d e v o u r me; if you really think that you can stomach me.
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@swordtoothedarchive
d e v o u r me; if you really think that you can stomach me.
d e v o u r me; if you really think that you can stomach me.
d e v o u r me; if you really think that you can stomach me.
d e v o u r me; if you really think that you can stomach me.
d e v o u r me; if you really think that you can stomach me.
d e v o u r me; if you really think that you can stomach me.
| bellamy blake ;
he’s drunk and angry - not the best combination. the bar had been chosen as a distraction. the vivacious brunette drinking alone was meant to get his mind off of andy. but low and behold, even with the stranger’s lips pressed to his neck, he could only think of lazy mornings, tangled limbs - of how the last time he was here, he had her bent over in the bathroom, sprawled out in the backseat of his car. the girl is hot. he should be into it. instead, he’s thinking of the chick that’s blowing him off - that won’t answer his calls, his voicemails, his texts.
—— what the hell had she done to him? this wasn’t bellamy. he wasn’t clingy. he wasn’t needy. and if she didn’t want anything to do with him, that was fine. so be it. he just wished she had the courtesy to tell him so, instead of cutting off contact completely. he honestly was starting to think something had happened to her, until octavia reported she had seen her out and about. perfectly fine.
detaching himself from the woman, he’s in a rush to pay his tab and stumble into the parking lot. he fumbles with his car keys, knowing he shouldn’t get behind the wheel, but also not wanting to call octavia to pick him up. he didn’t want her to see him in this state, liquor pungent on his breath.
he fumbles with his car keys in his pocket as he debates, fingertips brushing over his phone instead. he needs somewhere to direct his agitation, and where better than the girl who pissed him off in the first place? closure would help. then he could get over her.
it takes him longer than it should to find her name in his phone, and to type out a text message, checking it at least five times for any typos. he didn’t need her to know that he was resorting to alcohol.
TEXT → ANDY ( 2:46AM ) fuck you. we’re done.
the past week or so had been a series of convincing lies. while avoid glancing in the mirror for too long, in fear that she would flinch at her own reflection. what she was doing to bellamy blake was wrong, she knew that. she knew that she was hurting him, that she would continue to hurt him. mostly, she wanted him to move on. to find someone that made me happier, calmer. andromeda didn't think herself to be good for him at all.
yes, she had the line of communication rather suddenly. because she didn't think he would care (this didn't justify her point, obviously).
she should be sleeping. long legs are reclined beneath her sheets but she's staring up at the ceiling. there's a dull ache in her temples, the kind that comes with avoiding rest for far too long. she's not even thinking.
her phone buzzing next to her, screen nearly lighting up the entire room. when she reaches for it, she doesn't count on the suddenly dropping feeling in the very pit of her stomach.
it's right there, staring her in the face. a choice. she could ignore it; turn away from the phone and curl up under the covers. pretend that it doesn't hurt, pretend that this was for the best. he didn't need her; he deserved better. but her thumbs move on their own, tapping against the screen slowly.
[ SMS : bellamy blake. ] 2:50 AM for what it's worth, i didn't want to hurt you. i'm sorry.
whether he believed her or not, this is not how she wanted this to go. and in all truth, andromeda did miss him. he was incredibly easy to be around. he made her feel cared for, at ease. and even if they couldn't go a few minutes without keeping their hands off of one another, there was something special in that. there was something in his warmth that she missed. how his mouth nestled against the crook of his neck, hands resting on her abdomen --- it was familiar. andromeda had no idea what to prepare herself for with that text, if anything at all. but she set her phone down, turning over to bury her face in he pillow.
It’s okay to lock yourself in the medicine cabinet, to drink all the wine, to do what it takes to stay, without staying. It’s okay to hate God today, to change his name to yours, to want to ruin all that ruined you. It’s okay to feel like only a photograph of yourself, to need a stranger to pull your hair and pin you down. It’s okay to want your mother as you lie alone in bed. It’s okay to break, to fuck, to flame, to church, to crush, to knife, to rock, and rock, and rock, and rock, and rock, and rock. It’s okay to wave goodbye to yourself in the mirror. To write, ‘I don’t want anything.’ It’s okay to despise what you have inherited, to feel dead in a city of pulses.
| luke langston ;
"okay, fair enough. you look beautiful. really, really beautiful."
he doesn’t realize he’s being cute most of the time. he just does whatever he deems emotionally and personally necessary for this to work properly, and here they are. his smile widens enough so the corners of his eyes crinkle just a little as her hands rest on his chest.
"no, no. just. not a lab or anything."
"thank you very much. i try my hardest --"
also leaving out the fact that she hasn't exactly slept in forty eight hours. anyway. she's grinning at him, wide and warm. bright red eyes flickering over his features and then back up.
"so. okay. if i -- were you get a dog. what are you thinking?"
do u ever have a thought that’s so fuckin inappropriate that u feel like dumping a bucket of water on urself like. calm down, self. tone it down. think about jesus
[MSG]: he's kind of hot... you think?
jealous texts. ( accepting )
[ SMS : luke langston. ] too scrawny. i could break him over my knee.[ SMS : luke langston. ] literally and figuratively.
Jealous messages
[MSG]: Did you have fun with you-know-who last night?
[MSG]: I guess my company doesn't interest you any more.
[MSG]: What do you see in that guy/girl?
[MSG]: (S)he's kind of hot... you think?
[MSG]: Is he bigger than me?
[MSG]: When's the wedding?
[MSG]: I heard you and ___ are an item.
[MSG]: Is there... someone else?
[MSG]: I never agreed to an open relationship!
[MSG]: Does she do that thing that I do for you?
[MSG]: I see you'll flirt with just about anyone.
[MSG]: I'm a fool for thinking I was special to you.
[MSG]: How serious is it between you two?
[MSG]: You've been spending a lot of time with ___ recently.
[MSG]: So you tell all girls/guys that, I see.
[MSG]: So that's your type, huh?
[MSG]: Who's better in bed, me or him/her?
[MSG]: I can't bear to see you with someone else.
[MSG]: You're just a slut.
[MSG]: Just curious... not like I'm jealous or anything...
they keep calling you a breeze because they’re frightened of what you might do when you discover you are a hurricane.
Salma Deera, Lessons From My Grandmother #12