#I need a break and I’d like it to last longer than 10 days every 5 years

[sandinthepipes]

Does the flag REALLY means death once again? Can’t it mean something else for just once? Why is the flag denied a fairytale ending even this time?

[nijigasakilove]

I’ve been sat here with tears in my eyes for the last 10 minutes just screaming at my Twitter mutuals in all caps about how great this episode was, didn’t even know it was the finale I’d have woken up way earlier if I did.. but whatever who cares, this was the greatest superman adaptation I’ve ever seen. Very long write up coming. TLDR: best western animation I’ve ever seen.

Thank you so much to all the staff and voice actors and writers and just everyone who poured their hearts and souls into this. It’s palpable. You can feel how much every single person involved in this loves and understands the characters. You combine that intimate knowledge with a spice of anime and knowing the types of things modern audiences want to see and you have a very special series.

Idek where to start with the finale, it feels like every character got a really nice wrap to their character arc from the season. Livewire and the others showing up to help Clark and Kara get to brainiac’s ship, I loved their redemption arc so much. But that 10 minute or so climax with Kara getting taken over by brainiac and then breaking free of his control thanks to the love of her friends and cousin.. just beautiful.

Brainiac projected all his own insecurities and feelings of uselessness onto Kara. He knew the kryptonian empire would no longer have a need for him if they were in peacetime and so he destroyed his own people. The audacity of this bitch to call Clark and Kara traitors of house El when he destroyed the house and planet lmao.

THEY COOKED for all the action scenes. Playing the OP when Kara broke free of the mind control and firmly rejected Brainiac. “I SAID NO”, Clark and Kara pushed Brainiac ship into space, Brainiac’s last ditch effort to take Clark and Kara out with him.. Clark and Kara’s power up and new suit.. just bra fucking o. I had goosebumps the entirety of the last 12 minutes.

Kara finally being hailed as a hero and cheered for after being manipulated and used to destroy worlds for brainiac. God I am so happy for her. She deserves nothing but happiness. She fits in so well at the Kent home!

Lois deciding to be her own person rather than follow in Vale’s footsteps showed a ton of character growth for her too. She’s def not the annoying girl we knew from season 1 anymore. Both she and Jimmy got themselves a kryptonian now 😂 loved the scene of them all flying off together, this show has perfectly nailed the team aspect. Saving the day isn’t something Clark can just do by himself. It truly takes a village. The biggest issue superman as a character has always had, and DC to a larger extent, is that the characters dont feel relatable. They completely remedied that in this series. It truly feels like Clark and Kara are just normal people like us and that’s perhaps the biggest praise.

Can’t wait for s3!

[vinvantae]

Hiii, could you do something like you did for reader being in come and all drivers coming to visit her but instead (little less sad) reader announces she’s retiring after like 10 years of racing and every driver comes to congratulate her and when Daniel comes they get emotional because they are actually in love even if they haven’t realized it yet. Thank you 💜

I’d love to, thank you so much for the suggestion!! Hope you enjoy ❤️

*******************************************************

As you crossed the line, the realisation hit you all at once - you’d just finished your final race in formula one after 10 years of being in the sport. You lifted the visor of your helmet to wipe away the tears that were threatening to fall as you did your final loop of the track to get back to the pits, waving at all of the fans who held your flag up high.

You loved this sport, more than anything, but you felt like you hadn’t really lived your life. You had just hit 30 and your bucket list was longer than a lap of Spa. Sure, you’d managed to cross off a few during summer breaks but you just wanted to be a normal adult for a while. Something you’d not really experienced joining the sport when you were only 20 years old. You’d been in 2 teams during your time, but Alpine was your last. You’d stepped out of your Ferrari seat when the car just didn’t seem to performing and decided to give Alpine, Renault at the time, a shot. It was a big change but you wouldn’t have chosen anywhere else.

As you climbed out of the car, you were greeted with the warm embrace of your teammate - his long limbs engulfing you with ease. Esteban was like a little brother to you and during your time together as a team you’d really performed and worked well. He always said he saw you as a mentor but you believed he was ready to tackle this new chapter of his career without you.

“It’s going to be so weird without you.” He admitted, pulling his helmet off. “And you’re leaving me with Pierre, of all people.”

“You’re a big boy now, Estie. I’m sure the two of you can be professional.” You teased. “Besides, it means Nyck can get a seat which is pretty cool.”

“That’s true. Speaking of, fantastic race today.” The Frenchman grinned. “You’re definitely my driver of the day.”

“Well it’s my last one, had to put on one final show.” You grinned, proud that you’d made it up to 6th from 14th after you had an issue with the car in Q2. “I need to try and catch everyone before I go.”

“We’re all coming out tonight to celebrate you and Seb, remember!”

You groaned. “You know neither of us wanted that.”

“Too bad. You’re coming out and you’re going to have a good time.”

And for the first time in a long time, you were glad you actually went. Getting to see all of your fellow drivers that you now considered friends, some even family, celebrating you and Sebastian made you feel so warm. The German in question was the first to greet you, a gentle smile on his face.

“All this for us?” He chuckled, offering you a glass of champagne.

“We must be pretty special.” You hummed, chiming your drink against his. “You won’t forget about me will you?”

“I think the kids would kill me if I did.” Seb laughed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Now, we better make the rounds, hmm?”

And you did just that, making your way around the room being greeted with hugs and smiles from your grid-mates - even those you didn’t consider close friends. You approached some of the boys stood at the bar, Pierre stepping over so you could squeeze in beside him.

“There she is!” He grinned, draping an arm over your shoulder. “Really can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“Hey, you should be happy, got you away from Redbull didn’t I?” You giggled softly, pinching his side gently. “Am gonna miss seeing you boys all the time though.”

“It’s going to be weird without you.” Charles hummed. “You’re such a big part of the paddock, and still so young.”

“Not all of us can be Fernando. I’d still like to experience life before my back gives out on me.” You explained. “30 is like… a nice age.”

“It’s just going to be so weird. No Seb. No Dan. No you…” the Monagasque frowned a little. “The three of you are… well you are Formula one.”

You felt so touched by Charles’ words, you weren’t sure he knew how much it meant to hear them so you simply pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

He rubbed your back and squeezed you just as tight, neither of you wanting to let go first. You moving to Renault had opened up the seat for him to move to Ferrari- you and Seb had both been there to support him during his time with Sauber, knowing he’d be taking one of your seats some day.

“We’ll still hang out right?”

“Why is everyone acting like I’ll disappear? You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You teased, pulling away from him.

“Will you still come watch us race?” Pierre asked.

You smiled. “Duh. I still love F1, just wanna do something else now.”

“Well we thought you’d be out exploring the world, finding the man of your dreams.” Alex interjected.

Your cheeks flushed a little. “We’ll just have to wait and see won’t we.”

Despite being a bit of a household name, you’d never managed to find someone right for you. Guys were intimated by your career and those who weren’t were obsessive fan boys. As time went on, your love life fell onto the back burner - but you didn’t mind, you loved your job and your friends.

“There’s a couple more people I want to talk to, you boys behave yourselves okay?” You gave them all one more hug before continuing your lap of the room.

Your eyes quickly settled on Lewis, of course they did, the Brit’s presence demanded attention. His aura was unmatched by anyone else’s and as you approached him, you were greeted with a charming smile.

“Hello, lovely.” His voice was soft. “Pretty big turn out.”

“Might be a little much for me.” You admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “Glad to see you’re here though.”

Lewis gave you a gentle hug. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you and Seb are family at this point. It’s going to be hard not having you both around.”

“Just time for me to spread my proverbial wings I suppose.”

“It’ll be good for you. Selfishly, I’d like to keep you around a little longer but I know you need this. You’ve had a hell of a career.”

Your cheeks flushed softly and he chuckled softly - you really had and it was one of the things you were proudest of. You only had one championship under your belt but you’d worked so hard to even get into this career that it felt good. You had podiums to boot and you wouldn’t change a single thing you’d done in your time.

“Hey, you’re wanted.” He said, pointing behind you where Mick was waving his hands wildly in the air to get your attention.

You rolled your eyes playfully and made your way over to the young German who immediately wrapped you up in a friendly hug. “Hi Micky, shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”

“Oh shut up.” He laughed. “You and Seb are my favourites, not letting you both go without celebrating am I?”

“I’ll let you off this time.”

“You managed to say your piece to everyone yet?”

Your eyes scanned the room, shrugging a little. “Not quite.”

“…Daniel?”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. “I’m… I’m not ready to say goodbye to him.”

“You’ll see him again, y/n.” He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Just see a couple more people to ease yourself and then pull him to one side. This isn’t going to be the last of you two, you’ve been in his life for ten years.”

“Good idea. Thanks, Micky.”

After one more hug, you moved away from the Haas driver and made your way over to Carlos - tapping him lightly on the shoulder. His face lit up when he saw you.

“There she is!” He beamed. “Was starting to think you’d made a run for it.”

“Aye, Carlos, not without saying a proper goodbye to you first. Who do you take me for?” You gasped softly, placing a hand over your heart. “Hurt, Carlos, hurt.”

The Spaniard rolled his eyes playfully. “Hermosa, know what I meant… you enjoying yourself? I know this is not really your thing.”

You shrugged. “It’s nice to see everyone having fun, no stress on their shoulders. I don’t mind as long as everyone else is happy.”

You felt a hand on your shoulder before you heard a British voice from behind you. “But are you having fun, hmm?”

“Hi, Georgie. I am, I’m surrounded by some of my best friends…” You smiled softly, letting him pull you into a one armed hug. “You’ll take care of all of the other kids won’t you?”

“Of course. Don’t think they’d listen to me like they’d listen to you though.” George’s voice was fond, his blue eyes bright even under the dim lights of the bar. “And, I have to admit, I had an ulterior motive for coming over here?”

You raised a brow and followed George’s finger as he pointed over to the corner of the bar, your heart skipping a beat when Dan raised his beer to you. “I.. yeah I’ll go over now.”

You threw back the rest of your champagne and grabbed another before joining Daniel on the curved booth at the back of the bar.

“Not like you to be by yourself mister social-butterfly.” You teased.

He smiled gently, cradling his beer in his hands. “Was kind of hoping to get you alone…”

The flush of your cheeks was inevitable so you lowered your head a little, not being able to cope with the intensity of his eyes boring into yours.

“Listen, y/n… I… fuck…” Dan chuckled nervously. “I’m mad it took me you literally leaving the sport to realise it but I’m… I’m fucking in love with you, y/l/n.”

“I… you are?”

A small embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he rubbed the back of his neck, nodding a little.

“Sorry to ambush you, I just-“

“No, I uh… I’m just shocked you feel the same way.”

His eyes flickered across your face as he processed what you said before he cautiously lent in, a cold hand coming up to cup your jaw as his lips met yours. It was a kiss nearly 10 years in the making and you found yourself feeling weak at the knees and your heart raced a million miles an hour.

“I love you too, by the way… if that wasn’t clear.” You whispered, as he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours. “And if you thought for one second that me leaving the grid meant I wasn’t going to bother you every single day, you were wrong.”

His face split into a massive grin. “…so, we’re both unemployed next year.”

“True.”

“Fancy taking a trip? Just me and you.” He asked, his fingers laced with yours.

“…I’d like that.”

The next time you returned to the grid was Australia 2023, sure, neither of you were driving anymore but as you stepped into the paddock hand-in-hand, you were definitely the stars of the weekend.

****************************************************

Hope you enjoyed x

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @marianadj99 @tall-tanned-tattoo @wonderlandofsu @lightsoutpierre @monodreme @theplobnrgone @feminismisaflawlessbitch @eitak-t @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @readerselegance @sad-fridge2323 @haterpenny @jamieolivia27 @cringe-kats @skyslowalking @samsationalwilson @dr3lover @fic-for-readers @oneoftwoghosts @care2703 @a-distantdreamer @bigdiccricc @altheahuf @coldmuffinbanditshoe @deviltsunoda @storyteller-le @imnotcryingyouare1 @take-me-around-town @hannahholland1811 @the-scarletbitch @d0ntjudgemy50shades @glitterquadricorn @adiaz-25 @itsmycorneroftheinternet

[lumiereandcogsworth]

oooooooo wait that bit about the curse skewing time and how it was only 5 days 👀 I’d love to hear about that

OKAY. LET’S DO THIS.

so, my theory is that the curse does in fact skew time. in the movie, gaston says “maurice! i’ve spent the last five days trying to find you!” and this is the same night that the curse will be broken. implying that it’s been Only Five Days since gaston left maurice to the wolves in the forest. this, in turns, implies that it’s only been five days since adam and belle met. and while i am happy to play the Disney Soulmates card, and maybe it was five days, i have some ideas as to why it maybe felt longer than that.

firstly, and for some inexplicable reason this needs to be readdressed every now and then, let’s discuss how long the curse has been happening. in batb 1991, lumiere says it’s been ten years in his song be our guest. this, along with the ‘91 narration saying the last petal would fall on adam’s 21st birthday, has unfortunately led to far too many people thinking that adam was cursed as an 11 year old child. this just isn’t true! not only is it positively insane to think that an enchantress would punish a child that way, you really need not look further than our beloved boy chip.

regardless of how old you think he is, i would bet that majority of us agree he’s younger than 10. the batb 2017 script says that he’s 8, which sounds about right. but regardless, he’s very most likely younger than 10. now, if you truly think the curse is Ten Real Years Long, i want you to look me in the eye and try to convince me that a teapot gave birth to a teacup. CLEARLY, chip was not born a teacup. chip longs to be a real boy again. i don’t recall if he says anything specifically in batb 1991, but in batb 2017 he asks his mother if he’ll ever be a boy again! he knows what it is to be a real boy! implying he was cursed, and is trapped, as a child; completely destroying the idea that the curse is legitimately ten years long. much more plausibly, lumiere was singing hyperbolically, because he’s a very dramatic man!

now, i’m not going to make this a competitive thing, but batb 2017 DOES do a lot to fix this problem up. number one, the beginning narration gives no indication to adam’s age, or when the rose petals will finish falling. number two, the prologue actually shows chip sneaking into adam’s ball amidst the chaos, highlighting both that he WAS the same boy that you see at the end, and that he was in the room when the enchantress put her curse on everyone. and number three, lumiere’s line in be our guest changes from “ten years” to “too long” - further confirming my theory that he’s just lamenting the agony of their experience. he may not truly know the length of time it’s been, just that it has been too long for anyone’s comfort.

so now that we’ve gathered that time is already a bit funky, let’s look at this curse. the enchantress is one powerful lady. i personally think she’s some kind of trickster goddess of justice or something, who just goes around the world teaching awful, cruel people in power lessons. regardless of who or what agathe is, she is incredibly powerful. the beginning narration states:

“The prince begged for forgiveness, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there.”

she placed a powerful spell on the CASTLE ! as well as adam and the servants! i think that’s so significant. and it’s very clear that she DID curse the castle! it’s trapped in a perpetual winter, despite the fact that it’s june for the rest of the country. not only that, but you can see the way the curse affects the castle. every time a petal falls, the castle rumbles and parts of the structure crumble and break. the place is slowly deteriorating, the curse is eating it alive. given what we know about their perception of time, and that the castle was individually cursed, it doesn’t seem too much of a stretch to think that the castle is not only frozen in terms of weather, but frozen in time as well.

looking at this next part of the narration:

“As days bled into years, the prince and his servants were forgotten by the world, for the enchantress had erased all memory of them from the minds of the people they loved… …As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?”

she’s so powerful she genuinely affected the entire world. or at least, all of europe. like, nobody is asking or wondering about the french prince?? no one is stopping by?? no one is sending letters?? nope! their minds have literally been erased. not a soul in france is wondering what their monarchy is up to. adam has been entirely forgotten. i also think it’s important to note the usage of the word “years” which she says twice. sure, you could argue that it is real years! because it says so! but honestly i think she’s speaking from the perspective of the cursed individuals, particularly adam. in both instances, adam’s experience is stated immediately after she says “years” — first, being forgotten, second, falling into despair. i would argue, then, that to adam (and the servants) it had simply FELT like years. not real years that the rest of the world would experience, but a terrible weight on their shoulders, a hopeless longing for rescue from this awful state, dragging on seemingly endlessly, too long, feeling like years.

my conclusion: i believe that the castle time and real time are not the same. based on everything i’ve laid out, it seems as though the castle is very especially cursed, and while it has felt like years (i honestly don’t think it’s felt like more than three or four. i feel like if you go any further you have to start accounting for mental age, particularly chip. but i may be getting too deep about it.) in reality, it may have only been a matter of months. what if that awful storm that led the enchantress to come “seek shelter” happened in january or february, and now it’s june. perhaps it’s been around six months in real time. but to the castle’s inhabitants? it’s felt like years. so then, if we can use this theory for a moment, perhaps belle’s “five days” at the castle felt a lot more like a handful of weeks, maybe even a month or two.

i also think this because the sort of rapport that adam and belle have just seems like they’ve known each other longer than five days. and don’t get me wrong, sometimes people have those instant connections. like i said, im happy to play the Disney Soulmates card. but humor me for a minute! they have their little inside jokes about romance novels and belle teases him in such a way that just exudes the comfortability between friends, not new acquaintances. not only this, but when they’re in paris, adam simply asks “what happened to your mother?” when belle explains where they are. this, to me, implies that he already knew her mother died when she was a baby. and, personally, i don’t think that’s something i’d mention to someone i’d only known less than a week. but it seems like she’s already had That conversation with him, and further, it seems he’s comfortable about the topic, and feels close enough with her to ask about it further! to me, the way their relationship is depicted, it seems as though they’ve really developed a friendship over more than a bit of time, and have definitely very naturally fallen in love within said friendship.

anything is possible, and this is all my own little speculations and ideas. whether it really was five days or perhaps more, it’s quite clear that their love is something quite spectacular.

[therulerofallpotatos]

Wyler Fanfiction Rec List Part 2

For @ourloveisdahliaoh, here’s part 2 of that rec list I said I’d make.

My Monster by Wyler4Lifer

Summary: None

Words: 3,721 Chapters: 2/? Rated: E

There’s no summary for this fic and it breaks my heart that it might be overlooked because it is so much fun. I’ve talked about how delightful this fic is to my friends irl and how much fun it is to see Gomez pick up himself a pet hyde and Wednesday to find Tyler fucking Galpin in her house being dressed like a purse dog by her father who is excited about his new beast. The family meeting and harboring Tyler is so good.

Who is in Control? by green_writer

Summary: “Please, flattery will get you nowhere,” Wednesday says, holding her ground as he stalks towards her.

Tyler grips her lapels, jostling her roughly forward. She watches his face, the Hyde lurking just underneath the surface, wonders how much control he has, how much of the boy she met at the Weathervane is still there. She’s reminded of the last time he got up in her face like this, gloating about his kills at the Sherriff’s office. The rage that his little monologue had inspired deep in her gut. That he could deceive her so easily, not just covering his own tracks but misguiding her towards a wholehearted conviction that Xavier was the Hyde. She had felt stupid and small and entirely disgusted with herself. He would have to pay.

----

What if Wednesday, not Enid, had gone against Tyler in the woods in episode 8?

Or - How to Discipline Your Hyde 101.

Words: 10,781 Chapters: 3/3 Rated: E

I’m sorry. Did you say smut? Because this is 3 chapters full of Wednesday fucking Tyler from the cockroach scene onwards. green_writer understood the fucking assignment. 100/10. Will read again.

Friendly Neighborhood Phantom by ThatOneAntiHero

Summary: Strange murders, a mysterious ghost boy, a missing teenager, and numerous suspects.

Maybe Wednesday Addams was going to stay at Nevermore longer than she expected.

Words: 8,447 Chapters: 3/? Rated: M

I swear i felt like the three spidermen meme when i saw this. I had just rediscovered “Sex with a ghost” and had thought of my own haunting au and then i read this and i’m so happy. It’s dead amnesiac tyler investigating with Wednesday who can see him and it’s amazing. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter.

Kiss Me Before It’s Too Late by JHoeUNeed2Stop

Summary:  Tyler & Wednesday's last encounter told differently.

More spicy.

Words: 2,090 Chapters: 1/1 Rated: M

It’s another cockroach scene where Enid doesn’t cockblock and I am having such a good time with each and every one of them. JHoe is making the world a better place.

my unconquerable soul by melpomenemuse

Summary: “Who is your master?” she asks dispassionately. 

Wednesday doesn’t care who Tyler’s master is. An objective part of her does, the one that wants a satisfactory conclusion to her novel, but the only thing she cares about right now is this: Tyler has a master.

And it isn’t her.

Or: an insight into Wednesday and Tyler’s relationship through the season finale and post Season 1.

Words: 16,983 Chapters: 13/? Rated: M

The amount of want between these two is delicious. Wednesday seething at the idea that Laurel touched him first is just *chef’s kiss*

Tipsy Truth Telling by Realmermaid333

Summary: Wednesday never thought she’d get drunk, she thought being drunk was for immature fools who couldn’t control themselves— that was until she went to Yoko’s party. 

Words: 2,675 Chapters: 1/1 Rated: T

This is just fun. It’s so much fun. @realmermaid333 is such a gift and I’m so happy I got the privilege of encouraging this in the server. Drunk Wednesday is exactly what I need to brighten my day with some silly little low stakes shenanigans.

Finding Dr. Jekyll by its2014again

Summary: “A Hyde is just a puppet, their mind brainwashed by the puppet-master. To reverse the damage, you have to delve into their subconscious. You have to find the Jekyll beneath the Hyde."

After 30 days in prison, Tyler still won't talk. He won't talk to his father, to the doctors, or to his therapist. Maybe this has something to do with being chained to a chair - or maybe it's because the only person he will speak to... is Wednesday.

Words: 8,154 Chapters: 5/? Rated: NR

Riddles and brainwashing and attraction oh my! The latest chapter had me on the edge of my seat and i highly recommend you all read this fic to see exactly what I mean

a crack run down right the front of me by Morbidmuch

Summary: Tyler's teeth are bright in his paint-splattered face.

“Red looks good on you.”Wednesday doesn't know what to reply when he says things like that: things like I mean it, Wednesday, you look beautiful and I knew there was a reason I liked you. It's all too much and the stone walls protecting her center quiver. Traitors.

Words: 2,194 Chapters: 1/1 Rated: T

what a wonderful dance au and there’s talking and emotions and Wednesday being Wednesday.

the simulation we’re dreaming in by angelconstellations

Summary: If the blood-paint hadn't rained and the dance had continued...

Set during ep 4. What might have happened if the prank didn't happen and Wednesday didn't have her vision to go after Eugene.

Words: 1,789 Chapters: 1/1 Rated: T

a what if they actually finished their date at the dance au and i love it to pieces.

Ennui vs. Wednesday Addams by Klyson

Summary: Tyler had always known he was better than everyone else. He couldn’t make it a reality yet, but someday he’d get out of this backwater hellhole called Jericho and make himself great.

His mother’s death throws a bit of a wrench in his plans, and so does the beast he can morph into and the woman who dares call herself his “master”. She will die for that… someday. Until then, though, at least she isn’t boring.

And then Wednesday Addams comes barreling into his life.

Or

Tyler is a sociopath or something and Wednesday is much more interesting than Laurel Gates.

Words: 15,821 Chapters: 3/6 Rated: E

This is one of my absolute favorites. Seeing Tyler growing up and meeting Wednesday? I love leaning more into the “sociopath finds love” plot. it’s a favorite au of mine.

[thedeluluverse]

Summary: While you have been working for BTS for a little over a year, you and your boyfriend Taehyung have only officially been together for two and a half months. Everything is going well until he starts tagging along to your shoots with your other clients, Stray Kids.  Are his suspicions correct or is he seeing things?

Pairing:  idol!Taehyung x multi-group-photographerGF!Nari a.k.a. “Burning Film” couple

Rating: PG13

Genre: idol!au, mutual pining, angst, fluff, early relationship, jealousy, coworker!au, work crushes

Word Count: 1, 965

Warnings: angst, fluff, feeling insecure, slight teasing, jealousy,

Author's Note: Here is the "Burning Film" couple again! I have created an oc basically for this storyline of Tae named Nari who represents y/n! It isn't necessary to read BF first but it would help you understand what they've bee through already plus I am proud of it so if you do, let me know what you think! Also, we stan SKZ and Felix in this house so no hate, this was just an idea I've had for awhile. Enjoy!! :)

P.S.- yes I am going to go back into Burning Film and replace y/n with Nari but another time. I have work in like 6 hours so going to catch some sleep hopefully XD

The last three months have been much deserved bliss with your new boyfriend Taehyung; not only do you finally have the man of your dreams, but your work has garnered a plethora of attention earning you the title of official photographer for the kpop group Stray Kids as well! Tae is supportive of your dream but is having a hard time adjusting to you being away from him more than usual. Noticing his demeanor change every time you say you’re going to “other work”, you make a decision as you are getting ready one day.

Nari: “BAAABBEEE!!” – you shout from the bathroom as you put the finishing touches on your outfit.

Tae: rushes to you out of breath “Yes jagiya? Is everything alright?”

Nari: giggles and turns towards him “Yes silly, I didn’t scream fire or anything. Still cute though.”

Tae: kisses the top of your head “Fair enough but I just had to make sure, and you’re the cute one baby. Anyway, why did you summon me?”

Nari: blushes slightly Wellllll, I was going to see if you wanted to accompany me to the Stray Kids photoshoot today. I know it’s been rough having less free time together lately. If not I totally get if it’d be boring for you so no pres-“

Tae: interrupts you by picking you up and spinning you around “Oh I’d love to y/n that’s such a great idea!!! I’ve always wished I could see the magic behind the camera so this is perfect! I’ll meet you by the car in 5 minutes, you’re the best!”

You can’t help but chuckle at how puppy-like he could be, but it was endearing that he wanted to understand what you did for a living. In true gentleman fashion, he opens your door when you get to the SKZ location, carries your equipment inside for you, and even brings you a water and an easy snack for while you work. Halfway through the shoot, you tell the guys to take a 10-minute break so you can assess what else you need and so they can grab a snack as well.

Tae has been waiting nearby during the shoot in case you need anything, so he takes this opportunity to use the restroom and refill his water. As he returns he sees you talking with Han, Bang Chan, and Felix, which was fine until he heard Felix exclaim, “Woah Gracie, I love you for that!”. He doesn’t say anything, but he is not thrilled about the fact that he of all people has a special nickname for you. Before today he had no issues with the guy, so what changed? You and Nari will find out soon enough don’t worry!

The shoot comes to an end about a half hour later and Tae can’t help you pack up and get out of there fast enough. I mean, you can’t really blame him since y’all have been there for close to 5 hours but it’s not like he hasn’t had longer shoots. Guess time is more of a drag when you aren’t an active participant. In any case, after picking up a quick bite y’all are home bound! As soon as he puts the car in park you can tell something is different. He uncharacteristically grabs his meal and goes inside before you can even open your door. Chalking it up to him being hangry and missing Yeontan, you give a tired exhale and head inside.

As you kick off your shoes and scan the house, you don’t see Tae anywhere; you peak into the living room and his room because he likes to eat in there sometimes but still no luck. Assuming he must have something to work on after hearing him in his studio, you resign yourself to eating at the kitchen island alone with Yeontan peacefully asleep at your feet.

After eating, you shuffle to his studio door looking for some company, but your knocks are met with silence then a “C’mon Nari, can’t you tell I am busy right now? I’ll be out when I’m done, go watch TV or something aish!”. Tears pricking behind your eyes, you give a quiet “oh, okay sorry I won’t bother you anymore love…” before you walk away and curl up on the couch listening to calming lo-fi music as you try to quiet your brain. You didn’t do anything to make him upset as far as you can recall so unless something gets brought to your attention, you decide to enjoy the rest of your afternoon doodling in your notebook.

The sun has long set, and you can’t remember when you passed out on the couch exactly before you got awoken abruptly by the loud opening of Tae’s studio door and him stomping to take Yeontan on a walk. You are less in a daze when he comes back and are just looking up pleadingly at him only for him to bark out a “what?!” and in return you croak out an unconvincing “nothing” just for him to scoff at you. “Yeah sure, you’ve looked pitiful since we fucking got home. What’s the problem huh? Miss your strays?”.

You blink wide-eyed “what the hell are you talking about? You’re the one who has been in a shitty mood since a random point in the shoot. You wanna tell me what’s going on?” He sits in the big armchair near you, running his hands through his hair then gets up and paces for a good 3 minutes before sitting back down with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped; deeply sighing, he finally reveals the truth.

You sniffle, heart pounding in anticipation trying to look strong even though you were terrified you had blinked wrong or something and were about to be single. He takes a long sip of water then glares up at you, “So you wanna know what’s going on huh? Well, I don’t ‘knaur’ Gracie, what is going on?” Confusion shadows your features as you meet his eyes, “Why did you ask like that and why on earth did you call me Gracie???” He darkly chuckles and says, “Oh, is that an issue?” Nari rolls her eyes and says “Why are you laughing first of all? And it isn’t an issue per say, it just shocked me because you have never called me that once since we’ve met.”

Tae leans back in his chair manspreading trying to affirm his authority and explains, “Well, here goes and don’t you fucking interrupt me. If you somehow have questions, be a patient little cheater and wait until I’m done okay?” You nod in anticipation trying to stay strong and not react to his accusation yet. “Well, whatever name you’re going by, you are right. I haven’t been in the best mood, and it wasn’t a ‘random point’, it was when you had called for a 10-minute break. I had returned from the bathroom and saw you had relocated from our spot to near the Aussies and Han.”

You raise your hand giving him the grandest power complex to which he only tilts his head towards you beckoning you to speak. “You know I’m friends with all of them so why did seeing that turn you into a dick?”. Poking his cheek with his tongue, he clarified, “It didn’t turn me into a dick darling. I just don’t like people trying to take what is mine.” “Nobody was trying to take me you dumbass.” “Then why the shit does Felix have a special nickname for you AND said he loves you??” he slightly yelled with tears in his eyes.

As he hid his face in his hands, taking deep breaths to avoid sobbing, you were trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth. After stuttering and trying to form sentences, you explain the situation as he comes to sit next to you. Turning towards him and covering his hands with yours, you take a deep breath and bring him up to speed; “So the name thing first. Well as you know he and Bang Chan are Australian. So, them trying to say my first name just winds up in a 10-minute loop of aggressive ‘nauring’ you know? So, I decided to tell them my middle name and Bang Chan immediately fell in love with calling me ‘Gracie’ so only the Aussies call me that, for that reason only okay?” He cracks a small smile, “I guess that does make sense….. but why did he say he loved you?” You choke on air, and you ask incredulously, “Ummm when the hell did he say that?!?!”

He glances at the floor sheepish worried he misheard something now and is starting to feel like the biggest asshole to ever exist. “I dunno, I just heard him tell you ‘Woah Gracie, I love you for that!’ and just after the unexplained name thing it sent me spiraling.” You give a small smile this time and go “calm down tiger, I had just shown him a photo I had edited of him and hella fixed the lighting, so he was grateful because it was an important photo of him. That’s it I promise okay? I swear on Tannie!!”

It was his turn to go big eyed because he knew when you swore on a pet, you meant business! “Okay I believe you Nari I really do.” You breath the deepest sigh of relief ever until he interrupts with “But I do have one more question…” “Oh?” you question, “what’s up Tae?”. “Okay now don’t get mad, but are you sure there’s nothing there? I mean it seemed like there was some flirting, at least from where I stood.” “I mean I doubt he was flirting with me; he knows I am with you plus I double doubt you started a trend of fine Korean men finding me attractive.” you chuckle.

Suddenly his countenance darkened again in an instant as he backed away, “fine Korean men????” you gulp, “I mean, I didn’t mean fine fine, I just meant that I am a photographer, so I appreciate aesthetically pleasing things and people.” You say as you start to get off the couch, but he stands and pulls your hair getting you to look him in the eyes “So you aren’t attracted to him AT ALL then??” Tears form once again in your eyes as you explain yourself, yet again…”Okay so he maybe was my first SKZ bias, and you aren’t the first person to point out that he flirts with me a lot. I won’t deny that before we were together it was very nice, but I love you not him okay?”

There’s a long pause until you both sit back down, and he looks like he has seen a ghost, “wait…love me???” You chuckle, “Yes you idiot, lovingly of course!” He has tears in his eyes then asks, “Are you sure??? I mean, it has only been a few months and I know I’m taller, but my voice can’t get near his and I was an ass earlier…” “Hun, I agree you could’ve handled everything earlier better and come to me sooner and been upfront. But it doesn’t mean that you are inherently an ass okay? I don’t care that your voice isn’t just like his, I love your voice and it’s been my peace for years now.”

“Well, good points all around and I just…. I really am sorry that I freaked out so much earlier, I just love you too, so it lit a fire in my soul. I’m sincerely sorry and I’ll do better okay? I can’t lose you…”. You are both sobbing at this point and then while you pull each other into the most intense embrace, you reassure him

“You won’t”.

[ellytraoflight]

this is a remix of the My Last Life AU by @opera25 ​! In which: Bdubs, thrown into a death game and plotting murder in a snow fort, dreams of normal life with his best friend. A life which consists of cats, coffee, and an apartment that’s broken but not cold.

~

The walls shudder as Bdubs slams the front door. A mistake, he realizes belatedly—their window’s still broken, and they can’t afford to damage the structural integrity of their apartment more than it already is. They’d called the landlord weeks ago, and still nothing!

“Rough day?” A voice calls from the room to the right.

“Ha!” Bdubs scoffs. “As if I have rough days!” Bdubs lets his bag drop onto the footstool—god, he’s tired.

“You didn’t come in shouting, ‘Honey, I’m home!’” A laptop closes. Bdubs turns to see Etho poking his head out the doorway, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“It’s just the usual,” Bdubs sighs. No cat in the chair. He sits down in relief, couch creaking as it takes his weight. “Work. I probably can’t be late anytime soon, though.”

Etho hums in acknowledgement, and the weight on the couch shifts as he joins Bdubs. “Well, I’d hate to see them rob you of your beauty sleep.”

“Hey, I need my sleep! Sleep is very important!”

“Sure, Bdubs.”

“It is!” Bdubs finds himself relaxing into the usual banter. It’s enough to take his mind off the fact that he can’t control if or when his car is going to break down again. “How do you feel about bumping movie night up to tonight?”

“Uh…” Etho squints in a way Bdubs knows to mean he’s checking his mental schedule. “Yep, that works. Want to order pi— shoot.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed Pineapple Pizza.”

Bdubs cackles. His feet are still sore when he stands back up on them, and he stretches, feeling his back pop. “I’ll feed her, you order pizza tonight. And that means you’re paying!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Etho huffs as he pulls out his phone.

The steps are routine: a few spoonfuls of wet cat food into Pineapple Pizza’s bowl, and he lets her eat the extras off the spoon when she begs for it. Pulling down the projector screen, Etho moves to set up the movie on his laptop. He piles the blankets onto the couch and buries himself beneath them—and steals the mossy one from Etho, of course.

Etho always wears the exact same expression every time Bdubs pulls this move: brows up, eyes blown wide, like every time is the first; like he can’t believe the audacity Bdubs has to steal his most precious possession.

“That’s the best one!”

“And I took it, fair and square!”

It really is unfortunate that they both have the same favorite blanket. Etho likes the blanket because it’s green. Bdubs likes it because it’s funnier when Etho doesn’t have it.

A hint of a grin in the crinkle of Etho’s eyes is all the warning Bdubs has before the blanket is yanked from Bdubs’ grip.

“Hey!” Bdubs shouts, cold and blanket-less. “Give it back!”

“Finders keepers,” Etho smirks, “losers weepers.”

Bdubs curls up on the edge of the couch, attempting to look as cold and blanket-less as possible. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he hears Etho sigh as he drapes the blanket over him once again.

“Alright,” Etho says as he settles under the other end of the blanket, which is perfectly big enough for both of them, “are we continuing our run of ‘The Office’?”

“Psh, of course.”

Bdubs feels his eyelids get heavy on the second episode, after the pizza is consumed and the plates disposed of. He’s never understood how Etho can stay awake forever if he wants to—once it’s past 10, ol’ Bdubs is out like a light. It helps that the projector screen shines just dim enough, the volume just soft enough, Etho’s snarky comments familiar enough for him to shut his eyes for a second or two, his head falling to the side. He has to be up early tomorrow, but tomorrow is a long time away, and he keeps forcing himself awake to savor the moment a little bit longer. Awake, awake—

Bdubs opens his eyes with an axe two inches from his face.

He screams, flailing back to get away get away. The world twists as he loses balance, his legs tangled in the blanket, and he’s falling— arm grasping for the armrest— what the hell—

“Aw, the Sleeping Beauty is finally awake!” cheers his intruder. The sunlight glints off his tactical gear, off his bandana, off his freshly-sharpened axe.

“I’ve been awake!” The adrenaline kicks in fast, and Bdubs’ eyes dart around the room—windows are sealed, door locked. Limbs tangled in the woolen sheets, not a hint of green in sight. “I knew about that the whole time, I was just testing you!”

“Uh-huh,” Etho says. He hangs his sharpened axe back on his belt, where it sits like an omen. He sits down on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, and Bdubs is breathing but it feels like there’s no air in his lungs. Which week is it? He can’t quite recollect Etho’s placement on The List this time, which is— bad. Very bad.

“I saw Scar going down the mines this morning,” Etho continues. “I think Magical Mountain could use a little de-magicifying.”

“Yeah,” snarks Bdubs, “A man of science, of course.” Scar falls about… mid-to-high on The List, from what he can recall, based on a comment from Skizz that the self-proclaimed wizard had been gathering lava two nights ago. It’s enough to justify an excursion to Magical Mountain. 

“You know me.”

“Hm.” Bdubs pulls on his chestplate, helmet, leggings, and boots. Hesitating, he glances out the corner of his eye, but— no, Etho’s looking out the window, as far as he can tell. He slips a dagger into his left boot. “Do you think he gives out free samples? Like the ones from Costco?”

Etho cocks his head. “Costco?”

“Nevermind.” Bdubs rifles through the barrel for his bow. Gosh, carrying all these arrows is awful. Maybe if Scar has the Enchanter, they can steal an Infinity enchant—if not the Enchanter itself.

In the morning sun, Etho’s shadow grows long. It poses on the far wall. “You’ve been sleeping in a lot, lately. Even more than usual.”

“Tracking my sleep, now? What are you, some sort of creep?” Bdubs almost reaches out to shove Etho as he heads out the door. He re-routes his momentum to grasp the curtains shut instead. Stupid dreams, with their stupid memories and stupid impulses they implant in his mind.

Etho cackles, “Of course not. I’d hate to see you robbed of your beauty sleep,” and Bdubs freezes under the sudden déjà vu. Before he can fully blink away the visions—memories, dreams, whatever—Etho turns and marches out the door without a backwards glance.

The back is the weakest point, and time is of the essence.

“Yeah, well.” Bdubs doesn’t reach down to his dagger, or his axe, or his bow. Bdubs follows Etho out of the snow fort to murder a man and pillage his home. “They’ve been good dreams.”

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Well well well, how long has it been since the last chapter of Waking Nightmares? Six months? Half a year? Good goddamn, it’s been longer than I thought. Depression will do that to you I suppose. But worry not! Chapter 10 is here, and hopefully you won’t have to wait six months for the next chapter after this. Let’s get right into it babes!

Waking Nightmares masterlist here.

~

Waking Nightmares: Chapter 10

Rating: Mature, SFW

Word count: 6,211

Content warnings: Passing mention of suicide, attempted drowning, emotional breakdowns, violence, manhandling, choking, gore, knife injuries, Freddy is a bastard

POV: Roxanne Love

I was ready.

Or as ready as I could be, all things considered.

I’d done the research. I’d made the plans. I’d gotten what I needed, made the necessary preparations, checked and double-checked everything to make sure it would work. It wasn’t a complex plan – if anything, it was ridiculously and perhaps arrogantly simple. Which was why I needed to make sure I wasn’t overestimating myself and underestimating either of them.

It wasn’t a plan of Rube-Goldberg booby traps or smoke and mirrors or Christian faith or vague dream powers. It was a plan of simple determination and brute force.

I had what I needed. Now I just had to do it and hope it was enough. Hope I was enough.

But, of course, it would’ve just been too easy to fall sleep and get to it. Of course, the one time I wanted to go to sleep was the one time I just couldn’t.

It’s not like I wasn’t tired. Because I was – I was fucking exhausted. My body practically gave out as I settled down on top of the bedcovers, as comfortably as was possible. Every bit of tension uncoiled from my body almost instantly, muscles failing and limbs dropping as if made of lead. My eyes ached. My body and mind sighed.

Finally. Finally.

A moment of goddamn peace. After days and weeks and nearly a month of forcing myself to stay awake and downing expresso shots and moving through everything with all the focus and conviction of a reanimated corpse. I finally got a chance to fucking go to sleep. Even if it was the calm before the storm, it was something. And I was willing to take whatever I could get.

But. Of course. Things weren’t that simple. Nothing was lately.

Even as I lay in bed, outwardly peaceful and comfortable, my mind whirled. I kept rolling my plan around my head, reviewing every part, poking every corner to make sure it was solid enough not to fall to pieces at the first hurdle. Was this part foolproof enough? If it wasn’t, was there a backup plan? How about this part? Was everything in place in the real world? Was I actually ready, or had I forgotten something?

And that wasn’t to mention the quiet little voice in the back of my mind that kept whispering, quietly but persistently, “This might not work. You might just be running head-first into a deathtrap.”

I shifted, trying to relax. But comfort eluded me.

If I did fuck this up… if for some reason, I didn’t wake back up… what would happen to Houdini? Would Mel take care of him? She would, right? She had to. Our relationship wasn’t so broken that she’d just toss him out her door or hand him off to a stranger, right? I didn’t think so… I hoped it wasn’t. Because it wasn’t like Mom or Dad could take him, not with Dad’s allergies. And Ami… she loved Houdini. But she lived in a dorm. She couldn’t take him. She wouldn’t have the time.

Oh God, what about them? What would they think happened to me?

I imagined being found dead in my own bed, fully dressed and with my throat slashed open, bedsheets soaked in blood.

It would be so fucking bad. Would they think I’d killed myself? The mad miserable artist, finally taking her own life? It would break Ami’s heart. I could practically hear her soft, broken little sobs. I could see Dad holding her tight like he would whenever she scraped her knee as a toddler. And I could see Mom. Sadness clinging to her frown and the lines around her eyes.

Disappointment, too.

The thought made my body feel hollow.

Or… what if I didn’t die? What if I didn’t have my throat slashed open? What if something worse happened, something a little more creative?

The various gruesome kills from the movies flipped through my mind.

…I sure as hell wasn’t going to go to sleep if I was scaring the shit out of myself. Not with my heartrate as high as it was now.

I blew out a breath and rolled onto my side, curling my arms around myself. I stared at the blackout curtains. Watched them sway, just a tiny bit, as the AC worked overtime and blew directly at them.

I lay there. I waited. I stared out my bedroom door.

The house felt so empty without Houdini.

I hoped Mel was taking care of him. And I hoped her milquetoast new boy was staying far away from him. I didn’t know how he felt about cats. But he seemed like the kind of guy who thought dogs were man’s best friend and cats were like women, whatever the fuck that meant.

Unbidden tears sprung into my eyes. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the frustration. Maybe it was at how fucking ridiculous all his was and how I was starting to question my sanity once again. Maybe it was the cold, empty feeling of isolation.

How many times had I cried in the past few weeks? It had to more than I’d cried in the past few years. Even with…

…Well.

Maybe not.

I closed my eyes. The tears hovered along my eyelashes. One slipped free, going along the contours of my nose and down my other cheek.

I just wanted to sleep. I just wanted this quiet. Just for a moment.

I’d do anything for whatever fucking god was out there.

Please.

The house rang with baleful silence.

I waited. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And then I was in a dream before I even realized it. My legs were already moving when my mind caught up and emerged from its haze.

The first thing I realized was that it was warm. The same oppressive, damp heat that clung to my skin, just like in the hellish industrial plant from my last nightmare, and just like every night I’d been trapped by sleep paralysis and hallucinations in my own bedroom.

But I wasn’t in the industrial plant this time. And I certainly wasn’t in my bedroom. Not anymore.

Everything was stone. Ancient, pale, rough-looking stone. Flickering torches lined the walls, casting everything in a dim, sickly amber light. The air was. stale. Something roared in the distance. All I could see was a long, dark hallway stretching before me, and the torches creating little pools of light every twenty feet.

Things glinted in the dark as I passed them. Metal? Metal grates. Along with little grooves and barely-there carvings in the wall, too faint to make out in the darkness. Odd shapes, like sculptures and bones. And occasionally, what looked like flickers of fire beyond the cracks in the stone.

I didn’t know what it was. There wasn’t any one specific thing. But something about this place, wherever it was, felt… strange. And old. And like there was a history here, engraved and kept in the stone.

It reminded me somewhat of the mandirs Mom had taken Ami and me to see during a trip to India. At the time, I hadn’t cared. I was a teenager at the time, and why the hell would I have cared about dusty old temples? They didn’t matter to me. But even then, as I’d stared dubiously at the Kandariya Mahadeva Mandir, I’d been able to tell that the place was old. It had a history. It had secrets, and it had seen things I couldn’t have imagined.

This place felt similar. This place was old, and it had history and secrets and it had seen things I couldn’t dream of. But this felt less like a temple and more like an ancient labyrinth or an elaborate dungeon or a winding, lifeless catacomb. Or if it was a temple, it was a temple dedicated to something I didn’t want any part of.

…What was I actually getting myself into?

I stopped at a fork in the road. The hallway split into three identical dimly lit halls. They felt no different and no less endless as the one stretching out behind me.

I chose one at random.

Whether I’d made the right choice, I wasn’t sure. I seemed to walk forever. I walked until sweat dripped down my back, till hair hung limply across my face, till my legs burned and my tongue scraped against the roof of my mouth. My legs were moving but I wasn’t making any progress. I might as well have been standing still. I walked until I started to wonder if somehow, the hallway had looped back on itself, and I was going in endless circles. A simple purgatory.

There would be no need to kill me if I was trapped for eternity.

Despair clawed at my chest. My hands twitched with the desperate need for something, anything, to give.

Until finally, something did.

The hallway ended abruptly and plunged down into what had to be the most hellishly steep staircase I’d ever seen. It reminded me far too much of the near-endless staircase from my previous dream.

But it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go.

I plucked the dampened material of my shirt, pulling it away from my skin for a moment of relief before releasing it again. Then I started the descent.

How much time had passed? It felt like an eternity. But there was no way to tell how long it had been in the waking world. It could’ve been no more than ten seconds. It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been fourteen minutes, and my phone alarm was about to go off. Or with how exhausted I’d been, I could’ve slept through it, and my backup alarm was about to go off.

Or maybe I’d slept through that too.

My heartrate kicked up at the thought. I quickened my pace, going down two steps at a time.

If I’d slept through both alarms, I was screwed. If they hadn’t gone off yet, I needed to get moving. This wasn’t going to fucking work if I didn’t have them – preferably only one of them – in front of me.

The distant roaring grew louder the further down I went.

What the fuck was that?

The staircase ended as abruptly as it has started, and I slammed into a wall full-force. “FUCK!” I shouted, nearly toppling back onto the stairs. My own voice echoed back at me. That fucking hurt.

I’d come to… a dead end?

No, I quickly realized, not a dead end. A door. If the light peeking through a long crack in the wall was any indication. I felt around in front of me in almost total darkness, until my hand connected with a knob and I pushed the door open.

Another hallway.

But this one had a small pinprick of light at the end.

Relief flooded my veins. I picked up speed, almost breaking into a run down the hallway. Finally, something, progress –

I burst out of the tunnel’s mouth and into the room at its end. It was almost like a mini courtyard. Circular and surrounded by ancient crumbling stone on all sides, but open to the sky. If you could even call it that. It was more like a black, starless, empty void, save for the distant metallic gleam of two somethings far up. I wasn’t sure what. The only light sources were the sickly yellow torches scattered around the walls, framing each mouth of another branching tunnel. And in the middle of the room was a rounded pool of water. A stream fell from some unknown source in the sky to fill it.

Cautiously, I approached the edge of the pool and peered in. Lukewarm stray water droplets hit my face at the proximity. I couldn’t see a bottom to the pool, and I couldn’t see a way for the water to get out, either. I glanced up at the sky again. The water just fell from the darkness, fell from whatever was up above with those two gleaming things in the sky.

What the fuck was this place? A nonsensical nightmare realm of endless corridors and hidden secrets that bordered on being just cohesive enough to have a history. Dreamlike, yet somehow not quite unreal.

I raked my hair out of my face.

Coming here might’ve been a mistake.

Something slammed behind me.

My heart leapt into my throat and I whirled around, arms flying up to block the threat.

…There was nothing.

My pulse reverberated in my throat. I scanned the room for any signs of life, for anything that looked weird or out of place. My gaze snagged on each tunnel mouth and stopped on the hallway that had led me here. It stretched ominously before me. I couldn’t see the end of it. Couldn’t see the door or the stairs beyond it.

Is that where it had come from? Did the door slam shut and echo down the hall? That wasn’t a good sign. A closed door meant no escape. A closed door meant I was trapped.

A closed door meant I was quite possibly fucked.

I stared at the darkness until color splotches appeared in my vision.

My hands shook in front of my face. I let out a slow breath to try and calm my nerves.

Rough hands grabbed my arms.

And before I could react, I was weightless, catching only a blur of color before my back hit the water and I was slammed back into my body.

I immediately writhed, kicking and clawing mindlessly. Bubbles and panic blurred my vision. Something dragged my deeper as cruel fingers and slicing claws dug into my flesh. A scream burned in my chest.

No this couldn’t be happening this isn’t what I thought was going to happen –

I kicked and clawed and punched at my captor, but the water stile any force behind it. Panic swelled in my lungs and ate away the oxygen left.

This had been a mistake. A fool’s errand. I was going to drown, and my body would too, choking on water while surrounded by land for miles.

And then I was floating. The hands disappeared.

I was free.

My lungs screamed at me to move. I surged towards the surface and exploded out of the pool, scrabbling for the edge and gasping down air and probably swallowing about half the pool’s water in the process. I choked and sputtered as I heaved myself out, muscles aching from the sudden lack of weight from the water. I forced myself up. Forced myself to stand on shaking, unsteady legs and stumble as I fought to regain my breath and my balance.

There was a loud splash behind me as something else burst up from the water.

I didn’t need to turn around. I knew who it was. Because who the hell else would it be?

I turned anyway.

And there he was.

Arms braced against the edge of the pool, metal claws scraping against stone as they found purchase. Water running off the odd pattern of scars on his face. Black coat fanned out behind him in the water like wings or tattered fins. Colorless eyes fixed on me.

I recognized his face from the movies. Recognized the feeling of dread from my own nightmares.

“Go ahead.” His tone was low and bitter and mocking.

“Just try and escape.”

So I did. I spun around and sprinted down a random hallway full-speed. The shadows swallowed me. It was dark and damp and dingy with only a single flickering torch here and there to keep me from crashing into the walls. I had no idea where I was going, no idea if he was following. But the adrenaline pulsing through my body didn’t let me stop. And I didn’t dare to look back.

How much time did I have left?

I turned a corner and burst out into the open.

Except it wasn’t the open. It was a round room with no roof, different pathways branching off into darkness, and a waterfall ending in a pool in the center.

My heart dropped. What the…

Either this place had multiple rooms that looked exactly the same. Or I had somehow ended up back in the same place I’d just left.

Shit.

Now that I wasn’t moving, I could hear the echo of footsteps that weren’t mine. Along with the now all-too-familiar sound of dragging metal.

SHIT.

I sprang back into motion, picking another hallway and plunging down it. A long, straight path that just kept going and couldn’t possibly stretch back around.

Except.

It did.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I muttered. I swung my gaze around, trying to discern where the hell the footsteps were coming from, from which direction he was coming from, but it was impossible. The sound echoed in a way that it shouldn’t have in a roofless room. And the pathways led back here in a way that they shouldn’t have.

This was a nightmare, a nonsensical fucking nightmare meant to tease me and frustrate me and get me fucking lost.

But I couldn’t just fucking wait here, either.

I ran down the third hallway. Ended up back in the same place.

Then the fourth. Same result.

I was desperate. I was losing time, wasting time, I didn’t know where he was and I didn’t know how to fucking survive in a place designed to trap me.

One hallway remained – the hallway from which I’d come. Where there was a door and a staircase.

I didn’t know if the door was still open.

“Roooooxyyyyyyyyyy…”

I’d take the chance.

My heart thundered in my ears and my throat and my veins as I took off again. I slammed shoulder-first into the closed door, pain reverberating through my bones as I scrabbled for the handle. I grabbed it. Twisted and pulled.

It didn’t move. It was locked.

My heart plunged into my stomach.

Fuck.

“Roxy.”

The hairs on my neck stood up. I drew in a slow, steadying breath.

Turned.

And was slammed against the door, metal claws digging into my throat and a forearm pressing against my chest. The air wheezed out of my body. His face was inches away from my own. Even if I couldn’t see him in the pitch-black darkness, I could feel his gaze boring into me as if it was a physical third hand.

“You.” Warm breath puffed against my face. I grimaced. “Are a very hard woman to catch, Rock-see.” His drew out the syllables of my name, as if savoring its taste in his mouth.

I swallowed the urge to spit out a smartass remark. This wasn’t the one who’d first chased me and nearly killed me. This was the one who’d been haunting me for weeks now, the one who more closely resembled the character from the movies. And if he’d said the words with the same bombastic, biting snarkiness of that character, I wouldn’t have hesitated to bite back.

But this one, the real one, said it so lowly, so cruelly, so intimately, as if he was sharing a private deadly secret with me. Spoke it while his gaze brushed up and down me like a physical hand, eying me up like a piece of meat he was trying to figure out how best to slice. Spoke it while his claws brushed against my throat and left coldness in their wake. Spoke it while his very presence suffocated me with its burning intensity.

This was not a movie. This was not the ridiculous movie character I’d seen chasing random teenagers across my screen the past few nights.

No, he didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore. Not as Freddy Krueger dug his claws in, just a little, just enough to make me flinch at the prick of pain.

“I hope you know that I could’ve killed you already,” he said, softly. “I could’ve killed you before you even turned around. Or when you were running like a rat in a maze. Or when you were drowning. Hell… I could’ve let that little imposter slice you up and do my job for me.”

This time, the words left my mouth before I could stop them. “What, are you expecting a thank you?”

Pain bloomed in my neck as he dug his claws in and broke enough skin for blood to well. I froze, breath catching.

“I’m expecting you to know that you’re not dead because I don’t want you dead.” A pause, then a flutter of breath as he laughed to himself. “Well. Not yet, at least.”

“How sweet of you,” I said, flatly.

“Don’t worry.” I couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to lean in a little closer. “It’s not out of the kindness of my heart.”

A hollow pang went through my stomach. I’d been under no illusion that he was sparing me out of good will, but the fact that he had something else in mind was… not comforting. Especially since I had no idea what that something else was. But it was nothing good, that was for certain. Even if he said he wanted me alive, that didn’t mean he wanted me unharmed. There was plenty he could do to me while keeping me alive.

I swallowed my own rising nervousness. It was hard to feel tough and in control of the situation when I was between a rock, a hard place, and five very sharp blades.

“Well what do you want?”

The pressure of the blades eased, just slightly. It was too dark to tell, but something told me a self-satisfied little smile had unfurled across his face.

“Don’t worry. I just wanna talk.”

That sounded incredibly suspicious.

He wanted to talk. Talk about what? I doubted it was anything good.

The rising nervousness had become a little ball of panic lodged in my lungs. I struggled to keep it from getting any further.

“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

He definitely leaned in this time, so close our noses were practically brushing. Close enough to press a tender kiss to my lips like a lover would, or close enough to unhinge his jaw like a snake’s and sink sharp teeth into the soft, vulnerable flesh of my throat. The ball of panic rose a little further. My heart hammered in my ears. I felt as though he were about to deliver a death sentence.

But then he jerked back sharply, head rising and twisting away so I could just barely make out the sharp profile of his face. The suffocating weight of his attention was elsewhere. He was rigid and still, totally immobile.

Houdini did this. When he’d heard something that I hadn’t, and he’d whip his head up and go still as he listened and tried to discern its source. Half of the time, it was something benign – the dishes in the sink shifting, a sudden noise from the television, my phone alarm going off. The other half, it was something I hadn’t heard at all.

This was the latter.

I heard nothing but empty, ringing silence.

…Until something faint and barely-there echoed down the halls. Quiet enough that I would’ve missed it entirely if I hadn’t been straining, quiet enough that at first, I couldn’t even tell what it was.

Until it grew a little louder. And I was hit in the chest with overwhelming familiarity.

It was the sound of a guitar riff I knew by heart. Piercing through the illusion of whatever nightmare hellworld this was.

“What,” Freddy asked, tone laced with malice, “is that?”

The darkened tunnel around us blurred, snapped back into place, then blurred again. My heartbeat sped up as I started to rouse. And as I realized that the backup plan had worked. The second alarm had worked. I was waking up.

The surge of adrenaline made me grin recklessly, and the stupid words were already leaving my mouth before I could stop to consider his reaction. “That would be the sound of my high school years coming to save my ass.”

I was slammed against the door again. Pain ricocheted through my bones and sent my head spinning. He said something, but the words were lost between my bleary not-quite-asleep state, my spinning head, and the crescendo of music.

But I still had the sense to grab his wrists and mumble out, “And you’re coming with me.”

And then the music hit its peak, the snarled vocals “HOLD ONTO SOMETHING!” rang through the air, and I was torn awake.

Painfully, immediately awake, bolting upright in bed so fast that I thought I felt the vertebrae in my neck crack as I just about gave myself whiplash. Blood chugged through my veins to the staccato rhythm of my pulse in my ears. My palm was sweaty as I gripped the handle of the kitchen knife I’d yanked from the waistband of my jeans before I’d even registered I’d done so.

I scanned every inch of the bedroom from my half-crouched position on the bed.

There wasn’t another soul in sight.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Where is he?

In the first movie, he’d sprang up from the far side of Nancy’s bed after she pulled him into the real world. I peered over each side of my own black wire bedframe.

Nothing.

I jabbed my finger against my phone screen, cutting the song off mid-death growl and plunging the house into silence. My ears rang from the abrupt change.

The only sound was my own rapid, too-shallow breathing.

“No…” The words came out a whisper, dangerously close to a whimper. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again. The room was still empty.

My body felt numb. Too warm and too cold and prickly. My stomach threatened to climb its way up into my mouth.

Oh my God.

I’d made it all up. I’d really made it all up, hadn’t I?

I was going to have a panic attack. I was going to vomit. I was going to have an AMI.

It wasn’t real.

No…. no no no no no.

I dropped the knife onto the bed and dug my nails into my scalp till it hurt. I was about to break. I could feel it. I could feel panic and despair prying at my ribcage, squeezing my lungs. My eyes burned and my vision blurred. My breathing was too shallow, too fast, too wheezy, but I was powerless to stop myself from plunging into the depths of my own hysteria.

It wasn’t real I’d been wrong it had all been in my head I’d lost my mind.

A broken little sob clawed its way out my throat. A second tried to follow its path, and I choked on it. Drowned in it. Burning tears spilled down my cheeks. I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw popped and I thought my teeth might break. As if any of it would make it stop, stop the tears or the sobs or the hollowness growing in my chest and threatening to devour me from the inside.

I cried. I cried until my body ached. I cried until my head hurt and there were no more tears left to cry. And then I wallowed in the cold silence that followed. Waited until the noise in my head settled to a buzz, and the hollowness inside of me subsided a little.

Not much. But a little.

For now.

I took a slow, shaky breath. Let it out. Did it again. Wiped my cheeks, which came away stained black. Likely from makeup I’d forgotten to wash off at some point in my sleep-deprived few days, and had dripped down my cheeks once I’d started sobbing. I could barely even remember the past few days. I could’ve killed a man and I’d be none the wiser.

It’s fine, Rox. It’s fine. We’ll figure this out. We’re gonna figure this out.

It’ll be fine.

I pushed my hair back out of my face. Took another breath.

And that’s when I noticed the hand wrapped around my ankle.

The hand made of bone and viscera and gleaming metal claws.

My heart slammed into my throat. I lurched away. He cut through the bed as if the sheets were made of water and grabbed me by the neck, fingers curling and biting into my flesh. I choked, writhed, kicked uselessly. He bore down on me, crushed me, overwhelmed me.

He was real he was real a living breathing nightmare a story come to life an impossible reality holding my life in his hands and crushing it–

He leered down at me, every scar on his face etched with cruelty. “Awww, you really thought I wasn’t real? That I was all in your head?”

My vision blurred. My ears rang. My lungs screamed. He leaned down.

“I promise you. I’m far worse than anything you can imagine.”

I reached out blindly. Grabbed something. And crashed it against his head full-force. He yelped in pain, grip loosening, and I shoved him off. He landed on the floor with a thud. Oxygen flooded my lungs and I threw myself off the other side of the bed as my body heaved with coughs. I frantically looked around, half-blind as darkness prickled the edges of my vision.

Knife knife knife where was the knife???

Freddy rose from the other side of the bed, unfurling from the shadows. “Stop that,” he spat.

Fuck the knife.

I grabbed the baseball bat I’d leaning against the wall and swung as he tried to round the bed. He stumbled back, eyes flaring wide. He dodged once, twice, but the third time the bat whacked against his side. His entire body bent like a piece of paper as he curled over himself in pain. I wound up and swung again. This time the bat hit his skull with a crunch. My spine crawled. I swung again.

He caught it.

The blood smeared across his lips looked almost black in the dim light. His teeth were bared in a snarl and his eyes blazed with anger.

My stomach sank.

My arms were nearly yanked out of their sockets as he tore the bat away from me and tossed it across the room like a toothpick. He surged forward and slammed me against the wall. Pain rattled through my bones.

“Stop it,” he snarled again, spitting the words into my face.

I kicked and knocked his legs out from under him. We crashed to the floor. A blade sliced through my shoulder and I cried out in pain. We grappled, all arms and hands and legs and my fingers tight around his wrist as I tried to keep his claws away from me. Blood smeared across his face and dripped from me onto him, blood spat from his filthy mouth onto me. He writhed and bucked his body. I clamped my legs around bony hips and held on. He couldn’t get on top or else that’d be it, I’d be pinned down and vulnerable and dead and I’d have failed.

A flash of metal caught my eye. I took my eyes off him for a second.

The knife had been kicked under the bed.

Then he lashed out and grabbed my hair and pulled.

Excruciating pain pierced through my neck and scalp so hard that for a split second I’d thought he’d snapped my neck completely. But no. I was still blisteringly, agonizingly alive. A scream tore out from me. He threw me off and I crashed into the bedside table.

The knife was right there.

I lurched forward like an enormous misshapen worm. He grabbed me by the ankles, yanked me back. I slammed a boot against his jaw and he let go with a muffled groan. I clambered forward, grabbed the knife, and shot to my feet just as Freddy got to his and pounced on me. I spun around. Swung the knife.

It hit its target, tearing through fabric and flesh and splitting Freddy’s torso open.

He staggered, face frozen in shock.

I didn’t hesitate. I punched the blade into the fresh wound and twisted. Warm blood gushed around my hand, slickening my fingers. I pushed, pressed further, watched his face twist in pain before he collapsed, me on top of him and pinning him to the ground and victorious.

A laugh escaped me. It sounded weak and wheezy and disbelieving, even to my own ears.

But I did it. I did it.

The plan had worked.

I’d taken him by surprise, I’d overpowered him, I had him on the ground and underneath me and at my mercy, with my knife buried in his gut and his own blood seeping onto the wooden floor.

“I did it. I fucking did it.” I laughed again. Exhilaration and relief flooded my veins. I felt downright fucking giddy. “You fucking bastard! I fucking beat you!”

He grit his teeth. His breath was shallow and unsteady against the hand I had pressed to his chest. He was covered in blood, his face smeared with it, his sweater dampened and sticky with it and only getting more drenched as he bled out.

I’m sure I wasn’t much better off as my shoulder and back and shoulder blades throbbed with pain. My throat still felt raw. My skin was sticky with sweat and blood, both his and mine. Distantly, I could tell my body was exhausted, and that once the adrenaline wore off I’d collapse and probably wouldn’t be able to move from the pain.

But that was later.

He came first.

I pulled the knife from his body with a squelch. He spasmed underneath me, throwing his head back and hissing from the pain. He’d lost his hat, at some point.

I pressed the knife to his perfectly exposed neck. Colorless eyes flicked down, met mine. Pain and anger and hatred were etched into every line of his face.

Oh, victory felt so good.

“Now. Listen up.” I adjusted my grip on the knife hilt. Ignored the sticky slickness of his blood coating my fingers. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to tell me who the fuck you are. What the fuck you are. How the fuck you’re even possible. And tell me why exactly you’ve been plaguing my fucking dreams and what the fuck you want with me. If you don’t.” I paused, swallowing against the sudden dryness of my throat and the reality sinking into my skin. “If you don’t, I’ll do what I have to until you start talking.”

I increased the pressure against his throat, just a tiny bit, and curled my fingers into his sweater.

“So start talking.”

Freddy stared at me for a long moment. His gaze was so intense it almost burned. I didn’t know what he was thinking, what was going on in his head.

And then.

He smiled.

A slow smile that stretched across his face, lips parting and peeling back from his teeth. A Cheshire grin, a deranged baring of fangs that teetered into the uncanny and sent gooseflesh erupting across my skin. A warning bell went off in the back of my mind. The smug afterglow of victory withered.

I swallowed again. “What–”

He moved. I wasn’t even sure what he did. But in a heartbeat, I was on the ground again, pinned on my back, knife knocked out of my hands and out of my reach. And he was the one on top of me. Shoulders hunched, eyes wild and mouth still affixed in that Cheshire grin. Blood ran from his wounds and dripped onto my skin. He reached down and smeared his own blood-stained fingers across my lips, mirroring the blood smeared across his. I squirmed, cringed, tried to pull away as a gag rose up inside my throat. But he grabbed my face, nails biting into my cheeks as he forced me to meet his gaze.

I was a rabbit staring into the face of a predator. A predator with a bloodstained maw and metal claws and no more patience left.

“Maybe.” His voice was quiet. He sounded out of breath. And somehow, that was worse. I squirmed again but stopped when he dug his claws into my diaphragm, so sharp and unforgiving that I couldn’t stop the whimper that wormed its way out. The noise was muffled against his palm.

“Maybe”, he said again, “I shoulda just killed you. Maybe you’re more trouble than you’re fuckin worth.”

Fear stabbed at my heart. It must’ve shown clear on my face, because he chuckled.

“Or maybe… I’ll give you one last chance.”

A sliver of hope – a possibility of survival, however tiny it was.

“You gonna be good? You gonna behave?” Never had the word “behave” sounded so threatening before. Never had it had such an edge.

Was I going to behave, and not attack him, and let him say whatever the hell it is he wanted to say? Or was I going to misbehave, and attack him, and probably end up a bloodied corpse to be found by whoever was unfortunate enough to stop by first?

There was no real choice. There was only one right answer to this.

I nodded.

“Good girl.”

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Long ramblings about what I did with my weekend behind the “keep reading” link. Going on about comedy things that happened 10+ years ago shall resume shortly.

Well, I just got home from a five-day trip to coach some national championships, by far the biggest thing I’ve done since March 2020. It’s not the longest I’ve been away, as I’ve made a few trips out to my grandparents’ place since COVID started, but those were nice quiet relaxing times by the ocean and away from people. This was the opposite of that.

I knew I’d struggle with the constant activity and lack of alone time, but I managed that okay in all the ways I used to do. Since I started this stuff in 2004, any time I’ve gone to any event like this, as a coach, or, before that, when I was a competitive athlete, the first thing I do is scout the venue for empty areas. After many years of this, I no longer had to do that most times, because I was familiar with most venues, at least within my own province and other nearby places where I travel frequently. No matter how small the building is, I can always find some corner with low or no foot traffic. Stairwells are fantastic for this; I have spent a weird amount of my life hiding under stairs, with headphones in, until I have to return to activity. But national championships always take place in a nice big venue, with things like entire hallways that don’t get used. There’s nothing better than finding a whole hallway that none of the other hundreds of people at an event seem to have found (to be fair, they’re not looking as hard as I am), where I can disappear any time I have a break throughout the day.

I usually play music during these breaks, I have a whole system for what type of music is best depending on mood/anxiety levels/how long a break I have. That’s the system I used for many years before the pandemic, but I thought that this time I might modify it a bit. I made a folder on my phone with a bunch of my favourite audio Britcom, some stand-up and some radio shows and some podcasts.

That helped me out last year, when I was doing an in-person work placement and had a hard time being around people for eight hours a day. In both buildings where I worked, I found a small room where the light was never on and the people were never in it, and I took my breaks there, in defiance of advice about eating in the break room for networking purposes. I know that’s good advice, and objectively the best thing to do, but the important thing was showing I could do the job well, which I would not be able to do without taking a break from being around people when I could.

Anyway, I listened to The Bugle on all my breaks, and my commutes to and from work, and that helped a lot. So much that I think I was notably better at my job because of it; I could handle the crowded rooms when they were interspersed with this other thing that could draw me in so much, and therefore draw me out of where I was. I thought something similar might work at the tournament, with Bugle episodes or stand-up or anything else.

It didn’t quite work the way I expected. The difference, I’m quite sure, is that this sport is something I love and am really really deeply interested in, and I found I couldn’t just combine that with something else where I’m the same way. There wasn’t enough space in my brain for two things I feel that strongly about at the same time. I sit down and try to listen to a Nish Kumar routine as a break from the tournament, but I’m too deeply immersed in one thing I’m obsessed with to get invested in this other thing. I was never supposed to have both those things in my life at the same time; the Britcom obsession started when the world ended and sports got canceled and I needed something else to replace it as the thing I think about every moment of every day. Because… I don’t know, because autism, I guess. Because it’s my understanding that there are some people who can go through life without something they think about every moment of every day.

The tournament was good, by the way. All the little things I romanticized during the pandemic, the annoying things that I hardly noticed until they were gone and I missed them. Long road trips where we arrive at the hotel at 2 AM. Trying to sleep with my jacket against the truck window as a pillow. Complaining about stupid things in cities that really aren’t that different from mine. Complimentary hotel breakfasts with powdered eggs. Trying not to make eye contact with the people from other teams over our powdered eggs at the hotel breakfast. Shitty service station food. Trying not to make eye contact with people from other teams at the service station where we all end up stopping because we all left the venue at the same time so we all end up at this spot on the highway at the same time and that’s the obvious place to stop. Deciding whether to go with totally pretending not to see each other, an awkward nod and moving on, or even more awkward small talk. A lot of the experience revolves around shitty food and trying to avoid awkward small talk. Those were all things that I missed when they were gone, found annoying again while actually doing them again, but now that I’m not actively doing any of those things, I’m right back to seeing them in a bit of a romanticized way.

I do genuinely like hotels, though. A little room with everything you need that’s magically clean again every time I return to it (I know it isn’t magic, thank you to all the people who do that not very fun job, I try not to make too much work for them). Also I actually like hotel breakfasts, powdered eggs and all. No nostalgia or romanticization is needed to make hotels fun (as long as I remember to bring my weighted blanket, because now that I’m used to that, no other sleeping arrangements seem acceptable).

And, you know, the tournament itself was good. I won’t go into too much detail, partly for privacy reasons (I realize I put lots of my personal life on this blog so talking about privacy seems a bit silly, but I do hold some things back), and partly because the technical aspects of a sporting event are probably even less interesting to anyone outside of it than the stuff I’ve already written in this post. But I will say… a bronze medal plus two national champions, one in a teenage division but one in the adult division, and that one could be a step on a road to the Olympics. Just trust me, those are very good results and it’s really fucking exciting.

Oh, just to pick up on one other thing that really needs picking up on, not even from the tournament itself but from the coaches’ meeting at the end of the tournament – for all coaches who have an athlete on the national team, which my team does, we’re pretty cool. If you read the new safe sport manual – a list of regulations designed to prevent all kinds of stuff from physical to psychological to sexual abuse – and you feel personally targeted, maybe that’s not something you need to complain about in a meeting. Maybe, if you read a document that’s meant to outlaw being a terrible person and you feel that it unfairly outlaws shit you do all the time, you shouldn’t even want to admit that in a room full of people. Maybe you should keep your fucking mouth shut and re-evaluate your life. Maybe.

Anyway. Back on the subject of how I tried to mix Britcom with this experience and found it didn’t really work, since I couldn’t really focus on one thing I’m really invested in at the same time as I was doing another thing I’m really invested in, when those two things are very different from each other. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding like a vicious insult to two men whose work I absolutely love, but the only Britcom-like things I could really get into, while sitting in that empty hallway and unable to listen to anything that would be too immersive, were David O’Doherty and Gavin Osborn. I say “Britcom-like” because David O’Doherty isn’t British and Gavin Osborn isn’t a comedian, but close enough (my apologies to the sovereign state of Ireland for that comment, I realize people have fought wars to not be considered “close enough” to British).

This is, of course, not because their stuff isn’t wonderful. I think it’s because they both break it down into smaller pieces, so I can hear one part of it without getting drawn into the whole thing. Gavin Osborn definitely makes sense this way, as I’ve always listened to music at tournaments and that’s never been a problem. DO’D has some songs but also some spoken bits, and I found I could listen to both easily, because even his non-musical stand-up is still structured a bit like a music album. It’s a track off an album, not an hour-long comedy set.

And that brings me to the other thing I wanted to write about. So, I’ve been struggling a bit with the number of things that get accepted when I don’t think they should be. I won’t go into great detail, but see my paragraph about the complaints people made in a coaches’ meeting for a general idea. My friends and I used to things of ourselves, quite grandiosely, as fighting some sort of noble battle against corruption. We used say – jokingly, ironically, but not completely ironically – that we were the revolution, coming in as younger people to change the culture. We had this running joke about a particular brand of whiskey being “the whiskey of the revolution” (Jim Beam Black, in case anyone wants to know), because we first drank it after this big provincial AGM in 2017 where we’d passionately yelled at some people and lobbied for votes for new board members who might change things. This year, my friend picked up a bottle of that on the way to the tournament and said we could celebrate the weekend with the whiskey of the revolution, and I told him the revolution is long dead. It was dying before COVID and it’s definitely dead now.

Things are getting forgotten, my friends are making friends with people who used to be the enemy, saying our sport was gutted so badly by COVID that we can’t afford to be at each other’s throats anymore. Even though, I’d argue, we had good reason to be at each other’s throats before. You know that proverbial wisdom that says holding hate in your heart is bad for your mental health? That may be true in some circumstances, not all. I can hate people who’ve done shitty things, and maybe that doesn’t feel good, but at least I think I’m right. When I have to shake hands and make polite small talk with them, forgive and forget and get over the hatred – then I just end up feeling like I have no principles and hating myself. Which is, you know, maybe not great. But it’s how it is.

I tell that story because, near the end of the first of the three actual competition days, I came across this one Gavin Osborn song and then I decided I wasn’t going to listen to anything else for the rest of the weekend. It was perfect, for the moment. Yesterday there was no actual competition, but my friend had to do a few things at the venue before we drove home, so I took his truck and drove around the city until he was ready to go. I played this song on repeat – literally just this song, over and over, for two hours. I sang along to it alone in the car, and it was awesome. Great way to end a weekend.

This song was such a good antidote to everything else going on. Lately, I’ve been learning to grudgingly accept the general principle that thing change and evolve, and you can’t hold people to everything they said in 2006. But this is a recording of Gavin Osborn, in 2006 (the album came out in 2007, but Kitson was playing this song on his radio show in 2006, I don’t know exactly when it was first written), promising us that he won’t forget the fundamental things he believes, no matter what else changes. And I think it’s true. Which is more than I can say for some Chocolate Milk Gang members – looking at Alun Cochrane here. But Gavin Osborn could not be more different from Alun Cochrane. His 2017 album was a giant ode to Tory-bashing, and his 2022 album still had enough of that to let you know where he stands, in between all the whimsy and the equally heartwarming/heartbreaking stuff about his kids and his father and his friend’s kitchen and it’s a really good album.

Anyway. Here’s the song I played over and over this weekend.

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Okay, so. One more thing for this post, which I really hesitate to put in here, and have sort of intentionally buried. I’m behind a cut and a few pages in, hardly anyone is going to read this. Which is why I feel like I can say, I wrote a poem this weekend. For the first time in ages.

I used to write poetry pretty often, and every couple of months I’d send a few poems into this local thing that publishes poetry and pays a small amount of money per poem. I never made any noteworthy amount of money off it or anything, but for a while I was getting a bit, sort of regularly. And then a few years ago I stopped. I think I just got busy, and when COVID hit I stopped being busy but I wasn’t exactly feeling inspired enough to start writing again.

A few months ago, fall 2022, I started really trying to pick it up again. Messing around and trying to write stuff, but I didn’t really get anywhere. I could remember how it used to feel, when ideas would just come to me, but I couldn’t make it happen again. I tried to force it and I wrote a few things, but nothing that I’d be willing to show anyone.

Sharing poetry is hard. I feel like comedy and poetry are two of the hardest art forms to try, because if you do it badly, it’s so bad. There’s nothing more embarrassing than trying to be funny - really clearly admitting you’ve tried to be funny - and failing. Well, nothing except maybe trying to write good poetry and realizing it’s come out like the contents of a fourteen-year-old’s journal. No offense to fourteen-year-olds, by the way. I was once a fourteen-year-old with a journal full of terrible poetry. Also, there are some fourteen-year-olds who can actually write good poetry. “Fourteen-year-old’s journal” isn’t a literal description - it’s more a genre of poetry. A genre that anyone can accidentally fall into just by writing a bad enough poem.

The more earnestly you present something, the worse it is if you do it badly. And you really can’t write poetry ironically. I’ve sometimes put irony into my poetry (not sure I’ve done that well or anything, but I’ve tried), and I’ve enjoyed reading plenty of poems that make use of irony, but that irony is still undercut by the fact that, you know, it’s poetry. It’s the most earnest thing in the world. Stand-up comedy’s the same way. There might be irony in the comedy, but comedy itself isn’t ironic. You can’t say you were just joking by calling this comedy, it isn’t really. You’ve labelled your work as comedy, therefore saying you are genuinely trying to be funny, so you’d better get it right. I think those are the two worst things to get wrong, as no one cringes harder at anything than at fourteen-year-old journal poetry, or a person trying and failing to be funny.

Having said all of that, this weekend was the first time in ages that I’ve written something I’d be willing to show someone, and by “someone”, I mean the very small amount of people who might read several pages into a personal post on my Tumblr blog. I think there actually could be a kernel here that could turn into something I’d send in somewhere that publishes things. The more I look at it, the more I think maybe, in its best version, it would be two different poems. I’m seeing ways I could chop it up and move some things around and maybe split it in two, and turn it into something more polished. But that’s what Tumblr’s for, right? Posting the version of something that I really like, even if it’s not the most polished. Not that this is the “raw” version or anything, I’ve edited it plenty. But so far, all my editing has been to turn it into something I like, not into something someone might want to publish.

It's got a line from a Gavin Osborn song in there, which I think is fine because as long as I say that, it counts as a reference and not as plagiarism. Also, if I did try to do anything else with it, the polishing process would definitely include dropping that line. Partly because it wasn’t written by me, and partly because it’s kind of crowbarred in and doesn’t really work within the poem. But I’m leaving it in here because I really like it. I sort of fear that leaving in a line from a song I like crosses this too far into fourteen-year-old journal territory, but fuck it, what is Tumblr if not a fourteen-year-old’s journal? Also, it’s a Gavin Osborn song. It’s not exactly Evanescence (that’s my reference for what inspires fourteen-year-old journal poetry, imagine your own more up to date reference if you like).

Anyway. I don’t have a title for it yet, but it’s about the event I just attended, so I’ll probably try to come up with some mildly clever way to name it after that. But here’s something I wrote and edited over the course of this weekend, and it’s not great, definitely not the best thing I’ve done, but I actually think it might be sort of not bad.

There are flags, freshly ironed,

planted firmly on the floor.

And there are suits,

mismatched but buttoned up.

A ceiling hung with

There is craving so deep that it creeps

long fluorescent lights.

into fingertips, settles under tongues,

tastes sharp as blood and

The clash of egos on egos

echoes off concrete walls;

like sharpening iron,

And the utter fucking absurdity

friction that sparks when it catches right;

of the collar on my shirt

It feels like a roll call,

at a time like this.

every year, round them up:

There is beauty in still here,

“Who’s still here?”

when the hours come up against years.

Her eyes light up

in the same shade of green

Every single outcome is someone’s

that they did in 2005.

arc, but the narrative won’t always

Sometimes the story is slippery,

give you the satisfaction.

the moral high ground

slides like butter ‘cross ice,

like salt through gleaming hourglass.

But with feet planted firmly on this floor

where nothing else is true,

I watch chancers roll sweat into the ashes

I will always know my red side from my blue.

of a dead revolution,

You know, it’s good to see your

and I wish he’d turned on me too.

smile meet your eyes again.

It slipped through some timelines

but foundation’s still here,

and I just want to live in a world

They have piled more weight

where the hours mean less than the years.

on each ankle, each moment,

They have tried to draw answers

than can be reasonably expected to bear.

from aether, from air;

and they ask for more grace

There are tear-stained battered faces that

than has ever been there.

melt harsh hearts into questions:

That ceiling’s too low to contain

“Did you really not know you were going to win?”

the desperation, elation,

all these fears.

And I’m sitting on the sidelines writing poetry,

as the hours catch up to the years.

[peistudies]

Personal Study Update

みなさん、久しぶりですね。元気でしたか？

朗報がありますよ。先に勉強やめましたけど、もう一度始めることにしました。

Basically, I stopped studying Japanese for 1.5 years. I started this blog on the same day I began studying Japanese, a little over 2.5 years ago. That means I’d actually halted my studies for longer than I’d been studying in the first place.

So, it’s safe to say my journey isn’t the most linear. I’ve noticed some weird improvements, like I don’t translate to english as much, reading clicks more (I’m reading coherent sentences, not just a bunch of words next to each other! who woulda thought?) and I realized I remembered more than I thought I would.

But still, there are obvious gaps in my memory and various weaknesses I had prior to pausing only really got worse. A lot of the vocab I once knew have been erased from my memory, with a faint ghost of it still there, for me to confuse with other words I almost remember.

However, I won’t let these setbacks bring me down. The advantage I have is that I’m studying Japanese for fun, and no amount of mistakes I make will ever take that joy away from me.

A few weeks ago I started casually studying again. Using Bunpro, I’ve reviewed all N5 grammar. Once I finished that, I realized that there’s still a lot of work to do, and it’s sitting in my face, waiting to get conquered so I can finally reach an intermediate level Japanese.

I’ve spent the last couple of days curating a new study routine for me to follow every day so that I not only catch up with N5 vocabulary quickly but also speed through N4.

I’m heavily relying on Bunpro for both grammar and vocabulary. Now that I have N5 grammar in the bag, I just need to complete N5 Vocabulary, N4 Grammar, and N4 vocabulary to reach this subgoal.

My daily routine:

1. Finish all WK reviews / Learn more

2. Finish all Bunpro reviews

3. Minimum 3 new (N4) grammar points on Bunpro. I’m using it to follow along with my Genki II textbook, despite the N4 grammar option, because I also have the Tobira textbook and would like my knowledge to follow the path of what I’d previously paid for lol.

For each grammar point (provided I don’t already know it) I write down the rules in my notebook, read the bunpro explanation AND my textbook explanation, and finish it off by listening and reading around 10 example sentences 3 times each. First time slow, second time normal speed, third time normal speed with english translation.

4. Learn 10 new N4 vocabulary words on Bunpro. I just need to learn them by the end of the day, so I may break this up to prevent brain fatigue.

5. Review 25 N5 words on Bunpro. I used to know them so I’m being kind of hard about it, as it’s easier to pick them back up.

6. I’ve forgotten a lot of basic N5 stuff, so I try to go over something I should know that Bunpro won’t hand to me in a deck format. For example, days of the month.

7. 1-5 are the bare minimum, but I also like to get in some reading, practicing writing, or watching a show in Japanese. Some supplementary/enrichment study.

I track myself with an app called Habit Tracker, since it’s a daily task list. It’s crucial to continue it daily! Why? Because I’m trying to significantly improve my Japanese and I gave myself a deadline: March 1st. By then, I should be confident in all areas of N5, know all of Genki II Grammar, and should know 360 more words from N4. That’s a lot to do in less than 5 weeks.

I’ll keep you guys updated! Can’t wait to post some more grammar/vocab stuff on here again!

[777erendipity]

tonight has been tough. i wish today wouldn’t of happened. i have too much shit going in in my life. i feel like im running away from everything. from heartbreak and grief and sadness. and i do a good job at running from it and keeping up. i slap a smile on my face and keep trudging despite the cards ive been dealt. but every once in awhile, it catches up to me. and it all crashes on me. i felt it in the back of my throat at work and i shoved it down because i still had 10 hours left. i got home and smoked. i listened to “think of me once and awhile” by take care and “moonlight on the river” by mac demarco back and fourth on repeat for an hour. its the first time ive been able to cry in awhile.

i really miss my mom. she’d know what to say. i know i speak of her like she’s dead but she’s not. but she isn’t really here either. sometimes i want to believe that this is just a short period of her life and she’ll get better but this is our future. where she’s at right now is how things will be for the rest of her life. i know it’s my fault that these things happened. everybody will say im wrong but i know it is. i want her to hold me like a child. i’m tired of being the strong one here. i wish i could of enjoyed being taken care of by her for longer.

i want so badly to run back. i don’t know how he could of ever thought that we just broke up and i just didn’t care. i showed through that entire relationship that i cared deeply. i want how things were but i know that’s just looking at things through rose colored glasses. things weren’t good. yeah did we have one good day like every two weeks? yes. and it was magical and wonderful and at that time, even though i wanted so much more, i settled for some of him than none because i didn’t know how to live without him. i love waking up each day and not feeling like im getting cheated on. i love not having to compare myself to other women. or to keep bumping down my standards to stay in love. i love not having to depend on someone to give me the bare minimum like “hi how are you doing?”. it’s freeing. i didn’t realize how broken i was til i was out. i want to run back but i cant. i can’t go back to feeling so worthless. not when i know i deserve better and there’s better out there for me. my future is shaky and unstable and i need someone supporting me by my side, not against me and borderline hating me. it pisses me off how mad he is that i’m slightly moving on. he fucked with so many other women through our relationship whether he’ll admit to all of it or not. i never cheated once. he didn’t want anything to do with me those last couple months. and i just stayed there and waited like a dog just for him to tell me that he’s moving away for good and he’s mad that after we have broken up, im hanging around “the idiot in the white truck”? give me a break and go run off to one of your 35,847 fwbs. but i know i shouldn’t be saying all of that. i wanted to really start not being such a cunt and holding grudges but here we are.

i know the only way i’d go back is that my brain got wiped from that last year and he was a completely different person. even if he did do all the things he said he would last week and change completely. that doesn’t erase the past. even when things were going good, all the things that he had done still weighed on my heart because of how much it hurt. i was hoping it’d go away but i realize now when someone breaks you like that? you can’t look at them the same. so the love is still there but its confusing because you don’t know how you can give something so precious of yours to a person that could care so little about you. that’s why i know there won’t be a future with us. i try not to think about it because it hurts but it’s been on my mind all day. parts of me mourn it and other parts are like “girl why tf are you getting all sad over a dude who said you were asking for too much when you wanted to see him when your mom was in the hospital???”. i hate how he’s talking about things that he wanted to do. all the things that i wanted that entire year that he never gave me, now he wants to give me? i call bull. why was i appreciated so late? anyways i’m exhausted. i worked for 11 straight hours with no breaks. all i got is a red bull and vape in my system which isn’t really agreeing well with me. i have another long day tomorrow. i gonna call my mom and just sit with the sound of her breathing for awhile, it’ll feel like she’s closer to me that way.

[tinatribeca]

Moms Attempt Vol 1 - Reflection Piece

I’d like to think that I’m over it. Often times I think that I am. 

It was late on a September night when I fell asleep thinking the following day would be normal. I rose the next day to my moms screams and the sound of a remote falling to the ground in my living room. 

My moms overdose. 

You’d think I’d get used to the memory. The apology. A slurred “I’m sorry” in an ambulance. My response of “Mom what did you take?” Her teary eyed apology that often replays in my mind. Her high causing her to be a different version of herself. Laughs in a hospital bed afterwards. How could I take the apology seriously? From tears to laughter. How does one forgive? It took months. 

Drugs. 

How to save a life. 

I thought of it as a curse for a while... I was angry with God. I wanted to forget so much that I came online and deleted a bunch posts thinking that they would erase a moment that has changed my outlook on parenting. on family. on love. 

I decided to rewrite. September 19th 2022 was the day my mom made one of the biggest mistakes of her life. 

The thank you I received later on, the apology, the moment where she felt happy to be alive made me realize that maybe saving someones life is not a curse. 

Maybe God gives us tasks to show us:

Maybe you are more emotionally capable than you think. There is a lean that people may posses when they are weak, maybe your shoulder is strong. 

There are moments where I am broken... 

I have found the eerie happiness in being alone, in my solitude. 

Truthfully, no one will understand what it was like that week in the hospital being questioned by several doctors. My phone rang constantly. Doctors following up, telling me about transfers and testing. 

I was numb, I didn't feel hurt until weeks later. I didn't know how to feel. I was emotionless. I was a blank canvas with no feelings. A wall. I went to work normally, like nothing happened. My mom was no longer in a state of mind where she could speak for herself. I did not have time to feel. I did not have the opportunity. 

I went to Toronto the following week and returned in October. My sister and I traded places. I felt the severity of what had happened slowly. I have realized that I began feeling for my own trauma in the event...slowly... I was more worried about my mothers safety. It took months for me to realize I had internalized an event. 

Months of debunking... Months of more therapy. 

It has been many months since then, almost 1 year. 

My mom is doing a lot better. 

She lives in New Hampshire where she decided to have a new life... she left a day after being discharged causing me to keep the apartment I grew in for the last 10 years. 

Bittersweet. 

I grew an anger for my family. An anger that caused me to be very distant, very aloof, very uncaring... so much so that now that I have progressed in my healing I still find it very difficult to look for the same family I needed when my mom was rock bottom. 

Prior to her attempt I found myself seeking family because I knew she wasn't well mentally. No one cared. 

The anger has subsided with time. I have stopped looking for family that doesn't necessarily look for me and have sometimes bridged the gap knowing that it is the easiest task to say hello. 

Trusting your journey means that it is normal to extend a hand to someone who may not know you want their hand to begin with:

Maybe my family has always seen me as the strong one, the outspoken one, the “well if she saved her moms life she must be fine” one... an assumption. Or, maybe they got tired of wondering how I was doing. 

A loner in her own right. I always have been. 

I am slowly trying to break out of that... 

However, I am realizing that it is a gift. My energy doesn't need to be manipulated or tainted by every circle or every person. 

[harryforvogue]

But I’m In A New Hell* (Harry and Lucía’s Christmas Blurb)

Alright here we go, fic number...4? Yes, 4!!! 6 more to go. TW: mention of the passing of a parent, depression, just all around super depressing shit. This fic has smut, as you can tell by the asterisk.

8.3k words. Happy Reading! This entire fic is written in Lucía’s POV :-)

as always, here is my ko-fi link 

***

Four Years Ago

I can’t tell if I’m awake or just dreaming. I’ve gone through this process three times already this morning, thinking I’ve gotten up and showered, combed my hair and ate breakfast only to wake up once more and find myself still in bed, buried under all the blankets Harry’s laid out for me. He’s dug them out from the closet because I get colder than him. When I glance over where he’s supposed to be on my right side, he’s absent, his duvet thinner and his singular pillow alone. I run my hand over his impression on the other side. It’s still warm.

I sit up and look around. The curtains are still covering the sun but the reflection off the snow makes me squint anyways.

“Harry?” I call quietly. Silence.

Our bags are in the corner of the room, packed.

“Harry?” I try again.

He finally comes in moments later, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and a plate with a bagel in the other. His smile is more blinding than the sun, his dimples as deep as they go though I can’t figure out what about this situation is worthy of that smile. His eyes give him away, the dark circles battling with how dark mine currently are. I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror in a long time, perhaps 4 or 5 days, but I know exactly how dreadful I must look. He smiles at me anyways as he sits besides me, setting the cup in one of my hands, the plate with the bagel in the other.

“Hi,” he says softly, tucking my hair back. After a second thought, he goes to tie it up instead. I look down at the food he’s given me. “How are you feeling?”

Harry’s smile slips when I glance back up at him. I watch him swallow instead and after he finishes tying my hair, he cups my face as if checking my temperature. His fingers slide down my throat and my eyes well up with tears though nothing sad has happened within these 10 seconds.

“What do you need?” he whispers, leaning closer.

His large palm passes over each of my eyes and then I’m suddenly crying into my coffee, my tears creating ripples. The coffee he’s made just for me despite my constantly changing demand in how I take it. He’s probably got the order right. Drizzle, coffee, milk, creamer, drizzle. Nothing before or after that order. He always gets it right.

Harry takes the cup away from me. The bagel is next to go, and then his arms thrust me to his sturdy chest where I cry. And I cry. And I cry.

***

I run out of tissues the day after. Harry stops by the store to get me some more, along with some melatonin and bath salts. I want to tell him that I won’t need them. Today, I’m breaking up with him.

The thought of saying those words to Harry, those God forsaken words that I never thought I’d be saying, makes my arms hurt. It’s a stabbing pain that starts from the middle of my ribs, travels at light speed to my heart, and then falls down to my wrists. I can’t use my fingers anymore. I don’t know what they call this. I don’t know what the doctor would tell me if I went like Harry’s been telling me.

It’s been only a week. Harry helped me look for our tickets to Ecuador last night and that’s when I realized that I won't be able to be with him for much longer. I could feel it creeping up on me in the last few weeks, this imminent breakdown, because my father had been sick. My mother keeps her composure when she calls every few hours, telling me that there was nothing else to do and that he’s no longer in pain, but after a while, I can’t handle all the talk about him and Harry takes the phone away from me. He murmurs to my mother. Harry has yet to raise his voice even the slightest when talking around me.

I crack three knuckles on my right hand and three on my left. Harry finally comes home, softly pushing the door open to enter. He sees me on the living room couch and he gives me a soft smile. I can tell from here that he’s very tired. The lines of his face don’t give him away, but it’s his slow movement, his hunched back, and his very, very dark circles under his eyes. He toes off his shoes, sets his bag down, and walks to me.

“Luce,” he greets me, crouching down in front of me. He’s still not speaking above a whisper. “Hi.”

My throat closes up immediately. I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want to break his heart.

He notices the shift in my eyes, I think, because he purses his lips and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek. We haven’t been intimate in weeks. “Are we all packed up for tomorrow? Our flight is in the morning.”

I nod. I need to do it tonight.

He watches my face carefully, though I’m not aware of what he’s searching for. He sighs, but it’s not from impatience. He’s been very patient with me, waking up when I do in the middle of the night, making all the meals, helping me wash my hair. “I wish you’d tell me what you need,” he whispers, cradling my head with his hands in my hair. My eyelids feel heavy when he begins to scratch my scalp. “I don’t know what you’re going through. Tell me what to do for you. I’m doing the best I can, but if there’s anything else… I’ve never…” He sighs again, but this one is more directed at himself. “I’m trying, Luce. Give me something here.”

I think I’ve run out of tears because my eyes burn and nothing happens. He looks up at me so exactly, his complete and undivided attention on me. His attentive eyes usually catch every flicker of emotion on my own face, digesting it, understanding what to do next, but I can see on his face that he’s unsure of what to do right now.

He kisses my cheek again and then my nose and then my brow. He kisses my forehead over and over as if he’s trying to get into my brain and figure out what I want from there since my mouth isn’t working.

“I’m going to make dinner,” he says. His knees crack when he stands up. His neck does the same when he rolls it. “I got some extra Christmas decorations from my parents’ house so we can set up our house and finish it when we get back.”

Anger suddenly bursts through my veins at him. I don’t mean for it to happen, but I need to feel something other than grief and sorrow or I’ll lose my mind or make him lose his mind. I don’t want the latter to happen, and perhaps that’s the root of my anger.

I grab his sleeve. “Stop doing that.”

He looks down at where I’m holding him and then my face. “Doing what?”

“Taking care of me. Stop it.”

Harry frowns. “Why would I stop that? You need it right now.”

“But just because I’m going through this doesn’t mean you have to also.” I manage to make eye contact with him again. It’s been hard to do that recently. “My dad died. Not yours. Go catch up on your sleep. Or eat something. You can’t just stop your life because of me.”

Harry’s back is rigid as he listens to me. I can’t look at his face anymore so I look down at his sleeve and then the cross tattoo on his hand. He doesn’t reply for a long time, but I can feel his eyes on me.

Finally, he removes his arm and says, “Dinner won’t take long. Give me an hour.” And then he leaves to go to the kitchen. I hear him washing his hands. I want to apologize, but I haven’t said anything wrong.

***

When he’s washing the dishes and handing them to me to dry, I say it. Tired of drying the same plate over and over, I put it down and press my nails into my palms to stop the compulsions. In the end, I wipe the plate one more time.

“I want to break up.”

Harry stills, but the plate he’s currently washing falls from his grip and clatters against the sink loudly. I wince, resisting the urge to place my hands over my ears, resisting the urge to turn on my heels and run away from him before he’s able to say anything.

Studying the counter, I feel Harry’s eyes slowly make their way over to my face, but I don’t dare to check the emotions on his face or I fear my legs will give out and all that I have rehearsed in my head will fly out the window and onto the blankets of snow, forever lost. There’s been too much disappointment, first from my mom for not being with my dad because I couldn’t get time off, and now from Harry for giving up on our relationship. The common denominator is me. I am the problem, and he’ll be upset about it for a while, but eventually he’ll see that this is for the best. This week and a half has been just a taste of the next few months Harry will have to endure.

When I go to Ecuador this weekend and hide in my mother’s house, I want to stay there with no guilt, no knowledge of being aware that Harry’s helping around the house when it should be me. He’s helping with the funeral arrangements because I’m unable to get out of bed. I’m an adult. I am 24 years old, yet I feel like a child. I should be taking initiative. I should have done it all, yet I’m laying it all on someone who’s met my dad only twice.

I can’t take knowing that I’ll be putting his life on hold like that, but more importantly, I can’t fathom the idea that Harry expects me to get out of this. I can tell by the way he looks at me when I get out of bed before noon, the light in his eyes burning just a little brighter, his arms stretching out towards me. He’s held me so much during these few weeks and I’ve only crashed harder. He has high expectations for me, wanting me to recover and learn to do the smallest things again such as wash my hair and iron my clothes, but I fear I won’t do that for a long, long time. For the time being that I’m unable to perform effortless tasks, he’ll be burdened with them.

I can’t have a relationship with him right now and this is the conclusion I’ve come to. I can't put my all into loving him the way that I want to. I want to love him so dearly in my own suffocating way, yet I don’t have the energy to lift a single finger at times.

He deserves better.

“No,” Harry finally says, reaching for the plate. His hands are trembling.

He doesn’t hand me the plate when he finishes washing it, instead laying it down in the sink, away from the other dishes.

“I want to.”

“No,” Harry repeats. My gaze flickers to his. He’s hiding his face behind his curls. They’re barely touching his ear lobes but they make excellent curtains. My eyes slide down to his neck and then his sleeves. He’s rolled them up to his forearms. He’s still in his work clothes because he hasn’t had a moment to himself since he returned from work. He’s been catering to my every single need.

“I am going to Ecuador alone.”

His fingers tighten around the cup he’s washing. “No.”

“This isn't something I’m going to negotiate with you. I want to be alone.”

He finally breaks his gaze from the china and shuts the faucet off. He doesn't bother drying his hands since I'm holding the only drying rag we have right now. The other is in the washing machine, the application that has not been used in over a week because Harry hasn’t had the time to do the laundry and I haven’t gone anywhere near it.

I expect him to argue with me. I’m prepared for it. But instead, he leans against the counter, his slippery hands on the marble, and he closes his eyes briefly.

When he speaks, it’s a coarse whisper of, “What did I do?”

My heart falls to my stomach and begins to ache like it’s never done before. It’s simultaneously on fire and corroding.

His head drops low. “Or rather what did I not do? What have I done wrong?”

The clock ticks. 19 seconds later, he moves.

His frame tightens and stands back up to his full weight. His body turns towards me and his hands reach out blindly, grabbing what they can. It ends up being my shoulders, but he’s not satisfied with it, not even when he pushes my back into the counter and yanks my head up.

“Tell me,” he whispers fiercely, his eyes dark. “Just tell me. I’ll fix it. Whatever it is, Luce. Whatever it is.”

His thumbs brush over my cheek, not quite in a romantic way, but in an automatic way. The cold air tells me that I’m crying. Crying was not in the plan.

“Lucía,” he says again, giving me a small shake. “Come back to me. I’m right here. I’m waiting for you. Tell me what to do! I don’t know what to do!”

“I’m telling you what to do now,” I mutter. “I’m telling you to walk away.”

His eyes widen and he tightens his fingers around my face harder. “Anything but that. I will do anything you want, no matter what it is, but I will not do that. I will not walk away and you better now walk away either or I’ll… I’ll…”

There’s nothing he can do. Harry has always commended me for having made up my mind when it’s made up because living in a constant haze of unknown for me is more harmful than anything. When my hand is suspended between the faucet after my fingers have turned pruney from washing my hands over and over, he hates standing there to witness it. He knows he can’t touch me. But he also knows that the only person who can help me in this situation is myself.

And that’s what will help me now.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” he says, thumbing my cheek. “You need help and I’m trying to help you. You don’t get to push me away.”

“I’m telling you what I want.”

“But you love me. I know you do. That’s the only thing I’m certain about right now.”

I can’t deny that. “I do.”

“So, why? What did I do wrong? Why are you doing this to us?”

He absolutely deserves to be told why I'm taking his heart directly from his chest and stepping on it with spiked boots, but I can’t bring myself to, suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue. My eyes slip from his face and he needs to hold my body up so I don’t fall. Perhaps it’s the lack of food or the little water intake that causes this sudden drop, but Harry steps forward and lets me lean on him.

If Harry weren’t here, I would have dropped to the floor and somehow that would hurt less than the guilt I feel right now.

I don’t have an answer for him. He gives me a glass of water.

“Can we talk about this more tonight?” he asks, but he resembles a small child asking his only friend not to ever leave him. My heart aches and I’m out of words, so I nod.

Harry tucks me in and waits a long moment for me to speak up. All my arguments in my head require effort and I can’t seem to even raise my head currently. He kneels besides me and runs his hand over and over my head.

We sit in the dark, listening to that clock on the wall that reminds of just how much time is passing through my fingers and how I’ll never be able to stop it. The distance between the scathing words I've said and Harry’s silence stretches on and on until he finally presses his lips to mine, slowly, tenderly.

He whispers, “If I leave, will you be okay? Will it help?”

I nod.

“Luce, can you give me some sort of verbal response? I can’t see you very well.”

In my small, pathetic voice, I say, “It’ll help.”

He swears softly. “Are you sure? I’m really confused, Luce. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I’ll be okay.”

He swears again, much louder, and I hear him press his forehead to the side table. “I don’t want this. Will you even hear me out if I try to argue with you?”

“Please don’t.”

I wish my dad was here to tell me that I’m being selfish for hurting Harry because he’s the only one I’d listen to right now.

“Luce, I don’t want to break up. Please don’t do this. I don’t want to be alone.”

He knows I’ve made up my mind and the silence confirms this.

He’s quiet for some time and I’m nearly asleep when he stands up, kisses my fingers, and heads to his closet. I hear him remove his suitcase from the corner of his room, lay it down on the hard ground, and begin piling more things into it. We both packed for only a week, but now he’s packing it with all his sweaters and hoodies. I have two of his in my own suitcase, but I don't dare to tell him that.

From his shadow, I see he’s trembling and when he sniffles softly, I want to die. I have never wanted to die more than I want to at that moment. Not when my father passed away, not when I got the call from my mom, and not even when I went to bed only to be unable to get up for the next few days.

Listening to him cry feels as if I’m stuck in quicksand and I want to beg him to stop, implore him to not cry over someone so unworthy, but I can only watch him as he moves around the room, packing a separate bag where he places his shoes, accessories, and larger jackets.

I think I fall asleep when he goes to the bathroom and begins to gather his products from there.

***

Harry doesn’t say much the next morning. He wakes me with a gentle hand and then disappears, leaving me to get ready. At 8, we’re both standing in the kitchen. Harry’s looking at the sink absently as if remembering all that I ruined for him the night before.

He takes my bag from me and sets it in the trunk, lending me his arm when I crunch across the unshoveled snow on the ground and then the ice on the driveway.

When we get to the highway, he says, “Do you have anything else you want to say to me?”

“I don’t think so.”

He nods and adjusts the heat levels. I think he’s angry at me.

“You should pull your beanie over your ears more,” he says after he clears his throat. I look at his phone in the cupholder after I fix my hat, wanting to grab his phone and put some music on like I normally do.

He doesn’t say a word after that. I know how to cope with him when he says what’s on his mind, but not when he’s silent.

It’s my turn to speak. “I bought you something.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “For what?”

“Your birthday.”

His cheeks suck in. “I forgot about it.”

“It’s in the closet. I hid it from you there weeks ago, under your old shoeboxes. Don’t tell me if you hate it.”

“Thanks.”

Silence again. I must seem as if I’m out of my mind for breaking up with him mere three days before his birthday. He shows more signs of anger on his face, but not in his driving. His hands on the wheel as loose as always, his attentive eyes flickering over the road, mirrors, and heat every few seconds. He doesn't need the GPS for directions. Harry and I have already been to Ecuador earlier this year.

The silence is excruciating. Oh, God, how will I ever get this white noise out of my head?

When he finally pulls up against the curb of the airport drop off location and parks the car, neither of us move to get out and wrestle my bag out from the trunk. It’s getting suffocatingly hot in the car and Harry realizes this, reaching out to turn the heat down.

“This is really what you want?” he asks, avoiding looking at me. I know his eyes are red and his nose matches it, not from the biting December cold.

“Yes.”

“Why did you wait until the last moment?”

“I wanted to make it easier on us.”

“Easier,” Harry repeats incredulously. There aren’t many cars parked behind us, so I’m not worried about annoying others by parking where we clearly should not be parked. “You want me to drive away?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay with that? Two years with me and you want it to end like this, Lucía?”

It’s not rare for Harry to use my full name, but this time, his voice is filled with frustration and muted anger.

“I think it’s best if we don’t dwell too long on it.”

Harry finally breaks his gaze from the parking lot and turns his head towards me. His dark eyes are wide in disbelief. “Dwell?” he whispers. “You think I won’t dwell on you? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

I think I might be, but this makes sense in my head. “It’ll be easier.” I know he immediately regrets the tone he’s used with me, but I want to tell him that I like that he’s no longer whispering or tip-toeing around me. There is still a lot of anguish he’s holding back, but he’s swallowing it all down.

His head goes back to resting on his seat. He takes deep breaths and then he presses his palms to his eyes. “Do you want me to beg, Luce? I can. God, I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking doing this to us, but if you want me to beg, I will.”

“Don’t want you to beg. I just want this to end. Easily.”

“What part of this is easy?”

That, I don’t have a reply for. He senses it after a tense pause.

“I can’t stop you from leaving,” he says, removing his hands from his face. He blinks his eyes to adjust to the light. “I can’t go after you. But I hope you know that you’re fucking ruining me. And I don’t know if I can forgive you for that. Have it your way, then.”

His door opens first and he removes my bag from the trunk. Walks me to the door. My fingers are numb despite the gloves he’s made me wear. When we arrive at the sliding doors, his hand yanks my sleeve and thrusts me back to his chest, slamming my jaw into his hoodie.

His quivering, soft lips are warm against my forehead and his hand tenderly strokes my beanie. He seems to be quite confused with his emotions. His words and actions are the opposite, at times tender and other times angered.

“I’m keeping the key so I can come by when you’re gone to get the rest of my stuff.” His voice is scratchy, reminding me of how it sounds after I wake up after falling asleep on his stomach because he hasn’t spoken to anyone since I began unconscious.

I think I’ll remember this moment for my whole life. Our breath in the air, puffy eyes, too hot skin.

He puts his face against my neck, arms around me so tight, I see stars from the lack of air in my lungs. I hold him back as fiercely as I can. He kisses my neck over and over, desperately, clutching my jacket with his hands. His kisses make beautiful noises as they impact and mark my skin, his scent overwhelming and no longer mine. His lips travel to my face and I keep my eyes shut as he bruises my face with those firm kisses repeatedly.

“If you,” he whispers, pulling away, carding his fingers through my hair, “ever want to talk, could you please think of me first? If you need anything. Or if you just want me back, my Lucie, please just call me. Even if you want to see me one more time and decide you never want to again. I will come running back to you. I swear it. I love you. I do. I don’t want this.”

My throat has closed. I nod over and over, disassociated. “Love you.” My voice comes out in a whisper and he finally releases my body, takes a deep breath, breathes out a swear, and then walks away.

I watch him drive off.

I stand there until I can't feel my face.

And then I go to catch my flight.

***

One Year Later

My friends greet me with a cheer and help me inside the restaurant since they’ve arrived at the same time as me. I get two massive hugs from both of them, one of them marveling over how I’ve cut my hair. The last time I’d seen them, one of them was driving me to therapy, and the other one had picked me up. My car is still under many feet of snow so I’ve taken an Uber here, though I’ll need a ride back home because I suspect this party will not be over for many hours and it’s already 8.

All three of us enter and find our table. We’re not the first ones here, so we greet the others and fall into comfortable small talk as we wait for the rest of our friends.

The girl I’ve been closest to touches my earring lightly. “Hey.”

I turn to her. Her name is Esmeralda and she smiles at me. “Hi.”

“I wanted to tell you earlier but I didn’t actually find out until a few moments ago. Harry’s going to be here.” She searches my face. “Is that alright?”

Harry. I haven’t seen him since he drove away from the airport a year and exactly one month ago. I play with my earring and nod, giving Esmeralda a smile that I hope shows honesty. “Yes. That’s okay.”

She nods. “I get that whatever happened between you guys hasn’t fully settled yet. He wasn’t going to come for the dinner, but the snow let up and he said he was available–”

“Ez, you don’t have to make excuses for him. I introduced you to him and he’s a part of this group. I knew I’d have to see him eventually.”

I didn’t go to the Christmas dinner a few weeks back since my mother was visiting, and I didn’t exactly have the strength to get ready. That month was brutal to me, and I’m happy that I don't have to explain myself to my friends. I was able to have some time to myself, grieving. I did imagine seeing Harry if I ended up going to the Christmas dinner, however, I knew it wasn’t likely that I’d go. Now, a month later at my friend’s late New Year’s dinner, I accepted the idea of seeing Harry again.

The only difficult part is that I don’t fully realize how premature this meeting is until he arrives, clad in his black suit that looks very familiar to the one he bought last year for my birthday, a smile stretched wide on his face. His hair has not been cut and he easily tucks it behind his ear, the shiny curls resting gently on his broad shoulders.

My heart steadily throbs in my chest, hands clammy and cold, and I’m aware of Esmeralda’s cautious look thrown in my direction. From the moment Harry enters and goes around the table hugging all of our friends, I realize how selfish of a woman I truly am. Because I’m happy he’s got his smile lines back, but I’m also unhappy that I haven’t been the one to cause them to return.

He stands to his full height after he finished hugging Esmeralda, kissing her cheek, and when his gaze falls onto me, he takes a step back. His smile does not fall when he sees me, but it does falter. The chatter around us has begun again so it’s easy to focus solely on him, especially without anyone watching us and monitoring both our reactions. His throat works as he swallows and then he holds his hand out, fingers lightly decorated with two or three rings.

It’s been over a year.

“Hi,” he hesitantly says in his deep, rich voice that used to make me melt.

He helps me up and it suddenly reminds me of his hands on my back as he’d help me sit up in bed so I could have my first meal of the day sometime well into the afternoon. To my surprise, Harry doesn’t look angry at me, nor does he say things that may suggest he has negative feelings towards me. In fact, when I stand up, he pulls me into a friendly hug. My heart is thundering in my chest and ears, hands shaking as they link behind Harry’s neck.

He smells the same.

His arm goes around my waist for half a second, squeezing me, before returning his arms back to his side. He doesn't kiss my cheek like he’s done for everyone else.

“Hi,” he repeats, clearing his throat. “Sorry. I didn’t know you’d be here. You weren’t at the other dinner so I thought…”

“My mom was here,” I blurt, mentally kicking myself because I haven’t even said hello.

His eyebrows raise. “Oh, was she? For how long?”

“Two weeks.”

Harry nods and sticks his hands into his pockets. “Ah. That’s good. I’m glad you got to see her. She’s doing well?”

“Yes.” This is painfully awkward. I wish my hands would stop shaking. “Er, how are you?”

“I’m alright. I’m good. How are you?” His question is accompanied with a frown as if he can’t believe he’s just asked me that. “Sorry. That was stupid of me to ask. I hope you’re doing a lot better.”

I offer him an attempt at a smile. “It’s okay. I’m doing alright too.”

He nods again, looking away. “It’s good to see you. You look great.” His tone falls flat at the end.

“Thank you. You, too.”

“Thanks.” He steps back then, inclining his head, and then walking around me to get to the other side of the table.

I practically fall into my seat as if put off balance by our conversation. How incredibly awkward. My cheeks are on fire and I shove my hands under my thighs.

I try to keep my eyes off Harry during dinner, but as usual, he’s the center of the discussion often because of his ability to turn anything into a fun conversation. When he’s speaking generally to all of us, my eyes gravitate over to him, down his neck, and into the blazer of his shirt. A small necklace rests against his collars, but the pendant itself is hidden under his shirt so I can’t see if it’s the same necklace he’s worn for years or not.

Harry, though, manages to avoid all eye contact with me for the duration of the dinner. An odd feeling settles into my stomach, something that I’ve refused to acknowledge since he’s come here, and it accompanies the thought that he’s just not interested anymore.

He has every reason to have moved on, and perhaps that person is the reason for those smile lines returning. His eyes are light, contrasting with the darkness that surrounded him when he was with me last, holed up in that house for weeks, tending to my every need. He’s relaxed, knees spread wide under the table, laughing with his head thrown back. He’s happy. And I am happy for him.

When he speaks, I try to catch any underlying tone of tenderness about anyone he speaks about, such as a significant other. But he talks about his family, his neighbors, and his little cousins, but never of anyone else. Nobody teases him of his significant other or anyone in his life. Perhaps they’ve sworn off the topic since both Harry and I are here, and a part of me is happy about that because I’m not sure how I’d handle it.

He’s so close to me after over a year of silence. When I returned from Ecuador a year ago, I half expected Harry to still be there, making our bed or doing laundry, waiting for my return, but he wasn’t there. When I entered our foyer and called out his name, I expected him to show his face, grim and stern. I thought he’d hand me a cup of hot coffee, force me to sit down, and have a conversation about our break up, but all I got back were echoes.

He’d done exactly as I’d told him to: walked away. He left barely any trace of him behind in our house. Not even a spare toothbrush. This is what I asked of him, and he’d done it, so why did I feel that emptiness inside my body again?

As I stare at him, I try to imagine what exactly he’s thinking of. Does he feel my eyes on his? Is he bothered by my gaze?

Dinner goes by quickly and we all drink to a new year. When it comes time for New Year’s Resolutions, Harry raises his glass and says, “My resolution is to get you all to pay me back because I have been paying for you freeloaders for years now.” It makes me laugh and Harry’s eyes cut to mine briefly as he sips his drink.

When it’s my turn, I raise my glass and say, “I want to go out more with all of you.”

Esmeralda says she wants to have more sex and Harry throws his entire drink back at that.

Eventually, everyone begins to leave and we head over to our cars. I hang back, waiting for my Uber to come, rubbing my hands together. I feel lighter now that I’ve surrounded myself with my friends and my first encounter with Harry after our breakup wasn’t exactly bad.

Footsteps behind me crunch against the snow.

“Hey.” Harry stands besides me, his hands in his pockets. His nose is already red from the cold and his skin looks paler against the blankets of snow.

My traitorous heart leaps into my throat. He’s speaking to me. “Hi.”

“You’re waiting for your ride?”

“Yeah.”

He nods. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

I turn my body fully towards his, leaning against the restaurant’s outer structure. He’s not looking at me, playing with his keys inside his pocket. I look at him properly, taking in everything. I recall the kisses I placed on his cheeks and neck, my hands sliding into his shirt, my tongue touching his in the midst of heated, hot kisses. Something inside me aches.

“No, it’ll be here soon.”

“Okay.”

He makes no move to leave. Instead, he looks down at his shoes and taps the snow off them. I’m amazed by how I’ve forgotten just how tall he is. A fragment in my chest caves at the thought of all the things I probably don’t know about him anymore.

“Are you okay?” he asks, still looking at the ground.

“Are you asking me that or your shoes?”

He raises his head and slides his eyes over to mine. “Sorry. It’s just…you know.”

“Awkward, I know. I’m okay. Really.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Are you also waiting for a ride?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Harry looks away, rubbing his hands together.

A few cars pass by, our friends sticking their hands out to say goodbye to us. Harry and I both wave back.

“Are you upset with me?” Harry asks, kicking snow off his shoes again.

I frown immediately. “What? No. Why do you think that?”

“I don’t,” he clarifies quietly, removing his keys from his pocket, fiddling with them. “I don’t think you’re upset with me because you’d tell me. But I also think that things have changed and I don’t know if you’d tell me if you were upset with me.”

“Why would I be?”

He shakes his head, curls flying. I catch a glimpse of a hair tie around his wrist that makes me think that he puts his hair into a bun. I’d love to see it. “I don’t know.” He clears his throat. “Listen, I don’t want this to be awkward. We’re probably going to see each other more if you come to things like this so I just want to make sure we’re good. You’re not upset and I’m not either.”

“You’re not? You deserve to be. It’s okay.”

“No,” Harry says, clearly lying. “I’m not. It’ll be a little weird, but since we have the same friends…” he trails off. “You get what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’re both mature enough to handle this breakup properly. I think that’s your ride.”

My Uber is now parked in front of the restaurant. I pull my coat tighter against me. “Yeah. I’ll see you.” His jaw is tight as he nods.

“Lucía,” he suddenly calls, when I get to the car. I turn to look at him, holding the handle tightly so I don’t slip. “We’re friends, right?”

I smile. It’s a genuine one too, and it makes one of his dimples return, not quite as deep as I’d prefer, but I think it’ll get there someday.

“Yes,” I answer truthfully. “We are.”

***

Present

Harry lays kiss after kiss on my face. He starts down at my collarbones, dipping his head to get all that he can, using his hands around my jaw to maneuver me in the position of his choosing. Since I’m half asleep, I let him. His lips are warm from his hot chocolate, his curls tickling my jaw as he continues his kisses higher. My jaws are next. Then my cheeks. My nose. And finally my eyelids.

“Open them,” he murmurs, cradling my head. “Let me see those pretty eyes.”

“Harry.” I’m trying to pull away from him, unable to bite away the smile on my face. “Stop it.”

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my mouth softly. He presses me into our kitchen counter, besides the sink. “You’re so soft. Can I keep you with me forever?”

I can’t help but laugh, grabbing his shirt and slowly pushing him away. He stumbles back a bit, but grins at me, releasing my face. “Yes you can keep me forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, mi ángel.”

Harry pinches my cheek fondly, his eyes half lidded. “How are you feeling?”

I did not have a great night last night, but having Harry beside me, tending to my needs whether I needed kisses or just a cold glass of water helped me tremendously. He was there, his arm slung over my shoulders, his legs tangled with mine. We tried to put the clock up last night, but after a few hours, I couldn’t take the sound any longer and Harry had removed the batteries.

“I’m doing better.”

“Good,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me again. His hands hold my back firmly, encouraging me to step onto my toes, and when I do, he hoists me onto the counter.

I fist his curls gently, leaning back against the cabinet. His mouth lays on mine to give me a passionate kiss, his hands sliding down to my bare thighs where the cool marble of the counter has made goosebumps form on my skin. He rubs on them lightly as if trying to get rid of them, but when his tongue slides across my lower lip and presses into my mouth, a flutter in my stomach occurs.

“You are so pretty,” he whispers against my mouth, palming over my inner thighs until I part them and he stands between them. “You look so cute in my shirt. I just want to eat you up.”

“Yeah?” I whisper back, pushing his hair back. “Go ahead then.”

A smile spreads across my boyfriend’s lips. “You want it?”

“Mhm.”

“As you wish, Luce.”

I watch him, holding back my laugh, as he slowly sinks down to his knees and spreads my thighs apart. With a yank, he lines the apex of my thighs to his mouth and begins to softly kiss my thighs.

Unlike four years ago, Harry and I have been having frequent sex. Since we’ve gotten back together a few weeks ago, it’s been all about relearning each other’s bodies, and while I do try to pleasure him when we’re not having penetrative sex, I’ve learned that one thing hasn’t changed about Harry: he loves getting on his knees for me.

It’s arousing to see him submit between my legs, kissing and tasting me as if he’s never had anything so delicious. Harry’s warm tongue can be both precise and sloppy, and it’s one thing I’m happy to report that hasn’t changed. Even prior to our breakup, Harry had a talent for making me cum on his tongue, and he hasn’t lost his enthusiasm for it.

He promised me weeks ago that he’d spend more time between my legs. He has been recently. And I love the sight of his curly hair bunched into my fists, his tongue working over me, his fingers deep inside, rubbing that one part that I can’t reach myself.

I shudder with anticipation as Harry slowly slides my underwear down my legs, his eyes flickering up to meet mine briefly. When he looks at me like that, I want to combust.

He presses a kiss to each thigh and then pulls me closer, running his tongue along my core. Electricity zips through me and I have to catch myself before I hit my head against the cabinets, my fingers instantly tightening around his curls.

He laps his tongue over my clit gently before his eyes flutter shut and he seemingly loses himself in the moment. How can such a filthy scene turn into a loving one? His nose is pressed over my clit and his tongue… fuck’s sake his talented tongue.

I used to be embarrassed of the sounds I made when he’d lick me. They’re quite different to what they can be when Harry’s dick is inside of me, but right now, I feel overwhelmed, and the noise that comes out is a breathy plea.

“Fuck,” I whisper softly, tucking his hair back almost endearingly. “You are so good, mi ángel. Always treating me well.”

His eyebrows twitch, telling me he likes it when I speak to him. When he pulls away and looks at me with those gorgeous green eyes, there’s a string of spit connecting us, and he doesn’t bat an eye when he presses two fingers to my mouth. “Go on.”

I take his middle and ring finger into my mouth, coating them generously with my saliva. He hums his approval and then removes his fingers, dragging my lip as he does. “Good girl.”

I don’t have enough time to react to his words as he presses a single finger into me, sinking it deep until I jolt, letting out a desperate groan. “Fuck’s sake…”

“So pretty,” he repeats, working the second finger in, staring at me as he twists his fingers and rubs that spot inside of me that makes me unable to stop whimpering.

A lazy smile spreads over his lips. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Harry,” I whisper, resting my head on the cabinets. “Oh, fucking hell. Please. Please, that’s so fucking good.”

He loves it. He eats it up. His tongue joins the mixture, gently flicking my clit as his fingers work inside of me, a combination that never fails to make me squirm.

The sensation is bursting inside of me, low in my stomach and also in my thundering heart. His eyes are closed again as if he’s enjoying every second of it, swallowing my cries, taking them as encouragement. My thighs begin to tremble and he feels them around the frame of his face. He picks his head up, bites down on my thigh, and grins up at me. “Doing okay?”

“My heart is going to stop.”

He snorts and stands up, keeping his fingers buried inside of me. He’s abusing that spot over and over, soaking my sounds. He kisses my mouth firmly, using his other hand to hold the back of my neck, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, please, please, right there!” I chant over and over against his mouth, my eyes beginning to water at the intensity of the pleasure. “Oh fuck, Harry. I love you. I love you so much, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Do you have any idea how much you’re drenching my fingers?” he murmurs softly, trailing his lips over my jaw. He bites down on my earlobe. “I can feel you running down my palm, Luce.”

With those words, he presses his fingers into me at a punishingly fast pace and then returns to rub that beautiful spot. He’s all I can see and hear, curls in my hand, my body trembling against his fully clothed one. When I glance down, I can see his hand straining, veins outlined around his forearm, but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit affected by the pain building up there. He’s watching my face, holding my jaw, swallowing my cries.

“Are you going to give me a good one?” he murmurs, tracing my cheek tenderly as if this is a romantic moment. I nod desperately. “Yeah? You deserve it, don’t you? Haven’t had the best week, so this can be your reward for keeping it together. Think you should get this reward more often?”

“Yes,” I breathe, unable to keep myself from kissing his mouth. “You always feel so fucking good.”

He smiles at that, biting down on my lower lip. “You’re so pretty,” he says for the hundredth time. “You’ve always been pretty to me, from the moment I met you to now. Even when you were breaking up with me.” He raises his head and softly laughs. “Now look at us. I’m about to make you cum. We’re in love. Seems like a happy ever after, right?”

“Let me have an orgasm first, you arrogant bastard,” I whisper, gripping onto his shoulders tightly. “I can’t hold it.”

He laughs again. “I’m not telling you to hold it.”

The orgasm rocks through my violently. I clutch him close to me, muffling my cries into his shoulder, his hand holding the back of my head to his body tenderly while his other hand’s fingers move inside of me deeply, showing no signs up stopping until my orgasm has passed and I’m left only panting and no longer trying to hold in a scream.

“You are beautiful, my Lucie. Absolutely beautiful.”

Harry kisses my hair and slowly withdraws his fingers out of me. He kisses the bridge of my nose, removes his hoodie and hands it to me. As I shakily put it on, he watches me carefully and washes his hands at the sink.

He’s grinning when I reach for him. To my surprise, he wipes away the moisture in my eyes and holds me gently to his chest.

“How is it,” I whisper, listening to the sounds of my own heartbeat in my ears, “that you feel so good to me? Maybe we’re meant to be.”

He chuckles. “I do think we’re meant to be, Luce. And that’s very sweet of you to say after an orgasm.”

“But I mean it,” I weakly insist. “I do.”

“I know. I’m only kidding. Here.” He hands me my underwear and helps me off the counter. Once everything is in place, he softly pulls my chin up to align our eyes. He’s been doing this for years and it always makes me want to fall into his arms.

“I was thinking we could go out tonight. For dessert.”

“Okay,” I murmur, testing my legs. “I think I can handle that. Give me like two minutes and I’ll help you with your situation.” The situation is his hard cock in his sweatpants.

Harry wipes the edge of his mouth and takes a step back. “It’s okay. We’ll have more fun tonight. I’m really hungry too. Can you give me a minute and I’ll be right back?”

He turns away, but I catch his sleeve. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me these past few years,” I tell him quietly. “I thought about it a lot when we weren’t together, how you helped me when my dad died and how hard those weeks were. I broke up with you because I felt overwhelmed and couldn’t love you properly, and I never got to say thank you. So I’m saying it now. Four years later.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for some time, his eyes soft, mouth gently curved up. Finally, he brushes his fingers over my cheek and says, “You’re welcome. I’ll be right back, Luce.” I nod, turn my head to kiss his fingers, and then go to make breakfast as he heads off to the bathroom.

I’m waiting for him in the dining room when he comes back. He sits down in the chair opposite of mine and reaches for his hot chocolate that I’ve reheated.

“Alright, my love. What have you got for me this morning?”

[folkloreguk]

🍒Cherry Ice Cream (2)🍒

A/N: Part two is here! There won't be another one after this. I just wanted to split it into two little scenarios with one being cute and the other not so cute lmao...I hope you enjoy - as always I appreciate feedback a lot!

taglist: @lovely-ateez

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), lifeguard!au, pool sex, unprotected sex

words: 3.4 k

PART 1 (fluff, both parts can be read independently)

It was the middle of the summer holidays and you had never been happier. Sunny weather, swimming, lots of free time and as much ice cream as you wanted were only a few of the reasons for your luck. The main cause was the boy of your dreams. A few weeks ago, you had met. It had been the most chaotic, embarrassing day at the public swimming pool – or so you had initially thought. Turns out being a walking disaster could not only attract negative attention. When the otherworldly handsome and kind lifeguard had pulled your clumsy figure out of the water and even bought you ice cream to make you feel better, you had a feeling things were about to change. And you hadn’t been wrong. Maybe you were seeing things through rose-colored glasses and a mix of lovestruck hormones, but you suspected he might just really be this great.

Ever since your first ice cream date, the two of you had been inseparable. Looks were one thing – and you had made yourself aware that though he was a picture of perfection, he could still have turned out to not be your type at all. But the inside reflected on his outside. Every day you found out a new enrapturing detail about him. He was a never-ending book that you were utterly unwilling to put back down.

Your days were spent at the public swimming pool, watching your lifeguard boyfriend do his job and questioning if this was all some sort of hidden camera prank. During his break he came running straight to your spot under the trees and plopped down on your towel, ready to spend the most time with you until he had to go back. Although your streak of bad luck was over, he still took care of you and made sure you were okay in the heat. He reminded you to drink enough water and sent you a good morning text every day. When he had first asked you to help him put sunscreen on his shoulders, you had hesitated with cheeks hotter than the sunlight that day. Now it was a daily thing, and sometimes when his hands were on your back, rubbing in the lotion, you caught yourself wishing there weren’t a hundred families around you. But it was hard scoring alone time with him at the pool. Even later at night, right before closing time, there were always one or two diehard swimming fans there.

“I love watching my cute girlfriend swim,” he would keep telling you.

“You better make sure you’re paying attention to the rest of the visitors, too,” you would reply, but secretly love his flirty remarks. Perhaps he wasn’t even so far off. After your first encounter, it was apparent that maybe you were the one guest who didneed the closest monitoring. Even his co-workers knew of you. They had made it their life mission to remind him daily how whipped he was for you, but he never cared about their teasing.

At night, you rode your bikes home. Towards the candy cotton clouds on the horizon, through the small suburb, you rode side by side, still damp hair flowing in the wind. Outside your home he cupped your face then, the sun kissed skin of his hands still warm to the touch. Like he was the slowly setting sun himself, he kissed you goodnight. You were addicted to his lips. He made you fly, brought back all your fondest memories as if he himself was in them, and let you forget every worry you’ve ever had in the world.

One evening at the pool, you lay on your bathmat, headphones in your ears and your favorite summer playlist taking you to another world. Suddenly, two hands grabbed you by the shoulders. You jerked up in surprise.

“Oh my god, we could have hit our heads together!” you scolded your boyfriend, who was smiling at you like an innocent five-year old.

“Guess what. My boss just told me that I can close the place up tonight. You know what that means, right?” he said.

“Tell me more,” you smirked.

“Technically, we can stay here however long we want. And do whatever we want. As long as no one finds out,” he whispered the last part into your ear. Chills ran up your spine despite the heat in the air.

“Do whatever we want, huh?” you said. “I thought you were being a model employee?”

“I am,” he shrugged with his child-like smile. “And the model employee needs to go back to work now. I have a reputation to uphold. You’ll be waiting for me, right?”

“Of course,” you nodded, watching his figure as he jogged back to his seat by the pool. The next hours seemed to go by extra-slowly, to your dismay. After his announcement, you only found yourself staring in his direction more than on any other day. Truly, you could never get used to his handsomeness. You thought of his voice that made you melt like ice and his hands when he kissed you. Too often they remained in innocent, safe territory. Maybe that was about to change. It was a Friday, meaning the opening hours were longer than usual. By 10 pm however, even the last person had left. The public swimming pool was closed. Officially.

You had to admit, you could get used to having an enormous swimming pool all to yourself. Blissfully, you dived through the water, not having to worry about crashing into anybody’s legs or losing track of your surroundings. You had always felt as though swimming was a little like flying. Not that you knew what flying would be like. But if you had to make a guess, feeling weightless and small in a seemingly endless space probably came close. All your life, it had remained the same. Playing pretend in the water, acting like a mermaid scavenging for the most precious treasure of the seven seas – all your loveliest ideas lingered in your memory like it had been yesterday.

The pool had a shallow end, about the depth which allowed your head to reach above the surface, and progressively deepened towards the other end. You took a gulp of air and descended into the darkness. Taking long strokes, you dived towards the white light at the wall of the shallower pool end. With the brightness ahead of you, you failed to notice the shadow behind you.

As you were in the process of coming up from the water, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around you. For the second time that day, you jolted in surprise and quickly gasped for air.

“You scared me out of my wits! Will you stop that!” you said, but you were already smiling. It was hard to carry grudges against the boy behind you. Not when he held your waist and rested his chin on your bare shoulder, grinning as if it was a crime to even suspect him of such things.

“Hi, there,” he said and pecked your cheek sweetly. “I missed you.”

“So did I,” you admitted. Only months ago, you had made fun of how lovestruck your friend had been. You weren’t one to speak now. His hands let go of you while you turned your body to face him. Then they were on you again, and although it was a small touch, your lack of clothes created a tension between you right away.

“Wanna race me?” he whispered into your ear, as if there was anyone around to listen in. Was he serious? Did he really think you wanted him to let go of you now? His voice on your neck rendered you wanting him so bad, you had to take a deep breath to compose yourself.

“I’ve been swimming all day,” you said. “Besides, didn’t you say we could do whatever we wanted? We can swim whenever we want, during opening hours.”

“Oh, sounds like you have better plans?” he asked. For a moment, he touched your forehead with his. If you bent forward slightly, you could have kissed him. His hungry eyes were on your lips when you had finished the thought.

“I was thinking you could kiss me, for starters?” you coaxed him. He chuckled.

“So you’ve been thinking about it too, the past few hours,” he realized. “You know, I was trying to be subtle about it.”

“Forget about being subtle,” you said. “Let’s just make out, please?”

“I’d like nothing better than that,” he smiled, and then your mouths touched. His gentle lips tasted faintly of chlorine and salt, a taste you had come to associate with him and magnificent things. You held his face in your hands tightly and pushed your body against him yearningly. Reacting, he sighed and deepened the kiss. His wandering hands found the small of your backside as you arched your back into his frame. You hummed quietly, hands burying in his wet hair and playing with it at the nape of his neck.

All your childhood you had been searching for your treasure under the water. Now you understood. He was right there in front of you. Little you would be proud you had found someone this precious and incomparable. And hot.

“Jump,” he said. You did as he suggested and wrapped your legs around his waist. The proximity of his body made your heart hammer against your ribcage with such feverishness, you worried it might jump through your chest. With the way he touched every curve of your body, you almost forgot how to kiss. Luckily, your instincts did the job for you as you sipped on his lips and sighed every so often. He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, and you felt his smirk when you moaned in surprise. Every inch of your skin burned with desire for him.

As he carried you over to the side of the pool, you pulled away shortly. You took the liberty to attack his neck with frenzied kisses. It felt just as you had imagined a thousand times. You couldn’t possibly recount all the instances when you had found yourself staring at his neck and shoulders in the past weeks. He was easily the biggest distraction you had ever known. But it wasn’t your fault his tanned skin was so inviting and his strong presence ever so alluring. Returning his teasing, you bit into his shoulder, kissing and sucking on it right after.

“Fuck, baby,” he said in a throaty tone. “You’re amazing.”

Softly, he rubbed his nose against yours before your lips locked again. The kiss was all but soft. Your tongues meddled as if you were starved people and you could barely keep your hands in one place. Not that you would want to. You wanted to glue his hands onto your body or better yet handcuff him to your wrists. What was the opposite of a restraining order called? You were about to invent a word for it. Never before had you been so intoxicated, so in ecstasy with another person.

He pulled aside the fabric of your top momentarily and cupped your breasts in his hands. You gasped and melted into his touch and the way he played with your nipples. He attacked your neck in kisses and you shut your eyes, enjoying the sensation of his lips.

“I really want you.” He had his hands on your ass and all you could think about was the growing bulge in his swimming shorts. Your hard nipples rubbed against his chest, the thin fabric of your swim top doing little to nothing to separate your bodies. How could somebody’s whole existence be so titillating? He pulled away, just far enough to speak but barely. “I’ve wanted you like this for a while. But I didn’t want to unsettle you by making you think I just want sex from you. Truth is, I don’t want you to be just some summer romance, Y/N. Every day I hope you’ll still be here when summer is over.”

“Why would you think I’m going anywhere?” you asked. “You’re the reason I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I ask myself every day how I managed to end up with you in the first place.”

“That’s easy. First, threaten to demolish the turnstile with your stubbornness, second, offer your head to a bunch of kids with a water ball, third, square up against a bug in front of a hundred people, fourth- “

“Okay! Enough,” you said. “Don’t bring up my clumsiness. That’s just about the least sexy thing in the world.”

“Baby, I think there’s nothing not sexy about you,” he spoke. He kissed you deeply and all your embarrassing memories vanished at once. “So, you’re cool with this?”

His sudden change in tone caused your breath to hitch in your throat, as his hands lingered by your hips, just above your bikini bottom. You only nodded, the motion getting more eager as the words sunk in. He slid his fingers along the inside of your thigh, and you squirmed under his touch in desperation. Swiftly, he pushed aside the material above your center. His digits slid through your wetness, catching the nub between them, and rubbing ever so slowly. An overwhelmed gasp spilled over your lips, and you closed your eyelids.

“Fuck- ,“ you muttered under your breath. He teased your core, nearly sliding his finger into you, but then pulling away to find your nub to toy with.

“You look so beautiful,” he said. At his words, you looked at him through fluttering eyelids. He was one to talk about beauty. The luminescence from underwater sharpened his features, and his eyes had something magical, something enchanting about them. Like he could have you – or anyone – without saying a word. He reminded you of a merman, or rather a siren. Ready to drag you along with him, deep under the surface. And you were so willing to let it happen. For all you knew, you were long lost and under his spell anyway.

“Have you ever done it in public?” he asked. You were too distracted by his fingers on you at first, head hanging back in ecstasy, until you snapped out of it.

“No, but – fuck – I guess I can strike that one off my sex bucket list after tonight, can’t I?” you said.

“You have a sex bucket list? Interesting, tell me more about it,” he smirked. His eyes darkened and his tongue licked over his lips once. As if on command, his lazy ministrations on you quickened, rubbing your clit in small, circular motions until you were a moaning, stammering mess. You suspected he did so just to see your immediate reaction, and you gave him just what he wanted.

“Can we postpone the – the talking…on later?” you murmured, feeling like collapsing against his broad shoulders. “I’m kind of too busy to – to talk.”

“I can see that,” he teased you, kissing you gently. The delicacy of his lips only made your head spin more. “You’re so sweet, baby.”

“Don’t you want to get busy too?” you asked. You reached for his swimming trunks and wrapped your hand around his hard member through the material. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Shit- me too.” His arousal echoed in his moans, and he sucked in a breath. There was a sense of power in knowing you could make him react so gravely by doing so little. You tugged on his trunks and pulled them down a little to reveal his full length. Palming him, you felt how painfully hard he must have been for a while now. He groaned and it was the best thing you had ever heard. Eagerly, you slid your bikini bottom off and watched for a moment as it sunk down into the depths of the pool. Your legs wrapped around his waist again as he aligned his cock with your core.

At this point you supposed you were both out of words. Hunger had taken over and you barely managed to form a sentence. He kissed you and you hummed and nodded, wanting him to know you were ready. Easily, he entered you and you whimpered at the way he stretched your velvet walls after all the wait. Your senses were overcome with everything around you. The warm water enveloping the both of you, the soft summer breeze caressing your faces, his hands on your hips as he guided your body into his thrusts and the sound of your breathless moans and sighs – it was pure bliss. Night had almost fallen, with the sky being a deep blue, almost black by now. It was a perfect setting for a perfect night with your favorite person.

You gazed into his dilated pupils and the coil in your stomach tightened in the most delicious way possible. Now you recounted a myriad of dreams you’d seen him in. Not always, but occasionally he showed up in your dirtiest of dreams, with his gorgeous, addictive smile and strong arms. But now he was right there, in front of you – inside of you – and you apprehended how weak your boldest imaginations had been. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as you clenched around his cock. He moaned your name huskily and it only clouded your head further.

It was crazy how loving a person could magnify everything. Even with closed eyes, the mere idea of him fucking you, at night in a public pool, could beat every single other experience you’d ever had. You felt like you were blessed with the audience with a god. A god, who had manifested on earth only to scoop you up and show you the finest things in life. You definitely couldn’t think of a finer thing than his cock dragging through your walls, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, while he had you cased against the pool tiles. Moans and little whimpers fell from your lips, and you were glad there wasn’t a single soul close by who could have heard.

He was jaw-dropping. With the way he pounded into you hard, using the poolside wall as support on your back, you felt your head spin as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your skin seemed to prickle wherever he touched you and you pushed your chest against his. Just a little closer, you told yourself, even though you were running out of space already. It was body against body while he whispered naughty things into your ears, telling you how incredible you felt, how lucky he had gotten with you and how sexy he found you.

“You’re the fucking best I’ve ever had, baby,” he said. His teeth grazed your neck as he kissed your sensitive skin messily. You could have counted every single drop of water hanging from the strands of his hair and adorning his face. Could have taken notice of every single eyelash and even the tiniest speckles of color in his irises. But you could barely command your eyes to stay open.

“So- close,” you said. In your ecstasy, you clawed at his back as another wave of pleasure went through your entire body.

“Together, hm?” he said, lips brushing over your cheek with every thrust. You hummed and nodded, as he picked up his thrusts to a toe-curling speed. With every touch of your sweet spot, you felt reality slip away a little further, and you were doing nothing to fight it. You invited the feeling in, resting your forehead against his, breaths coming out in short puffs. And then it overcame you. Your orgasm jolted through you like electricity, and you clung to him as if you might have sunken otherwise. It made your shared moans high pitched, and he followed you, pulling you into his arms like it was alone you who was keeping him afloat.

The splashing of the water softened as he drew out your highs for as long as possible with slower thrusts. Eventually, he halted completely. He cradled your face in his hands and when you finally opened your tired eyes, he was watching you with full adoration. His charming smile caused an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. This was only the beginning of your time together, yet you could barely fathom your fortune. And as it seemed, this time fate was on your side.

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate!Harry: I’ll Make It Up To You - Part 3

Please like if it’s not too shabby, re-blog for anyone who you think may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Part 1 - Part 2 

Word Count: 3.9K 

Warnings: I think slight swearing, One sentence of smutty language. 

A/N-The bold bits are a flashback! 

————————— 

 You were spending your Wednesday afternoon doing housework and cleaning up your apartment. In the last two weeks, you had been helping Harry here and there with writing some songs, but you never wanted to take any credit for his work. You were just happy to help. 

You’d both let the mess pile up a little bit, mainly paper thrown everywhere, scribbled with random lyrics and instrument chords. You had vowed to yourself that you weren’t going to write anymore or get yourself lost in your musical dream world, but Harry always seemed to manage to get you sucked in to help.

You pick up your phone to dial H, letting it ring a few times.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Everything fine?” Harry answers worriedly.

You couldn’t help but chuckle “Everything is fine, I just phoned to see if you needed any of that paper on the piano or if it can be thrown?”

“Erm, maybe just stick it in a pile in my room and I’ll go through and sort it later. What are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning our pigsty of an apartment Haz!” You laugh and smile. 

“Look at you being a wife” He teases and chuckles. 

“Shut up, or you’ll be my next victim! Do you want me to wash your bedding too?”

“Ohhh yes please! You’re an angel!”

“Someone’s got to be” You smile. “And your spare sheets are in the drawer under your bed?” You hold your phone to your ear with your shoulder as you pile the thrown papers together. 

“Yeah I think I- Erm...a-actually I can put the sheets on when I’m home!” He says quickly. You were slightly taken back by the change in his tone. “Are you sure?”

“Y-yeah....yeah I...I forgot I’d bought some new ones a while ago and they’re...they’re still in my car” He fakes a chuckle, although you soon became oblivious to his cover story.

“Did you manage to get those silky black ones?!” You gasp.

“Y-yeah...yeah I did”...fuck. “I gotta go, Jeff’s pestering me to sign some stuff. I’ll see you later”

“Okie dokie, see you later. Text me when you’re leaving the studio and I’ll start dinner.” 

“Thanks babe, laters” He sighs softly and hangs up. “I need to order black silk sheets on Amazon asap...” He groans.

“You still haven’t told her?!” Jeff sighs, his head shaking. “Harry you need to do it sooner or later...”

“I know but she might freak out!” Harry’s brows furrowed as he kicks the floor softly. “Right...let’s keep going” He sighs.

You cleaned the apartment top to toe, and you couldn’t help admit that you did feel much better. It felt cosier than before, and on this particular day, the sun was glowing, warming your skin through the window.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this. You promised yourself two weeks ago that you wouldn’t be doing this. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t put your mind back into your past and be sitting writing songs about old feelings and passed experiences. But here you were...

Using the back of the scraps of paper from Harry’s pile, you were spilling out every word that came to mind, like every feeling in your chest was finally released. Your fingers glided across the piano keys flawlessly with the words you had pieced together, falling perfectly from your mouth. The weight being lifted made you wish you had done this months ago.

—————————

“Come on babe, everyone’s already waiting for us at the party...your birthday party which me and all your friends have thrown for you and we’re late!” Your boyfriend Adam teased as he smiled, “You look great” He chuckles as he grabs his jacket. 

“Okay, I’m ready! Let’s go. I can’t believe you guys all managed to book out Club 21 for me!” You grin as you followed him into the taxi towards the club.

“You dropped my hand while dancing, so I left you out there standing...crestfallen on the stage with...champagne problems

You had a cheap ring for it...my picture in your wallet...but my heart was glass and you dropped it...now I have champagne problems” 

The music was pounding as you danced around happily with all your friends on the dance floor. You were having the best night of your life so far. Surrounded by all of yours and Adam’s best friends. You pant as you escape the crowded dance floor and head over to the bar, joining your friend Niall, and your best friend and flat mate Harry, who were both best friends too. 

“Hello birthday girl!” Niall grins and hugs you tightly, kissing your cheek. “It’s not my birthday yet!” You laugh and hug him tightly, then hugging Harry. “Not for another...57 minutes” Harry smiles.

“Have you guys seen Adam? He said he’d get me a drink and I haven’t seen him since!” You say over the music. “I think he’s in the toilet...I’ll go find him. H can get you a drink” Niall pats your back and heads to the men’s toilets.

“Did you tell your family the real reason? Or did you keep it in?...Your mum had splashed out on the bottle...now no ones celebrating”

“Dom  Pérignon, you brought it...but our friends never applauded...your hometown skeptics say it’s...champagne problems”

As Niall strolled into the toilets, he checked his hair in the mirror, noticing a pair of white trainers and red heels in the reflection, hidden behind a cubical door. He smirked and chuckled quietly until he heard “Ohhh fuck, Adam keep going” the female moaned softly. Surely not...there must be plenty of Adam’s in the club. “Mmm I haven’t been able to resist you since I arrived...fuck you’re so tight baby” Adam moaned. It was him. Niall felt the fury cause redness to his cheeks and it took all of his will power not the break the door down and beat Adam to a pulp. He knew where he needed to be most importantly.

His fists were clenched as he left and walked over to the bar “Y/N...” Niall couldn’t help the frown on his lips. You smile as you saw him come back “There you are, was he in there?” 

“Y/N I need to tell you something...” Niall gulped. You couldn’t help but feel like his expression said every word you had been so scared to hear. And he never had to say a word, as you saw Adam stumbling out the men’s bathroom, with an unknown female following out 10 seconds later. You had no words, everything you wanted to say...to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to punch something.

 “I’m going to fucking kill him” You heard a mutter from Harry. But you couldn’t react.

“Was it all for the money...or all for the show...I found out that you cheated so I had to go...I always thought I’d know the answer, ‘til you were on your knee and asked me”

You went to storm up to Adam but he was long gone. You had no clue where he had gone...was this it? Was that how he leaves us? As you turn back to Harry and Niall, their eyes were no longer on you, their dark, angry  eyes watching up at the stage. Adam appeared with a wide grin on his face.

“Where’s Y/N?” He calls out. If you hadn’t of just seen him fall out the bathroom with another girl, you would never have believed he could do something so breaking. “Adam...what are you doing?” You mumble, feeling tears in your eyes. Harry and Niall stood close behind you.

“Come up here baby” Adam grins, but before you could even attempt to run away, you were being pulled up onto stage by two of your other friends, who clearly didn’t know what had just happened. 

Was this it? Was he about to break up with you 45 minutes before your birthday...in front of all your friends? You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing. But oh no, this was much worse.

"I was going to do this in 45 minutes...but unfortunately, one of our friends has to leave the celebrations early for work tomorrow...” Adam smiles brightly at you. You felt sick to your stomach. How could he have the audacity act like he hadn’t just cheated and broken your heart.

You were still in shock. Everything was happening so fast, that you didn’t focus until you realised Adam was on his knee. “Y/N Y/L/N...will you marry me?” He pulls out a small ring, that was clearly not going to fit you. It would definitely cut off your circulation!

The lights were bright in your eyes, as they reflected the tears threatening to spill. But they weren’t the happy tears you always dreamed you’d have at this moment. He pushed the ring up into your hand, silently begging you to take it. You don’t know why...but you held the ring in your hands loosely.

“H-how could you cheat on me...” You whisper, only loud enough for him to hear. You could see the guilt in his eyes as everyone was about to cheer, assuming you’d said yes...but the crowd quickly fell silent as you shook your head, you just wanted to run.

You rushed down the steps at the side of the stage and pushed through the crowd, your legs feeling like jelly as you crashed through the doors and ran...you just ran. The tears finally freed themselves as you let out heavy sobs.

You heard people shouting your name down the street but you couldn’t stop. You were scared to face whatever happened next. You ran and ran until you felt two arms grab you from behind “Hey...shhh c’mere it’s me” As soon as you heard Harry’s hushed tones, you stopped resisiting his grip. You turned into his chest and clutched his shirt, sobbing loudly as you wanted to fall into a pile there and then. His arms protectively tightened around you, his head resting ontop of yours.

“I got you...I’ve always got you. Niall’s getting the car and we’re taking you straight home” 

“...I could of made such a lovely wife...what a shame you fucked up my head... they said “you’ll find the real thing instead...and he’ll patch up the pieces you’ve shred.... and he’ll...hold my hand while dancing...I’ll never leave him standing, crestfallen on the stage with Champagne Problems”

The journey home was painfully silent apart from your sobs. Harry held you closely as Niall drove. “I’ll pop round tomorrow ok...text me if you need anything” Niall says to Harry, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you get out the car. “Thanks Ni” You mumble. “Anytime princess” He gives you a sweet smile before driving home. 

Harry gets you inside, you wipe your soaked cheeks with the back of your hand. You headed straight to the fridge intending to get some water, but instead you found two bottles of champagne which had been sat in the fridge since Christmas.

“Better late than never...” You mutter and take them to the sofa. You popped one open and took a large mouthful from the bottle. Harry brought in a hoodie of his for you, wrapping it around your arms as you suddenly burst into heavy sobs. “Why me?!” You scream into his chest.

“No you’re perfect...he doesn’t deserve you” He whispers, holding you close to him. “You don’t need him. You have me...and Niall”

You whimpered as you took swigs from your bottle very quickly. It tasted awful. But nothing tasted worse than heartbreak.

“Hey Y/N…happy birthday m’darling” he whispers “I’ll make sure you have the best day”

“A cheap ring in your pocket...her picture in your wallet...you won't remember all my...champagne problems

Have you forgotten all my champagne problems?

Now, his mum’s ring in his pocket...my picture in his wallet...he’ll never give me any...champagne problems

He helped to cure all of my champagne problems...”

The next morning, you woke with a heavy head. You found yourself quickly remembering the night before. You sat up slowly, feeling an arm tightly wrapped around your waist. You and Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa...you must have cried yourself to sleep after demolishing one and a half bottles of champagne.

“How are you feeling?” Harry whispers, his hand brushing your hair back gently. You stare at the ring on the table. “I...I don’t know. I never thought this would happen to me...I though this was it.” You mumble sadly. “I thought I was enough” You whisper silently. His heart broke and the ide that you felt you weren’t enough. “You will always be enough...” He frowns and holds you. Kissing your head. He’d never wished more than to have the ability to take someone’s pain away. 

“Y-you...you won’t leave me too will you Harry?” You sniffle, your head resting on his chest.

“Never...I’ll never leave you” He mutters into your hair.

“What if I’m alone forever...what if I can’t heal from this?” You whimper

“You’ll find it. I know you thought you did...but you’ll find the real thing instead, and whoever it is will patch your heart up. And you won’t ever need to leave him” He whispers reassuringly.

————————— 

 You play around with the last two versions of the chorus, completely oblivious to Harry’s presence in the doorway until you heard a small shuffle from that direction

Your head snapped up “Jesus Harry! I didn’t know you would be home yet...You scared the life out of me! What’s wrong?” You frown as you run up to him, throwing your arms up around his shoulders, noticing his furrowed brow and the sad frown on his lips.

“I...that was so beautiful Y/N...and it just reminds me of how much he hurt you...a-and you...y-you’ve grown so much” He whispers softly, his arms tightly wrapping around you. “You never deserve to be treated like that...and I still hear you crying some nights, I just couldn’t face seeing you that way and...and I-I knew you’d kill me if I barged in...” He mutters, his eyes grazing the floor, as you let out a small laugh. “And you wrote a song again...I’m so fucking proud” 

“It’s okay Harry...I’m okay now!” You whisper, holding his cheeks in your hands. “I just needed to do it. One final time, and that’s it now. I’m going to get a proper job and-”

“Y/N I need to talk to you.” Harry cuts you off. “I was planning on having this conversation with you in a much nicer setting...but I don’t think I can wait.”

This was it...you didn’t realise how much you had craved to hear those three words fall from Harry’s mouth after months of trying to convince yourself that you didn’t feel that way.

“I’ve got you a recording contract with me for the new album...I want you on it. It’s been sat under my bed for weeks ready to give to you but I was worried you’d say no-” Harry says nervously.

You almost didn’t realise what he’d said until it was too late and you already started speaking.

“Harry I love you too...I-” You gasp as your hand flies in front of your mouth. No. No. No no no. This was not happening! You had single handedly embarrassed the shit out of your self and ruined the rest of your life. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole and spit you out in Australia.

“W-what?” Harry froze, taken back by the sudden confession. He didn’t know what to say, but to say he was shocked was an understatement.

“What...” You tried to act natural. Wishing to take back the last 5 seconds. “Oh...that’s erm...that would be a good read...you can just slide it under my door and I’ll read it in 3-5 working days.” You mutter quickly. You didn’t  slipping past him, to disappear into your bedroom.

“Y/N...wait!” His hand grabs your wrist “...you love me?” His gaze fell soft into yours. You thought of every excuse to get out of this situation, as scared as you was to admit it...it was out now. 

“Y-yeah...” you whisper, staring into his eyes, praying to make some sense of how he felt towards you. You so badly wanted him to speak, but the silence hanging between the two of you was deafening. You needed to know.

“D-do...do you...Do you love me Harry?” Your voice croaked. 

Of course he did...

“I-I don’t know...” You couldn’t help but feel your heart shatter some more, the sparkle in your eye slowly fading. And at that moment, you know you had ruined the best friendship of your life. You prepared yourself for Harry to leave the room, pack a bag and go to stay at Niall’s. But he just stood there, analysing your face intensely. You began to pull your hand away from his and run quickly.

“No...wait! Y/N I didn’t mean it like that I just...Well you always had Adam...and you’ve always been my best friend...and then when you guys split up, I...I was so angry because I knew I could never do that to you, and I wanted to change that so badly, but I never wanted to my feelings to get in the way of our friendship. I don’t ever want to loose you Y/N...I always thought I just wanted what I can’t have...until I knew I wanted to protect you for the rest of my life...I love you...I’ve always loved you Y/N, I just didn’t want to ruin anything...” He whispers, his bright eyes sparking as the warm sunset glow flooded your apartment.

“H-have I ruined it all....” You whimper softly, feeling your breath getting stuck in your throat.

“Never...” He whispers, one of his hands cupping your cheek, and the other locking into the side of your neck as you felt soft tears slipping down your cheeks. You had never been so terrified of losing someone. But that worry was soon washed away when you felt Harry’s soft pink lips press against yours. Sparks were flying through your blood as you wasted no time kissing him back with every ounce of passion until you couldn’t breath.

Neither of you wanted to beak the kiss...but Harry also didn’t want the pair of you to collapse. He pulled his lips away from yours, pressing his forehead against yours, the both of you panting heavily. 

“I love you so fucking much” He whispers, tears filling his eyes.

—————————

- 3 Months Later -

"Y/N we need to get you downstairs, we don’t have time to get you mic’d up up here, Graham has already started the show, so we’ll mic you up in the wings” A runner knocked on your dressing room.

“Ok I’m ready lets go...” You get up from the chair and check yourself in the mirror quickly. You had a beautiful red dress on, the sleeves hung off the shoulders and there was a slit in the leg of the floor length material. You had sparkly silver heels on, which looked like diamonds when they caught the light. Your hair was curled in a half up, half down style, with your normal glamourous makeup. 

Harry was in the wings waiting, speaking to a few other people as you were getting mic’d up. He was in a red suit, to match the colour of your dress, with a white shirt, his shoes just white this time. He glanced up with a wide grin. “There she is...mmm look at my beauty” He smirks happily and presses a kiss to your lips, holding your hips as a runner was hiding the wire in your dress.

“And you’re on in 3...2...1...” 

“Please welcome Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N!”

Harry took your hand as you followed him onto the set of The Graham Norton Show, the crowd cheering happily as you are greeted with a hug and kiss on the cheek from Graham, returning happily, and sitting down beside Harry after he gave the same greeting.

“Hello hello and welcome! It’s an honour to have you both here tonight on my sofa...although you have both sort of blended in” He chuckles

“Yeah...we didn’t really think about that until we got changed...” Harry chuckles, his hand holding yours tightly as you smile, taking a sip of wine from your glass.

“So we have a lot to talk about tonight...but firstly...congratulations on your new album! It sounds incredible and I know I’m not the only one wondering this, but how did you find working together while being in a relationship? Because your relationship only came into public view after the album was released...Now you two have lived together for...4 years is that right?” Graham asks.

“Yeah so...actually we have been best friends and flat mates for years, we’ve always had such a heavy impact on each others lives but we always both sort of thought it was just friendship. Around a year ago now I went through a really difficult break up and Harry was there every step of the way. Since then I always knew I loved Harry but it wasn’t until just after we had written the first version of Fine Line that I found out he felt the same” Your eyes gleam just talking about it.

“So...you two wrote Fine Line together, was that the first song you wrote for the album?” He looks over at Harry

“Actually, I’d already written Watermelon Sugar, Golden and Adore You. Fine Line was next and I was writing it at home. Naturally every song I write, Y/N is one of the first to hear, whether it’s in the living room, or when she’s in the bath and I sit outside the door to play it. It’s always been that way, even before we got together.”

Graham nods and smiles “You can’t let the poor woman have a bath in peace!” He jokes and teases as you both laugh. “So did you decide to name the album Fine Line because it’s the first song you wrote together?”

“I know!” Harry chuckles “sort of...Fine Line actually came about after...well it was after a prank I tried to pull on Y/N which went horribly wrong, then she finally forgave me and I was talking to her in the kitchen about how I was struggling to write emotional songs at the time. And the words she said to me really stuck...that night I sat at the piano and tried to piece together our conversation in a song. Y/N came to help me and she just...she’s really the saving grace. So I think yeah...maybe that was one of the reasons we called in Fine Line.”

“That’s incredible...and Y/N you were actually going to give up music weren’t you? Thank god you didn’t” Graham smiles.

You blush softly “I was...I just as going through a rough time. I helped Harry with the song and then I said I would quit. Then a couple of weeks later, Harry declared his love for me after he’d told me he had a joint record deal contract for us, to include me in the album” you tease with a smirk.

Harry grins widely and laughs quietly “I think the details of that have been slightly twisted...” He teases as you blush.

“Well I can’t wait to hear that story later! Now are there going to be any more joint albums...?” Graham asks curiously.

“...” You both look between each other “Time will tell Graham” Harry winks.

“Well...we are goin to go to an ad break now, but stay tuned because you don’t want to miss the first ever live performance of Fine Line by Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N!”

The crowd cheer loudly as the cameras cut to an ad break.

“I’m not waffling too much right?...it is my first ever proper interview” You mumble slightly as Harry and Graham sat with you in conversation while you were having your makeup touched up.

“You’re doing great baby...everyone loves you. I told you I’d make it all up to you when I stole your clothes and you missed that audition...” He grins cheekily.

“Now that’s a story I definitely need to hear!” Graham laughs along with the audience

—————————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @sad-capuccino @beachwood-cafe

[realcube]

you flinch during an argument pt2

navi | masterlist | part one

thank you to anon for this request

characters ♡ sugawara, bokuto & akaashi

tw ♡ cursing, angst, mentions of abuse, hurt to comfort, hinted ptss, mentions of ashes/cremation & parent! reader in bokuto’s

KŌSHI SUGAWARA

♡ a grimace; the expression sugawara had been wearing for the last 10 minutes as he bickered with you in the kitchen while cooking his meal prep

♡ “i just don’t understand why you need to study for hours on end. at this point, i think you’re just making excuses to avoid me.” sugawara spoke, his incomprehensible tone making it impossible for you to decipher whether he was being kind or condescending, or whether that last comment was supposed to be a joke

♡ “why would i do that?” you inquired innocently, keeping your gaze fixated on preparing your own meal. honestly, he didn’t deserve even a shred of your attention after elongating the conversation to no end. “exams are less than a week away and if i don’t pass then the last two years will have been for nothing. not that i’d expect you to understand.”

♡ you acknowledged that was a low blow, but your mind told you to just blurt out the first thing that you knew would make him shut up, and it unfortunately worked. 

♡ immediately feeling a wave of wave of regret wash over you, you shuffled over to his place at the kitchen counter, pressing your cheek to his arm to show affection before muttering, “sorry, i didn’t mean that. please don’t take it personally, kōshi.”

♡ usually an act like that would put an end to one of your silly squabbles but today was different

♡ out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something come flying towards you and — contextually — it didn’t take long for you to figure out that it was sugawara’s hand 

♡ that was enough reason your mind need to take the following course of action: your arms shot up to shield your the side of your face while your knees bent, brining you closer to the ground while your eyelids squeezed shut

♡ although after a few without the expected impact, your eyes fluttered open and you dropped your guard, allowing yourself a few moments to collect yourself before looking up at your boyfriend who’s demeanour had changed completely from a few seconds ago 

♡ now, his face was pale and his jaw was tight. as for his eyes, not so long ago they were faux-soft, now it was as if he had witnessed a crime; his pupils were constricted and his eyes were wide. he still stood tall as always but he appeared to be frozen in place, with his arm — that you had deemed a threat — looming above your head 

♡ you glanced up for a moment just to take a look, and upon noticing how his hand was cupped, you realised that his intention was to pat your head. it was a gentle gesture which he did often to show affection so you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d ever assume he was going to inflict harm on you 

♡ “(y/n)!” he finally managed to choke out, hastily retracting his hand back to his side, “are you alright?” 

♡ you were unsure as to why he was asking such a question, considering that he didn’t even lay a finger on you, but you answered none the less, “i’m fine, are you?” 

♡ it was clear that you didn’t think much of your actions, which made sugawara even more concerned. if he were to be completely honest, he wanted nothing more than to pull you into a hug and prattle on about how much he loved you and how he would protect you with his life for hours on end, but he knew that’d be an immature way to deal with such a situation so acting in an adult fashion, he stood at a respectable distance from you and spoke concisely

♡ “why’d you flinch?” he blurted out, feeling like a complete idiot as you replied almost immediately with, “i’m not sure.”

♡ your nonchalant and unaffected attitude made him wonder if he was making a big deal out of your simple action, since you didn’t seem that bothered by it at all. however, his morals spoke louder than logic and told him that he needed to resolve this issue, even you didn’t view it as such.

♡ “i swear i’d never do something like that.” was all he could think to say. so he decided it was best to stay silent right now, allowing you to head up to your room to study without another word spoken. 

♡ the next hour or so was spent trying to think of something to say to you. evidently, he was at a loss for words and all he could do was bury his face into his arms and mentally curse himself for being so confrontational over such a trivial problem

♡ eventually, he came to the conclusion that you’d probably want some space so for now, he’d allow you to study in peace and come out to talk when you are ready 

♡ but he is still sugawara, so expect there to be a place of sliced fruits outside your bedroom accompanied by a little motivational note 

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO 

♡ arguments with bokuto only came once every blue moon since you both seemed to agree almost all the time, and even when you didn’t, bokuto would either apologise within less than a minute or simply oblige because he hates seeing you mad at him, or just mad in general 

♡ but sometimes — no matter how much he apologised — you’d still resent him for whatever he did, and a part of him just felt like that was so unfair. perhaps it was a childish thought, but why can’t you just understand that he made a mistake and move on? after all, he always learns and it’s rare that he makes the same mistake twice, so why are you still angry?

♡ plus, he always forgives you immediately when you do something wrong. he just wanted the same treatment and he realised this at the worst moment possible.

♡ “saying sorry won’t fix it!” you barked, wiping away the tears as they fell from your lashline. your skin felt like it was on fire but you paid no mind, just focussing on remaining stable and not losing yourself to a crying fit, “it’s gone forever now, i hope you are happy.”

♡ bokuto seeing you upset more than anything, and knowing that he was the cause of your tears only made things worse. he felt so worthless. 

♡ the only words combatting the voice in his head telling him that he couldn’t do anything right, were the ones reassuring him that it was simply an accident and that if he had known that there were ashes in that jar, he would’ve been more careful when walking around it. 

♡ “i don’t know why i take this from you.” he muttered under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear. of course, you thought you had misheard him as you knew him better than to say something so audacious, “huh?”

♡ “i don’t know why i take this from you!” he repeated, but this time he lunged forward to yell it right in your face so you’d hear him for sure. “there’s nothing i can do to fix it now, so why can’t you just forgive me?! i’m so sorry and i’d do anything to make it up to you yet you are still so fucking nasty to me! no one wants to be with a stubborn bitch!” 

♡ blinded by rage, it took him a few moments to realise that you weren’t standing as you were before he lunged at you, but rather you had stumbled backwards and were now on the ground with your hands raised in defence

♡ as much as he wanted to continue with his momentum and yell at you while you were down, his subconscious acted fist by outstretching his hand to help you up, “(y/n), why are y--”

♡ he cut himself off as something finally clicked in his mind, helping him realise that he was the reason you were on the ground. you must’ve flinched and fell backwards when he suddenly moved towards you, but why? i mean, it’s not like he was gonna hurt you. so were you just surprised? well, if you were just shocked by his movements you probably wouldn’t be defensive and appear terrified.

♡ upon coming to this conclusion, bokuto dropped down to his knees and shuffled towards you, evidently having calmed down as his cheeks were no longer red with fury and his eyebrows had separated. 

♡ “i’m so sorry.” he mused with wide-eyes, his blank expression and stare kinda scaring you as not even for a moment did he release you from his gaze.

♡ ‘sorry’ appeared to be the word of the day

♡ “i’m sorry too, kō.” you admitted, lowering your head and allowing the hair that hung down in front of your face to shield you from bokuto’s penetrating stare. “i know you didn’t break it on purpose, so of course you are forgiven.” you knew the feeling of frustration all too well, and you were ashamed that you were cause of it for bokuto.

♡ like magic, your statement pulled bokuto out of his trance and back to reality, where he was able to beam and throw his arms open to offer you a hug, “you don’t need to apologise. c’mere!”

♡ you hesitated at first, but there was truly nothing more comforting than the sight of bokuto’s bright smile and glistening cheeks under the golden sunlight which seeped in from passed the blinds; it was almost angelic. hence you found yourself leaning into his arms without a second thought, finding solace in the way his shaky breath tickled the warm skin of your neck

♡ though he didn’t say much in the moment, the image of you cowering in fear away from him will permanently be inked into his mind 

♡ but that’s not to say his words didn’t have an effect on you

♡ your kid grew up knowing endless forgiveness and tolerance from both you and bokuto, as whenever you saw your son’s golden eyes gaze up at you through a stream of tears, all you could see was bokuto, and all you could hear was him calling you a stubborn bitch 

♡ it was almost funny how your brain made that correlation, but rather than laugh, you simply smiled and kneeled down in front of your son, cupping his cheek in your hand, “it’s fine. i forgive you.”

♡ the poor boys glossy gaze flickered between you and the shards of the mug he had chosen for you scattered across the floor

♡ his teeth gritted together, presenting an expression of anguish which was only highlighted by both of his fist curling into balls before he lunged forward to throw his arms over your shoulders and bawl into your chest, “i’m so sorry!”

♡ you pouted, glancing between your son and bokuto who just stood with an awkward smile on his face, watching the scene while knowing full well that it was mostly his fault for entrusting a fragile mug to a four-year-old 

♡ although, it wasn’t as if you could stay mad at either of them; you love them too much

KEIJI AKAASHI

♡ arguments with akaashi were rare. after all, communication is key in a relationship and he ensures that you both tell each other everything. hence you can see the irony in the situation where his order of transparency is exactly the reason you were so pissed off.

♡ “please tell me what’s wrong, dear.” akaashi almost whispered, trailing behind you like lost puppy while you stormed towards your front door in order to lead him out

♡ “i’m tired, i said i‘ll tell you later.” you groaned, feeling guilty for being so impatient with him but you truly didn’t have the energy to argue or explain how you were feeling tonight. really all you wanted was to get some rest and discuss everything in the morning but akaashi clearly felt like there was something deeper that needed to be unpacked first.

♡ “you say that but you’ll probably be too tired tomorrow as well.”

♡ you quirked a brow, taking a pause and leaning against your doorframe just as you were about to lock him out, “and so what if am? goodnight."

♡ “don’t be immature.” each word sharper than the last, they stung your eyes.

♡ “tomorrow, akaashi. love yo—"

♡ the next few moments were a blur. It was as though your body reacted on it’s own to seeing akaashi reach out towards your face, so without a moment of consideration, you found yourself jerking away from his touch; appearing alarmed while your heart rate skyrocketed for reasons beyond your knowledge

♡ once your mind was finally able to comprehend what happened and absorb the context, it didn’t take long for you to figure out that he outstretched his hand so he could tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ears, an act of affection he performs often yet it just happened to slip your mind

♡ akaashi yanked his arm back to his side, staring at his hand — eyes filled with disgust — as if he were presented with a murder weapon. despite that, his self-loathing was short-lived as he immediately inquired, “are you okay? do you need water?” he wasn’t really familiar with the ideal procedure he should take in a situation like this, so he used his judgment which told him that water was the solution to most problems, hence this should be no different.

♡ before you could deny his offer, he was already rummaging through his satchel in search of his water bottle, and once he found it he was quick to hand it to you

♡ after taking a few sips of water, you placed his bottle back in his bag and zipped it up for him, “thank you.” you murmured, not sure as to whether you should apologise or just play it off as if nothing happened. however, guessing by the dazed look in akaashi’s eyes, it would be safe to assume that these events have been permanently inked into his memory

♡ for the first time ever, he was truly at a loss. usually people would look to him when in trouble – or even danger – but now he was the threat, the cause of your stress

♡ perhaps it was because of how long you’ve been together, or maybe it was due to the fact you converse so often with him, but you could read akaashi like an open book. where others see a deadpan, dull setter; you see your boyfriend who is just in desperate need of affirmation from time to time

♡ a few minutes ago, you could’ve sworn you didn’t have enough energy to smile or communicate your feelings but here you were now, wearing the sweetest grin you could muster and humming in a honeyed voice, “i really do love you, keiji. and i’m not afraid of you either.” to emphasise your point, you leaned forward to plant a brief kiss on his cheek and tuck an imaginary loose strand of hair behind his ear, all while he stood speechless. not that you expected a reply anyway.

♡ “i love you too, dear.” akaashi finally uttered after an elongated period of silence.

♡ it was amazing how much you could tell simply from his eyes. his irises no longer vibrated as if they were pending an eruption, and pity behind his gaze seemed to have dissipated slightly. there was still somewhat of a glassy look to them, but he could say the same about yours.

♡ “goodnight. i’ll message you in the morning.” he smiled, mimicking the kindness in yours well as he turned around, promptly heading towards the bus stop with a final wave of his hand

♡ and he didn’t lie either. not only did he text you goodnight again, at exactly 6AM you received a notification from none other than akaashi himself reading:

♡ ‘good morning, sweetheart <3  how’d you sleep? i’m about to head to the shop, do you need anything?’

♡ although you denied his offer, he ended up buying you your favourite drink anyway