff, a bit of angst, friends to lovers, hurt comfort

SUMMARY: when your best friend turns up at your front door unannounced, you decide to find out why he's acting so strangely. what you don't expect is for some repressed feelings to bubble up to the surface.

WARNINGS: smoking, mentions of drinking + being drunk, kissing, eli has daddy issues oops

this is it y'all i've gone insane... he looked at me once and this is what happens. @boobyskeetz made me post this btw

It’s far along in the evening when you come home to find Elijah Hewson sitting on your staircase with his head in his hands. 

He’s slumped over, leather jacket around his shoulders and a slowly burning, unattended cigarette in between the pointer and middle finger of his right hand. The sky is pitch black, the only source of light being an ancient lantern whose shine just barely reaches Elijah’s hair. 

You’re shocked at the sight, to say the least, the heaviness of your grocery bags suddenly a faint background noise. 

“Eli?” you move closer, albeit hesitantly, and your voice makes his head snap up.

When he looks at you, you fight back the urge to gasp. His eyes, half lidded, just barely glimmer in the faint light provided by the moon overhead, leaving room for his undereye bags to stand out. And they do stand out — so much that you almost don’t catch him stumbling over his feet ever so slightly as he walks over to where you’re standing. 

Almost. 

“Are you alright?” 

It’s not a question, not really, but he winces either way. You stand close enough to see it, but immediately, his lips pull into a lopsided grin to hide his initial reaction. 

“‘Course I am,” he takes a drag of his cigarette, and uses his other hand to take one of your grocery bags. “Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”

You nod, watching him drop the unfinished cigarette to the ground and step on it. You wonder how many he’s smoked today and consider asking, but decide against it upon realizing you probably don’t want to know. Instead, you let him take your grocery bags wordlessly, following him up the stairs. 

It’s a short staircase, but you’re walking slowly – too slowly for your liking – and there’s a million questions burning on your tongue. You hold them back, mostly because you’re tired, but also because something in Elijah’s eyes tells you not to push. 

He’s the one to speak first when you reach the right apartment. “Hey, your flowers are still alive.”

He’s referring to the roses he helped you pick out last month. It was a treat for yourself, for finishing all your assignments, and you had taken the whole ‘plant mom’ job pretty seriously, even putting the roses in a prettier vase and putting it on display outside of your apartment. 

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “They’re holding up really well.”

Elijah waits for you to unlock the door, then walks inside with you in tow. He wobbles a little as he drops down his shoes where he always puts them — where he’s put them ever since you told him three years ago it could be his spot. 

You watch him shoulder off his jacket and start organizing the groceries in the fridge from afar, slowly taking off your outerwear. It’s warm inside, and your skin feels like it’s about to be set on fire after being out in the cold for so long. You think of Elijah sitting on your doorstep. How long was he waiting for you? 

“Mind if I take a beer?” he cuts off your thoughts and you look up to find him with his hand on your fridge, an inquiring look on his face. 

Now the lighting’s better, and you can clearly see his face. The creases between his brows, the focus in his gaze, the stubble that he’s let grow just a little longer than usually. Whether that’s a deliberate choice or simple forgetfulness, you’re not sure, but it worries you. His state worries you. 

“Suit yourself.”

Maybe you should have said no, you think as he takes a sip of the drink and you’re reminded of the wobble in his walk. He’s probably had enough to drink already. To be fair, though, Elijah can be stubborn when he wants to, and something’s telling you today is one of those days. 

When everything is either in the fridge or in a cupboard, you and Eli wander into the living room, shoulder to shoulder, without much to say. It’s messy, and he scolds you playfully for it — like he’s not the guy whose dorm you have to clean each time you come over. 

You join his laughter though, and plop down on your couch a little more relaxed than before. 

“How long did you wait for me?” 

This time you manage to ask him the question, and he shrugs.

“A couple hours.”

He lifts the beer up to his lips and empties it, the can blocking out his view of you and your widened eyes. 

What the hell is going on? His gaze tells you nothing. It’s so indifferent it makes you want to rip your hair out, because no matter how much he wants to pretend spontaneously coming over at three am is normal, it’s not. Especially when it comes to him. 

Sure, if it were Robert, you would’ve figured it was just him acting on impulse, but it was never like that with Elijah. 

“You could have just called,” you say finally, a slight quiver to your voice. “You should have just called. You know that, right?”

He meets your gaze, but not for long; after a second it drops down to his lap, like he’s embarrassed. You hold your breath, awaiting an answer. His fingers drum against the side of the couch, but then he changes his mind about that, too, and brings his hand to scratch the side of his face. God, what is he even doing? Trying to see how long it’ll take for you to snap and throw him out of the apartment? 

Suddenly, he sighs deeply, dropping his hands in his lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

You can’t help yourself from scoffing. That’s it? He ‘didn’t wanna bother you’? Maybe you would’ve believed it hadn’t he shown up unannounced at your front door in the middle of the night. 

You almost open your mouth to say just that, but stop yourself when Elijah looks up again, and his bloodshot eyes meet yours. Something’s definitely not right. You can physically feel it, the tightening of your chest, the anger somehow pushed to the back of your head. 

“Why are you here?” you ask him sternly, keeping your eyes on him. This time, he doesn’t look away. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

It comes out meek, frail, as he almost chokes on his own words. You’re taken aback by the shiver in his voice, the drop of his shoulders. He places the beer can on your table and you swear his hands shake — just barely, but enough for you to see and for your heart to clench in response. 

You shake your head. “No, I want to know why you’re here.”

He laughs humorlessly, leaning forward in his chair. His hands are definitely shaking, but you’re not sure whether it’s from the alcohol or something entirely different. 

You know this face on him — he’s bothered by something, but doesn’t want to admit it. He’s always been like this, ever since you met him at school and watched his eyes glow with the same sadness after his teachers told him he should work on his grades. It was the same look on his face, the same millions of feelings threatening to bubble over the surface. 

The only difference seems to be that now, he’s got no cap in his hands to close the bottle. 

“I’m just tired, that’s all. Wanted to talk to you ‘cause the lads are too much noise.”

You frown and send him a look of disdain. Perhaps this isn’t something you should push on him, but seeing as he just magically appeared at your apartment while drunk, you do have a right to at least inquire what the fuck is going on.  

“If you’re going to lie to me, you might as well leave.”

Silence follows your statement; silence so loud you almost regret saying anything at all. He grits his teeth, and you swear you can hear it from across the table — though that might just be your brain playing tricks on you this late in the evening. 

“It’s my dad,” he mutters finally, scratching his stubble. “Not that that’s much of a surprise.”

“What happened?” 

“Nothing new, really,” he exhales, closing his eyes briefly. “Just, you know, the usual ‘you’re wasting your life by not going to college’ talk. Total bullshit, as always. The only thing wasted is those twenty minutes of my life I spent listening to him talk about it.” 

You breathe out slowly, fighting against the urge to look away from his gaze. He keeps it on you, unwavering, but you don’t know what to say. It’s dangerous territory, one you haven’t ever entered fully, and the worry of hurting him pangs at your chest; the legitimacy of his vulnerability scares you and moves you all the same. 

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“He’s just worried, you know. I would be, too.” 

“Why?” his lip quivers and your heart sinks in your chest; so quickly it forces a sudden nausea upon you. “Because I’m not cut out for this?”

“No, Eli, that’s not what I–”

He cuts you off — not with his words, but with his hands gripping the arms of his chair to help him stand. It’s so abrupt your words die down in your throat, leaving a dryness behind. Hovering above you, he still looks small, like he’s fading into the light above; barely even present as Elijah but rather as some mass of feelings clumped together, ready to explode. 

“Do really none of you think I can make this work?” 

It’s the alcohol, you think, god, you shouldn’t have let him drink any more — how could you be so careless? But no, it’s not your carelessness or his, and you know that, even in this state of panic, it somehow reaches your mind — the revelation that this isn’t a random outburst. 

It’s the fruit of a tree that’s been growing for a long time; the ripeness isn’t fake, even if you’re unprepared to pick it.

“Do you really think that?” he asks this quietly, his voice barely audible, but it feels like he’s tearing your skull apart with a scream. 

Do you really think that? The very assumption, the very thought, disgusts you. The thought that you could ever believe he won’t make it — it’s so unnerving you let out a shaky breath. 

A movement of your legs from underneath you and you’re standing. Your feet tap against the floor as you walk up to him slowly, like approaching a scared deer. He is scared, you realize. Your fingertips tingle with the longing to run your hands over his face, but you hold them back, instead answering his question.

“No.” 

He blinks, and you say it again: “No,” and again and again, “No, no, no, no,” until it almost doesn’t feel like a word anymore and more like some sort of bandage wrapped around a bruised bone. 

“Your dad doesn’t think that, either. He’s just worried because he cares. Because he loves you.” 

He falls silent. “I’m not so sure.”

“About what?”

He doesn’t reply instantly. You look down on his hands, only to find that they’re still shaking, and take a couple steps forward. Elijah doesn’t notice, you think, or if he does, he doesn’t show any disdain for your closeness. 

“About love,” he says finally. “Isn’t love supporting someone unconditionally? Rooting for them, no matter what? That description doesn’t really fit my dad.” 

“I think you’ve got it all wrong.” 

You suppress the smile that threatens to form on your face when he sends you a confused look, his nose scrunched. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you can support whoever you want without much difficulty,” you look at the floor, thinking of what to say next. “That doesn’t mean you love them. If you love someone, it means you’re willing to suffer through discomfort and pain to make them happy. You’re willing to spend your nights worrying if they’ve chosen the right path. You let them into your apartment at three am. That type of thing.” 

Thirty seconds pass before you finally look back up, internally shivering at the way his stare bores into your soul. 

“You…” he trails off, wincing like it’s painful. Uncharted territory, yet again — that much is obvious from how your heart bangs against your ribs. The silence in the room makes you worry if he might just be able to hear it.

You hear him inhale sharply, taking a step back so he can sit at the edge of your sofa. Following suit, you observe his eyes shining in the light, less red than before though still uncertain. His shoulder brushes against yours and you breathe in — he smells of alcohol, but it’s oddly comforting in the storm of your thoughts. 

Elijah’s head turns to you. 

“Have you… ever thought this is all for nothing? That I keep leaving the tour bus with more and more bruises for no reason at all?” 

Your fingertips tingle again, and this time you do nothing to stop them from brushing over the back of his hand. It’s stupid, probably, but it feels right, his skin against yours. He’s warm, really warm, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, even when he leisurely drags his forefinger down the side of your hand. It tingles, but you don’t move away. 

Elijah’s hand doesn’t shake anymore when you interlace your fingers together. Finally, you get the courage to speak. 

“I’ve held your hair back while you were throwing up, Eli. Tied your shoelaces after a tiring show. Corrected your lyrics until four at night so you could send them to your manager before dawn. I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe you were on your way to the top from the first time I saw you,” you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you look directly at him. “I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe in you.” 

It’s silent after that. For a long time. But his hand sits clammily in yours like a pearl in a clamshell, and you hold onto it for dear life, praying he won’t slip out from your grip. 

“Promise me you won’t stop.”

Your head turns, startled by the sudden statement. His gaze scans you from head to toe, lingering on the curve of your lips, then your nose and finally your eyes, where it stops and plants its roots. You feel it spreading almost like wildfire, the warmth that comes with it. You almost tremble underneath it, squeezing his hand a little harder. 

“Won’t stop what?” you whisper, eyes wide.

“Letting me into your apartment at three am.”

His gaze drops in a manner someone might’ve mistaken for lazy, but you know him well enough to recognize the vacillation in his eyes. You feel his fingers shiver in your embrace, every breath strained. 

“Why not?”

You move closer, only by a centimeter or so, but he senses it — all the cells in his body seem to tingle with the paradox of wanting to touch and wanting to run all the same. Maybe it’s the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe rather it’s the arbitrary comfort that comes with it, that scares him to death, but whatever reason, he feels like he’s entering a deadly storm. 

And perhaps it’s the alcohol and he’s not thinking straight, but this storm appears more inviting than any sunny day he’s ever witnessed. 

He squeezes your hand tighter and leans down until his lips are impossibly close to brushing against your nose. You feel his hot breath on your face, sparks dancing across your skin to the smell of cigarettes and whiskey and beer, his hand shaking ever so slightly. 

“Because I still haven’t gotten the chance to let you into mine.” 

You smile — a real smile that you no longer manage to hold back. He mirrors the expression, albeit softly, lines appearing in the corners of his mouth. Let me in. Hues of colors appear in his eyes just as his shaky pointer finger grazes your jaw. Let me in. He cups your cheek gently, his lips parting in a breathless exhale. 

Let me in, let me in, let me in.

He does. Just when the clock shows 3:47am and your shirt feels like it’s sticking to your skin, he finally closes the distance between you.

His lips brush over yours — it’s featherlight and careful, but you accept it all and kiss him back nonetheless. You can taste cigarettes on his tongue when he opens his mouth. Suddenly, the clock’s sound doesn’t reach your ears anymore, and all you can hear is the beating of your heart inside your throat. His finger strokes your cheek and his nose bumps into yours, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine. 

You breathe in the scent of him, bringing your hands to tangle themselves in his hair in a moment of recklessness. Yeah, you’ve definitely gone absolutely crazy — but that’s a problem to solve later. For now, you’re kissing Elijah Hewson.

You’re kissing Elijah Hewson. It’s almost a revelation that dawns upon you like the waves of a tsunami, knocking the breath out of your lungs. It squeezes at your heart, a drawstring closing around it, and you have to pull away to breathe, to examine his face, puffy lips and tired eyes, to understand the gravity of your situation.

“We just kissed,” you say, and your voice shakes even though you strain to keep it calm.

“Yes,” he affirms, like it’s nothing. But it is something, and his eyes can't hide that. “We did.”

“But you’re drunk.”

“You think that’s why I did it?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiles and you swear your heart almost leaps out of your chest. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

He looks at you for a moment – your messy hair, reddened lips, the hesitation in your gaze – and makes his decision. 

In less than a second, he drops down to his knees and you’re about to protest (because what does he think he’s doing?) until he grabs your hand and holds it between both of his. You furrow your eyebrows to hide the fact that you’re taken aback, though from the glint in Elijah’s eyes you figure you’re not doing a very good job at it. 

He looks at you, like really looks at you, and you look at him the same. The fruit lies in the palm of your hand and squeezes to the beat of your heart when he speaks. 

“I love you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat when he kisses your knuckles softly, and keeps them against his lips. “That’s why I kissed you, why I turned up to your apartment at three am, why I don’t regret it. Any of it. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Something pulls at the very back of your throat. You keep your mouth closed, but even that doesn’t stop a choked whimper from leaving you — a sound that makes Elijah’s lips quirk upwards. He smiles, and you attempt to do the same, yet all you manage is a half-laugh, half-sob that shakes though your body. 

Embarrassed, you look down, and you can hear Eli chuckle before the warmth of his arms envelops you whole. He hugs you tightly against his chest, fingers coming up to stroke your hair as you partly laugh, partly cry into his shirt. And even though it should be humiliating, the act feels so powerfully comforting that you let him hold you. 

“I love you too.”

You whisper this into his chest, breathing heavily. He pulls away and you look up, confused, but he smiles that gorgeous smile of his, with teeth on display and smile lines appearing, and cups your jaw. His eyes shimmer with undoubtable joy. 

He doesn’t have to say anything. You know.

“That’s a fucking relief, huh?” he whisper-laughs and you join in on it.

“Yeah.”

And you smile.

He’s let you in, and you don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon. 

im like if a girl thought she was irredeemable despite never having done anything that should make her feel this way

there's laundry to do and a genocide to stop by vinay krishnan