#and my notifications are so filled I can hardly see when one of my mutuals responds to one of my other posts

[salmon404]

This is a horror story and a warning not to let your posts gets big, or else this shit happens

[floralcyanide]

10,000 Miles

Long Distance Relationship Austin Butler x Reader

>> finally finished one of my WIPs! I had this idea one day and just had to write about it. PLEASE MIND THE WARINGS. I don't suggest reading this around other people lolll. also I'm sorry if this is formatted weird I'm posting from my phone 😬

pairing: Austin Butler x Reader

warnings: smut, minors please don't interact!! please!!!, oral (f and m receiving), mutual m*sturbation, squirting, dirty talk, I hope I'm not forgetting anything

word count: 3715

masterlist || add yourself to the taglist HERE!

Austin Butler. Your boyfriend of almost two years that you have yet to ever see in person. When the two of you met over Tinder, the pandemic had just hit, and Austin was all the way in Australia filming Elvis. He wasn’t able to come home, and you weren’t able to fly to Australia. In the beginning, you were genuinely shocked when the two of you matched. You had swiped right and thought nothing of it- you figured it was one of those too good to be true things in life and that he would never swipe right on you. But one day, you woke up, and there the notification was that Austin had, in fact, matched with you. Shock didn’t even describe what you were feeling. You knew who Austin was, and you had seen him many times on television as a teenager. You always thought he was charming and cute, and it turned out he was exactly that. Except you only know that because of texts, phone calls, and facetime instead of face-to-face experience.

Today, that’s about to change. Austin is finally coming back to America after finishing filming. You’re at the airport in the waiting area at his flight gate, scrolling through your phone. You anxiously look up from it every minute to ensure you haven’t missed him leaving the plane. It’s almost time for his flight to land, and your nerves are torn up. So many questions are running through your head. What if Austin doesn’t like what he sees? What if I look different in person? What if I’m not what he wants? What if he’s different in person? What if, what if, what if? Austin is a big celebrity now, and you’re just, well, you. You have a job and go to college, and that’s about it. Of course there’s nothing wrong with that, but in comparison to Austin, you don’t have an exciting life.

The screen that shows what time the plane is landing changes and now says Austin’s plane is in the process of landing. It feels like your heart skips an entire beat. It’s going to be about ten more minutes before Austin actually exits the plane. Those ten minutes are dragging by ever so slowly. You swear you’ve looked up from your phone every thirty seconds on the dot. You get sucked into a TikTok rabbit hole and forget where you are for a few minutes. Until in your peripheral, you see a large number of people walk past you. You hurriedly shove your phone in your pocket and stand up from your seat, eyeballing the crowd of people leaving the terminal.

You’re a reasonable distance away from the terminal, so you can easily spot Austin from afar and give yourself a second to have an initial reaction without being seen. A tall man with a beanie stands out in the crowd, and you recognize his face. It’s Austin. You gasp- you can hardly contain your excitement. Finally, he makes eye contact with you, luggage in hand. He stops and drops his bags, and a rush of adrenaline fills you as you all but run in his direction. You throw your arms around Austin’s neck as he pulls you as close to his body as possible in a crushing hug. You squeeze him back as hard as you can. Now that you have him in your arms, you never want to let go. But after a few minutes of holding each other, you both eventually pull away.

“Let me look at you,” Austin smiles, holding you by your face as he studies it.

You gaze up at him lovingly with the biggest smile on your face. This is everything you imagined it’d be.

“You’re more beautiful in person,” he tucks some hair behind your ear softly.

Your face burns at the compliment, even though Austin has told you that you’re beautiful more times than you can count. But this time, it’s different. This time it’s in person, in front of you, and to your face.

“And you,” you slide your hands from around Austin’s neck to his face, “Are far more handsome in person.”

He hums with a smile before leaning in to kiss you. When your lips meet, it’s gentle and soft. You have to contain yourself and only kiss him for a few seconds because you’re still in public. Pulling away almost reluctantly, you take in his face immediately after kissing him for the first time. Austin’s eyes are still closed, and there’s a content smile on his pretty lips. You planned on having your way with those lips later on. But for now, you’ll enjoy the simplicity of being in his presence.

“We should get going if we wanna beat traffic,” you whisper, causing Austin’s eyes to snap back open.

“Yeah, we should get out of here,” he says before grabbing his bags.

You grab some of his luggage for him despite his protests, and the two of you leave the airport and head to Austin’s apartment. You both live in L.A., which means you’ll be seeing each other whenever Austin isn’t away filming. However, for the next week, you’ll be staying over at his place, so you won’t have to worry about going back and forth from your apartment every day. Austin’s palm and fingers take up almost your whole thigh as you drive. He keeps his hand there the entire way to his apartment as he sneaks glances at you when not looking at his phone. Austin had to be touching you in some form since he went without being able to for so long. Two years of just texting and calling were sometimes miserable. Especially if either of you needed comfort or intimacy. Both of you are incredibly touch starved at this point between the longing and separation. Of course, there were times the two of you had to compromise. Phone sex wasn’t out of the equation entirely. It embarrassed you the first time you had touched yourself with Austin on the phone listening, but over time it became easier. Facetiming while getting off was far more intense. You could see each other while doing that, at least. Sexting wasn’t rare- it was actually the easier form of sex between the two of you, especially when you both were busy all the time. If you had to choose from all three, you would prefer facetime. But now, it’s safe to assume you and Austin will prefer the real thing over all else.

Even though you’re both ready to jump each other’s bones at any second, today will be spent getting to know each other a little more and resting. You know each other inside and out despite being ten thousand miles away for two years, of course, but getting to know someone face-to-face is a whole other deal. Plus, Austin is incredibly jet-lagged, so he probably isn’t as energetic right now. Finally, you reach his place and bring inside all of his luggage. You insist Austin get some rest, and you can just chill out while he does, but he refuses.

“Let me shower, and I’ll just stay with you in the living room. I’m not that tired,” Austin argues.

You sigh, “Fine. But you’ll be super tired tomorrow, pretty boy.”

He strides over to you in the living room from where he’s standing in the hall, grabbing your face again, “Pretty boy, huh?”

Heat shoots up your neck at his sudden proximity, “Yep. Now go shower before you get distracted,” you chuckle.

“Too late for that,” Austin mumbles before connecting his lips to yours.

Now it’s just the two of you alone in Austin’s apartment, and you can kiss however you want for however long you want. It’s a dangerous game when you’ve never been around each other. Austin has you pulled as close to him as possible, his hands gripping your face like you’re going to vanish from his touch any second. He deepens the kiss, running his tongue over your bottom lip. You pull away, much to his disliking.

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Go shower and unpack. I’ll still be here,” you say, putting a hand on his cheek, to which he nudges his face into your palm in response to your touch.

“Fine,” Austin drawls before kissing your nose and walking towards his bedroom.

You remain in the living room, where you sit on the couch and surf through streaming platforms until you finally settle on your favorite show. You’ve seen it tens of times, but you don’t care. Just something to do until Austin finishes what he needs to do. After a while, you nearly forget where you are from being so engrossed in the show. It isn’t until your boyfriend walks up next to you that you’re shaken out of it.

“Why am I not surprised you’re watching this?” Austin chuckles before sitting next to you.

You roll your eyes and playfully shove his arm, “It’s my favorite. Of course I’m watching it.”

Austin just smiles at you. He can’t get over you being here with him right now. He pulls you into his side, burying his face in your neck. He stays like that for a while, and eventually, you feel his breathing calm. He’s fallen asleep. You decide to wait until the episode finishes to gently wake him and get him to bed.

“Aus, baby, it’s time to go to bed,” you whisper, stroking his hair to make him stir a little.

Austin groans and buries his face deeper into your neck, his arm around your shoulders. You slowly remove his arm and pull away from his face before standing up. He sleepily blinks up at you, a little upset you disturbed his sleep. You offer a hand out to him to pull himself up from the couch. He begrudgingly walks behind you with his hand still in yours as you turn off the TV. Austin makes a beeline to the bed, and you go through your bag to get into comfier clothes. It’s dark, and you’re pretty sure he’s already passed out, so you start stripping. It’s not until you’re fully undressed that Austin lets out a low whistle.

“Beautiful,” he says, his voice still hoarse from the little bit of sleep he got.

“Go to sleep,” you joke as you pull on a t-shirt and shorts.

“Not until you’re next to me,” Austin says.

You nearly melt into a puddle at his words. When you climb into the bed, you’re immediately pulled into Austin’s chest. He wraps his legs around yours as he snakes his arms around your waist. You can’t move, but you don’t mind. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

When you wake up, your face is squished into Austin’s chest with your arm thrown over his torso. He’s sound asleep, light snores leaving his slightly opened lips. You can’t help but admire how absolutely gorgeous Austin is, even when his hair is an absolute mess, and stubble covers his face. You could get used to waking up to him every day. You’re so lost in thought you don’t realize Austin is now awake and peering down at you through barely opened eyes.

“You know, it’s weird to stare at people,” Austin mumbles, his voice deep from sleep.

“But you’re so pretty,” you smile, tracing shapes on his abdomen.

Maintaining eye contact, the corners of Austin’s lips curl up into a small smile, “I love you.”

You inhale sharply at the three little words. You’ve said it over the phone and texted it many, many times. But this was the first time he’s said it in person.

“I love you too,” you say back before facing your head away from Austin, nuzzling into his shirt.

He pets your head as a happy warmth fills your body. In your line of sight, you notice the covers dip just below Austin’s stomach, revealing a morning bulge. You can’t tear your eyes away from it. It’s only the second day, but after two years of being unable to touch each other, maybe waiting can be tossed out of the window. Besides, now you’re here to do something about his problem instead of talking him through it over the phone.

“Need some help with that?” you muse out loud, rubbing your hand over Austin’s lower stomach, dangerously close to his hard-on.

“No, baby. It’s fine,” Austin kisses your head before sliding up into a sitting position, “I’ll take care of it.”

You’re now sitting up too, hovering over his body slightly, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Austin waves dismissively before getting up from the bed.

You put a hand on his chest to stop him, “Can I watch?”

His breath hitches in his throat for a moment before he nods, settling back into his sitting position. After removing his t-shirt, Austin pulls his cock out from his briefs and gives himself a few pumps as you watch intently. He runs a hand up his abdomen slowly as he gains a rhythm with his hand, running his thumb over the tip to gather the precum that has gathered. You can’t help the wetness that pools between your legs at the simple sight of Austin getting himself off. Sure, you’ve seen it through your phone many times, but it happening in front of you was far more erotic. You bite your lip, wanting to touch him so badly, but you resist the urge. Instead, you sit beside him and mirror his posture as you start sliding your hands along your thighs. Austin throws his head back and sighs, his eyes closed in pleasure. He was absolutely flawless like this.

You dip a hand into your shorts, pushing your underwear to the side as you circle an experimental finger around your clit. Your gaze doesn’t leave Austin’s hand, slowly guiding itself up and down his length. Matching the pace of his hand, you take two fingers and start rubbing the bundle of nerves. A quiet moan escapes your lips, and Austin rolls his head to the side to look at you. His eyes are glossed over, and his eyelids grow heavy from looking at you touching yourself next to him.

“Fuck,” Austin mutters, quickening his strokes.

You quicken yours as well, sneaking a hand up your shirt to grasp one of your breasts. Quickly, you pull down your shorts and underwear and kick them to the side. You toss your left leg over Austin’s right one, and you let your other leg dangle off the side of the bed, giving you easier access to your slick pussy. Inserting a finger into your entrance, you use your thumb to flick your clit. You add another finger immediately, already incredibly wet as you fuck your fingers in time with Austin’s thrusts into his hand. You and Austin are gazing into each other’s eyes as you fuck yourselves, breathless moans, and gasps coming from your mouths. Removing your hand from your breast, you meander your way to Austin’s available hand on his chest, grasping onto it.

He uses the pad of his thumb to play with his tip, eyes still not leaving yours, “I’m getting close, babe.”

The deepness of his voice turns you on even more, but you decide to stop touching yourself and climb over to Austin’s lap.

“I want you to cum in my mouth,” you say, lowering yourself onto his legs as you hover your face by his cock.

Austin guides his length over to your mouth, where you take the tip into your mouth and suck as he continues to pump himself.

“You’re so beautiful like that,” Austin smiles, blissed out, “Gonna swallow for me?”

You nod as you kitten lick the precum that’s continuously leaking. He squeezes his cock as he pumps faster, his breathing getting quicker. You feel Austin twitch before he releases into your mouth, a hot stream of cum running down your throat. You keep sucking on his head until he’s done riding out his high.

“Come here, babe,” Austin motions for you to sit up.

You lift your body off his thighs and crawl back over to your spot in the bed next to him. He pulls you onto his lap, where you’re facing away from him, your back against his chest. Austin slides his hands along your hips and waist, tugging up your shirt before completely removing it from your torso. You didn’t sleep with a bra on, so you’re both now completely naked. Austin pulls your legs as far apart as they can go, pushing your right leg into your side, so you’re splayed out for him. He runs his hands across your thighs before putting his index and middle finger on either lip, spreading your pussy open further.

“So perfect. All for me,” Austin whispers in your ear, sending a shiver through you.

“All for you,” you gasp as he slams two fingers inside you, instantly curling them.

With his other two fingers, Austin draws circles on your clit as he relentlessly finger fucks you. Your breathing picks up as your abdomen tightens, waves of pleasure shooting through your body as his fingers hit your g spot. Austin feels you clench around him, and he removes his fingers. He prods your mouth open to put his fingers covered in your slick against your tongue. Austin starts furiously rubbing your pussy as obscene wet sounds echo in the room.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, arousal spreading around your core and thighs from Austin’s hand moving at an alarming pace.

“Who’s pussy is this, hmm?” he growls in your ear, not letting up on his assault as he pulls his hand from your mouth.

“Yours,” you choke out pitifully, your eyes beginning to water from the intense ecstasy.

Austin pushes your bent leg flat against the mattress, allowing your core to spread impossibly wider and allowing him to swipe his hand over more of your pussy. You’re about to cum, and hard. No one has ever touched you like this, and although it’s downright filthy and off the rails, it’s going to send you into overdrive. The sound of your drenched pussy being rubbed furiously overtakes the sound of your labored breathing. You can feel an intense warmth forming in your lower stomach as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimper, your hands finding purchase in the fitted sheet as you grip it.

“You wanna cum?” Austin bites your ear lobe, “Cum for me, baby.”

Everything turns white as your stomach contracts, a powerful gush of arousal leaving your body. As your orgasm takes over, your body convulses while Austin is still not letting up on his unrelenting pace. You open your eyes, and as your pussy twitches, you squirt everywhere again, much to your boyfriend’s delight. You gasp as your body finally falls limp, and Austin pulls his hand away.

“That,” he pauses with a breathy chuckle, “Was so hot.”

Your face burns when you notice how soaked the bedding is.

“God, I’m sorry about making a mess,” you say, your breathing evening out, “I’ve never done that before.”

“It’s okay, babe,” Austin kisses your neck softly, “Was it worth the wait?”

“It was definitely worth the wait,” you laugh, “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard.”

Before you can say or do anything else, Austin gathers your hair in his hand before he pushes you off. He forces your face down into the mattress with your ass in the air, your thighs still glistening from your fluids.

“Wanna do it again?” Austin asks, running his free palm from between your shoulder blades down your back until it reaches your asscheeks.

“Fuck me,” you wiggle your hips, your voice muffled.

Austin grips your hips as he lines up with you, plunging in easily.

“Still so wet.” he moans.

You push yourself against him every time he thrusts forward, causing him to bottom out and his tip to hit your cervix. Austin presses his hand to your lower stomach, feeling himself inside your abdomen with every snap of his hips. The pressure causes both of you to moan.

“Can feel you in my stomach,” your face contorts into a look of outright pleasure as Austin speeds up his thrusts.

His hand that’s in your hair has an unforgiving grip, your head being pulled back every time Austin moves. He pulls you up completely, wrapping an arm around your neck and holding you to his chest by a headlock. Austin’s other hand finds your clit as he pounds up into you.

“Please,” you beg, a second orgasm creeping up on you.

“Please, what?” He asks teasingly while biting into your neck.

“Please, I wanna cum again,” you whine with both your hands gripping Austin’s arm.

“Wait until I tell you, baby,” he says, his voice completely wrecked from the excursion.

Austin is merciless as his hips snap forward. You feel him twitch as his thrusts become more erratic and off rhythm. His arm that has you in a headlock presses against your neck, cutting off airflow slightly as he begins to lose himself.

“Go ahead, and cum for me, doll,” Austin grunts in your ear, and stars fly behind your eyes as your second orgasm takes over your body.

You clenching around him sends him over the edge as he moves in and out of you. Austin pulls out and watches with hooded eyes as his cum and your arousal leak from your pussy. He takes a finger and runs it up your slit, causing you to shudder. You collapse onto the bed, turning over on your back before looking up at your boyfriend. Austin runs a hand through his hair lazily before laying down next to you.

“That was amazing,” you exhale.

Austin pulls you to his sweaty chest, wrapping both arms around you, “That it was.”

“I think it was worth two years of waiting,” you say as you draw circles on his skin.

“I love you so much. You know that, right?” Austin says offhandedly.

“I love you too,” you grin.

Whether it’s 10,000 miles or 10 steps away, you would do anything for him, and he would do anything for you.

taglist: @cozacorner @onxlymnsn @anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @jolovesfandoms @austinbutler17 @slutforblueeyes @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @bobbykennedyfan @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @kaycinema @thatonemoviefan @kittenlittle24 @tubble-wubble @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @csmt-m @apparently-sunshine @amiets2 @emchickynuggies @mrs-butler @mesbouquins @ari-nicole @xmusse @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @popeheywardssecretgf @Venxfinn3 @westwoodcoast

[hongism]

call me maybe - s. mingi 18+

day 22 of kinktober: guided masturbation - song mingi  warnings: video call sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, camboy mingi, client reader, cum eating, daddy kink, dirty talk wc: 1.6k genre: pwp, smut, 18+

“Touch yourself for me.” The command is spoken in a clean and crisp tone, one that compels you to obey without any hesitation. A chill takes over your whole body and surges through your veins. You snake a hand down the bare expanse of your chest. 

On any other day, you would feel embarrassed to be so exposed and on display in front of a total stranger. However, the sight of his hard and leaking cock before you makes you gain much more confidence in the show you’re putting on. Somehow you wouldn’t call Song Mingi a total stranger either — he’s a camboy you’ve been watching for several months now, so you’ve had the pleasure of seeing him in intimate and exposed positions like the one the two of you are in now, but this is a whole different level.

As his hand drags over his thick length, you release a small whimper. You want nothing more than to be able to reach through the computer screen and replace his large hard with your significantly smaller one, see the way his cock sits against your palm and makes you look even smaller. His tanned skin glows under the yellow lights of his room, causing the sheen of sweat over his chest to glimmer. Were you able to be there in person, you’re confident that you would ravish his whole body with your tongue and leave his covered in sweet love bites. Almost as though he reads your mind, Mingi hums and reaches up to tweak his nipple. It draws a deep moan from his full and swollen lips. Just as he moans, your own hand finds your sopping folds. The amount of arousal there should be embarrassing, but Mingi merely arches a brow as he looks at the display before him on his own screen.

How did you get so lucky again? Manage to win a one on one video call with your favorite camboy? Is this even real life? Surely it must be a dream because you would never dare to believe that you could have such a stroke of good luck. You must not be paying enough attention to Mingi now; he clears his throat to garner your attention – which you give to him in less than a second, mind you – and he speaks once again in that low, gravelly tone. It sends shockwaves of arousal every time you hear it, but now it feels so much more intimate having him one on one in this manner.

“I said to touch yourself for Daddy, baby girl.”

The whine that escapes you is borderline pathetic. You turn your cheek to avoid Mingi’s heated stare, although your hand doesn’t stop moving between your folds. 

“Good girl,” he praises when your fingers slip through the wetness there. “Keep touching yourself just like that for me.” 

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying him now, so you build up a steady rhythm, drawing small circles over your clit as Mingi watches on with a hawk-like gaze. He refuses to touch his twitching member for what feels like hours; instead, he settles for surveying your movements while roaming his hands across the skin of his chest. You follow each shift and shuddering muscle, letting your free hand dance up to brush over a nipple. The bud hardens under your touch. It leaves you wanting more, but Mingi lifts his chin and stops your needy touches before they can even begin. 

“Not without my permission, baby girl.” He clicks his tongue against his palate. “Bring your fingers to that pretty little cunt. I want you to fuck yourself nice and slow for me.” You do as told and push two fingers into your fluttering hole. The pressure builds between your legs, the sounds of your pleasure coming out in the wet pulses of your hand as you work yourself open before Mingi’s eyes. “Mhm, just like that. Such a pretty baby, opening yourself like that for me. Can you spread your legs a bit wider?”

“Y-Yes, Da-addy,” you stammer and press your legs further. Mingi leans closer to the camera as though by instinct, enraptured by the sight of your fingers fucking in and out of your squelching cunt.

“So, so good. I bet your walls would be so tight around my fat cock, don’t you think?”

“Yes, yes, Daddy.”

“More,” Mingi commands. Your lips tremble as you push your hips forward, thrusting your fingers into yourself at a new angle in attempts to reach deeper. It’s almost too difficult for you to handle; your fingers aren’t nearly long enough for this kind of activity, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping Mingi. If anything, it causing his teasing to grow in quantity. “Aw, poor little baby. Your fingers aren’t enough, are they?”

“N-No,” you whimper before sinking your teeth into your lower lip. 

“Wish they were my long fingers instead? I bet I could fill up that tight pussy with just one.”

“P-Please,” you beg, and at this point, you aren’t even sure what you’re asking for. Mingi’s hand snakes back down to his dick. He collects a bead of precum on his index finger then brings the large digit to his lips, lapping at the wetness on the tip. Your mouth falls open without you meaning for it to, and you can almost taste his seed on your tongue. Oh, the things you would give to be under him right now. Or on top of him. You don’t care really as long as he can be here with you in person. Sadly, you have to settle for this. 

“You’re gonna cum with me, aren’t you?” He speaks it like a question, but the underlying demand is more than present. You nod like a madman, hair bobbing with the motion. Mingi gulps air down like it’s water, and his Adam’s Apple protrudes a bit more as he swallows. His head falls back, hand jerking over his thick length, and possibly the hottest moans you’ve ever heard in your life tumble from his lips. It’s a bit self-centered really, but you can’t help but to feel like you’re the one drawing such noises out of him. It causes you to moan back, wanting Mingi to know that he is having a similar effect on you as well. He seems to appreciate the gesture from what you can tell; his cock twitches weakly in his grip as your noises reach his ears. 

“I… Daddy, I’m gonna – I’m gonna cum,” you warn, thumb flicking over your sensitive bud. You twist your fingers deeper inside your cunt and try to pump them in rhythm with Mingi’s hasty jerks on his cock.

“Cum for me then, darling. Fall apart for me, knowing that I’m the one giving you this pleasure right now.” 

His words spur you to a mind-blowing orgasm. It’s the best one you’ve ever given yourself, assisted by Mingi’s grunts and sweat-stricken body. He follows close behind you. Bright white ropes of cum spurt from the head of his cock, painting his bare chest and catching on his defined muscles. Without hesitation, Mingi brings his hand up and collects the seed onto his fingers, thrusting those same fingers into his mouth a second later. He laps at his long digits until every drop of cum has disappeared behind his tongue. You can only stare on in surprise with a new curling heat in your gut. 

“Your turn,” he murmurs once he pulls his hand back. You offer a hasty nod and tug your own hand to your mouth. If you’re going to eat your own cum like this though, you want to put on an excellent show for Mingi in return for all the shows he puts on for you. Your tongue drags over each finger at a languid pace, spending extra time to swirl the wet muscle through each crevice between your fingers. Mingi watches on with a heavily lidded gaze, eyes so blown out with lust that you can hardly see his irises in the dim light. 

“All done,” you say with a certain lilt to your tone, pulling off your last finger and letting the wet pop resound. 

“Fuck, that was… you’re hot as hell,” Mingi huffs out through a laugh. 

“I guess that’s all then?” You inquire. It’s hard to conceal the disappointment in your tone, but a deal is a deal, and this is all you agreed on before starting. “I’ll see you at your next stream, I suppose.”

“I’ll be on the lookout for your name again, Miss… Y/N.” Mingi’s full lips twist into a playful smile as he leans closer to the camera. That’s the last thing you see too, because the screen goes black a second later, and you’re suddenly left all alone in your room once more. You almost think that’s it, that you’ll never hear from Mingi again and have to go back to the much less exciting activity of merely watching Mingi through his streams. Then your message box on the site dings, and you hastily click on the notification when it pops up.

Message from: fixsong_mingi99

Figured you might need my number for our next visit. Feel free to call whenever.

And there below that short and sweet message lies a phone number, inconspicuous digits showing you exactly what you wanted to hear throughout your whole call with Mingi. That he wanted you too. 

...

a/n: okay this was new and exciting and i really had a lot of fun writing it omg im surprised

link to kinktober masterlist

taglist: @noonawriter @daniblogs164 @felixity @okokokok123-45 @jeonartemis @crescent-hwa @wheresmymoniat @nlost21 @lonely10vely @monbecaratstayarmy @hello-its-ya-boi @onyxblade01 @kimnamshiks @poutychangbinnie @toothlessshiber @xxbluestrifexx @lokihoeforhyunjin @ice-cold-taeyong @essantial @blueish-sun @etaerealboy @notbeforelong @wideawakeficrecs​ @adestinyuwu​ @simpforhyunjin​ @naajix @lilyliline21 @leaz-kpop-life​ @hyunjinsicedamerican0​ @marigold-bebee​ @changbinswifu​ @xcookiemonsteer​ @ddalgi-yong​ @succulentpk​ @immabiteyou​

unable to be tagged: @sailing-goddess-of-ateez @gingerale-addict @jertazz @seoha 

[pinencurls]

“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3 

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x 

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

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It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert. 

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him.                  . . . . . 

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni. 

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme. 

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room. 

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.” 

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun. 

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party. 

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates. 

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend. 

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”  

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.” 

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders. 

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests. 

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. 

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask. 

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note. 

 “Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours. 

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door. 

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever. 

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced. 

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am. 

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table. 

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?” 

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.” 

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..” 

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?” 

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair. 

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case. 

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid. 

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them. 

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?” 

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar. 

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host. 

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.” 

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time? 

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?” 

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night. 

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar. 

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls. 

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold. 

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet. 

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.” 

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?” 

“No Elle, of course I don’t-” 

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet. 

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.” 

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?” 

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee. 

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . . 

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.” 

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.) 

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.” 

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself. 

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?” 

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table. 

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.” 

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-” 

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.” 

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?” 

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room. 

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?” 

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode. 

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?” 

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus. 

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides. 

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head. 

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended. 

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both. 

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick. 

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following. 

“Harry?” 

“Ellie?” 

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes. 

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick. 

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing. 

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing. 

“Oh- H, Sorry!” 

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage. 

“I’m so sorry Harry I-” 

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!” 

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little. 

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different. 

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me. 

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back. 

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . . 

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.” 

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily. 

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy. 

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry. 

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into. 

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter. 

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night -  incidentally beside Harry -  I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock. 

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him. 

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies. 

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again. 

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?” 

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.” 

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts. 

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.” 

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up. 

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one. 

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.” 

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?” 

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?” 

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket. 

“I know exactly what you mean, H.” 

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm. 

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again. 

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides. 

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit. 

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago. 

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore. 

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant. 

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser. 

“Then stay.” 

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.” 

. . . . . 

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway. 

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end. 

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face. 

“And you’re almost six foot!” 

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.” 

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough. 

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.” 

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again. 

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks. 

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry. 

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again. 

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm. 

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine. 

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side. 

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before? 

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa. 

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen. 

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.” 

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention. 

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.” 

. . . . .  

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all. 

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already. 

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all. 

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden  doors of Blondies. 

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner. 

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?” 

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him. 

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly. 

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?” 

“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.” 

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say. 

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.” 

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”  

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften. 

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-” 

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.” 

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry. 

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all  rather unsuccessfully. 

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?” 

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?” 

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’” 

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing. 

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’” 

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?” 

“See you soon.” 

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much. 

. . . . . 

Unknown Number 

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’ 

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago. 

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone. 

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’ 

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up. 

Me

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.” 

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’ 

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all. 

. . . . . 

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!” 

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?” 

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?” 

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends. 

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years. 

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?” 

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.” 

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us. 

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.” 

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech. 

. . . . .

 The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.” 

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.” 

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.” 

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood. 

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.” 

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens. 

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats. 

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition. 

. . . . . 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..” 

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.” 

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?” 

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?” 

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me. 

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection. 

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter. 

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits. 

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed. 

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-” 

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.” 

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips. 

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little, 

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.” 

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed. 

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?” 

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?” 

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.” 

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open. 

“That’s the plan, love.” 

. . . . . 

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed. 

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this. 

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me. 

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble: 

“Breakfast?” 

. . . . . 

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed. 

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes. 

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner. 

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares. 

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!” 

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him. 

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.” 

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands. 

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.” 

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion. 

“What’ve got yeh bag for?” 

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on. 

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-” 

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.” 

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space. 

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-” 

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.” 

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm. 

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start. 

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road. 

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums. 

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.” 

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road. 

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.” 

. . . . . 

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented. 

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?” 

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?”  She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.” 

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.” 

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed. 

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.” 

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth. 

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said. 

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine. 

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction. 

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him. 

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me. 

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing. 

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo. 

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend. 

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.” 

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact. 

Me 

Meet me at mine x

Harry 

Okay - what was that about? 

Me 

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/ 

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?” 

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.” 

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec”  before the line goes dead. 

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly. 

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.  

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me. 

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.” 

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?” 

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.” 

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me. 

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.” 

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange. 

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a  time I thought I could lose him. 

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair. 

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket. 

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.” 

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly. 

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?” 

“Eleanor would have a field day.” 

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again. 

“Oh yeah?” He teases. 

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.” 

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him. 

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.” 

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Really..she’d be right about that?” 

“I’m pretty sure-” 

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep. 

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.” 

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder. 

“I like you too H….just a little bit.” 

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear. 

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession. 

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs. 

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.” 

. . . . .    

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!” 

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand. 

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun. 

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest  to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north. 

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him. 

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer. 

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest. 

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning. 

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group. 

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him. 

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear. 

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction. 

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!” 

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going. 

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips. 

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done. 

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?” 

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven. 

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces. 

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.” 

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object. 

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven. 

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand. 

“Yes dear?”  

“What was that?” 

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-” 

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?” 

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.” 

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin. 

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?” 

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little. 

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter. 

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second. 

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?” 

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x

[a-lil-perspective]

I have been silent for some time now. I have refrained from exhibiting any plaguing thoughts that might warrant me the label of “that person”, but I’m at the point where I’ve had my fill.

Ramble under the cut so as to not... offend or inconvenience anyone. There’s absolutely no obligation to read this. It’s Tumblr. You can block/ignore me. The option to do so is readily accessible.

I’ve been a Bad Batch fan since day one. While I didn’t start creating that very same day, it was relatively close. Point being, I’m a long-time dedicated fan. As the premiere to their series draws closer, I feel like there is going to be a great shift, rift here. That being said, I figured now is as good a time as any to make this post.

I love those boys beyond words. They’ve been the one constant in my life amidst a rapid and debilitating change. I love getting to give them life, even if my interpretations aren’t the most accurate.

Yes, I am a new Writer and yes, I am new to Tumblr, as I am sure both of those things are painfully apparent.

I get that it is impossible to please everyone. It’s something I’m learning more and more with each passing day. It’s something that gets harder to swallow, even more so.

I’d like to say that being here has been a largely positive experience, with all of these great connections and opportunities. But honestly? It’s been more isolating than anything. I’ve actually never felt more isolated than since I joined a year ago.

As a content creator or even just a general blogger, I don’t ask for much. I don’t ask for anything, in fact. I consider myself very low maintenance. I don’t demand/harass/play the martyr for reblogs. I have never mentioned it once, and never will. Some people on here are so damn passive-aggressive about it, and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. It’s very stigmatizing. While I completely understand the frustration surrounding the like-to-reblog ratio, I think it’s neither tasteful nor reputable to threaten to call people out for not reblogging your fics. I wish I could say I was joking on that one. But I’ve seen it profoundly. Not cool.

And yet, no one says anything or raises any concern there.

Yet I make metas, harmless rambles, and I get shot down? Seriously?

—I need to “chill”, it’s “overkill”, I’m “overthinking”. I and my content are apparently just so damn arduous to interact with.

If you don’t like me, please just move on. There are plenty of other Bad Batch creators for you to enjoy. You know that. My work is absolutely not the final say, and I’ve never claimed it to be.

What is so wrong, with sharing one’s thoughts? Why do people inherently have a problem with other’s creative efforts? I see it time over again. Why do I feel like if I was making a bunch of smutty posts it wouldn’t be as much of a problem, that it in fact would be infinitely more welcome? (Absolutely NO shade to people who create smut, okay? I’ve made my own share. I admire those bold enough to do so regularly. I absolutely love them. Please teach me your ways).

This ramble really has nothing to do with the most recent event regarding my contributions. Rather, it’s a culmination of experiences over the past several months that have brewed and festered to the point where I can no longer keep downplaying it.

Social media, at its core, is one big popularity contest. It always has been, it always will be. But I’m not here to win. That’s never been my objective. That’s not what I’m about. Surprise (or not), I am not a popular blog. Not by a long shot. I’ll never claim otherwise.

I don’t ask people to view/interact with my content, I’m not an activist, I can’t even fathom exuding that kind of confidence. Even though I, admittedly, crave it. I suspect I crave interaction as much as the next creator. It’s a nice feeling. Yet there’s never been any obligation for it, especially with me, so I don’t understand what the problem is. As I’ve said, there are ample ways for you to block/avoid me. It’s the internet. In this day and age, there’s no excuse for viewing anything you don’t want to.

I came here in the hopes of finding like-minded individuals, uplifting and interacting, and exercising some otherwise stunted creativity.

All Tumblr as taught me is that creating and contributing is largely a thankless, empty endeavor. You can give and give and give and be reduced to nothing. There’s a profound imbalance between “giving” and “receiving”, and in regards to both ends of the scale, it’s became apparent to me that if you don’t cater heavily and in unreasonable degrees or get “noticed” by a popular blog, you get nothing, and your efforts are null and void.

Truthfully? I constantly feel like I walk on eggshells here, and it’s all I can do to not crack under the pressure, even though it’s my blog and my headspace. I should feel comfortable and free to express myself here, and I don’t, and I’m unsure of how to achieve that sense of stability. To be completely honestly I feel like a constant bother and a nuisance. When I post, I literally feel like there is a collective eye-roll that comes with people receiving a notification from my blog. Even though I know, rationally, that can’t be true, that’s an absurd level of thinking. I can’t say I can pinpoint exactly where it stems from.

But regardless: I hardly ever talk about/create the things I actually want. I only recently just got ballsy enough to share some metas, and we all know how well that’s going. I try not to have smut out of respect for my asexual/minor mutuals, even though the tag to blacklist is very much an option. I try not to bring up conflicting topics, Tumblr, political, or otherwise, even though with proper tagging I could. But I try not to even bring that into existence. Even though it’s my right to, I don’t.

I don’t actually feel like I fit into any narrative here, especially in the Bad Batch fandom; even though we are all basically the same steadfast group of bloggers. We all know who we are. We all coexist in the same space. It’s nearly impossible to be unaware of each other, at this point.

And yet, I’m not in a bunch of Discord servers or backed by a team of beta readers and all that jazz. It’s basically just me talking to myself out here. It’s very isolating.

Part of that—most of it—is my own crippling social anxiety, and the genuine belief that I don’t deserve to be in the same space/servers as all of these brilliant creators. Because I’m just me, and there’s not a whole lot of value there. With that mindset, it’s hard to actually feel like I belong anywhere. I know that is a mindset I have to conquer alone.

My excitement over my creations has largely dwindled into nothing. I seldom ever bounce my ideas off of others—another issue that stems from the fear of presenting as a burden—and even though I try to write for myself, even that fire has pretty much died out. I’m not even sure how or if I could even reignite it, at this point. It’s really quite sad. It makes me very sad, actually. All I wanted was to safely ramble, project all my thoughts and creativity that has otherwise been repressed through prolonged detrimental circumstances.

More than anything, I wanted to find and hold onto something that makes me feel useful, meaningful, happy. More and more I wonder if that’s even possible. I don’t think it is, not here. I often wonder if joining and sharing on Tumblr was a horrible mistake. I miss the innocent joy of when I first started creating. It was so simple. I’m trying to find that simplicity again.

But I’m burned out. I’m running on fumes. I have been for some time.

At this point it goes beyond just “taking a break” from Tumblr. It’s the fact that it all feels like this meaningless, monotonous cycle. I wonder every day if I am an isolated case in experiencing these emotions.

And yet, come tomorrow I will still be here, business as usual.

I’m not asking for sympathy or playing the victim or attacking anyone or trying to guilt-trip into more interaction. I am very aware of my shortcomings and incorrect mindsets. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. I feel very disconnected from everyone here and it’s lonely. This took a lot for me to share. I will most likely delete this because anxiety will eat me up, as it does with everything I post. Yes, everything.

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 22

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month

Hating LIla is apparently a family trait

First< Previous > Next

---------------------------

“Uh I hate this,” Chloe picks at her uniform like it's a disgusting growth.

“I think you look as nice as you always do,” Marion says cheerfully, turning around on his seat to look back at her and Kagami.

“Marion that is by far the worst you have ever insulted me,”

“It was a complement-” Marion doges her whack.

“Marinette! Hit your brother for me,” Chloe demands, standing up to try and reach him.

“It’s more gratifying if you do it yourself, trust me,” Marinette flicks through her phone, not bothering to look up, “I can pin your uniform to look more flattering if you like,”

“Nette you are the best!” Chloe hugs her from behind, awkward to be sure with the seat and all, yep that's the only reason, not Kagami's death glare that can be felt through the seat.

“Oh Marinette you can also pin mine,” Lila asks, as sweetly as acid, “Or weren't you going to offer the rest of the class?”

“No actually Lila she wasn't,” Marion sneers, ignoring Marinette trying to pull him back into the seat, “As I’ve made it quite clear none of you are our friends, so she isn’t obligated to do anything for you,”

“That’s so mean,” Lila sniffles, everyone is too busy feeling guilty to comfort her.

“Weren't you friends with MDC Lila?” Marion asks as sweetly as acid, “Why not try asking them?"

With that Marion turns back to his seat and starts scrolling through his phone, ignoring Lila's attempts at guilting. He gets a notification from Marinette.

I can speak for myself  

U can nicely tell them no- I  can tell them to fck off

That wasn't very nice

Im done with nice

Whats wrong?

Marion looks up seeing Marinette looking over him concerned, he sighs and texts back.

Nervous

Dont worry Bruce hasn't told them yet

Its going to be awkward

We’ll get through it- Pound it?

Marion looks back up, Marinette is smiling at him holding out her hand.

“Pound it,”

They pull up to the school, the grandiose of Wayne academy is nothing to sneeze at. Brick buildings, iron work, Marion has to force Marinette to put her sketchbook away. They are escorted around the campus by a student. They’ll be split up and put into a range of different classes to make the best out of their week there.

“3 o’clock,” Marinette bumps into him, Marion lets his gaze slide over, spotting Damian.

“Wasn't Lila saying on the way over here that she was great friends with him?”

“Mari don't,” Marinette hisses, tugging at his sleeve, “It’s weird enough without pulling him in to our grudge match,”

“Nothing bonds siblings more than a mutual hatred of Lila, exhibit A,” He points back and forth between them, “I’m going to do it,”

“Don't you dare-”

“Hey Damian!” Marion shouts, waving his hand for the entire hallway to turn and stare.

Damian turns around with a scowl, hardly lessening when he spots them.

“Marion, just what do you think you’re doing,” Kagami scolds, as Damian stalks over.

“Lila,” Marion smirks back, looking over to the girl who pales at an actual Wayne walking over, apparently she had actually decided to look up what they look like.

“Oh this is going to be good,” Chloe steps back, content to watch the show.

“Hey Dami,” Marion goes to sling an arm around his shoulder.

“Don’t call me Dami,” Damian sidesteps his attempt, preferring to stand closer to Marinette.

“How’s Cat-fred?” Marion smiles, getting Damian’s scowl to lessen slightly, so he smiles brighter.

“He’s doing well,”

“Good good…” Marion shuffles, no longer able to look directly at him, “How’s the family?”

Marinette gives him a sideways look that clearly says ‘you did this to yourself’.

“Why are you asking?” Damian narrows his eyes, and Marion knows he fucked up.

Nette help please!

“I wanted to know when I can come over next for a rematch,” Marinette gracefully lets him off the hook.

“Evidently sparring at the manor is at risk of interruption,” Damian notes, deep in thought, “We should plan an alternative meeting space,”

“That sounds great,” Marinette smiles, catching Damian in between their grins.

Damian just nods and walks away, Marion smiles and waves.

“You’re an idiot,” Marinette punches him in the shoulder, getting him to lower his arm.

“We’ve established that, thanks,” Marion rubs his shoulder with a pout, “However look over there,”

Lila having an aneurysm, surrounded by the class berating her with questions.

“Worth it,” Marion grins, going for a subtle fist bump.

“Agreed,” Marinette returns the gesture.

“Lila why didn’t you say hi?”

“Why didn’t he say hi?”

“He must not have seen me,” Lila’s lip quivers in a practiced motion, “Marinette was standing in front of me,”

“Or were you hiding behind Marinette?” Marion calls over, actually voluntarily walking towards the beast.

“What?! Of course I wasn't!” Lila shouts, her glare sending him a clear warning, one he was fully prepared to ignore.

“Then why didn’t you just move?” Marion asks oh so innocently.

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Lila sounds shy but her face screams murder, as people hang around to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Then you were doing it to be polite and complaining about Marinette is quite rude,” Marion has to hold back a smirk as he hears an ‘oh snap’ from his audience.

“I- you!-”

“That’s nice Lila,” Marinette interrupts, walking away like the badass she is, “How about we get to class,”

Marion goes to class, having the fortune to be lumped in with Lila. And yes he does mean fortune because while Lila is trying to brag and get the students under her thumb they are happily ignoring her, focusing instead on Marion’s tips for learning French. When Lila switches tactics saying she can speak Italian Marion switches over to fluent Italian, something he had learned from his Nona. He then breaks out his Mandarin, daring Lila to try and fake knowing a language.

Lila goes quite, just kidding you know that's not true. She starts to pull students aside whispering to them. Marion isn't sure if she is intentionally loud enough that he can hear her or if it’s just his enhanced hearing.

“He’s a bully, I know he’s just trying to act nice to get something out of you,” Lila warns a student who looks disgruntled to have basically been pulled into the corner away from the group.

“He’s a Wayne?” Ah so he’s heard the not-so rumour, “What could I possibly have that he doesn't?”

“He’s not a Wayne!” Lila snaps, before regaining her composure, “I actually know the Waynes,”

“... because they’re in your class?”

“No!” She stops her foot, “They made up that rumour! I know because I’m personal friends with all the Waynes,”

“Alright show a picture,” The guy shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets, Marion reminds himself to give them the award of ‘you’re smarter than everyone in my class, it's not much but it’s something!’.

“ What? ” Lila seethes, looking ready to tear his eyeballs out to have an excuse not to show him.

“All I’m saying is I’ve seen multiple pictures of them with the Waynes plus, I heard that they actually talked to Damian Wayne this morning!” He actually looks in awe at this fact.

“I would hardly call that a conversation,” Lila crosses her arms, looking to the side like a child.

“No you don't understand!” He employers making a wild hand gesture as if trying to show how amazing it is, “He’s the ice prince, if someone else calls his name or even tried to talk to him he would just ignore them, but he actually walked over and talked to them,”

“He saw me-”

“Look I don’t really care, this argument isn't worth having,” The guy puts up placating hands, the gesture having the exact opposite effect on Lila, “Marion seems cool, Wayne or not, so yeah,”

Marion tries not to smile as one by one Lila is shot down. Her anger rising so high Marion is sure she would have been akumatized three times over by now.

“Hey what's with Lila, she seems to have it out for you?” The first guy to talk to her whispers, turns out his name is James and was very confused when Marion gifted him a small paper trophy.

“Oh she does,” Marion shrugs, filling out the worksheet idly.

“Ok… why?” James presses, the small paper trophy sitting on his desk.

“Hmmm…” Marion leans back, tipping his seat, “It’s a paradox,”

“What is?”

“If I tell you the truth, you’ll probably think I’m lying and her accusations will seem more believable,” Marion reasons, looking up at the ceiling, “If I fake ignorance, you’ll probably just take her word for it, seems like a trap,”

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” James shakes his head, and Marion cracks a grin.

“Sorry, just happy to have some new friends,” His smile lessens, becoming melancholy, “It’s been awhile,”

“What? But you’re so,” James makes another one of his wild hand gestures,  “ Nice ,”

Marion just shrugs, but some people notice how he quickly glances over at Lila talking with someone else. Any further questions are cut off by the bell.

“Well, seems that's our cue to leave, now tell me are American school lunches really as bad as I’m led to believe?”

“You poor little french boy,” James shake his head,  “You have no idea the horrors you will face,”

“This is so much worse than I thought it would be,” Marion looks down at his tray in disgust, “This is a private school?”

“I told you so,” James shrugs, walking through the cafeteria to find a seat.

“Hold up a sec,” Marion says, spotting Damian, not talking but rather trying to ignore someone talking to him, “Dami!”

“Don’t call me Dami,” Damian pushes Marion off him this time, the person who was talking to him looks shocked that his arms aren’t broken.

He puts his tray on the table and grabs Damian's shoulders.

“I have an urgent problem,”

“Cheng-Dupain, from what I know of you that is a massive exaggeration,” Damian brushes him off again and Marion’s scared the other kid is having a heart attack, “Now stop bothering me, it can wait for later,”

“I didn’t take any pictures of Cat-fred!” Marion cries, flopping onto Damian, who doesn't bother pushing him off a third time.

“... Understandable,” Damian snatches Marion’s phone, letting Marion input the code over his shoulder, “This is an oversight on your part,”

“So you’ll send some to me?” Marion grins, using Damian’s head as an armrest as he watches him enter his number.

“Yes,” Damian passes Marion’s phone back and Marion grabs his food.

“Great, see you later!” Marion stands up, ruffling Damian's hair before leaving.

“What was that!?” He hears the other person shout as he walks away.

“What was that?!” James yells, and whoops the entire cafeteria is staring between him and Damian.

“Do you ever learn from your mistakes?” Marinette asks, materialising beside him.

“No?” Marion scoffs, putting his and on his hip, “Why would I?”

“Are you actually siblings?” James still looks in shock but at least he isn’t gaping and gasping for air anymore.

“Yes?” Of course they were siblings, they are twins? Is that not clear?

“God-fucken dammit Mari!” Marinette hisses, “That’s not what they meant!”

“Oh,” Marion says softly, totally not jumping as Damian materialises next to him.

“Cheng-Dupain, it was this absentminded nature that caused this rumour to get out of hand in the first place,”

“Yeah… you are going to have to be way more specific,” Marion looks around the whole cafeteria is still staring at them, trading whispers.

“No we are not related, that is a baseless rumour,” Damian glares at James, making him recoil.

“Right… baseless,” Marion mumbles, getting kicked in the shin by Marinette.

“Adopted then?” James foolishly asks.

“ No ,” and yep now James looks afraid for his life.

“Haha, you know you don’t have to seem so offended by that?” Marion slings his arm around Damian’s shoulder, silently rejoicing that he only gets a withered glare this time.

“Like I said,” Lila’s voice carries over the still quite cafeteria, “The Waynes were telling me how they hate that rumour, the meer idea they are connected to the twins is-”

“ Excuse me ,” Damian slams his hand down on the table, right next to Lila making her jump out of her skin,  “But who are you, and why do you think you know anything about my family and what we think,”

“I just-”

“You presume you’re of enough importance to understand my feelings towards the matter?” Damian stands tall and looks down his nose at her, “You aren’t,”

“Lila,” Alya whispers to her as Damian walks away, “I think you should just let them sort it out, it’s a family matter,”

“Who is that?” Damian demands when he gets back to them, “And how do I destroy her?”

“Don’t worry about it Damian, she's just doing it to get attention,” Marinette explains calmly.

“Lila Rossi,” Marion has other plans, “She’s a Liar, provide proof she doesn't know your family or anyone for that matter and she will be destroyed,”

Damian gives a curt nod and walks away, back to his friend who is still gaping like the rest of the room.

“ Mari ,” Marinette smacks him.

“I merely shared my wisdom,” Marion stroke his invisible beard, “What he chooses to do with it is up to him,”

“Ugh, that was a long day,” Plagg groans, curling up in the middle of his pillow.

“Plagg you slept in my bag the whole time,” Marion flops onto his bed, and it wasn't over they had to go on patrol soon.

“Which is far more disruptive than a bed,” Plagg complains, letting Marion curl up next to him, “Not comfortable at all,”

“Speaking of not being comfortable…” Marinette trails off, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Our brother insisting we aren’t related?” Marion curls around to look over at her.

“Very strange feeling,” Marinette nods, absentmindedly pulling her feet onto the bed.

“He yelled at Lila,” Marion smiles up at the ceiling.

“Does that make him an honorary Dupain-slash-Cheng?” Marinette smiles over at him.

“Yeah…” Marion’s grin drops, “... Or Dupain/Cheng/Wayne,”

“... You want to tell them?” Marinette asks in her horrible tone that reminds him of being back in Paris and trying to stifle emotions.

“I mean, yeah,” He sits up, crossing his legs, “They’re family right? I want to know them, do you?”

“He seemed upset when they called us siblings,” Marinette turns to face him, the Kwamis watching their little meeting from the outside.

“He seemed more upset with Lila, said he was insulted by it,” Marion reasons, he feels like they’re back in Paris dressed as Ladybug and Chat Noir having three in the morning conversations on rooftops.

“It’s Lila, anything she says can piss someone off,” Marinette sighs, flopping back on the bed, destroying the illusion, “Tikki what do you think?”

“This is a decision you have to make on your own Marinette,” Tikki advises sagely.

“Tiiikkkiiiiii,” Marinette whines like a three year old

“Alright, I never had a family but I have the other Kwamis,” Tikki concedes, explaining to the twins giving her all their attention, “I am separated from Nooro and Dussu, and if family feels like them I do not want you to be separated,”

“What if they get mad?” Marinette asks, fidgeting.

“Then you’ll find a way to work through it,” Tikki smiles at them, “You’re Ladybug and Chat Noir, there isn’t anything you can’t do,”

“Just do it kid!” Plagg shouts, giving up on pretending to nap, “If it turns out bad at least you know!”

“Plagg!”

“What is it Sugar Cube?” Plagg asks sweetly, getting chased out the room moments later.

“So, we doing this?” Marion asks, after all their Kwamis have left.

“I guess so,” Marinette shugs, bringing out her phone, Marion holds her hand for comfort as they wait for the phone to ring.

“Hello?” Bruce picks up on the third ring.

“Hey Bruce,” Marion says, sounding strained even to himself.

“Marinette, Marion,” Bruce answers, pleasantly surprised, “Is everything alright?”

“How do you feel about telling everyone else?” Marion cuts straight to the chase, he can’t be bothered to run.

“... are you sure?” Marion can feel Marinette tension grow at the question, “I want to but they’ll all be surprised, it might ruin your trip,”

“We got sent to the hospital the first week being here,” Marion reasons, he should technically still be on bed rest.

“... That's true,”

“So?” He prompts after a too long pause.

“When do you want to tell them?”

“Tomorrow,” Marinette speaks up for the first time.

Well I guess that's that

-----------------------------

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd

[mimiplaysgames]

Terra Week Day 3 (Dreams/AU)

Summary: Terra hears stories about Xehanort during his apprenticeship. Everyone has something to say about his face. | Word Count: 3,954

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 3

To Dream is to risk. To risk is to show bravery. To show bravery is to embody strength. To embody strength is to Dream. 

In the middle of construction, Radiant Garden looks as though it’s been dealt an iron fist. Some neighborhoods need their roofs replaced and there’s now what they call an automatic trigger alarm system that is run by motion sensors. They are still clearing rubble from the streets on the west side. The east looks good as new, slowly filling back up with tufts of flowers. 

Terra has never been inside Ansem the Wise’s castle (well… him, not him anyway) but it used to be beautiful. It used to stand on brick and alabaster stone, graciously presenting a giant clock mechanism that made it look Grandfatherly, a home away from home, carefully placed gears running three pendulums. Now the remains are held up by pipes. Cranes pull up missing spires that have fallen off. The only part truly original to the castle is still that clock piece. Grandfather had a rough night but at least he’s cleaning up nicely.

Ven jogs to keep up with Terra’s strides. “I saw you talking to Naminé last night,” he says.

“You saw right.”

“I’m worried.” 

Terra is worried, too. Aqua, not suspecting anything, is leading the way up the stairs to the front entrance.

“You’re going to have to distract her for me,” Terra says, keeping his tone hushed.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Stall her when you get the chance.” At which Ven rolls his eyes. “Just for a short while.” Checking to see if Aqua has turned her head, Terra pretends it’s a casual conversation. With a (painted) smile, he says out loud, “Race you to the top.”

Ven groans and lags behind. 

At the top, Aqua greets one of the guards, a tall and meaty man with waist-length dark braids and slick sideburns that might as well be shaped by the edge of a knife. Terra has to push aside the question if this is one of the men who had kidnapped people for the sake of Xehanort’s experiments— the people he will meet today are not the same as they were.  He has to remember that.

“Terra,” she says. “This is Dilan.”

Dilan. Terra doesn’t recognize that name.

Speaking of, Dilan takes one glance at Terra before bursting into laughter, haughty and rich. 

“Aeleus,” he calls, his tone piercing like lances. “Come and see whose Somebody has finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

Aeleus. Nope, not this name either. 

Ven cowers behind Aqua when a head of orange curls appear around the corner.

If Dilan is tall, Aeleus is a beast, a walking fortress with muscles bigger than Terra’s head. It’s impressive enough to make Terra keep Earthshaker close at his fingertips. Aeleus has what looks like a permanent scowl—so woven into his skin that when he smirks, no other muscle moves with it. It must be the eyebrows, but it leaves Terra wondering if he’s going to get his nose caved in at any moment. These men do have reasons to hold resentment, after all. 

“I’ve given up on expecting a visit,” Dilan says when joined by his comrade. Two gatekeepers. “And I hardly ever expected to… feel this much when I would come upon your face again.” He grins and its equal parts amused and hurt. 

Aeleus grunts in agreement. He crosses his arms and Terra swears it makes him grow another inch. 

“If I may,” Dilan continues, “there have been quite the corrupted experiences in our history.”

Terra steps back. Corrupted. Before he can feel too sick, he feels a gentle hand on his wrist, Aqua stepping near him as she waits for his cue.

“I’ve carried such regret since,” Dilan says, hands wrapped behind his back. “I watch every face that passes by this castle, and at the end of each night, I’m left with this vacant pit in my chest, asking myself if we ever shared a shred of self-awareness, would we have pursued our dreams differently?

“Now that you are here,” he presses, angling down. “I realize it matters not what you remember of that time. I know when I see that shackled look in your eyes. I am not alone in this. For that, you’ll have no choice but to share the weight of that debt forever.” He smirks. “What say you, Aeleus?”

Aeleus measures Terra with his eyes. His voice is deep and as dense as rock. “You’re puny.”

Dilan spits into another bout of laughter.

Their roast of him eases Terra. He doesn’t know these men, and they know less of him, but they have a mutual friend called Burden, sharing the cheer. Aqua gets the message that all is fine, and lets go. 

“Well...” Terra starts, too self-conscious of the way he speaks. The sound of his voice must be entertaining for Dilan, who’s containing himself. “I’m here to make some things right. Can we come in?”

Dilan sustains a grin and raises a hairy eyebrow, nodding off to Aeleus in some silent conversation. “Did you really think you can have access without telling us the secret password?”

“A password?” Now he feels like a dork. “Can I have a hint?”

“You can give us your heart,” Aeleus says, and Dilan can’t control himself any longer.

With a clap of their hands, the castle doors open, and they spread apart to let Terra and his friends through. Terra has to wonder if normal will ever bless him with its visit ever again. If he could be normal when he hears of others’ stories, when some jokes hit too close to home. 

“Come back to train,” Aeleus says, giving Terra a hard knock on the shoulder that pushes him forward. “You need more muscle.”

The castle doors shut behind them with controlled weight, cutting off Dilan’s lingering amusement with a bang. Terra is left with hot ears, massaging his biceps to see if he’s gotten smaller.

“I think they like you,” Ven says. 

Pipes line the crooks between the walls and the ceilings. Like a respiratory system, it steams and churns, pumping humid life into the castle. Some of the halls are dark. Parts of the floor are chipped and if not, grimey. They have a long way to go before it looks pristine.

And Terra apparently has spent years here. But nothing gives him that spark. Nothing makes his stomach turn or drops a loaded bout of nostalgia. The very thought of having lived here sounds like an alternate reality that was never recorded, so at best it’s just a story, at worst a lie.

“Soooo…” Ven says to Terra, hands casually behind his head. “Does this place bring back any memories?”

Aqua scoffs. “That’s an awful question to ask, Ven.”

“You mean you’re not curious?”

Terra groans. It’s not the invasive nature of the question, but the fact that he asked Ven to lay low about this mission not several minutes ago and here he is nearly sabotaging it. He flicks Ven at the ear.

“What? I just want to know!”

“I don’t,” Aqua mutters. 

Stars. Terra’s pocket buzzes with notifications from his Gummiphone, but he ignores them. Now’s not the right time.

A man steps from around the corner, knee deep in a long, white lab coat with coiffed wrist cuffs and a folded handkerchief on his collar. He walks so quietly that they don’t hear him approach. Clean cut except for the hair—too clean, actually, and brushed over the front, like linen pulled too far to one side of the table.

“Master Aqua,” this man greets with a bright and timid smile behind the curtain. “How pleasant to finally meet you to face to face.”

“Likewise, Ienzo.”

Ienzo. Terra only recognizes it because Aqua keeps in contact with him. 

Likewise, when Ienzo looks over her shoulder, he lights up. 

“I’m Terra.”

“I can tell.” Ienzo clears his throat. “Pardon, I shouldn’t be so forward, but… You look so much like him.” He clicks his tongue. “I shouldn’t have said that, either.”

“It’s fine,” Terra says, though it’s not.

“I-I can show you around the castle.” He adjusts his collar. “It may seem unhomely now, but I assure you, it warms up in time.”

It’s already too warm.  

“This has been home for you for a while, right?” Aqua asks, a plastic quality to her voice as if she’s trying to patch things up. Nothing needs patching though. It’s just awkward. 

“Since I was a child.” Ienzo glances back at Terra. “May I say something?”

Everyone has something to say. Terra considers researching a magic spell to alter his face. “Sure.”

Ienzo tightens his collar again, the knot knuckling into his throat. “I really admired him. Xehanort.” 

It doesn’t feel like a punch to the stomach but more like his breath was sucked out by a hand after it slapped him in the face. “Um…”

“I don’t mean to be rude. Or forward.” This guy apologizes too much. And will choke himself if he doesn’t stop. “But for some time, ever since I’ve heard word of who you really were, I wondered what it would be like for the two of us to meet. I held no expectations. And yet… Everything about you is so foreign to me.”

There goes Aqua again, standing near and giving Terra gentle notice that she’s there. There goes Ven, gawking up at him and being completely unsubtle about how the conversation has turned. 

“Everything about this place is foreign to me,” Terra says, trying to be polite and failing at somewhere closer to aghast. 

“I apologize.” Ienzo turns his nervous ticks to his wrist cuffs, effortlessly attempting at cutting off his circulation. “I suppose you could say Xehanort was a profound presence in my life.” 

When Ienzo finally catches on to what he’s doing to his clothes, he exhales and puts his hand to his face, thinking deeply, maybe about a time in an alternate universe where lies and stories were real. It makes him look like a child.

“You would have been,” Terra says, keeping himself sweet, “very young when you met him.”

Ienzo nods slowly. “I was a child and taken in to study. Science was a language he spoke with ease and I wanted in every way to emulate that when I grew up.”

Terra can relate. “Was that hard on you?”

“Not in the beginning.” Ienzo slowly finds some courage with every word. “He wasn’t kind… Not like you are. He was polite, however, and he was focused. If anything, Xehanort had a sort of quality that made you believe all the possibilities were in your grasp. No matter what they were, or your age, or level of intelligence. He was magnetic. I grew up thinking I was capable of anything because of his support.” Ienzo stares down at a small puddle building up from the steam. “I wanted to impress. I believed in what he believed, and never once did I think—I justified everything I did. I did not know about you. And I am so very sorry.”

“I get it,” Terra says softly. “He made you feel like you were worth the time and effort.”

“Yes. Exactly.” 

And it came with a cost. Terra doesn’t need to say it, and neither does Ienzo, a quiet acknowledgement passing in the moments they nod and paint a smile between them. 

“I appreciate you giving me the time to release these thoughts,” Ienzo says. “I’ve struggled with them for some time, especially after waking up again.” 

“Happy to help.” Actually it hurts, but Terra can deal.

“Now I must reciprocate my efforts.” Ienzo turns to Aqua. “You are looking for your Keyblade.”

Aqua, for the second time that day, lets Terra go. “Did you find out anything new?”

After a moment, he says, “It is blue. Before you raise your hopes”—he lifts his hands in defense—“neither of us can recall what Xehanort has done with it. I don’t believe I have ever seen evidence of it during my time as a Nobody. We are regressing quite a few years in the past.”

“Oh.”

Ienzo blinks. “I was uncertain if I had dreamed of it, but when I was a child, I would take walks around the castle at night. A ritual I felt I needed in order to sleep. One of those serendipitous nights, I had walked past Xehanort’s personal office.” He glances at Terra, opens his mouth to say more, then thinks the better of it and addresses Aqua instead. (You, but not you.) “He had left the door open. He was studying a large object, electrifying it and concocting different spells to get it to react. I want to say it was blue, but I was not certain what I was looking at.”

They all stare at him in silence.

“He was… toying with it?” Aqua asks.

“I am not sure.”

“Maybe he was trying to activate it?” Ven says. 

“Perhaps.”

“How was he that night?” Terra asks, a distinct acidity to his throat and so help him stars, he might just spit it out in the next minute. It’s natural to hold your friends’ Keyblades. This is different.

“Frustrated,” Ienzo says. “I almost want to say that he was on the verge of giving up, as though it had given up on him.”

“That makes it sound like he was attached to it,” Aqua spits.

“That is a possibility. But whatever it was, it didn’t want to work with him.” 

Aqua smirks and lifts one elegant shoulder. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Let me escort you to our records room.” Ienzo gestures with an arm to the hallway behind him. “I’ll show you some of his earlier journals. Perhaps there is a mention of it?” 

They start ahead except for Terra, who waits until they move several paces before they noticed he opted to stay behind.

“Actually,” Terra says slowly, finding opportunity here and swallowing the acid down. It’s going to take at least two meals to remove the taste. “Being here and listening to all of this makes me a little dizzy.”

Anything involving discomfort with her friends set off panic with Aqua. “Are you okay?”

Ven gives Terra a warning glare.

Robin Hood would have tweaked the truth for the better good. What a horrible thought, stars, Yen Sid has got to be humoring Aqua in getting Terra prepared for his Mark of Mastery. 

“I’m just overwhelmed,” Terra says. She believes him.

“Maybe you should step outside.”

Ven puffs out.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Terra says, pressing Ven with a glare back. Have my back. “I won’t be gone for long. I want to be around to help you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aqua says, checking his eyes for signs of exhaustion. “Get your rest.”

It’s that easy and yet Ven walks away defeated. It shouldn’t take long. All Terra has to do is pull out his Gummiphone and find—

“Naminé.”

She’s back near the entrance. Thank the stars she prefers to use full sentences and could direct him where to go to meet her. When she sees him, she signals to be quiet and gestures for him to follow her. They go down a different hallway, one that is much more well kept than the one Aqua and Ven are taking. They pass by labs this way, some filled with computers, others with flasks, half of a library, and infirmary beds. Nothing so far that looks menacing or painful, but maybe Terra is overthinking the whole Xehanort-tortures-people legend. Or maybe the castle is designed to hide such things. 

She takes him to a room with a recliner and several computer screens that are running some diagnostics about the security systems outside, and closes the door behind them. 

Someone is already waiting here.

“Riku?”

“Terra.”

“What are you doing here?”

Riku holds his waist and draws out a long exhale, like a tired schoolteacher. “Ven was worried.”

“And spilled the beans.” Terra scoffs.

“And spilled the beans.” Riku smirks and it lightens up his whole face in a way that only fits with him. Terra never has to take anything too seriously for too long when he’s around Riku. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

A mixed feeling of anxiety and relief wash over Terra like a lumpy massage on his shoulders. “I don’t mean to do this in secret.”

Riku shrugs. “I would have.” 

“I need to say something,” Naminé says, her arms wrapped around a lineless notebook. Even when announcing to a room, she keeps herself soft and small. “I’m not entirely confident about this.” 

Riku snorts. 

“How is that funny?”

“It’s not, I’m sorry.” After noticing how she’s staring at him with utter confusion, he waves at her. “You’re a lot more capable than you give yourself credit for.”

Unconvinced, she sighs and motions to the recliner. “Please get comfortable, Terra.”

“What is this going to look like anyway?” Riku leans on the dashboard behind him, a ghostly light silhouetting him like a grim reaper on guard. 

Naminé pouts. That same light gives her an eldritch glow, illuminating her white dress. “I’m going to attempt to connect Terra to Xehanort’s memories.”

“Nam,” Riku says, crossing his arms, suddenly serious. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Attempt.” 

“Xehanort is dead.”

“But memories stay with you,” Terra objects. They do. He can play them in his head, over and over. He already has for years. 

Eraqus lives as long as Terra can replay his voice. 

“From what I understood,” Riku says, leaning on his thighs, “you don’t remember being Xehanort. So how can you connect to his memories?”

But death is a one way door. 

“He was in my body,” Terra says. However, that Riku is skeptical of this suddenly makes Terra uneasy.

“Would you say you were bonded with Xehanort?” Naminé asks, so quiet it’s a shy whisper, afraid to ignite a bomb with the soundwaves of her voice. 

“Does irreparable damage count?”

“That may hurt you in the long run,” she says, pulling a stool aside Terra and opening her notebook on her lap. “What I mean is, the memories we share with other people form the bonds. They link together, like chains.”

Chains. Terra winces.

“You choose who you bond with, in all the decisions you’ve made in the past,” she continues.

In some way, Terra has chosen to bond with Xehanort, hasn’t he? He chose to confide in him, and he carries the shackles all these years later.

“But you are trying to access memories you’ve played no role in,” Naminé says. “There is nothing to link between the two, except for the body.”

“That isn’t enough?” Terra sits on the recliner. It’s stiff and unyielding, but he leans on his back and looks up at the monitor, illegible script running numbers upside down.

Riku groans.

“If you were still carrying Xehanort with you,” she says, “I think I could have made an artificial connection there.” Slowly flipping pages, she grimaces until she finds a blank slate. “Kind of like I used to do. I can create false memories. I can break chains and rechain them. But I cannot propel you to a time you did not exist.” 

“I did exist,” Terra says softly.

“What she’s trying to say,” Riku says, getting up on his feet and pacing,“is that you’re doing what Sora did before he disappeared.” Sora, a warning to keep you from getting lost in the woods. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

Naminé splays out crayons on the nearby table: one orange, one blue, a green and a red. She looks sickly. “But Sora went too far.”

“So,” Terra starts, obviously a fool even to himself, “you mean if I don’t go as far, I can be okay.”

Naminé fiddles with her fingers. “I can’t guarantee that. I don’t know what you will end up seeing.”

Terra pauses. He’d be testing the limits of chance in putting Aqua and Ven through this grief again. It’s hard to imagine—Aqua getting the news of something happening, choosing not to cry in front of people she doesn’t know. Robin Hood would have made better choices.

But Aqua would grieve anyway if she goes through those books, picturing no one else but Terra doing all those horrible things. He’s heard some of the stories: the screaming at night, the monsters, the disappearances that start with the children and later swallow the entire family, where neighbors never see them come home again. Xehanort happened to all of them. 

“I don’t mean you will disappear.” She lets loose a nervous chuckle.

“But I could go nuts,” Terra says with a painted smile.

“That’s why Ven asked me to be here,” Riku says, that edge of his sanded out some. “I’ve lost count how many times I’ve beaten Xehanort. Or Ansem. They’re the same really. I don’t think you’d be too much of a hassle.”

“Well, thanks,” Terra says, and Riku replies with a fisted nudge on his shoulder.

What’s the fun in playing the game if you already know the outcome? Terra doesn’t know why he’s thinking that way, but he’s absolutely stupid for taking the gamble. There’s no way Yen Sid seriously considers him for Mastery. 

And Aqua would grieve anyway.

“I don’t want to let it come to that,” Naminé says, eyes on the floor. 

“Are you going to make me watch Xehanort?” Terra asks.

“That’s up to you.” She starts with red. “I can’t make you do anything without writing memories for you.”

“Should let his heart guide him?” Riku asks.

May your fickle, sickly heart be your guiding key to oblivion and all the ridiculous delusions you hold dear.

“It’s a safer way to approach it,” Naminé says, not nodding but not shrugging either. 

“Why am I not surprised.”

Terra doesn’t know why she sounds so insecure about her skills when he’s heard nothing but amazing things. “I suggest letting your mind move with your feelings,” she tells him. “Don’t force a thought, and don’t get lost in the emotions. Just sit. Does that make sense?” She taps the crayon to her chin. 

“It does.” Terra counts his breaths. In three, out five. In five, out seven. Xehanort. He doesn’t know what to think about Xehanort. Hatred is useless. Revenge is futile. Anger will sabotage his way to Mastery. While Terra has tried his best in his meditation exercises, he’s only done them for the sake of earning good marks in his classes. Settling down, not thinking, relaxing—those are things Terra’s never claimed to be good at, especially lately. 

Xehanort walked through these halls with Terra’s body. Should he try and picture himself instead? In the same lab coat Ienzo wears? With white hair, most likely. And definitely too much hair gel.

“What’s it going to be like?”

“A dream,” Naminé says, her crayon drawing loops on the page, though Terra cannot see what it is. 

“It already feels like I’m dreaming,” Terra says, watching the ceiling ebb and flow with running lights from the computer monitors behind him. Ever since he stepped in here, it’s felt like he lived a lifetime away from home. No start, no ending, moving pictures that he loses as soon as he blinks. Nothing stays, like waking up and forgetting a whole night. 

“I have to warn you,” Naminé says, her voice quieter, “I may have to unchain the memories you want linked together if it gets too hard for you.”

And there, in the midst of wondering if he’s ever going to get this right, he thinks of a white door he’s never seen before. 

[feminarrie]

under the same moon - one

a/n: we are back with the first chapter, friends! the chapter is just a tad over 2.7k and a whole lot of fluff. 

please let me know what you think and if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

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Hanna’s hips ache with every step that she takes into her shared two bedroom apartment. A telltale sign that the fatigue and jet lag have begun to take up their extended residency in her bones. Another yawn escapes her as she sets her luggage next to her bedroom door. She’ll get to unpacking later, she tells herself. A short nap is much higher on her list of priorities for the day.

She doesn’t even bother to change out of her clothes. Simply tugs her black leggings down her legs, kicking them off with her left foot and leaving them to pool somewhere near her laundry basket. There’s no need to remove her bra after having decided to go without it beneath her oversized hoodie. The plain forest green hoodie had been the best and cleanest choice for the long plane ride home.

After pushing her throw blanket to the side of her queen bed, Hanna is kneeing her way up the length of it before dropping the upper half of her body to the mattress. The blankets smell like the laundry detergent used to wash them and the vanilla reed defuser that sits on her bedside table. And it has Hanna’s eyes drooping the moment her head hits the pillow, long mahogany hair fanning around her.

She’s nearly asleep after just a few seconds, but manages to muster up enough energy to retrieve her phone from the pocket of her sweatshirt. Setting an alarm to get up is the responsible thing to do even though the mere thought of waking up sets Hanna’s lower lip into a pout. But, with classes starting in almost two weeks and a fifteen page paper due for her interim course, she doesn’t exactly have time to waste. 

After checking that the clock read exactly noon, she sets an alarm to go off in two and a half hours. Perhaps she will wake up groggy and annoyed, but she has an inkling that waking up at any point will leave her just the same. Hanna tosses the device on her bedside table and not even five minutes later is she snoring beneath the quilted fabric of her comforter. 

.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

Hanna wakes up to a wash of light purples and reds that paint her white walls a muted version of the colors. She can feel a stiffness in her neck as she shifts to her back on the bed and her face scrunches up with the discomfort. Hanna already knows that she has slept well past her alarm, but she can’t bring herself to care. She feels far too well rested and surely that can’t be a bad thing. If anything, it should make her much more productive. 

She pushes herself to sit up, pressing her back to pillows and leaning her head against the wall behind her. Her hand rises to cup the junction between her throat and neck, rolling her neck to relieve the tension. The other hand reaches for the phone that has shifted toward the edge of the table with the vibrations that accompanied her alarm. 

After turning off the do not disturb feature, her phone is flooded with notifications. She checks her voicemail first, seeing two separate calls from her mother and father. 

“Hi, Hanna. I’m glad you are home. Please give your mother and I a call when you’ve settled back in. Love you, kiddo.” 

“Iha. Call me when you are able to. I love you.”

They are both simple messages, but it has been more than two weeks since Hanna had heard the voice of her parents. Her mother’s silvery tone fills her with warmth and her dad’s sparks a yearning to be home that, in reality, always resides just below the surface. She holds off on calling them back, though. She hardly thinks that calling them at 5:36am on a Saturday is a good idea. Instead, she figures calling them after she has unpacked and begun settling back in would be much better.

She continues to look through her notifications. She reads through missed text messages from the group chat she has with Imogen, Tyler, and Sonam. It is an assortment of half finished thoughts, capital letters, and promises to go out the first week they are all back. (Hanna misses them something fierce. She absolutely cannot wait until Imogen returns to their shared apartment and Tyler and Sonam essentially move themselves in alongside her). 

Hanna types out a quick message to let them know she may or may not have slept for over twelve hours before switching to her social media accounts. Twitter has hardly anything new to offer after she had spent the better part of the flight scrolling through it, but Instagram is littered with likes and comments on her most recent picture. 

She scrolls through the notifications, reading each comment and liking the few that are from friends. There are even a few direct messages that have gone stale in her inbox after having been sent more than a week ago. But, there is one that was sent shortly after she had posted a picture of her arrival at LAX. 

niallhoran: you left so soon ! wish i would’ve known. i could’ve shown you the real sights to see in london. 

niallhoran: sorry if that sounded creepy at all, didn’t mean it if it did !! 

Hanna laughs quietly to herself at Niall’s messages. She hardly thinks that he sounded creepy, but she is not above engaging in some light teasing. 

hannarey: might’ve been a little more than creepy

hannarey: lmao i'm kidding! sorry i didn’t let you know when you dropped me off. i would’ve liked that. 

She doesn’t really expect a response right away, but her phone vibrates with a message only a few moments later. 

niallhoran: shit, sorry! but, would’ve liked to have gotten to know you better.

And Hanna doesn’t know it, but Niall is nibbling at his lower lip as he types out each message. She makes him more nervous than he can even describe and it’s almost embarrassing. Especially when Liam comes in, hair wild after his lie-in and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, asking him why he looks so pensive. (Really, Liam asks why he looks so constipated). 

“Remember those two American girls that we had over?” Niall asks, glancing away from his phone for the first time.

“Hanna and Ira, yeah.” Liam nods as he moves to make himself a cup of tea, raising his mug as if to ask Niall if he would like his own.

Niall nods silently before continuing, “I was thinking about asking Hanna ‘round, but she’s back in the states, I guess.” 

The disappointment that sticks to every syllable is impossible to miss. Niall had felt that they had hit it off pretty well while Ira and Liam slept. He learned quite a bit about her love for literature and how she sometimes worried that working in the field would diminish her passion for it. She supplemented those vulnerable moments with retellings of fun nights out with her core group of friends. 

And Niall had been just as forthcoming with his own stories. He had told her of the year that he had taken off to travel around Europe because he had never left Ireland before then. He even allowed himself to delve into the insecurities that still plague him despite the fact that he has been offered more than one position as a producer following graduation. 

“Oh,” Liam doesn’t sound all that bothered, but he knows that the pair had grown closer in the few hours that they had known each other. “Did you at least manage to get her Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I messaged her just a little bit ago.” Niall says, glancing back to his phone to see that Hanna had messaged him back.

hannarey: sorry! could message me on whatsapp or whatever, if you’ve got it. 

hannarey: look who’s being creepy now. oops. 

A broad smile tugs at the corner of Niall’s lips when he reads it. He sends her a short message with his information for the app. His thumb hovers over the screen as he contemplates sending her his contact information for Skype. The screen name is typed out, but the digit circles momentarily. He squeezes his eyes shut after an internal pep talk and presses send. Thinks that it would be a bummer if she is put off by it, but he figures that it is the worst thing that could happen. 

hannarey: a little forward, aren’t we? kidding, i’ll add you in just a second!

True to her word, Niall receives a notification from Hanna a few minutes later. He receives another one shortly thereafter, but it comes from WhatsApp. He accepts both before typing out a greeting on the latter application. 

“Then it’s going well, I take it?” Liam chortles, having come back into the living room to offer Niall his cup of tea. 

“Thanks,” Niall says, typing a message with one hand and accepting the hot mug with the other. “Mhm. She asked me for my contact information.” 

He hopes, at the very least, that Hanna’s forwardness is indicative of their mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. Especially because Niall has never once connected with someone as quickly as he had with her. She emanated a warmth and sense of reprieve from the demands of everyday life. Even with five and a half thousand miles between them, the feeling envelopes Niall. And that has to mean something. 

.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

Hours later, Hanna and Niall have maintained fairly consistent conversations. They are only ever interrupted by Hanna’s unpacking, a long call with her parents, and Niall’s short trip to do some food shopping. It was easy to fall in and out of conversation with one another. Neither bothered by periods of absences, but equally as thrilled to see a message light up their respective phones. 

However, Niall’s eyelids begin to droop as the time easily slides toward a quarter past one in the morning. He is already beneath the deep gray and navy blue duvet cover on his bed, his head cradled by two flat pillows that sit one on top of the other. His bedside lamp and the dull glow of his phone are the only things to illuminate the room. 

He almost feels too tired to continue talking with Hanna despite the fact that their conversation has strayed far away from anything interesting. Hanna is only telling him about her plans to stay in for the remainder of the night. He could practically see the pout on her face when she had grumbled about being bored without the company of her friends. And the conversation hadn’t moved much further than that. Partially due to the short responses on Niall’s behalf, his body finally fatiguing after fighting off his exhaustion for the last few hours. 

But, Niall really doesn't want to stop messaging Hanna. Even with his thoughts becoming incoherent and thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he attempts to configure an appropriate response. And he knows sleep is far more important than staying up late to talk to some girl over five thousand miles away. But, he has an inkling that Hanna isn’t just some girl. 

Especially when she is the one offering to video chat with him, if he’s comfortable with doing so, after he had insisted he was exhausted but would fight it a little longer just to keep talking. 

Niall is greeted by a cream colored wall adorned with various different types of framed artwork. Hanna is nowhere to be seen, but he can hear a faint rustling from somewhere beyond the view of the camera. 

“Thought I would be talking to you and not the wall.” Niall begins, voice thick and heavy with sleep. 

“Sorry! I’m just grabbing a snack from the kitchen!” Hanna’s pops up behind a wall that sits to the left of the screen. 

She raises her hand in a wave before being obscured once more. Niall is grateful for the moment to collect himself. It had only been a few days since he had seen Hanna for the first time and during that time, she had been done-up for a night out. Now, she appears to be in a pair of black sweatpants rolled at the top to keep them from falling even further down her small frame. The gap between the top of her sweats and the end of a tank top is hard to miss, the sliver of tanned skin hard to miss when it contrasted so starkly against the all black outfit.

Hanna emerges from the kitchen after flicking the light switch off and she settles herself in front of her laptop. A bowl of cereal sits in the palm of one of her hands while she tilts the lid of her computer down to put her in center view. 

“Hi,” she greets Niall with a smile. “Sorry, I just haven’t really eaten much today.”

Niall rolls over to his side, tucking his free arm between his pillows and extending the other to hold his phone further out. 

“No worries. Thought you said you went shopping earlier, though?” His brows furrow in confusion as he recalls a piece of their conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, I did. But, s’just the corner store at the end of my street.” Hanna speaks around a mouthful of cereal. “Too jet lagged to go anywhere else.” 

Niall nods in response. He is only capable of imagining what it would be like to spend ten or so hours traveling across the globe. He’s never really stepped foot outside of Europe, unless you count the trip to Disney World that he took with his parents when he was only two years old. Obviously, he has absolutely no recollection of the long flight over the Atlantic, but he is sure that it was worse for his parents than it was for him. 

“Can’t blame you there. What are you planning to do now?” he asks, a yawn following shortly after. 

“I’ll probably outline the rest of my paper. That way I have it finished before my roommate moves back in.” She pauses, “You should head to bed, though. You sound like you’re ready to drop.”

Niall shakes his head, “I’m not that tired.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Hanna giggles, bringing her legs up to sit criss-crossed. “You sound like you did a few days ago. And I know you were exhausted then.” 

Niall can feel a slight swell in his chest at her words. The simple fact that she had observed so much about him within the few short hours they had gotten to know one another made him soft, if he’s honest. It downright would’ve turned him into a puddle, if that were physically possible. 

“Please, Niall. Get yourself some sleep.” She says, stern chocolate brown eyes staring him down through the screen. “You can even call me again tomorrow night, if you’d like. Can’t promise I’ll be any more enthralling than I am right now, though.”

Niall knuckles at his eyes, heaving a sigh as he does so. He misses the way Hanna scrunches up her nose at the sight. Niall is just so cute and her attraction only strengthens as she gets to see small glimpses into his life.

Niall would much rather spend the entire night talking with Hanna, but the possibility of just hearing her voice again tomorrow is enough for him to justify going to sleep. He doesn’t voice that, though. At least, not in so many words.

“I’d like that.” He mumbles, ocean blue eyes concealed as his eyelids become even heavier. “Just call whenever you’re free, yeah? Liam and I will be ‘round all day tomorrow.”

“Alright, I’ll do that.” Her giggled response lands on Niall’s ears, albeit distorted, it still pulls the corners of his lips into a tired smile.

“Goodnight, Hanna.” Niall yawns, opening his eyes only to narrow them at the bright screen.

“Goodnight, Niall. I hope you sleep well.”

And he does. In fact, Niall is convinced that it is the best sleep he has gotten in weeks. Eight hours spent without a dream or nightmare to challenge the suddenly beautiful reality he was living in.

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[datingadviceonreddit]

Just found out my (37f) boyfriend (35m) has been frequently hanging out with his secret/mentally ill ex-wife (33F) behind my back the whole time we’ve been dating and lying about it.I’m so upset, I feel like my brain has been replaced with a can of clearance-cart refried beans. Apologies if this is all over the place, my head is a mess and I am completely gutted.After months, nay, YEARS of going on disappointing and borderline disastrous dates, (I use OLD sites, live in a fairly large New England City, dating here is really tough for some reason), I finally met a guy who I really clicked with.Our first date was the honestly the best date I had ever been on, the chemistry was ebullient and I walked home from the pub feeling like my $39 TJ Maxx heels were filled with some sort of sidewalk skimming helium. To my luck, that infatuated feeling was mutual and we have been almost inseparable ever since. We became close very quickly and it developed into him staying with me a few nights out of the week. I enjoyed his company and didn’t feel overwhelmed, this was significant step for me because I am a serial introvert/loner who needs great amounts of time alone to be happy and functioning.We fell in love quickly and became very close. We established within a week of seeing each other that we both wanted to be in an exclusive relationship with each other.Two months in, he tells me he loves me, and that the past 2 months have been the best of his life and he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. Of course I’m elated because I feel the same and truly felt he was everything I wanted. All of it. Incredible chemistry sexually and intellectually. I thought “this was it”. No more dating apps! We’re in it for the long haul! This is awesome! I was on Cloud nine.Then Quarantine happens. Not to rub it in people faces… but being stuck together at my apartment created a a fast-tracked version of a bout of blissful intimacy. I live alone, so he would come over just about every other day. We filled the time with so many fun things- we baked weird stuff, played Trivial Pursuit, made fun dinners, built a bird feeder, went on hikes, binged TV shows. Stay up all night listening to music and laughing, sometimes having sex 4 times a day…3 times in one night… we couldn’t get enough of each other. We would just lay in bed and stare into each others eyes. It was like something out of a movie. We both have 9-5 corporate jobs, so we would work from home together as well. It was hilariously fun.As I got to know him in this intimate and accelerated courting situation, he presented to me a stable, loving, honest, intelligent and loyal man with strong values that aligned with mine.As all couples do, we shared our past relationship baggage/history. So out it comes….He had just broken up with his “girlfriend” (this is what he called her) of five years the previous summer. So he had been single for just a few months before meeting me. He said they were two different people who weren’t compatible and had no right being with each other. He said that she suffered from severe mental illness and depended on him emotionally and financially and despite being an adult woman, couldn’t support herself in any way. They met in a PHD program while in London (he’s British, she’s American) and said she was on a myriad of prescription medication and exhibited self-harming behavior.. He described it as a toxic relationship, devoid of sex and intimacy. They both moved to Boston a few years ago together and that after the break up, he said he no longer had contact with her and she lived upstate on a farm with her family and a dog they had bought together like a month before they broke up. (they bought the dog together, not the farm)It sounded messy but hey, it’s in the past. Everything is great. We’re together, life goes on. I think nothing of it, or her.Fast forward a few weeks later, he comes over to my house and as I’m cooking dinner for us, he flippantly mentions that he just got back from the farm where he had been hanging out with his ex-girlfriend and dog all day. Like so casually, as if he had just said “yeah I had a 6-inch footlong tuna at Subway for lunch”. I was floored, started shaking and just couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I was confused and felt threatened and insecure.Apparently he had driven 2 hours up to the farm where she works and claims to have “barely even exchanged 5 sentences with her” and “he just went to see his dog”. So of course I get quiet. I don’t even know what to say. He asks what’s wrong, like as in he has no idea how I could possibly be bothered by this. I explain to him that I feel that seeing her is inappropriate and I feel threatened by it. He seems surprised and says it was no big deal and he will continue to do it because he loves and misses his dog. No reassurance at all, no apology… nothing. We eat dinner in silence and I finally tell him I feel like I am second in priority to a fucking DOG and he isn’t taking my feelings into consideration.I ask him to leave. He does.He contacts me the following day and tells me that after after thinking about it, he realizes that since it bothers me, he won’t ever see her or the dog again. I felt like I had possibly come off as slightly controlling but I believed I wasn’t being unreasonable. I had been cheated on by a boyfriend in the past (his respective ex was the other woman) so this issue was a huge point of pain for me and knew this.So then things go back to normal.. or so I thought.This past Friday, while on the couch snuggling together, I see a text message notification pop up from the ex girlfriend. He slides it away and flips his phone over. He then spends the rest of the night faced away from me texting and giggling with a sly smile. I was gutted and knew something was up. After I had just cooked him homemade manicotti. THE BASTARD.We go to bed and my mind is racing. I can’t sleep. I know this is emotionally immature and an invasion of his privacy, but after he fell asleep I took his phone into my living room to look through the messages. I find what was my worst fear, he had been carrying on with her continuously without pause. I’m not sure if they ever even broke up. The messages went back even before we had met and the latest was just a few minutes before he fell asleep in MY BED with the mother fucking wine I BOUGHT in his stupid stomach. Good for her. There were many messages, hell, they even texted each other more than he and I did. He would send us both the same memes and funny twitter posts. To her credit, her responses were funnier than mine. Good for her.As I went through the messages I discovered they saw each other almost every other day (I am actually shocked at how he juggled his time so well between us). All of the messages coordinating hangouts was him pursuing her and asking her to hang out. Telling her she is cute. Saying I miss you. Driving two hours to help her move or work on their farm. She even cooked him a birthday dinner. He told me he was with his mates that’s night. Stupidly, I spent the whole night painting him something beautiful and making a ten hour braised Osso Bucco for him while he’s over at her house eating fried vegetables with staring at her dead-eyed troll looking ass.So I stayed up all night and even recorded the messages on my phone for evidence so he couldn’t try to deny anything. I popped a Xanax so I could stay calm and not break my remote control over his stupid head when he woke up. He finally woke up at six am, I told him to sit down and told him what I saw.The blood drained from his head and he started to string along a myriad of explanations… that they were “just friends” and that he feels indebted to her because she is suicidal, mentally unstable and not self-sufficient. He claims that she has no one else to talk to, has no friends and her family is pure abusive trash (even though she lives with them and they all run a non-profit farm that helps low income people eat healthy foods, what monsters they must be!)He feels like he has to take care of her because she is such a mess and a danger to herself yet this woman is a professor at a large university and is head of a farm, so I don’t know how much of a mess she could possibly be. It all sounded like a bunch of bull, but was entertaining watching him attempt to deny and lie what I had just seen in plain black and white text. I then ask him if they were married, because a text message had referenced a $2400 stimulus check and he said NO, they were just engaged. I asked him if they were still together, he said no. The cherry on top was that at no point did he apologize.He claimed that they barely talked and hardly ever saw each other, which was so brazen considering he knew what I had just seen. He said that he can’t stand when she opens her mouth and just complains all of the time. He also said that his therapist has been urging him to break communication off with her because she is toxic. Not sure if this is true. The most hurtful part of all of this is is that the day after he swore he would never see her again, he texted her asking if he could come see her and then drove up to her place to hang out.After about 15 minutes of talking, I couldn’t deal with any more of his crappy attempts at explaining so I just asked him to leave.The next day he called me and admitted to me that they were in fact married, still married and they got married in England so she could stay in the country. Is this even a thing? I asked him if they were intimate since we had been together and he said no.He keeps calling me to talk but I deny his calls. I was in love with this person, deeply. The idea of never seeing him again makes me so so so sad, yet I don’t know how this emotion can possibly exist inside me considering how much pain he’s caused me by lying, repeatedly. Should I at least hear him out even if we don’t reconcile? And if we do decide to somehow make it work, how does one even operate successfully as a couple after such breach of trust? He lied multiple times and he is swearing that this is an isolated incident and doesn’t reflect who he is as a person and his core values. My self esteem is pretty low right now and I feel like someone stuck a Taco Bell spork into my chest cavity.TLDR- My (ex, I guess) boyfriend had been hanging out with his ex-wife while we were dating who he claimed to never be married to and is trying to reconcile with me. Where do we go now? via /r/dating_advice