How Do Mirrors Justin Timberlake Lyrics Inspire Fanfiction About Emotional Vulnerability In Romantic CPs?

It's a journey of loveA journey of how two people break each other. A journey of how someone can be scared of love but get healed by that same love. Its a journey of how love can become the reason of destruction as well

Daily Update.Steamy.Standalone. Violet Fairytales are lies told to small girls to make them dream but real life monsters make us learn the difference between stories and reality. I lived in a nightmare with those monsters and lost everything. My heart. My soul. My body. And my voice. The problem with such nightmares are they follow you even when you're awake. My monsters are there in the shadows waiting to pull me back in the darkness. I was almost certain that I had left the dark behind because for the first time in my life I dreamed a dream. A dream that involved the real life prince charming with sherry eyes and protective circle of his arms. My very own protective hero. Only... He wants something else in return. He wants a heart that I no longer have. He wants a princess but I’m just broken. Cole I had it all. Had a life people envied. Parents who loved me. An empire I was heir to. A woman I loved with all my heart. But in one single night I lost all of it. Then, SHE came into my life, eclipsed every hurt and pain because hers was greater than mine. She's afraid but hides it well behind her beauty. She's strong but doesn’t let people see that side of her. And she's broken but I fell for the cracks, wanting to fill them up with pieces of my own broken heart. I'll do anything for her, except... (This book is dark tragedy. Contains dubious content that might not be for sensitive readers. Proceed with caution.)

Hater, stranger, turn into lover. “Such a heartless man,” she said. “Heartless prince...” he corrected as if it is correct. “Heartless that fall into you,” he added. Find a way to support this unexpected love team from this story.

On the last day of the year, my music player app pushed out my 2025 listening report. My keyword was 'Resonance.' I had not actually spent much time listening to music that year. My account had mostly been used by my boyfriend, Jeremy Steward. A small line of text appeared underneath. [At 4:00 A.M. on December 1st, you were still sharing the same song with someone. So this is what love looks like, staying awake through the night.] My breath caught. December 1st was my birthday. However, that night, I had gone to bed early. Jeremy had rushed off right after cutting the cake, saying he needed to go back to the office for overtime. Almost as if possessed, I tapped my trembling hands on the unfamiliar profile that showed up as my most frequent interaction. Their keyword for the year was 'Exclusively Yours.' My heart skipped. I opened the details. [This year, you and this user listened to songs together late at night 688 times. Every time is a private whisper between souls.] Right then, a message from Jeremy popped up on my phone. [Babe, I have to work late again tonight. Don't wait up for me. Sleep early, okay?] At the same moment, that unfamiliar account posted a new update. A photo of two hands intertwined inside a car, fingers tightly laced together. [I love working late with him the most. We'll listen to music together for a lifetime.]

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

When I got into a car accident, Carter was busy throwing a birthday party for his assistant. I was scrolling through my phone and somehow ended up tapping on the Love Pawnshop. Without really thinking, I hit the button to pawn my love. Five days later, the pawnshop took back every bit of love I had left to give, and there he was, Carter, on his knees, crying his heart out, begging me for another shot. But the thing is, once love is pawned, it’s almost impossible to get back.