THE OTHER ONE
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- Parts 32
Complete Wed, Jan 27, 20164h 20m
It was like she wasn't the pick of the litter. She definitely wasn't nothing like her biologically other half. She had a different walk, talk and attitude that no one seemed to understand. Only person that could get to a even playing field with her left in the middle of the night when she was ten. Now seventeen, the person least likely to even look her way understood her most. Maybe even better.
With her being an fraternal twin it was almost amazing how they didn't even like to be in the same room. They didn't even look the same but yet everyone compared them as one person. The other one was the one that received all the hell from the person that is supposed to nourish and love her to the end.
One was planned but the other one was more than a surprise. More like a burden.
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#952
neglect
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Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.Complete
The quiet between us
You're staring again," he murmured without looking up. "I'm not," I said, even though we both knew I was. He turned his head slightly, those blue eyes flicking toward me - calm, calculating, and just a little amused. "Then stop memorizing my face." "Maybe I'm just trying to figure you out." "Good luck," he said quietly. "I haven't even figured myself out yet." Naomi didn't mean to notice him - the quiet boy who spoke like every word cost him something, whose hands looked like they'd learned to hold both violence and tenderness in the same breath. But Samuel Kings had a gravity to him, the kind that pulled you in before you even realized you were falling. His twin, Samantha, was the opposite - sharp, poised, and frighteningly still. She didn't speak unless necessary, and when she did, it was like a scalpel - clean, precise, and leaving a mark. "Emotions are a weakness," she told Naomi once . "Then why do you look sad every time he smiles?" Naomi asked. Samantha's gaze lingered for a moment too long before she turned away. "Because I know how it ends." The Kings twins arrived like a storm no one saw coming. They were beautiful, strange, and impossible to ignore. And for Naomi - the scholarship girl just trying to survive another session - they changed everything. One moment she was laughing with her best friend under the sun, and the next she was standing in the rain, realizing her heart had started keeping time with his. You make everything complicated," she whispered. "You make everything matter," he replied. But beneath the quiet smiles and the charged glances, there were secrets - The kings weren't running from trouble; trouble followed them like a shadow. "You can't save me, Naomi." "Then I'll stay with you until you save yourself." "You shouldn't." "I already did." Because some people don't just change your story; they rewrite it entirely. He was ink, she was light. Together they left star shaped like constellations![What Pulls and Takes [Tyler Hernández]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/393379263-256-k506065.jpg)
What Pulls and Takes [Tyler Hernández]
Tyler Hernández x GN!reader -- ' I've not been needy for much in my life... but, when I heard you say my name in a palpable honey tone, All I have craved is you ever since. ' -- 𝐘/𝐍 𝐅𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬. The introverted older sibling to the even-more introverted Logan Fields. It wasn't always like that though; for there was a time when Y/N was a bundle of light wherever they went. Though, after a trip to Greece when they were twelve-years-old, they returned... faded and ghostly quiet. As if they had experienced something no child should. Not many people chose to question what happened to the sweet child. They only had to accept that Y/N was a loner now; cutting all interesting ties with friends and social outings. 𝐓𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚́𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳. The cynical jock who tends to carry his head so high, he fails to notice people can see behind his mask from below. Rumours of his father's passing arose when he and his twin sister, Taylor, were seven years old; and he was never the same after that. All extra energy to play turned into more time for studying; all house chores were suddenly in his list without much time to spare. You'd never guess the Hispanic boy with anger issues to be a light refusing to burn out underneath the table of priorities. Well, what happens when Y/N and Tyler hate each other from the start? What will they do when the person that annoyed them the most, start to make the two smile and laugh like no other? They've managed to avoid their pasts for so long; but, they'll have to acknowledge it sooner rather than later when they get stuck in a dimension with their group partners for a history project. Who knew running from monsters who seemingly want to kill you every night, isn't just fiction like television? -- DISCLAIMER: - all proper credit for said characters and story goes to Lilredbeany on WEBTOON. - This story contains strong mentions of death, murder, blood/gore, anxie
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the unwanted twin
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Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.
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