#and my old flatmate who i don’t really talk to anymore

[morporkian-cryptid]

On gender, confusion, and labels

I want to talk about my experience of gender, because it’s been a long and complicated journey and I’m finally at a point where I’m not having an identity crisis every six months. I haven’t seen many people with a similar experience in my years on the Trans Website and I kinda wish I had people tell me this earlier. This is not meant to be catch-all advice for all gender-confused folks, just my own story; if others can resonate with it and feel a little less lost, then I’ll be happy.

(This is gonna be pretty long, be warned)

I experience little to no dysphoria, and that’s probably why it’s taken me so long to accept that I’m not cis. What tipped me off to the whole Gender Situation was mostly the euphoria of being perceived as a masculine woman, or mistaken for a guy.

I came out as genderfluid years ago, to about two persons. Six months and a lot of thinking later, I went back on it because it turned out it was just a phase.

Well, not a phase, more like a cycle. After that, I kept deeply questioning my gender every six to twelve months. Most of the time I’d feel like a woman (albeit without any clear idea of what “being a woman” actually meant), and every now and then I’d get clear flashes of “I’m something else” feelig and start to question my entire identity for a couple months; then go back to “nah actually I’m cis”. Rinse and repeat.

I kept cutting my hair increasingly short, event went as far as a buzzcut. I rarely wear makeup. I like when people mistake me for a boy or are confused about my gender.

Every year or so, I found myself looking at binders. Every year I flaked out. At some point I bought compression bras but barely wore them because they were uncomfortable. I like my chest in and of itself, but sometimes I don’t like the way it looks with dresses or frilly tops – I like my chest but I don’t want it to be perceived. (I did buy a binder eventually, for the few days when I want my chest gone. I don’t wear it a lot, but I’m happy to have the choice.)

For a while I played with using different pronouns; I asked my friends to call me he or they for a few days, or I’d introduce myself with those pronouns in talking groups. But most of the time I went back to “she” like an old comforting jumper.

I even changed my name for about six months, then went back to my birth name. That was a very difficult time. I didn’t want to change my name. I like my birth name a lot. What happened was, Elliott Page came out, and I heard the name Elliott and my brain kinda went, “huh I like that name, it fits, I kinda like being a girl named Elliott”; and then it was like an itch that wouldn’t go away unless I scratched it. The weight of that decision scared me. It wasn’t like pronouns or a haircut: a name is what I present myself to the world with, and I was terrified of changing such a big thing about me.

My friends were very supportive, and switched without problem. I was lucky enough to move abroad for a six-month exchange program right when that identity crisis happened, so I got the very rare occasion to introduce myself as Elliott to people who didn’t know me at all, and whom I wouldn’t see anymore after six months. My flatmates were great and called me Elliott without question.

Six months later, the name stopped fitting. I don’t know how to describe it, but it just didn’t feel like me anymore, so I went back to my birth name, and all my friends were chill with that. (I still use Elliott as a pseudonym online.)

The reason the early years of questioning my gender were really complicated, is because for a lot of my life I’ve been really into labels. I wanted to understand things and put them in neat little boxes; and my identity was no different. If I’m not a woman then I must be trans. But I feel like a woman 75% of the time. Can I call myself trans if I identify with my AGAB most of the time? Do I actually identify as a woman, though? Or am I okay with being perceived as one? What does “feeling like a woman” even mean? Technically, by definition I must be genderfluid, which means I’m trans, but that’s a word that doesn’t feel like it applies to me. I can’t be part-time trans. But I’m not exactly cis either. Then what the fuck am I??

I wanted a word to put on my identity, because if I didn’t have one then I didn’t know what I was, and that was really difficult to live with.

It took me years to shed that need for a label, and to get to the point I am at today. Today I see my gender as feelings rather than identity. My gender is too big and complicated to neatly fit into a word, or even ten. My gender is the way I dress, the way I talk, the emotions when I am called miss or sir, the feeling when I look at myself in the mirror after a fresh haircut. It’s a hundred interconnected tidbits that all shift day to day.

The best way I’ve found to describe my experience of gender, is this:

I am not a woman

I am fine with being perceived as a woman

I do not want to be perceived as feminine

These are the three things I’m certain of right now (and they might change later! And that’s okay!), and my day-to-day gender presentation hinges around them. I no longer try to look inside myself and ask “What is my Gender?”, because I’ve never found a straight (ha!) answer, and that’s only ever brought me anguish. What I do now, is look in the mirror and ask myself “Do I like this outfit?”, look at a sentence I wrote and ask myself “Do I like these pronouns?”. I’ve kind of applied the Marie Kondo method to my gender: does this spark joy? Then I’m doing it. In this text I’m sending to my friend, does calling myself “handsome” spark joy? Then I’m calling myself “handsome”. Does wearing a binder under this dress spark joy? Then binder it is. If I want to try out a new name, I can tell my friends and they’ll try it out with me, and if it turns out I don’t like it, I can always ask them to go back to the old one. The gender feelings I’m feeling right now are as real as the ones I felt yesterday or the ones I’ll feel tomorrow, they’re as important and I am allowed to indulge in them.

With labels, I do sort of the same thing, although I’m not quite there yet. The best word I’ve found to describe myself is genderqueer, because it’s vague enough to not imprison me inside a box. Sometimes I’ll say I’m non-binary if that’s relevant to the context of the discussion. I still don’t actively describe myself as trans, because the vastness of that word and the experiences it comes with is still a bit scary for me – but I don’t forbid myself anymore from taking part in things labelled as “trans”, like talking groups, pride events, Tumblr posts and Discord servers. Even if I don’t identify with the word, I identify with many of the experiences, and I do technically fall under the definition of transgender. I’m allowed to be part of that community, even if I kinda just lurk around the doorstep. Maybe one day I’ll be comfortable enough to actually come in, and proudly call myself transgender.

I have been sort of toying with the idea of maybe one day going on T. If I had had that idea a few years earlier, I would have freaked out and had another identity crisis over it, like I did with the name change. As things are right now, I’m just sort of considering the idea and giving myself time to think about it, do research, try alternative ways to change my body first. There’s no rush at all. I know now that my perception of my own gender varies over time, and that I can take years to get comfortable with aspects of my identity or presentation. I can take my time; I can go on T in a few years when I’m certain, or I can decide I don’t want that. I don’t have to make a big decision now.

Seeing transition this way is incredibly freeing.

I’m very lucky to experience minimal gender dysphoria, but because of that, I conflated “being okay with people perceiving me as a woman” with “actually being a woman”. I mostly use she/her and my feminine birth name, not because they describe my gender (they very much don’t), but because they’re comfortable. It’s like I’m goth but I don’t find goth clothes comfortable, and displaying my identity as goth isn’t worth the discomfort of wearing itchy clothes. So I prefer to wear this old sweater that’s super comfy even if it doesn’t reflect my tastes, and stick a couple of skull pins on it so other goths know I’m actually one of them. Just because the sweater isn’t goth doesn’t mean I’m not goth inside. Just because I go by she/her and a feminine name doesn’t mean I’m not non-binary inside. Explaining my actual gender to the people around me isn’t worth the hassle, misunderstanding and possible debates about my identity; the people who understand know, and the others don’t, whatever.

(TL;DR) So, yeah. This is a lot of text to really just say, if finding a word for your gender hurts, don’t try to find a word. Focus on the experiences, do what makes you happy, gender-wise. Labels can be helpful, but if they’re not, you are not obligated to use one. Gender is incredibly complex and cannot be easily summarized by words. At the end of the day, what’s important is your feelings, and trying to make them good feelings.

[deadlyanddelicate]

are you happy reaching your 30s? i'm scared for it

dear anon,

i’m so glad you asked.

the answer is, unequivocally, yes. i am happy reaching my 30s. first and foremost because the alternative is, well, not reaching them - which i don’t wish for anyone. in fact, i’m pretty stoked and a little proud of myself for making it this far.

however, i’ll let you in on a little secret: it’s not actually… very far at all. you wouldn’t believe the amount of people in their early 20s i meet who - intending to give me a compliment - will go “no way! but you don’t look 30!”. by which they mean, i don’t look like what they’ve been conditioned to imagine 30 looks like. by which they mean, i don’t look old. and yes, i do have excellent genes from my parents, but mostly, it’s because 30 is not old. shocking, i know. i don’t blame you for thinking it though - it’s a narrative that entertainment media love to push, especially on women. and it’s a narrative predicated on the fact that Old Is Bad, which in itself, is a lie. the amount of people who have come into their own in their 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, would probably surprise you. so, getting old is not bad, let’s put it out there. but more to the point at hand, the truth is 30 is not in fact old. 30 is, on average, not even halfway through your life - only a third in if you’re lucky. there’s so much more to come, i promise you, and i’m excited for it.

but i think you might have wanted to know something different, namely what i enjoy about being in my 30s. so i’ll come up with a little list for you, but with the caveat that this is only my own experience with being 30, and i don’t claim to speak for everyone - or anyone, really.

the main thing i enjoy about being in my 30s is, simply put, how many fewer fucks i give. i don’t really have an explanation for it - i’m a person who, by both nature and nurture, is prone to giving soooo many fucks. too many fucks. all the fucks. so it’s not like i’m suddenly blasé about things, but i have now been on the planet long enough to realise that, actually?, that thing i used to stress about is not in fact a big deal.

#adulting, am i right? oy vey, what a bother. well, by the time you reach 30, chances are you’ll have been at the adulting thing for long enough that it doesn’t seem quite so daunting anymore. laundry, groceries, paying bills, maybe even (gasp) taxes?? you got this. well, maybe you don’t got this got this, but you have the tools to get it.

honestly life gets so much more comfortable. i’m not talking about your body - you WILL wake up with a sore back for no good reason (but then again, my joints have been fucked since i was a teenager, so y’know, not much of a change for me). i’m talking about your lifestyle. you may still have flatmates - because let’s be real, having your own apartment in THIS economy is not easy - but you will presumably not have the rowdy, annoying flatmates that come with uni halls or dorms. you will also, with any luck, have spent your 20s figuring out your ~vibe, your style, call it whatever you want, so your nesting skills will be coming into your own.

by the time you’re 30, also, you’ll have spent enough time with yourself to understand yourself better; to know what you actually like and dislike, what matters to you, what you look for in friends and partners - all of which makes relationships vastly more satisfying.

i should say that in your 30s, quality comes over quantity. i’m not gonna lie, it is harder to both make friends and hit the dating scene - but that’s not because you’re any worse than you were before. in fact, it’s quite the opposite: people your age are both busier and more self assured than they used to be, and mostly, know what they’re after - so the pools may narrow, but chances are, the water temperature will be more to your liking. ok, so that metaphor ran away from me. what i’m saying is, there may be fewer opportunities to make new friends, but the friends you do have? they’re pretty much your second family.

you know what i said about giving fewer fucks and knowing what you like? this applies to social situations as well. you start to realise that your time and resources are valuable, and you shouldn’t pass them around like they’re infinite. your time is yours. if that acquaintance that you sort of dislike invites you out and you don’t feel like going? babe, just don’t go. if you reach that time of the night when one of your friends is like “let’s go on a pub crawl” and you decide you wanna be in bed watching netflix? you’ll just do that, without worrying that you’ll be the uncool one. more than that - your friend will ACTUALLY not think you’re uncool, because they get it. and if on the next night you decide you want to go to a club and dance until 4am? well, you’ll look gorgeous doing it, AND you now know what alcohol makes you the least hungover.

expendable income, oh my god. i realise this is a privilege and not taken for granted at all, but for me, going from a scholarship uni student with 3 different side hustles to make ends meet to full time employment was a game changer. and i’m not even talking about ~financial security - i’m talking about being able to get the shit you want, no matter how boring or childish it is. a fancy kitchen appliance to bake sourdough? you can get it. that sailor moon memorabilia that just came out, or that videogame your parents would never let you buy as a kid? you can get that, too.

because here’s another secret: you will still like all the silly things at 30 than you did at 20. i have it on good evidence that doesn’t change, which is why fandom ageism is simply bizarre. being in your 30s doesn’t mean you have to be serious and boring unless you want to. hell, i started playing two separate d&d campaigns after i turned 30, something i never had the confidence to do when i was in my 20s. this has actually happened to A LOT of people. you can still enjoy your hobbies! in fact you will be BETTER at them! and you get to pick new ones up!

one thing that may not be true for everyone but definitely was for me: you will start taking better care of yourself. i spent essentially all of my twenties struggling with anxiety, depression, and undiagnosed adhd. now, life doesn’t necessarily get easier as you get older - but you start to learn how to cope. i started getting therapy. i got put on medication, which helped me immensely - in fact i’m now tentatively beginning to get off of it because i feel like i’m more resilient, because medication helped me to get to a point where i got more control over my life and learned healthier habits. tv shows lied to us, babes - it’s not rebellious or edgy or cool to try to self-destruct yourself. be kind to yourself, because you’re the only you you’ve got.

a side note here: if you’re queer, this applies even more so. i have read so many articles about how lgbtq+ people go through some sort of delayed development, thanks to the ordeal of coming to terms with their sexuality/identity/various traumas. essentially, for a lot of queer people, your twenties are a second teen age, where you get to figure out who you are when you crawl out of your figurative cocoon. so your 30s are when you get to actually enjoy being a young, fully formed adult - and i promise you, it’s so, so worth it.

i’m gonna end it here before this turns into an essay, but i hope that this makes you less scared, anon! i promise you, it’s all onwards and upwards from here. excelsior! <3

[moralalee]

21/08/2024 (1)

It is a Wednesday. So, it has been a long time since I used this blog. I actually forgot completely about its existence. When I found it, I didn’t remember that I had been logging essentially full days on here or that I captured my feelings from right before lockdown. I started reading and I felt sad when I reached the end and realised I hadn’t written anymore. It felt nice to get this little glimpse into a part of my life I don’t remember well. My memory is so bad that there are a lot of pieces that are just gone for me. It was really nice to read, even if I couldn’t tell who I was talking about half the time.

I decided I wanted to start recording things again. It could be good for future Lee to know what’s happening with me now and how I’m feeling, to record the patterns I’m following and make it easier to see things clearly with hindsight. It was funny realising how much I’ve grown in a few years. I was such a teenager (sorry young Lee, you’d probably find that extremely patronising).

I’ve updated the blog, a new background and pfp. My old one was also of Marceline, but I wanted something new to reflect my shift. I think this one suits current Lee more. I also just had to go back and change my name in everything I wrote because I forgot about the alias of “Lee”. On that note, I need to update my little code names I had for the people in my life. I don’t know anymore who the majority of them are, so I’m doing my own or changing them up a little. Here’s a list for my own reference:

BF - still my best friend, now my flatmate.

CW - used to be CS. I don’t have any reason for preferring CW, I just like it more. This is my twin (not literally but I know what that means).

ALT - this one is cute because the initials are correct (so I can understand them) and also because she’s adopted an awesome alternative style.

DJ - younger sister.

MJ - younger brother.

LM - baby brother.

MR - baby sister.

My coworkers are - BR, CA, SC and RB.

Obviously people like parents, grandparents, etc can just be “Mum, Dad” and so on.

Okay, I want the rest of this post to be a (semi) succinct catchup. Let’s try cram about 4 years of life into bite-size.

Obviously I’m no longer in high school. Tried college, tried uni, tried online uni part-time. Dropped out of all of these. Actually, I was kicked out of college because I stopped going to classes. Anyway, I’m now working full-time in an office. Best job I’ve ever had, but it’s tough and it isn’t a career. I moved out and now live in a flat with BF. I got an axolotl when I was 19 and we recently adopted a cat! William & Luca get to just have their real names on the blog, I doubt they worry about privacy. Currently single, currently off dating apps. Started going to the gym about a month ago, not attending perfectly but I’m trying. Started baking weekly around the same time, it’s now a favourite hobby and makes me really happy. I started on the pill on Sunday, feeling like a hypochondriac about it. Don’t know what my life plan is, no matter how much Mum asks me. I turned 22 last month.

Of course, I’ve missed a lot out there but that’s just bringing myself up to speed. I doubt I’ll be as regular with journalling as I was when I was younger (my life is a lot less eventful now). I think this can be a good exercise for myself though. Now that we’ve finished our table setting, I’ll make a proper journal entry in my next post.

[modx-reborn]

It’s All Too Loud

Yall want Roomates? A needy botom Simpbur? With some some nasty names called at the rat man?

Well…Here you go, it’s like almost 2k words or so of just using simpbur for your own entertainment.

SMUT UNDERCUT! MINORS DNI

For the second night this week, your flatmate Wilbur was making a racket, his music audible through not one but two walls and into your room. Lord knows what the other apartment on the other side of his wall thought of us but enough was enough.

No matter how flattering he was earlier today, it’s ten P.M and after all the shit that had happened, you just wanted some silence and to be able to sleep.

Not bothering with fully redressing after getting ready for bed, you are storming across the lounge you share with your now annoying flatmate, the rap of your knuckles lost to the music is followed by several slaps of your palm against his door to little success.

With a scrunched face and anger now rivalling a lit stick of TNT, shouldering his door open to start what would have been a one-sided yelling match, your anger is quick to fizzle out at the sight of Wilbur.

Stretched out across his bed, face buried in what looks to be one of your gym shirts that went missing like two days ago. One of his hands fisting himself, clearly chasing his own end, unaware of your presence in his room, or it looked like it till you flick your eyes up to find him watching you stand in his doorway.

Your name a chant on his lips, nose still buried in that shirt, is how he cum’s. A mess painting his hand and the half pushed up shirt he wore, the red that colours his face either from the shame of getting caught or from the enjoyment of having you watch him jack off.

You’re quick to snatch the remote for his sound system, pressing the off button and plunging the room into silence.

“What the actual fuck Wilbur. I-Is that…Did you steal my fucking gym clothes?”

Flicking your eyes around his room your quick to catch sight of other items that had once been yours, a hairbrush that you thought broke, a pair of underwear that had one too many holes in it, and two items that were more personal in nature. A bottle of scented lube that you had only half used, and a small bullet vibe that was a gag gift from another friend of yours.

“Wilbur. You have like, ten seconds to explain, or I am going to throttle you.”

Looking over at the brunette paints a desperate picture, he sits upon his knees, your shirt lays on his lap, hands half reached out towards you, ignorant of the one still coated in his cum, cheeks still painted pink with tears gathering in his eyes.

“P-Please it’s just. Your so good to me, so nice. An-and you smell so good, that I know y-you would never go for someone like me. But-” when his hands reach out the grasp your arm, the feeling of his warm skin and now half-dried cum against your skin pulls a shiver from you, “-please, please don’t leave me. I’ll. I’ll keep out of your way, won’t touch any of your things ever again. Just please, don’t leave me.”

The sight of someone like Wilbur, who tends to paint the picture of reserved confidence, begging you not to leave him, tears falling down his cheeks, skin still flushed pink as he sniffles softly. It’s something that hits a certain spot for you, forgiving him would take time and him actually keeping his word to not touch or take your things anymore, but for now, it had been some time since you had any kind of fun that wasn’t just you and your hands in the dark.

“Okay, I won’t go-”

“Thank you!” he is quick to lean further into your space, his grip on your arm pulling you slightly as he does.

“But! We do have to talk about how even when you got caught, you just kept Shlicking it like some needy little slut.” Your unoccupied hand lifts his chin, thumb just barely brushing against his bottom lip, “Well? Got any declarations? Or explanations for that Wilbur? Hmm.” You can feel more than hear the whine he makes, his grip tightening on your arm once again.

“N-no, just t-that. You were there and watching m-me,” the way he presses into your hand is desperate like you’ll pull back and shake off his hands, and just disappear into thin air.

Shaking off his hands you’re quick to snatch the soiled gym shirt from his lap, tossing it to the other side of his bed, revealing that Wilbur hadn’t tucked himself away or adjusted himself in any way. In fact at some point during his begging or the period of your processing of his words he had gotten hard once again.

“Really? Are you that fucking obsessed with me, that even if you just came, a few touches and a little name-calling has you hard again?” It’s easy to push him back onto his bed, one hand keeping him pinned to the mattress as the other slides across his hips, deliberately avoiding touching his member.

Whatever he said in response is mumbled under his breath, half lost in the whine that leaves his mouth.

Your fingers tugging his pants further down exposing more of his pale skin, “Your gonna need to speak up Wil, or I’ll just leave you here with your hand and my old shirt.”

“Y-yes, yes I am. Please. Please Don’t stop.”

Yanking his shirt over his head is easy, as is getting him to shuffle out of his jeans. It’s grabbing his thighs and moving him into the middle of his bed that signals the start of your fun but not before grabbing two of his stolen items and placing them beside you. Your grip on his thighs makes it easy to pull him into your lap, legs pressed open as you push against his knees exposing everything to your view.

“God, look at you barely even touched you and your leaking all over yourself,” dragging one of your fingers down his cock makes him twitch, the small patch of pre-cum that had grown on his stomach now spread further across his skin. Whatever words he may have wanted to say are lost at the cold feeling of you drizzling lube across him, “Aww was that a little cold for you? Don’t worry, I will make it worthwhile.”

It’s easy to smear the lube across his cock, making the wet sound your hand makes as it strokes across his heated flesh so loud against the strings of whines and moans pouring from the man under you. The hand that isn’t occupied with him is quick to grab the discarded shirt from earlier and the small bullet that you had placed aside.

The way Wilbur cries when you let go of his member in favour of flipping him over is quickly muffled, the shirt he had previously buried his face in shoved where his head now lay, “If you love the smell of my old sweat so much, you can keep it there till I’m done with you,” more lube is poured on his now exposed hole, bringing another full-body shiver from the man below you.

With a press of a button, the small toy buzzes to life, the lowest possible setting now pressed to the base of his dick as your fingers trace around his entrance, pressing on occasion against the puckered skin, teasing him with the feeling of you pressing into him. The moan that sounds from him when you finally do let one of your fingers begin to sink into him, brings a sharp smile to your face.

“Please. Please. Please, don’t stop, please just. Please,” His head is only tilted to the side to beg, nose still buried in the shirt that you had placed under his face. His begging is a constant stream of babble that ends with a chant of your name and please, which is rewarded with another finger slipping into him alongside the first working to stretch him open.

“So fucking needy. You’d take anything I could give you right now, just take, take, take. Like the good little slut you are,” turning off the vibe so your hand can hold his hips still, leaving his member to hang useless between his legs, twitching with need as your fingers work in and out of him, occasionally brushing against his prostate making him let out one long whine.

Pulling your fingers from him, has him begging all over again. Only when you press back in it’s with the toy ready to be pressed against his prostate, watching how he shakes when you flick it back on to the lowest setting is magnificent, what little of his face can be seen under his messy curls is an open mouth drooling, mouthing words that are lost in a choked moan when you increase the intensity of the toy in him.

Tangling your other hand in his hair to pull him back onto all fours, sounds no longer muffled and echoing through his room when you return your hand to his cock fisting it to the same speed he had been when you first walked in and caught him in the act. His hips rocking back into the action chasing what sounds to be one hell of an orgasm, only as his moans begin to rise in pitch and the throbbing dick in your hand begins to twitch more often do you stop.

“Oh no. You don’t get to finish so quickly, if you want it you’re going to have to do it yourself,” your fingers and the toy pulled from his now fluttering hole, vibe cast somewhere on his bed to be collected and seen to later, both your hands pull him up and back into your lap. Your lips press to sweat-slicked skin as he leans into your chest, his hands tremble as one wraps around himself, the other reaching back to brace against the bed.

When your lips press to his neck, leaving marks is a benefit but the action is done to watch as Wilbur desperately chases after the feeling that you had been building in him, only as he arches into what feels like the end a broken moan falls from his lips.

“I can’t. I can’t, please. Please…” The way his hands fall away from his lap is pathetic, but the way he begs is musical.

“Only cause you asked so nicely.”

Your lips on his neck are teeth and tongue painting him in spots of colour to bloom later, as one hand return to jerking him off with the intent of making a further mess of the man in your lap, the other hand pressing his hips down into your lap keeping him from doing nothing more than arch away from you as he cums.

The way he whines as you keep stroking him through it all is so broken, his hands quick to stop your movements as he pants, his cum splattered against your hand and his thighs. Wilburs head remains hung as he breaths through the aftershocks, only watching through his eyelashes as you bring your hand up and clean the mess he made of your hand with your mouth.

“Next time you want to be a horny little creep, come find me. I’ll give you all this and more-” your hands once rough in action now pulling him down on his bed, cradling him against your chest, “ And isn’t it so much better than your hand and some old shirt?”

His nod is slow, energy drained from him as he drifts off, at least now you know that there will no longer be nights of sexual frustration or general frustration over too loud music in the apartment again.

God, you wonder what the neighbours must think of you now, from loud music to the loud begging of the dosing man in your arms.

This will likely be far from the last time the two of you are way too loud.

[edna-skiffens]

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

Lmk if you want to be on my tag list

[heyyyharry]

SNEAK PEEK: Fever Dream (Flatmate Christmas Special)

...in which they share a hotel bed and Harry sees Santa Claus.

*The Flatmate series will be published as books*

Full: Wednesday, December 29, 2021.

Read full now on Patreon.

I'll write another exclusive Christmas piece for Patreon, that piece will be the Christmas chapter in the book version!

.

.

.

Soaked in sweat, he wiggled out of the duvet. Y/N was asleep. He was surprised his coughing hadn’t woken her. She was sleeping on her side, facing away from him. He lay his head back on the pillow, staring at a crack in the ceiling and trying to fall back to sleep.

His eyes were shut for about five minutes when someone started pounding on the door. He jolted upright. Y/N did too, her eyes wide, terrified. The itching in his throat got worse, so he couldn’t speak, just gesturing for her to stay in bed as he got up to see who it was. It must be some kid pulling a prank. But then he checked the time on his phone, and it was 3AM. Must be some drunkard then.

The knocking got louder and harder, more personal. And if Harry wasn’t coughing so much, he would give this drunk motherfucker a piece of his mind.

He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. “What the fuck?”

Standing before him was a white-bearded old man dressed as Santa Claus.

“Ho-ho-ho, Merry—”

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry asked. His throat had stopped itching. Thank God.

“I’m Santa Claus.”

“It’s three in the fucking morning, and it’s not even Christmas yet.”

“Oh, shit,” Santa said, pulled up his sleeve and checked his Rolex watch. “These elves keep fucking up my schedule. Sleigh!”

Harry was lowkey amused by whatever this was. He opened his mouth to make a comment, then suddenly a sleigh dragged by four flying reindeers burst through the window into the hallway. Glass shattered, making Harry flinch. Santa hopped on it, and they just whooshed right out of the building through the broken window.

Harry stood there for a whole minute. He rubbed his eyes, hard. What the fuck? Frightened, he immediately stepped back into the room and shut the door. “Y/N, you have no idea—”

He went stiff when he found Y/N sitting on the edge of his bed. Naked.

“Uh…” he tried to speak but didn’t know what to say. He was still pretty shocked by the Santa Claus thing, but this was even more bizarre.

Y/N put a finger on her lips in a playful manner as she batted her eyelashes at him, her tits jutting out invitingly. “Merry Christmas. Why don’t you come over here and fuck me?”

Harry’s cock twitched at the idea of it, but his other more useful head interrupted before he could speak. This was a fucking dream. He was dreaming.

“This is the ugliest room I’ve ever seen.”

The familiar Irish accent made Harry scream. He whipped his head to the corner and found Niall sitting in the armchair. And why was Niall wearing a suit and had a moustache? Harry snapped out of his thoughts, ran to the bed, and threw the duvet over Y/N’s naked body so Niall would stop staring. He wanted to leave this dream now. It wasn’t fun anymore.

“Now, Harry.” Niall clicked his pen and tapped it onto the notebook resting on his leg. Harry had no idea where they’d come from. “Let’s talk about the fact that your father doesn’t love you.”

“What the fuck? I love my dad and he loves me.”

“Oh.” Niall’s eyebrows furrowed as he stroked his moustache, which was still really fucking weird. “I think I got the wrong file.” He pulled out a file case from the back of the chair and flipped through it. “Oh yeah, I got Layla’s by mistake.”

“What?”

“Here’s yours! Let’s talk about the fact that you’re in love with Y/N but too afraid to admit it.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Notting Hill AU Snippet #8

"It happened. Feel it, and let it go."

Her therapist's words are easier said than done. Lena does her best, she really does, but every time she almost feels over Kara Danvers, she sees a film trailer or a tabloid headline and her world spirals again.

It's silly. Lena knows she shouldn't be so affected. She only knew Kara Danvers for a few days across a few weeks, but then again... as her therapist likes to say: Lena never learned how to love half way.

When news of a nude photo scandal breaks, Lena finds out about it with the rest of the world, but instead of watching in sick fascination, Lena feels only horror for the woman behind it all. Her heart, broken though it is, goes out to Kara, and the devastation she must be going through. Because Lena more than anyone else knows how carefully crafted Kara's image is, how carefully precise every word and movement is lest she lose the love of the audience and the industry itself.

But as much as Lena might want to, she doesn't call. She doesn't write. She doesn't even know if Kara is in Britain at all, until one morning there's a knock on her front door.

There, with an overnight bag, is Kara.

Her eyes are hidden behind large sunglasses, and her arms are crossed over her chest, tight with anxiety. Before Lena can think to do anything otherwise, she wordlessly steps aside to invite Kara into her flat.

"Thank you," Kara murmurs. Her voice quivers, her jaw clenched against brimming tears. Lena briefly scans the street outside before closing the door, relieved to find it empty of press.

They slowly migrate to the kitchen, where Kara pauses, uncertain of what to do next.

"Tea?" Lena offers.

Kara nods faintly. Over tea, the situation Lena had avoided reading about about in the tabloids comes spilling out as Kara vents, finally able to explain to someone-- anyone-- who would listen.

"I was young, and I was angry, and... and you want to know the saddest part? I enjoyed that shoot! It was one of the healthiest, most open working environments I'd ever been in. The level of trust, and respect... god-- they talked to me like a person, and I just-- for the first time, it felt like I had complete agency. Except I didn't, because they also filmed it, which they didn't tell me, and now... now my entire career, the only thing I've ever done in my entire life, might be over."

Lena listens to it all. She can't offer anything more than that. She doesn't know what to say, even if she could speak under the weight of being in Kara's presence again. Kara fills the entire room, even dressed down in jeans and a trim sweater.

The hurt of their last parting feels a million miles away for the first time since it happened, and all Lena wants to do is kiss her.

"What does your boyfriend think?" Lena blurts softly.

Kara blinks, staring at her. "I don't know," she confesses silently. "I haven't heard from him since before... I don't even know if I have a boyfriend anymore. I didn't even really know I had one then, until he showed up in my hotel room."

She pauses, finally meeting Lena's. "I am so sorry for what happened. I wanted to call so many times, I just-- I just didn't know what to say. And now-- now I'm invading your home like--"

"It's okay," Lena assures her, heading her off at the pass. She rises, taking Kara's hands in hers and offering a reassuring squeeze. "I'm glad you're here, and that you're safe."

Blinking away tears, Kara nods, sniffling.

"What do you need?" Lena asks. "Food, nap, bath...?"

"A bath sounds... really nice right now. And food. And a nap. Maybe in that order?"

Lena smiles. "Okay. We can do that."

---

After Kara's bath, they chat quietly over Notting Hill's finest fish and chips. It feels like no time has passed at all, like they didn't ever part that night at the hotel. Lena revels in it, and in the fact that Kara's nap is taken resting against her shoulder as Lena reads on the couch.

Her therapist would be so disappointed in her.

There's no boundary Lena could throw between them that Kara isn't already well past, and Lena finds she simply doesn't want to. As dangerous as she knows it is, she enjoys their time together. She's addicted to it, like a moth to flame.

The first night, Lena gives Kara her bed, and sleeps on the couch. The second night, after a day filled with running lines for Kara's next project, Lena's awoken from a light doze by a creak on the stair. Despite having a flatmate, Lena instinctively knows it's not Querl, and meets Kara at the foot of the stair.

"Is everything all right?" she asks.

In the dark, Kara nods, a dark shape bobbing in the shadows. "Yes, I-- I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you've done for me. I know you have no reason to help--"

Lena leans in and kisses her. Before her brain can catch up, Kara is kissing her back, burying her hands in Lena's tangled hair before slipping down to brush the edge of Lena's breast through the fabric of her tank top.

Lena covers the exploring hand, pressing it in place against her chest before it could go any further.

"Do you want this?" is all she asks.

Kara nods again, this time their noses brushing at the tips. "Yes," she breathes. "I want you."

----

Waking up in the morning, Lena feels as though she's still dreaming. Her body aches pleasantly, and today the sunlight streaming through her windows falls softly on the figure fast asleep beside her.

Kara Danvers' features are soft in sleep, unschooled for the first time Lena's ever seen. She looks younger, and impossibly more beautiful-- until Kara shifts, and wakes with a smile that puts Lena's previous observations to shame.

"Hi," Kara whispers.

"Hi," Lena whispers back. "Sweet dreams?"

"Mmmmmm," Kara hums, rolling to face her. "Remind me."

Lena obliges with a kiss, ignoring the sour taste of morning breath. Her hand cups Kara's jaw, her thumb brushing lightly against a soft cheek.

Before long, they're interrupted by a low growl in Kara's belly, prompting Lena to laugh against Kara's lips.

"Message received. Stay here," she urges, slipping out of bed.

She pulls on a pair of boxers and her tank top from the night before, wrinkled from being tossed unceremoniously across the room, before heading downstairs to make breakfast.

Lena barely has the bread in the toaster before warm arms encircle her waist from behind. Soft lips press against the join of Lena's neck, blonde hair tickling her skin. She hums low in her throat.

"I like that," she says. She leans her head against Kara's. "Butter and jam's in the fridge."

Kara grins against her and parts with another kiss, finding her way around Lena's kitchen as though she's always been there. Lena takes in the sight of Kara in one of her old oversized sweaters, barely enough to keep her decent. It's a pleasant sight, Kara's ease. Lena wants it to stick around forever.

Their peace is interrupted a moment later when the doorbell rings.

"I've got it," Lena says. "You stay here and butter the toast."

She hops down the narrow steps to the front hall, and opens the door without a second thought as to who could be behind it.

A barrage of camera shutters clicking and the bright flash of dozens of cameras going off at once stuns her. Blinded, she can barely make out the sea of paparazzi, and the questions she barely hears through the buzz of utter noise.

In the next moment, Lena regains her senses and slams the door shut. The heavy old door does well to muffle the sound, so that when Kara comes traipsing down the steps behind her she doesn't notice the hubbub.

"What is it?"

Before Lena can stop her, a shout on her lips, Kara opens the door and faces the sea of cameras with nothing but a piece of toast in her hand and an old sweater between them.

Kara reacts faster than Lena did, instantly whirling and shutting the door behind her. In that moment, Kara's ease disappears. Her body stiffens and her skin heats with flush of shame.

"They... you..." Kara stammers. She looks at Lena, then glares at her. "You told them I was here?!"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Well, if it wasn't you, it was that weirdo of a roommate!" Kara exclaims, voice climbing in pitch and volume. "Finally decided to make a quick buck by giving a tip to the tabloids!"

"That's uncalled for," Lena counters. Querl is odd, but he'd only ever been kind to Kara, in his own strange way. "Let's just... let's just breathe for a second--"

"You breathe. I'm leaving."

Without another word, Kara disappears back into the kitchen. After an urgent call to whom Lena can only guess is her publicist, Kara disappears towards the bedroom. Lena gives her space, lingering in the living room long enough for Kara to catch her breath. By the time she finally pokes her head into the bedroom, Kara is already dressed and throwing her items into her overnight bag.

"Kara..."

"Don't. Don't say my name like you know how I feel."

Lena swallows thickly. "I don't... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry they're here, but I'm not sorry you are."

"Well, I am," Kara snaps, snatching her top from the night before and slamming it into her bag. "I never should have come here. I have a boyfriend for Christ's sake!"

Lena freezes, her blood running cold. "You do?"

"As far as they're concerned I do! And now pictures of us are going to be on every paper from here to Star City!!"

Kara lugs her bag over her shoulder and storms out of the room. "And your friend, your friend owes you a nice dinner. Lobster at least, if he's smart enough to get the going rate on betrayal."

"You leave Querl out of this!" Lena snaps, her temper fraying as she chases after Kara. "Okay? I understand that you're upset, and I am too, but we don't know that he has anything to do with this!"

Kara rounds on her with fury in her eyes. "All I know is that they didn't follow me here, and we didn't go anywhere. So if wasn't me, and it wasn't him, who was it? Hm?"

Angry tears burn at the backs of Lena's eyes. She blinks them away, and struggles breathe past the lump in her throat.

"It's okay, Lena," Kara continues firing, "I get it. Okay? It's natural to want your name out there, to drum up business. Come, get a boring book about Egypt from the chick who fucked Kara Danvers!"

The accusation drives all the breath from Lena's body. She stares, and sees the moment Kara realizes she's crossed a line. She softens then, but not enough.

"You may only get fifteen minutes of this, Lena,  but I have had this my entire life. These pictures will last forever. They will follow me FOREVER, and I will regret this forever!"

The doorbell rings, cleaving through the moment of Lena's heartbreak. Surprisingly, Kara doesn't immediately leave, her shock at her own words evident in the gape of her mouth and the tears in her eyes.

Finally, Lena looks away, clearing her throat.

"You don't want to keep your team waiting," she grinds out, her voice full of gravel. It hurts to speak, to breathe, to even look at Kara. But watch she does as Kara's mouth closes to a resolute line before she turns and leaves without looking back.

previous / next

[vibraniumwing]

be with me, always.

a george weasley x reader blurb wherein after an exhausting day at work, george offers the reader to rest and when they wake up, the ginger asks a very simple question.

 WARNING: none !!! 

A/N: akdjfkjf these blurbs are making me so soft !! thank you so much for requesting @accioxreparo​ !! i hope you like this, i absolutely loved writing this !! again, this is for my 100-follower celebration !! honestly is this still a blurb bcs i was carried away once again

request: “Would I be able to do 🥳 with George with the phrase “Why don’t you stay the night?””

---

Being best friends with an aspiring owner of a joke shop had its pros and cons, but who would even have a con if your bestfriend was George Weasley? 1/2 of the Weasley Twins. 

Over the course of their last year at Hogwarts, you’ve always helped the twins with ideas, being their first customer to almost all the products they have before actually selling it out to the public. With that being said of course, you helped along with the building of their shop after leaving Hogwarts.

With you being a graduate, it meant that you can focus on doing whatever you please; which of course meant you could help the twins full-time now. 

---

You entered the shop that was half-way done, your eyes scanning through the boxes that was scattered on the floor as the sun shone through the windows of the shop. The aroma of fresh paint intruding your nose almost immediately as you walked further into the shop.

“You’re quite early, (Y/N). Missed me already?” Fred’s voice resonating through the shop as he went down the stairs. You looked up to see the ginger lean by the railing, a knowing smirk plastered on his lips. 

Scoffing lightly, you playfully flipped him off as you settled your bag down by one of the shelves, “Sorry Freddie but you know I want the other Weasley.” you joked half-heartedly, laughing softly. He gave you a somewhat sad gaze as he picked up one of the boxes laid out on the floor. 

“You should really consider telling him how you feel, (Y/N).”

“And ruin our friendship? No thanks, Fred.”

And that’s what you’ve been struggling with since the day you’ve realized that you’ve harboured feelings for the ginger, the fear of you losing him because of how you feel holding you down from telling him how you really feel.

---

Months have passed since the grand opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and you couldn’t have been more proud of what the twins have achieved in such a short span. 

The products they’ve made hitting it off almost immediately with kids who were just about to go back to Hogwarts and to wizards and witches who just want a good laugh despite of the dark times rising. 

Exhausted from handling rowdy children all day, you gently flicked your wand and the misplaced toys, candies and other products started to rearrange themselves as you lazily grabbed the broom from the back and started to sweep the floor. As much as you love interacting with the customers, it drains you immensely at the end of the day.

“Hey (Y/N)” George’s voice greeted you, emerging from his and Fred’s shared office. Your eyes meet him and widen at the sight; him clad in just his button up and waist coat with his sleeves rolled up. “H-hey, George, how you doing?”

“Doing alright, yeah. You on the other hand, seem really miserable. What’s up with you?” He asks, crossing his arms as he raised an eyebrow at you. 

You leaned against one of the shelves and sighed softly, “I’m just exhausted, talking to children all day is an absolute way to get you to sleep earlier because it drains the light out of you.” He laughed gently and walked towards you, grabbing the broom from your arms.

“I reckon you need a second to rest. How about you go up to our apartment and rest in my room for a bit, yeah? I’ll wake you up as soon as I’m done here.” He said, patting your hair gently, the gentle action causing heat to flare up your cheeks. “You know better than to argue with me and say no on this one, love. Go on, go get your beauty rest.” He nudged you gently.

Having no energy to argue with him, you decided to just opted to nod and trudge up the stairs and into their apartment. Upon entering his room, you just flopped down on the bed and passed out, cuddling the pillows that bear his cinnamon-like scent.

---

You stir lightly and noticed that you weren’t in your room- nor that you weren’t even in your work clothes anymore. Sitting up straight, you looked at the clock next to George’s bedside and see that it was almost midnight. “Shit, I overslept.” 

Standing up, you noticed that you were clad in George’s old quidditch sweater, making you blush. 

You made your way out of the room and see George sleeping on their couch, huddled up with a rather tattered blanket. The sight hitting you with guilt, did he really sleep out here so he won’t disturb me? 

You approached his sleeping figure quietly and sat down in front of him, hair patting his hair gently as you whispered, “George, Georgie wake up. You can go back into your room now, I’ll apparate back into my apartment.” As you stood up to leave, someone held unto your wrist, causing you to look down and see him look up at you with a rather somber gaze.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” George asked, his voice quite raspy from waking up. You stood there in surprise, did he really just ask you to stay the night instead? “It’s almost midnight, love. You could get hurt out there.”

“How about you though? Isn’t the couch uncomfy? Let me sleep here instead then.” You answered, realizing that going home this late is indeed a bit dangerous considering the fact that you lived with a muggle flatmate. 

“We can always share the bed, you know. Why? Afraid of not keeping your hands off of me?” He teased, a lazy grin on his lips as he pulled you in, instantly cradling you in his arms. “Besides, mum would kill me if she found out that I let you sleep on the couch.” He continued, laughing softly at the thought.

The close proximity that the two of you are in made your breath hitch, stunned beyond words that he’s openly affectionate with you like this. You turned to face him, eyes looking over his features, intaking how beautiful his freckles were under the moonlight that seeped through the curtains, how warm his breath his against your face.

The next thing you knew, your lips was on his. You immediately backed away and covered your lips, eyes as wide as his at the sudden action, “George! I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-” and you were cut off once again, with his lips now on yours. 

Your eyes were still wide, George, your long time crush was actually kissing you and you didn’t even know how to react. He pulled away and hugged you even tighter. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, (Y/N).” He whispered, face hidden on the crook of your neck.

“The feeling’s mutual, Georgie.” You mumbled back, still in disbelief that the two of you just kissed. 

“Move in with me, love.” He suddenly said, looking up at you with a serious look. Your head whipped to his direction, face confused as ever. “Excuse me, what now?”

“Move in with me, love! So that you don’t have to travel too far after you work here! This is brilliant!” His voice was now dripping with excitement at his proposal. “Alright, I’ll move in then.” You answered quietly, your lips mirroring the smile on his face.

“You’ll move here right away, I’ll help you! Fred wouldn’t mind at the very least-” “Is there a real reason why you want me to move here though, Weasley?” you asked him teasingly, raising an eyebrow as you cut him off. 

Now this caught the ginger off guard, his cheeks now flushed pink. “Well, I just want you to be with me, (Y/N). Be with me, always.”

You laughed softly at his answer, your hands cupping his cheeks as you rested your forehead against his. “You know that I love you, right?”

“Of course I do, I love you too.”

[sour--disposition]

End Of The Road

-

harry lewis x fem!reader

-

please check my masterlist to see if my requests are currently open 

You’d met Harry whilst on a trip to Guernsey with friends from university and you’d never really gone home. You were visiting the hometown of one of your flatmates, after they’d boasted about the beautiful sea views that everyone had to see at least once.

And then you met Harry.

To you, Harry was the goofy kid you’d met in one of the hidden beach coves you’d been taken to. He was where you went on your holidays from university, wherever he was. You felt like you’d found a future in Harry, with Harry, on that beach that day.

Harry would fly you out to wherever he was as soon as you had time off from your studies, he’d pay first class train fares for you to come to London and get you the best tickets for a ferry over to Guernsey. Harry’s friends and family had made you feel welcome and loved and wanted, almost as much as Harry did.

Until you tried to surprise him.

Harry knew you were due to finish university soon, but you’d never given him an exact date of when to expect you. You’d given him excuses about moving out and seeing friends now that you had the time, all the while planning on coming down to London to surprise him as soon as you could.

You’d arranged it with Cal, who knew when you were coming. Even some of his friends knew when you were coming down, but you only told them if they promised to keep it a secret from Harry. And, so far, they’d held up their end of the bargain.

You were trudging through the middle of Kings Cross station, battling your way to the car park pick-up where you were expecting to meet your Uber driver. It felt like the day was trying to annoy you. Your train had been delayed before you’d even gotten to the platform, and then you had to wait in the rain since the waiting rooms at the station were closed, someone had taken your seat on the train so you had to argue with them over that, and now your suitcase seemed to slip into every single minute crack in the floor.

Once you slid your way into the back of the Uber, you let out a deep breath. The next person you saw would be Harry. You would see Harry and Harry would see you and all of the palaver you had been through would be worth it because, as much as the two of you tried, it had been weeks since you’d seen each other. FaceTime calls seemed to be getting less and less, too, but you chose to chalk that up to an over-critical, overactive mind.

You zoned out as you were whisked through the dark streets of London. A long final semester followed by a long day of travelling mixed with a dash of (possibly imagined) relationship doubt had started to take its toll on you. You wanted nothing more than a long, hot shower and to curl up into bed in Harry’s arms and sleep for a week or two.

Even though Cal had already told you he’d be out for the night, you sent him a text when you arrived at the apartment building, just so someone would know you’d made it into London safely.

You couldn’t help but tap your foot and fiddle with anything that was in reaching distance once you’d made it into the lift. The pent up anxiety and exhaustion mixing together was a strange feeling in of itself. You counted the floors and the lift rose, not taking your eye off of the moving counter until it drew to a slow stop, the doors sliding open in front of your face.

You walked down the hall to Harry’s flat, letting yourself in with the key he’d had cut for you as an anniversary present. You left your stuff quietly by the door, sneaking through the flat in the direction of Harry’s room.

You could hear noises coming from in his room, but you presumed he was editing a video or filming something for either his second channel or one of the Sidemen channels. You opened the door slowly, hoping not to make too much noise as you snuck into his room.

You turned around, expecting to see Harry lounging on his bed or hunched over his computer. You didn’t expect to see him with his tongue down another girl’s throat.

“What the fuck?”, the girl screeched when she moved her head and saw you standing there, eyes wide and already flooding with tears. “Who the fuck are you?”, she asked you accusingly.

Harry pulled his face out of the girl’s neck, expecting to see Cal or an intruder. “Y/N...”, he trailed off quietly. “It’s not what it looks like”, he started, “I didn’t realise - you said - you never told me-”, Harry stumbled, trying to stand up.

“It’s not what it looks like!? It looks like you’re about to fuck some other girl, Harry”, you all but shouted at him, shocking both him and the girl still awkwardly in his bed. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you, because I haven’t seen you in weeks”, you told him. By this point, the tears that were building up had begun to spill over, slowly rolling down your cheeks.

“I-”, Harry started, mouth hanging open as he tried to find the words to say. “I think you should go”, he said quietly, turning to face the girl who was trying to awkwardly straighten out her clothes without making too much of a commotion.

She nodded, standing up and gathering her things before slipping out of the room. She mumbled a soft ‘sorry’ to you as she walked past, causing you to scoff and glare at Harry.

“Are you going to try and explain, or are you going to stand there looking like a fish out of water?”, you asked him accusingly. Harry’s face darkened.

“Explain? What do you want me to tell you? You’ve barely spoken to me the past few months, and when I’ve seen you you’ve been ‘too tired’ to do anything. You don’t want to spend time with me anymore, Y/N!”, Harry shouted at you.

“Harry, you’ve known since we met that I’m at university. I was juggling a long distance relationship, a part-time job that was asking too much of me, job hunting for once I graduate and writing my final year dissertation. What did you want me to do? I can’t be in two places at once, Harry!”, you shouted, moving your arms around in anger.

“You made me feel like shit, Y/N. Like you don’t fucking love me!”, Harry hurled at you accusingly, like this was somehow your fault. “I always made time for you, whether I was at home or here or somewhere else”.

“Are you forgetting how many days I sat here in the flat on my own or with just Cal because you were at shoots? I never said a fucking word about it, because I knew I’d signed up to that when I fell in love with you. You think walking into the room and seeing you all over some other girl made me feel loved? Made me feel appreciated?”, you yelled, ignoring how cool your tears felt on your burning skin.

“This isn’t my fault. Y/N!”, Harry yelled, storming over to you. You flinched slightly, making Harry stop short. “What? You - You think I’d hurt you?”, he asked quietly, recoiling into himself.

“Well, you clearly have no fucking problem hurting me!”, you snapped, wrapping your arms tightly around your body.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N”, Harry murmured into the silence of the room.

“Really? Then why the fuck did I walk in here to see you with your tongue down someone else’s neck, Harry. That’s pretty fucking hurtful, if you ask me. And then you have the fucking gall to tell me it’s not your fault? Nobody made you bring her here, nobody made you cheat on me!”, you spat.

“It’s not been going on that long. Now that you’ve finished uni you can come down here and we can work on us again, right?”, Harry asked, awkwardly reaching out to you.

You took a step back, making sure he couldn’t reach you. Anger swirled inside of you, demanding to bubble up and lash out at Harry, and at this point to were too tired to even attempt to rein it in. “Oh yeah, sure”, you snarled. “I’ll just uproot my life and move down to London to be with a man who’d rather cheat on me than ask if everything’s okay between us”. You looked at Harry, waiting for him to say something, but he kept his mouth shut, looking around awkwardly. “Is you telling me it’s not being going on for long supposed to make me feel better? Woohoo, you’ve only been cheating on me for a month or two, not our entire relationship. No, Harry. We’re over. Done. You can’t come back from this”, you told him bluntly.

You turned around to leave his bedroom, storming down into the living room, coming face to face with Cal. “What’s going on? The neighbours called to ask if everything was okay because they heard yelling, you weren’t answering your phone so I came over”, Cal said softly, taking in the tears running down your face and neck.

Harry scoffed behind you. “And I’m the cheat, yeah?”, he snarked. Cal’s eyes widened before his face filled with fury. You put your hand on his chest.

“Can you call Freya and Josh to come pick me up? From the kitchen? Please?”, you asked, instructed him, pointing him over to the kitchen. He nodded, glowering eyes not leaving Harry until they had to.

“I wouldn’t dare cheat on you”, you snapped at Harry. “Every time you left me here to go film, I had no one to talk to but Cal. If me having the audacity to not sit in silence on my own for hours on end when I come and see my boyfriend makes me the unfaithful one here, then sue me. But last time I checked, the only person I’ve gotten into bed with in the last 18 months is you. You can’t tell me the same thing”, your voice raised as you spoke, your words all but nailing Harry to the wall.

Cal came over slowly, “They’re on their way over now”, he told you.

You marched back up to Harry’s room, collecting up everything that belonged to you in your arms. “What are you doing?”, Harry asked you from the door, voice sounding more fit for an innocent 5 year old.

“Getting my stuff”, you replied bluntly.

“Why?”.

“What about this situation makes you think I ever want to see you again, Harry? I could never trust you, ever again. You’ve ruined us. What about ‘we’re over’ doesn't make sense to you?”, you asked him incredulously, slipping past him to walk back downstairs and put your stuff into a bag.

“But - We can fix it, right?”, he asked, voice small.

“You blamed me, Harry! You said it wasn’t your fault! You think I don’t already feel bad enough? I know things have been rough and I know I’ve been distant and God, I feel like shit about it. I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m trying my best and clearly that’s not good enough for you, but don’t you dare go blaming me for that girl being in your bed. That one is all on you”, you told him sternly.

A knock on the door interrupted whatever Harry was going to try and say. Cal walked over, letting Josh and Freya into the apartment. “Y/N?”, Freya asked softly from the entryway. You turned away from Harry, walking over to Freya and into her arms.

For the first time that night, you let yourself cry. Heaving sobs were released into Freya’s chest and she held on to you, held you together. Over yours and Freya’s shoulders, Josh glared at Harry. A glare filled with anger and disappointment that made Harry shrink into himself even more.

“Come on, you need something to eat and drink and some sleep, you look shattered”, Josh told you. As Freya ushered you out of the door and to the lift, Cal handed Josh your bag and coat and pointed out your suitcase to him.

“Tell her I’ll speak to her in a bit, yeah?”, he asked Josh, who only nodded and showed himself out of the apartment, following you and Freya to the lift.

Cal took one look at Harry, his dishevelled appearance and the lost look in his eye, scoffed, and picked up his phone. “What do I do?”, Harry asked as Cal started to walk away.

“I’m not gonna start giving you advice, Bog. You’re one of my best mates but, man, you fucked up. Y/N is good, she was good for you. She would have moved heaven and earth for you if you needed her to, would have done anything you asked without a second thought. The one time in the 18 months you’ve been together she needed to be selfish, you were too pathetic to take it on the chin and you went and pulled someone else into your bed”, he told Harry.

“You like her, don’t you?”, Harry accused, no heat behind his words but the attempt was there.

“Of course I do, I have since the day I met her. But she was your girlfriend, I was just the accommodating best friend and flat mate who kept her company and bought her pizza when you abandoned her for days at a time for shoots”.

“I’ve really fucked up”, Harry whispered. Cal made a snarky noise in agreement, before turning his back and walking off to his room before he did or said something to Harry that he would regret in the long run.

At Freya and Josh’s, you’d showered and changed into sweats and a hoodie and were wrapped up in a blanket between the two of them on the couch as you all but cried into a bowl of Chinese food.

“I don’t want to lose of all you guys”, you whimpered quietly.

“You won’t, you silly goose”, Freya tutted. “You really think me, Gee and Talia would let you get away that easily. Or Josh and the other guys? No way. Sure, things are gonna change a bit, but just because...”, she trailed off, not wanting to even say Harry’s name. “Just because circumstances change, doesn’t mean we don’t love you, Y/N”, she told you, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

You had a long road ahead, there was no doubt about that. But with the friends you’d made over the last 18 months, you knew that you would never be taking that road alone. Freya was right, you couldn’t leave her, Gee and Talia now, you’d become too close. The boys were like family as well, albeit it a very dysfunctional family.

But, like all families, you’d find a way to make it work.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

Today was a great day. Until it wasn’t.

In the morning I went to university to some sort of welcome thing for master students. It was unnecessary. After awkwardly trying to talk to new people, I called the quits and stuck to the ones I semi-knew. I got a little closer to V. who used to really intimidate me. We spent the day together and went for food together. The new uni, the third and last one in my master’s program is really nice, a little posh though. I like this city a lot. And I adore the teacher. We had a meeting with all of them. We are only 10 stuents, but 5 of them haven’t arrived yet, so it was 5 students meeting 4 teachers. A little awkward, but Sara the teacher initiated an ice breaker. It helped a little. It was quite nice to get to know them. I’ve had Sara before, in online classes. In the beginning I didn’t really like her, but then I grew fond of her. She is really fair and good at bringing messages accross. She has helped me out, academically and personally, when I just really needed it. She is very empathetic and I feel like she feels what her students do. Anyway, in Denmark, last semester, she held a lecture on diversity in children’s books, a project she is currently working on. Well, this semester, we have to do internships, and out of the list we could choose from I didn’t really like any, so I shot my shot and asked Sara if she needed an intern on that particular project she presented. She loved the idea. I’m now her intern. We start in 2 weeks. Today she told me she was really happy that I asked her because without me asking she wouldn’t have worked on her project this semester. She also said she liked that I asked for what I wanted and that I had the guts to do so. She said in Dutch there is a saying along the lines of don’t settle for less than what you want. And well, she seemed happy. She also told me she will be supervising my thesis, which made me very happy, as I’d already talked to her about it in Denmark. She told me she “requested me” aka, the one shot she had at making a decision of somebody she wants to mentor isntead of all the others who are allocated according to capacity. I’m her choice. She made that very clear. Even clearer, we talked about PhDs and she offered me to be my second supervisor. So that’s that. I was bursting with happiness. All that came after a long long email exchange settling the internship and talking about the thesis. She asked me why I wanted to research what I want to research. It’s about queer YA. And I told her that I’m queer and that’s why during a conversation but I hated that answer, so I explained myself cleaer in an email and got a little deeper and personal. And she answered me back in the kindest way possible, getting a little personal as well and telling me that I shouldn’t aplogise for such a long email, that she wanted to thank me for opening up and that, if anything, the email made her feel privileged to be my supervisor. Needles to say I was super touched. Anyway, then things got bad. I was supposed to have dinner with a friend from another city but she got on the wrong train and couldn’t make it anymore. So I went for dinner with v. which was okay. Then I came home and we’ll that’s when it got bad bad. I called A and she was quiet and weird so I asked what the matter was and she said nothing. Well then she texted saying she reread one of our arguments. I also did. We said horrible things. I feel so bad about what i did that I drafter goodbye letters and stood on my window sill looking into the abyss. I was close to jumping off. I didn’t. I didn’t wand my flatmate to find my body. I feel stuck. I’m scared of the future. A great day turned into a bad one because I remember what a horrible person I can be and how hard my relationship can be. I love A. But sometimes we do things we really shouldn’t. Like digging up old arguments, or like fighting in the first place. Anyway. Now I can’t sleep so I thought I’d write it out of my head. It didn’t help, but hey, at least now you know I’m still alive. Sometimes I’m better. Today I was. But then I really wasn’t. Well, that’s that.

Love always,

Lena.

24.08.202 (00:32)

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - Songfic! One-sided!John x Reader, Sherlock x reader - Someone Like You - Word Count: (including lyrics) 1,278

I heard that you're settled down

That you found a girl and you're married now

I heard that your dreams came true

Guess she gave you things, I didn't give to you

"Hi John! It's Y/N! How're you?" You'd lost contact with your best friend/crush after he went to war. You knew he'd survived because you may have scoured the internet for anything on him and found his blog with info on where he lived now. You lived in America now and simply didn't have the money to travel there. It took you a long time though to track down his number. Even so, it took you years to work up the nerve to call. Once you did, and once you started catching up, you almost wished you'd left the memory as it was.

Old friend, why are you so shy?

Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light

It took him hours on the phone to finally admit that he'd gotten engaged. The wedding was in a few months. He asked if you wanted to come but you said you'd never have the money and not to worry. He seemed happier than ever being in a relationship but he didn't seem to want to talk about it with you. You finally said your goodbyes and you cried yourself to sleep.

I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it

London. You never thought you'd be back here. It smelled right. It felt right. But you were scared. John had told you where he lived. But you decided to go meet his famous ex-flatmate first. Sherlock liked you. He actually approved of you. Of that you were both glad and flattered. You loved John. Sherlock was nice but you hadn't felt the spark you had with John. Maybe you just didn't want to. The one thing that did draw you closer together was that you both were dealing with the inescapable and quickly approaching loss of John.

I had hoped you'd see my face

And that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over

John knew. He'd always known. He loved you too when you were younger. But ever since he came back from Afghanistan, he was scared. Scared to see you and fall back in love. He didn't want to burden you with the broken man he'd become.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you, too

He found Mary and couldn't believe it. He actually loved her. She had helped him immensely and changed his life. She reminded him of you in some ways. But he realized he had moved on.

"Don't forget me, " I beg

"I'll remember, " you said

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

He still thought of you. When you called he was happy to hear from you. But he just didn't love you anymore. You realized you'd waited too long. You had been too scared and he hadn't been able to wait for you.

You know how the time flies

Only yesterday was the time of our lives

We were born and raised in a summer haze

Bound by the surprise of our glory days

Growing up, John and you had been inseparable. School, weekends, summer vacations, graduation; you did everything together. You couldn't imagine living without him.

I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it

I had hoped you'd see my face

And that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over

Somehow, John still didn't know you were in London. It had been months since you arrived. Sherlock invited you to stay with him at 221B and you accepted. You helped Sherlock with his best man speech and he begged you to come with him to the wedding. You hesitantly accepted after much convincing.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you, too

If only you could have recorded John's surprise when he saw you arrive early with Sherlock. You took your seat of course, since Sherlock had Janine to walk in with but it was actually kind of fun to watch the preparation. As you watched them run around making last minute adjustments, you found yourself watching Sherlock, not John. Sherlock was quite the man. Tall, handsome, kind in his own way, and helpful to his true friends. Your spirits began to lift and you could almost feel your heart letting go of John.

"Don't forget me, " I begged

"I'll remember, " you said

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

It still hurt watching the vows and you knew you'd never forget your love for John but you had a newfound joy. Sherlock had been quite nice and friendly with you over the past few months. You'd learned to read him fairly well and perhaps he liked you. Maybe this relationship would be the one to last. But you knew you couldn't wait too long.

Nothing compares, no worries or cares

Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made

Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

At the reception, Sherlock introduced you to Greg, Molly, and Tom. You knew Mrs. Hudson of course. You sat with them and watched as Sherlock delivered his speech. After Sherlock played his special waltz for John and Mary, you saw him wandering a little.

"Sherlock!" You called out, seeing him head for the door. "Leaving so soon?"

"I, um, I'm not really needed here any longer. I was just going to-"

"I need you." He looked at you quizily. "To dance with me and keep me company. Please Sherlock?"

"Alright," He replied. You headed back to the dance floor together. He put one hand on your waist and took your other hand in his. Midway through the song you closed your eyes, enjoying the moment. You sighed contentedly. "Are you alright?"

"Quite."

"I am," He paused for a moment "I am pleased you're feeling well considering, erm," he cut himself off, not wanting to address the matter directly.

"I've found someone new," you replied simply.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you

"Don't forget me, " I beg

"I'll remember, " you said

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

"Are you sure you want to pursue this?"

"Yes, Sherlock. I've thought it over all day."

"Only today? I don't think you know what you're getting into."

"Trust me, Sherlock."

"Ok, I suppose we could try," he replied. A small smile was playing on the corners of his lips.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you, too

"Don't forget me, " I begged

"I'll remember, " you said

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

"So, you and Sherlock, huh?" John asked. His feelings were obviously mixed. Slightly jealous but happy for you both.

"Yep," Sherlock replied for you, popping the P.

"Well, I wish you the best," John replied whole-heartedly.

"I wish you and Mary the best as well, John." You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."

"For what? I'm the one who broke your heart," he said guiltily.

"If it wasn't for you, I'd have never met the love of my life." He smiled. "You may want to start writing your best man speech, John," You joked. "I don't see this relationship fading at all. This one's built to last."

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 37

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: New Year’s Eve, pt 2

A/N: A new chapter! We'll finally find out what happened after that annoying cliffhanger in the previous one. Anyway, I would like to note that this chapter deals with some mental health related issues and there is also a mention of a shooting (note: mention) so if you'd rather avoid that kind of stuff, then it may be better to skip this chapter.

That said, I hope you'll still enjoy this chapter! And don't forget that I'm always really happy to hear from you guys!

Words: 3500+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: panic attack, mentions of shooting 

previous chapter / AO3

...

“Calypso, I think you should come. Something’s not right with Leo.”

It took Calypso a moment to register what Nico had said. She just kept staring at him, a frown creeping on her face as she was trying to figure out if she had heard him correctly.

“Something’s… not right with Leo? Wha-what do you mean?” She finally managed to ask.

“We were just talking… I don’t know, not about anything special… and suddenly some fireworks went off nearby. Like, too close for it to be legal. He got really restless - even more than usual - and he wanted to go and look for you but given his state I told him it was probably better if he sat down while I would find you.”

“When you say restless, what exactly do you mean?” Calypso asked.

“He was shaking and his breathing was labored and he got this panicked look on his face… as if he was seeing something I couldn’t see. And when I tried to talk to him, he didn’t respond. He started tapping with his fingers, like he was trying to message me something that way. I don’t know. But I think he’s having a panic attack.”

Calypso’s heart sank. She wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with panic attacks either so she knew how horrifying it could feel. Based on her own experiences, when you were having one, it was really, really hard to convince your brain that it was going to be OK. It just wouldn’t listen. And that could go on for a long while. The worst part was that it could get triggered totally unexpectedly, like now in the middle of the party.

“Oh gods… where is he now? I don’t think he should be alone.” In that moment Calypso didn’t care what the others thought about her worrying; her instinct to be with him was much stronger.

“He’s still in the kitchenette…” Nico responded and Calypso didn’t waste any time, marching out of the balcony as fast as she could.

“So, you think the fireworks triggered the panic attack?” she asked Nico over her shoulder while she was walking.

It took him some effort to keep up with her. “Probably. Before it happened, he was just explaining to me that his family always needed to put Festus into the most light and sound proof room of his home during New Year and 4th of July because he really hated the fireworks. Apparently Festus’ fear is one of the reasons why he himself doesn’t like them.”

“That would certainly make sense,” Calypso agreed. She didn’t have time to ask more when they already reached Leo’s resting spot. Even though she had seen him angry and scared before, this felt different compared to those times. He had wrapped his arms around his shaky legs and when he heard the others approaching, he looked up, his eyes bewildered. Calypso even noticed that there was also wetness on his cheeks and she needed to brace herself so that she didn’t start tearing up as well. She sat down next to him and started speaking in as soothing a voice as she was capable of in that situation.

“Leo… It’s gonna be OK. I’m right here.” She started stroking his back with light, gentle motions.

“Cal?” He muttered with a broken voice. “Thank goodness… I was afraid that…”

“Afraid of what?” Calypso frowned, still trying to sound as calm as possible. “That I was going to go somewhere?”

“Not… here…” he murmured, referring to the fact that they had several pairs of ears listening to them.

“Oh. Right,” she replied understandingly. “Hey… I’m going to ask Frank if he’d allow you to rest in his bedroom for a moment. You know… just until this passes.”

“Fine,” Leo nodded slightly. Luckily Calypso didn’t have to go searching because Frank entered the room as if on cue.

“Frank, I think Leo needs some quiet space for a moment,” Calypso told him when he was observing the situation. “Can we borrow your bedroom?”

“Sure, of course,” Frank agreed instantly.

“Thanks a lot. Don’t worry, you’ll get your room back once he recovers,” Calypso addressed Frank before turning back to Leo. “OK, let’s go then.”

She took his hand and pulled him up, directing him towards the bedroom. When she turned to give the hosts a reassuring nod, she noticed they were watching her and Leo worriedly.

“Uh, do you need any company there?” Hazel asked.

“What do you say, Leo?” Calypso didn’t want to make any decisions for him.

“Just Cal is fine,” he muttered.

“Thanks, though,” Calypso addressed Hazel. “I will let you know if I need any help. I, um, have some experience with this kind of stuff so I think I can handle it.”

“Alright. We’ll make sure no one interrupts him,” Hazel referred to the other guests who were still partying on the other side of the wall. Calypso didn’t understand how anyone could still feel festive but then again, they didn’t know her boyfriend like she did.

Closing the door behind her, Calypso helped Leo on Frank’s bed and turned on a light on the bedside table. Then she sat down next to him and swept his hair from his eyes, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. When she pulled away, she sighed:

“I’ve also had panic attacks in the past. I’m no expert by any means, but for me, it usually helps a bit if I lie down and just try to focus on my breathing. Maybe you could try that.”

“Alright,” Leo complied. He laid down on the bed, using her legs as a pillow for his head, and rested his hands over his chest. Calypso ran her fingers through his hair and kept talking to him soothingly.

“So what I do is that I breathe in slowly – I try to count to four when I do that – then I hold it for a moment, and then breathe out just as slowly. And repeat.”

Leo blinked to let her know he understood and followed her advice. Calypso knew that she should try to reduce the distractions in that situation so she didn’t say anything for a while; she just kept combing his hair with her fingers and humming the first song that came to her mind; New Year’s Day.

“Do you feel any better?” she asked once Leo’s hyperventilating seemed to have calmed down somewhat. She herself felt lighter as well seeing that he was starting to recover.

“A bit,” Leo answered hoarsely.

“It’s OK. Sometimes it takes a moment to pass but you’ll get there,” she said encouragingly. “Just keep your eyes closed and try to focus on something that keeps you grounded to this moment. Like something you feel or hear or smell or anything…”

“I like it when you play with my hair. It feels nice,” Leo stated bluntly.

“OK. I’ll keep doing that, then.”

It was quiet for a while again, aside from the sounds outside the room. Calypso was thankful that the firework sounds weren’t that loud at that moment because it could have set back Leo’s recovery process.

“Talk to me,” he said suddenly. “About anything.”

“Alright.” Calypso stopped to decide a topic for a moment. “This may sound weird, but when I’m having one of my bad moments, I try to picture my happy place. I think that was something my mum advised me to do already when I was a kid.”

“What is your happy place like then?” Leo asked quietly.

A tiny smile raised on Calypso’s lips when she started imagining it.

“It’s some place warm. Somewhere where I can see the sun shining and birds singing and smell the salty sea air and maybe some eucalyptus trees… Earlier… when I tried picturing it… I was usually alone there. Like, I wasn’t able to picture anyone else with me there for some reason.” She was glad that Leo couldn’t see her blushing because his eyes were closed. Normally, she would have a hard time admitting these kinds of things but seeing Leo’s vulnerable state, she felt her walls disappear. “But now? I think I’d want you to be there too. And why not Festus and maybe some other animals too if you liked that. Georgina doing her things somewhere in the background. And… Well, that was it.” Calypso did have another wish too, but it was way too personal and way too early into their relationship to even mention it, especially in the current situation.

“I think that sounds great,” Leo answered. A tiny, lopsided smile appeared on his face briefly and Calypso took that as a good sign. He wasn’t trembling anymore either.

“Yeah. Well, what about you? What’s your happy place?”

Leo thought about it for a while. “I… I feel most comfortable with my machines. So… I think I’d like to be in a giant garage. Where it smells like machine oil and where I get to listen to Rolling Stones or some other old school rock bands…”

Calypso remembered that Leo had once told her his mom had used to listen to those bands. “I get why you would want that, but wouldn’t it be lonely there?” she asked.

“No,” Leo shook his head. “I wouldn’t be alone there. I would like you to be there too. If you wanted to. And of course my family and Festus too.”

“But what would I do in your garage?” Calypso asked confusedly.

“You would have your own space there,” Leo answered slowly. “You know, for your own things. Sewing machine, fabrics, painting equipment, you name it. Maybe there would be a greenhouse outside the garage for your plants… or a garden… Whatever you prefer.”

“Oh.” Calypso’s mouth formed an ‘o’ when she tried to picture it. Leo had clearly thought about this topic more than she had expected. “That sounds amazing…”

She was already going to change the topic when Leo surprised her again by continuing: “You and I are both good with our hands, making new things, so we could try to create something together, combining our skills. Who knows, maybe we could even start a company or something together. Once we’ve graduated, of course.”

“Hold on.” Calypso furrowed her eyebrows. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this. Would you actually want to do that?”

“Yeah, why not?” Leo asked, finally opening his eyes and looking up at Calypso. In the darkness of the room they looked almost black but the lamp on the bedside table gave them a warm glow.

“You mean it?” Calypso had never had anyone who would have included her into their future plans in her life before and suddenly she felt a bit overwhelmed with emotion when she understood that someone actually cared about her that much.

“Yeah. Of course. You really think I start joking about that when I’m…” he gestured at himself, “in this state?”

“No, of course not,” Calypso tried to reassure him, removing one of her hands from his hair and squeezing his hand instead. “It’s a… really nice dream. Maybe… if everything goes well… it can become true,” Her voice started cracking because she had just realized how much she’d really want the dream to become true, for both of their sake, but she found it scary to think too far into the future. The quietness from her father’s end kept her on her toes even now and there were a lot of other question marks in the air as well.

“Maybe.”

“You’re not hyperventilating anymore,” Calypso decided to change the topic before she got too sentimental. “That’s good.”

“Your advice really helped,” Leo stated. However, his eyes were focused on something Calypso couldn’t see and that made her believe that something was still bothering him.

“Does this happen to you often?” Calypso wanted to know. “I mean, the panic attacks.”

“Not so often lately,” Leo replied. “Believe it or not, for the past year or so I’ve been pretty good.” He lowered his voice into a whisper when he added: “Even better when I got a new roommate. But before I moved in with my family and got some therapy, it was… it was pretty bad.”

“I hate that you had to go through that…” Calypso tightened her grip on his hand slightly.

“It is what it is,” Leo sighed. “At some point… you almost get used to it. But really, I have made some progress. Um, despite the slight setback at Christmas,” he added when he saw Calypso’s skeptical expression.

“But that was understandable. It can be a difficult time for anyone…” Calypso left the words ‘who has lost someone important to them’ unsaid because she doubted that Leo needed more reminders of that particular incident in that moment.

“Yeah… You might be right,” Leo muttered, and silence fell into the room again. Calypso kept absentmindedly running her thumb on the back of his hand while she listened to the chatting and laughing on the other side of the wall.

Eventually, she asked quietly: “Do you know what caused the attack? If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, of course.”

“The fireworks… I remembered some things when I heard the bang…” Leo managed to say.

Calypso raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry if I ask too much, but what things did you remember?”

“It was… I was living on the streets back in those days…”

Calypso allowed Leo to take his time, not pushing him to continue with his answer.

“It was late at night… I was still in Houston back then. I had this spot in the outskirts of the town where I thought I was safe from the cops and other people I didn’t want to run into so I used to hang out there a lot.”

“Safe from cops? What do you mean by that?”

“I knew that if they caught me, they would bring me right back to my old foster home… Or worse, a new one that was even worse than the previous. I’ve told you, I didn’t have good experiences in my foster homes.”

“Yeah… I remember,” Calypso nodded understandingly.

“Besides, I didn’t exactly have a lot of money so I may have had to shoplift once or twice to keep myself alive while I was on the streets. So, not exactly the cops’ best friend. But anyway, that wasn’t the point of this story. I was gonna tell you what happened on one specific day.”

“OK. No rush,” Calypso said. She noticed that Leo seemed to get stiffer again on her lap but as long as still wanted to keep talking, she didn’t want to interrupt.

“So, I was settling into my hiding spot for the night when I heard it. Gunshots nearby. At first I hoped that someone was just out there hunting in the forest, but it was pitch black outside so the timing didn’t make sense. Then I heard footsteps coming closer to where I was hiding and more gunshots. I decided I needed to leave my hiding spot until the people were gone but I made a lot of noise when I tried to withdraw farther from the road so the shooter probably heard me. I don’t really remember what exactly happened after that but I know there was another bang… and a bullet on the tree right behind me… only a few feet from my head.”

“Oh gods,” Calypso gasped. She wished she could say something comforting as a response but it was easier said than done. Leo saved her from the trouble, though, because he added bitterly:

“I got lucky that the shooter had the police after him because he didn’t have time to stop and make sure he had hit me. But… from what I later heard… not everyone was that lucky.” Leo sniffed loudly and rubbed his eyes, trying to hide the tears.

Calypso clenched her fists. “Sorry… I shouldn’t have made you tell me that. But what… What kind of person does that to other people? Especially to kids? I don’t… I don’t get it…”

“Yeah… me neither.”

“But that incident… The sound of the fireworks made you remember the shooting?” Calypso attempted to connect the dots.

“Yeah... When I heard that sound… I dunno. My mind started racing and I started wondering what if it actually was a shooter and not just some fireworks? I didn’t see where the sound came from because the curtains were closed, after all. And when my mind starts racing, it really starts racing. You weren’t there at that moment so I got afraid that something had happened to you. And the panic attack was ready.”

Calypso understood perfectly. When she was having one of her bad moments, she kept reliving her sister’s accident and worrying it would happen again with someone else. It had taken her a long while to convince herself that it was safe enough to drive a car or to be a passenger in one. Even though she was able to drive again these days, the small nagging noise still hadn’t entirely disappeared from her head and she doubted it ever would.

“Well, I’m here now. I’m alright. You’re alright.” She gave him a small, encouraging smile. “Come here.” She patted the spot next to her to tell him to get up from his lying position so she could hug him. Leo looked at him questioningly for a moment, though.

“But what if someone comes in and sees us?”

“I kinda don’t care right now,” Calypso stated seriously. “Besides… I think we are not that great of actors. They probably know anyway.”

“Alright,” Leo replied and sat up on his spot on the bed. He buried his face against her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist, stroking her back as if to get a verification that she was really there with him.

“Gods, I’m making you regret your decision to be my girlfriend, aren’t I?” he mumbled against her skin.

“No,” Calypso said firmly when she broke the hug. “If anything, I think I love you even more when I hear about these things. You’re a really strong person who has just been through too much, too young.”

“But… you shouldn’t have to be my therapist,” Leo noted.

“I don’t see it that way. I want to help you feel better because you’re important to me. Besides...” Calypso added, thinking that a little humor wouldn’t hurt in that situation, “I’m trusting you’ll do the same for me when I need it.”

“Okay, I’ll be prepared,” Leo promised.

Suddenly the two realized that the people outside the room had gathered together and were doing a countdown.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

“Woah, sounds like it’s midnight already. We must have been here for at least an hour…” Calypso said.

“Seven, six, five…”

“Yeah. Time flies fast when you’re having a panic attack,” Leo managed to ‘joke’.

“Four, three, two, one…”

“I don’t get how you can joke about it already, but OK.”

“Happy new year!” yelled a big group of people in sync outside Frank’s bedroom.

“Happy new year,” the flatmates said at the same time.

“Or at least a better year than the previous one,” Leo added. “Although, I will admit it did have some good mo… woah!”

Calypso surprised Leo by gently pulling him closer to her, her hands coming to rest on each side of his neck when her lips touched his. Even though they had already shared a few kisses since the moment when they had decided to cross the line between a friend and a lover, Calypso still felt the sparks flying down her spine like fireworks when she felt Leo responding to it. His lips felt so soft (had he been using lip balm, she wondered) and his body so warm against hers, and it wasn’t until then that she realized that she had been actually feeling rather cold in her dark sleeveless dress.

“Goodness, Cal, you’re freezing,” Leo noted when they broke apart, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “This is where a gentleman would offer you a coat but as it happens, I don’t have one.”

Calypso smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. Guess I was at the balcony just a bit too long.”

“Oh. Well, don’t do that again,” Leo said seriously.

“What if I will?” Calypso questioned.

“Then I’ll build a sauna into our flat and make sure you use it no matter what my fear says.”

“Wow. I doubt our landlord would love that. I mean, you building a sauna without permission.”

“Pfft, who cares about his opinion?” Leo asked before turning his attention to the sounds of celebration on the other side of the door. “Hey, should we go back to the others? I think I can handle it now.”

“Alright,” Calypso agreed. “And remember, we can leave any time you feel like it.”

“Okay,” Leo nodded and got up from the bed. They held hands for a moment longer before opening the door and having to act like nothing had happened again. Calypso didn’t mind the acting too much, though, when she saw that Leo was able to smile and joke again. Hopefully that year really would be a better one.

[sunkisseddaffodils]

Flatmates!AU tenth doctor x reader (ft captain jack)

Pairing: tenth doctor x reader (ft captain jack)

Summary: where the reader is looking for a flatmate to rent out the room in their flat, having recently broken up with their partner. A strange man offers to rent the room for a lot of money. The reader can’t believe their luck. But is this man all that he seems?

Genre: mostly fluff

Warnings: swearing

Note: you can request a doctor who fic/ reader insert by asking on my profile <3

-

Four hours had gone by when you had finally finished putting up flyers about your room to rent around numerous cafes and bars in the town centre. Each time you did it, you felt a pang of sadness. A week ago, your partner had broken up with you and now if you didn’t find another person to sublet the room in your flat, you’d be evicted. You took the bus home and as you were wandering down the road to your flat; you noticed a strange man dressed in a blue suit sitting on your front garden wall. Lowkey, he was cute, but you couldn’t be thinking about that right now. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a murderer with the way your week was going. Swiftly, you jogged on over, demanding what on earth this guy was doing. He gave you a cheeky grin, asking, pointing to your apartment:

‘I presume you’re the one who’s renting out the room in this flat?’

All of this seemed kinda dodgy but surely things couldn’t get any worse.

‘Yeah, I am..’

He jumped down off the wall, fixing his brunette hair.

‘Wonderful! I wanna rent the room from today’

Your eyes widened.

‘Oh my god really? Wait, no hang on a second. I need to do a credit check and shit. You can’t just move in straight away,’

The tall, slim man reached into his pockets, producing a thick wad of cash.

‘Would this be enough to cover the first few months rent?’

‘Oh my fucking god’

He took this as a yes, placing the money in your hand, running up the steps to the front door, asking for the keys. You gave them to him, reluctantly.

He continued up the stairs to your flat with you running after him

‘Excuse me, but I don’t even know your name’.

He reached the living-dining area and sat down on your old, worn-out, leather couch.

He sat up, crossing his legs.

‘Oh, me? I’m the Doctor.’

He couldn’t be serious. You stood in front of him, crossing your arms, with a look of confusion on your face.

‘Doctor who?’

For some reason, he looked as if he was enjoying this.

‘It’s just ‘the doctor,’

You were about to remark about how ridiculous this was when he abruptly leapt off the settee and started rummaging around your kitchen cupboards. It seemed that he found what he wanted, and he stuck his finger inside an old pot of peanut butter and then licked it off. You really couldn’t believe your eyes. It took every ounce of your being to stop yourself from screaming the house down.

‘Doctor, please just stop for a second’

He placed down the peanut butter, putting his arms up apologetically.

‘Okay, sorry’

Taking in a breath, you began to list the rules if he was to stay here.

‘Doctor, you can stay here. But under these conditions: one, please keep all the shared living spaces clean and tidy, don’t be noisy and you’re gonna have to buy your own food if you want to do what you just did again’

The doctor nodded in acknowledgement, and you gestured for him to follow you. You gave him a quick tour of his room and the bathroom. He said thanks and you let him get set up in his room. For the rest of the night, you shut yourself in your room as you had an urgent report that was due at work the next day. In the middle of the night, you awoke, needing the toilet, and as you passed his room, you could hear the doctor talking to someone. All you could make out was that he talking on the phone to someone called captain jack. Checking your phone, you thought, ‘damn, it’s 4 am, doesn’t this guy ever sleep?’. The next couple of months passed smoothly except for the times where you noticed strange things about this man called the doctor. He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. And he always shut himself in his room. Often, you heard strange noises coming from his room. A sort of whirring sound. Maybe you had been too harsh that first time you met? But you couldn’t complain as he had overpaid his rent massively, and he didn’t want it back. That would keep you going for a while. Overall, he seemed a genuinely nice, guy. After work one night, you decided you were going to break the ice, try to get to know him better. It was 9 pm when you left work, you strolled down the dark road. Your heart sunk when you noticed the gate was left open, and the bins were strewn over the floor. Then, to top it all off, the front door was wide open... 

Thoughts raced around your mind. Were we being burgled? Where is the Doctor? Is he alright? You scampered up the stairs into your flat, where you heard a loud commotion coming from the doctor’s room. Shit. Grabbing a frying pan, you barged into his room to a very unexpected scene. The doctor was pressed up against the wall, being strangled by a massive green, slimy .. monster? What the fuck was going on? Without thinking, you ran up behind the thing and smashed it around the head with the frying pan. The doctor fell to the floor, panting. He struggled to raise his arm and this loud noise emitted from a blue screwdriver thing he was pointing at the ceiling. The monster roared in pain at this. The doctor ran and pulled you out of the room screaming at you to ‘run’. In the living room, the doctor pointed the screwdriver at his bedroom door, which seemed to lock it. He was pointing it around the room while you stood useless in the corner of the kitchen. The doctor was talking to that guy again, but it wasn’t on a phone but an earpiece. You couldn’t understand anything he was saying.

‘That should stall it for a bit’

You tried hard to gather your thoughts, demanding to know what was going on, running over to the doctor and tapping his shoulder.

‘Care to explain what the fuck is going on’

The doctor’s expression was sympathetic as he began to elaborate.

‘So basically your partner was actually a slitheen in disguise and they used you and your apartment to rebuild their ship which is above your flat and call for the rest of their race to come and destroy the earth and sell it for profit. I was just waiting for it to return so I could stop it.’

You didn’t even understand half of what he said. Slowly, you made your way over to the couch to sit down to rest. Running your hands through your hair, you asked the doctor:

‘Who are you?’

He sat down on the couch next to you, trying to be as comforting as possible.

‘I’m just a traveller, a passerby. Once I’m done here, you’ll be safe.’

Before you could reply, the door to the doctor’s bedroom was torn down by the Slickeen? Slitheen? Whatever the fuck it was. Both of you jumped up from the couch, backing away as far as possible. It came bounding through. The Doctor pulled you behind him as he made one last offer for the Slitheen to leave the planet.

‘I’m giving you one last chance. Get off this planet and I won’t do you any harm’.

The Slitheen simply cackled in response and marched towards them.

The doctor shouted at you urgently 

‘Do you have any vinegar?!’

‘Yeah, I think so in the top cupboard. Why?’

The doctor hurriedly shoved a bottle in your hand, ordering you to:

‘Quick, throw the vinegar over it. No time to explain why just do it!’

Both of you chucked the acidic substance over the Slitheen and it exploded all over the walls and floors, including yourself and the Doctor. Dumbfounded, you stared around at the thick, green goo which had wrecked your apartment. How the hell were you gonna clean this up? The doctor made his way out of the flat, informing the person on his earpiece.

“We’re done here. Bring the tardis’

You chased him down the stairs but he disappeared into an old blue police box. You knocked violently on the box.

‘OI! You can’t just leave after all that.’

Another tall, slim man walked out of the box and shook your hand

‘Captain Jack Harkness. And who are you?’

Blushing you answered ‘Y/N’

The doctor reemerged from the police box, having somehow changed his clothes. You gave him an evil glance as you were still covered in gunk.

‘Jack, stop it.’

Jack looked offended.

‘What? I was just saying hello’

The doctor instantly responded.

‘Well don’t. Anyways, thank you for all your help, Y/N. To make up for wrecking your flat, do you wanna come on a trip with us?’

You replied uncertainly

‘Where?’

‘Anywhere in space and time’, he grinned widely, leaning against the police box.

‘How?’

‘This police box is a ship that can travel in space and time. It’s called the TARDIS.’

Nothing could surprise you anymore. Of course, you had to say yes. Captain Jack and the Doctor looked very happy with your answer and led you into the Tardis where you would have many adventures with the two of them.

[mae-gi-writes]

Somebody Loves You | Kevin Moon (The Boyz Imagine)

Bandmates au! in which Kevin finally realizes that the love he’s looking for is standing right here beside him. 

Genre: angst, fluff at the end, friends to lovers au, bandmates au.

Words: 1.6k-ish? 

------

All she could remember were the tears on his face. 

And then, then came the heartbreak. Along with that, the sad songs bouncing off his piano keys like soulful siren singing melodies about the dead and haunting her in her sleep. The floor was always littered with crumbled paper and when Y/N had enough courage to smooth one out, realized that they were nothing more than lyrics singing of a broken heart. 

The break up had come unexpectedly. A quick slap in the face, as she liked to call it. But after that day, Kevin was never the same. Oh he tried, tried his best to fake it behind a cracked mask that always managed to crumble half-way throughout the day, but Y/N knew him like the back of her hand, knew exactly the slightest microscopic expressions that shifted in his face, which made her even more aware of his countenance every single time. 

One time, she found him curled up on the corner of the couch in their small practice room -- tucked away in one of the school’s back buildings that nobody ever ventured to -- with tears cascading down his face in crystal translucent jewels, carving paths along his cheeks and dripping off his jaw as he kept his eyes averted from her own. 

“Kevin,” Y/N sighed, before plopping herself down next to him, “did you eat?” 

The young man shook his head. Of course he hadn’t. Nothing much interested him these days. 

She made a frustrated sound, “you can’t keep doing this to yourself, you know.” 

“It hurts,” came his murmur, words choked with tears. 

“I know it does Kev, but--” Y/N’s hand landed on his shoulder in a soft, warm caress, “you have to move on. She has.” 

He sniffled for a few minutes more. Then, he wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve, gladly accepting the tissue she provided him upon noticing his struggle, “thanks,” he merely mumbled, a breath of words so quiet and weak she feared he might break in two.

“Come on,” Y/N’s hands went to cup his face before pulling up the corner of his lips with her thumbs. She grinned at him, “smile. Come on, it’s not the end of the world. You have me.” 

A tear-filled chuckle escaped his chest, “yeah,” the corners of his lips tugged up slightly, “yeah I know.” 

The next few weeks were swamped in a constant routine of practice and attending lectures whenever they weren’t too wiped out afterwards, which Kevin accepted the distractions with open arms. Slowly but surely, Y/N watched his expressions clear, his eyes getting lighter and lighter, chuckles coming a little easier to him now, and smiles gracing his face more often times than not. It was relieving, to say the least. Y/N’s heart couldn’t help but jump up in happiness whenever she remembered how far he’d come from the broken mess Kevin once was, though these facts were things she kept hidden like a secret she would carry to her grave.

She’d never tell him; how he’d stolen her heart, and that now she was his entirely if he wanted. No. She couldn’t, never had even before he even started dating his ex back then.

So imagine her shock when Kevin bounded up to her after her Marketing class to tell her:

“Miha texted me.” 

Y/N blinked for a few seconds. The name was enough to make her stomach drop. 

“What?” a frown fell like a dark shadow over her face, “What did she say? What did she want?” 

He shuffled from one feet to another, clearly sensing the unfriendliness emanating from the girl before him, "well, she said a lot of stuff...about how she misses me. And how she wants to talk to me, clear things up because they way we left it was--" his words stopped short upon noticing the scowl spreading over Y/N's face faster than he could utter Miha's name. Instead, he asked, "what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're not going to meet her, are you?" Were the only words that she managed to splutter out of the multitudes of protests ringing through her mind.

"Well," he scratched the back of his head, looking strangely embarrassed, "I don't know, I thought maybe I should go, we didn't have any closure and--"

"Are you insane?"

Kevin blinked, "no, I just thought--"

"She broke your heart," Y/N shook her head and her fists impulsively clenched at her sides in hopes that she wouldn't sock him one. Frustration flared through her, "she broke up with you and left you in this mess by yourself. You-- You were terrible Kev, you weren't eating and you barely slept. Why would you want to go back to that?" She searched his eyes, attempted to seek out what was going on inside his brain, "why would you?"

"Look Y/N," she watched as Kevin's expression hardened, "I'm really grateful for you, I am. But it's no big deal, okay? It's just a lunch to talk things over."

"Just a lunch?" She laughed, though it sounded empty, "there's no such thing as 'just a lunch'. "

"Why do you even hate her so much? She didn"t do anything to you--"

"You know what? No." Y/n threw her hands in mock surrender, "you do what you want. I'm done. I want no part in this."

"What's wrong with you?" Kevin's voice rose with his anger. It was clear that he was just as rattled as she was, "why are you acting like it's such a big deal?"

How dare he say that.

Anger vibrated through her chest. Invaded her lungs.

Suddenly, it gelt all too hard to breathe.

How dare he, when all she had done was be there for him? When she had vaught him with open arms and nursed his bruised heart back to life.

How dare he.

"How dare you," her voice shook with restrained anger, "how dare you say that when all I've done was for your sake?"

"Y/N I didn't mean--"

"Yes you did!" She cut him off with a yell as tears pooled from the corner of her eyes, "you meant every single word and I'm not having any more of it! You--" she let out a slow, shaky breath through her mouth, body practically vibrating with rage, "you don't even see me, not in the way that I do.”

"What do you mean--"

"I love you, alright?" Her hand tugged at her hair, "I always did, Kev. And seeing you so broken, I hated myself for it. It hurt me as much as it did for you. I'm not going to stick around just to see it happen again."

And before waiting for Kevin to answer back Y/N swivelled on her heel and marched away with her head held high, even as tears wlowly dropped down her cheeks and her heart shook every step along the way.

For the next few weeks, Y/N aboided Kevin at all costs.

Not only was she swimming in huge embarrassment at the prospect of having confessed her somewhat undying love for him, but it did not help matters that she couldn't erase the image of his closed-off, hardened expression as they argued back and forth.

--------

It was obvious whom he'd chosen to side with. Y/N wasn't supposed to feel bitter -- actually hated herself for being so petty -- but she couldn't help it. It was like his presence was a ghost that haunted her every day life, a constant reminder that he wasn't here anymore.

So Y/N avoided the band practice room like the plague, skipped classes they shared, so much so that their drummer -- a cute quirky freshmen who went by the name of Eric -- decided to confront her right as she was about to exit her statistics course.

"Why aren't you coming to band practice lately?" Eric asked as he followed Y/N's footsteps echoing down the hall, "something's wrong. You wouldn't be acting this way otherwise. Tell me."

"Nothing's wrong," she muttered while dragging her feet, attempting not to scowl at the wall before her.

"Sure, of course nothing's wrong," Eric rolled his eyes, "that"s why you're sulking like a five year old child."

"Just leave me alone."

"Is this about Kevin?"

She stayed quiet. Reacting to his statement would just confirm his suspicions.

"It is, isn't it?" Eric continued while the girl struggled to keep her face void of emotion, "he's been acting all weird too. Hasn't been practicing as much, and apparently he's still talking to that ex of his-- which, by the way, I do not approve of -- but he looks off, Y/N. Like he doesn't even want to hang out anymore."

"Not my problem."

"Y/N," a hand fell upon her shoulder then. Eric squeezed her softly, "I'm not stupid. I know you guys fought for whatever reason. But for my sake, please come back. Come and and talk to him," he paused, then added a soft, "please."

Usually, a few prods from Eric here and there would prompt Y/N to make the first move. But not this time. She wasn't about to apologize to Kevin for having done nothing wrong. If anything, she was the one who should be apologized to!

Instead, Y/N took this chance to call up her mother who laid just a few hours away in the suburbs, asking if there was any possibility for a visit. A break would do her some good and by the older woman's delighted tone on the other side of the line, Y/N guessed that it would please her mother just as much. The older woman didn't hesitate to gush at the many dishes she would prepare for her only daughter, prompting Y/N to smile despite all the circumstances.

Trust her mother to make her feel loved when nobody else could.

And so, it was a few days later when Y/N packed her things for the weekend. She ambled out into the shared common room, bid a casual goodbye to her flatmates, before starting towards the train station, her heart already lifting with hope with every step that brought her closer to home.

Only for that hope to shatter when a familiar alto burst through the air.

"Y/N!"

Turning towards the sound, the said girl's eyebrows stitched into a frown upon noticing Kevin's figure running up to her as if he was the one about to his miss train.

"What do you want--" she didn't even have time to finish her sentence when Kevin's arms snatched her over to his chest, one of his hands weaving into her hair before he tilted his head and crashed his mouth down onto hers.

"Wha--" the words choked up in the back of her throat as Kevin moved his lips onto her own in the most sensual dance with a desperate, almost aggressive need. His hand at her waist tightened, slipping underneath her shirt and causing her to gasp, electric tingles shooting up her spine.

He kissed her with ardour, with a passion she didn't know he possessed. He kissed her until her knees felt weak and until her head spun deliciously from his attacks; mouth suckling onto her bottom one, nibbling at the skin and -- impulsively -- Y/N couldn't help but kiss back.

A growl vibrated through his chest at her response and she almost fell, pliant in his arms. His tongue pushed at her mouth, delving in without warning and eliciting a soft whimper from the said girl as her own arms slithered their way up his shoulders and into his hair. 

He was everywhere. His scent. His taste. He tasted so familiar and warm and just--just Kevin. 

She hadn't realized that they'd been moving until her back collided with the cold, cemented wall of her apartment building, the contrast of its iciness and Kevin's warmth sending another surge of hot desire through her chest.

"Don't leave me," Kevin breathed through multiple kisses, his voice hoarse and rough from their kiss, "don't leave. I'm sorry."

It took ever ounce of Y/N's brain cells to figure out what he was sorry for.

"For what?" She mumbled against his mouth.

He drew back with a soft sigh and a whine almost crawled up her throat at the loss of heat. Pressing their foreheads together, noses touching, he murmured, "for everything. For not listening to you, for not seeing you, I-- I was so stupid for taking you for granted and it's only when you walked out on me that I realized--" he exhaled shakily, "that I realized how much...how much I loved you."

Closing her eyes to let his words wash over her wounds, she felt like pinching herself.

It didn't seem real.

Kevin didn't seem real.

And as though she yearned for that clarification herself, her hand reached up to press her palm against his cheek. 

The man's eyes closed, taking in the feel of her skin, her warmth, against him.

And when he opened them once more to find her brown orbs swimming with flecks of sudden affection, he couldn’t help but lean forward again.

"I'm sorry," he pecked her mouth chastely, "I'm sorry," his kisses trailed over her jaw, up her cheek while he kept on muttering a string of apologies that caused a troop of butterflies to flutter through her stomach. Her hands fisted through his shirt unconsciously as Kevin continued showering her face in a rain of kisses that left her heart cartwheeling in her chest, heat springing through her cheeks at the way their bodies practically molded into each other. 

His firmness pressed against her curves. Sensual heat pooled at the bottom of her stomach. 

“Please just--” Kevin’s alto broke at the last word, “just don’t leave.” 

To be fair, she wasn’t actually leaving for good. But it seemed like Kevin had understood it all upside down, for he thus nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck and hugged her close as though fearing that she might disappear at any given moment.

She took a deep, shaky breath. Let it out slowly through her teeth, “I’m not going anywhere, Kev.” 

She felt him pause, “why are you all packed then?” 

“I’m just going to visit my mom for the weekend.” 

Another pause. Then: 

“Oh.” 

Silence. 

“Oh. Fuck.” 

Laughter bubbled straight out of Y/N’s lips the moment Kevin lurched back to gaze at her with wide-eyed panic reminiscent to that of a young deer in the headlights. He was just too adorable for his own good and while she pitied the fact that Eric had merely dramatized the situation of her leaving, she was grateful. Kevin would never have acted so impulsively if he wasn’t desperate.

And now, she knew that these feelings were actually reciprocated.

“Stop,” Kevin brought her back, pecking at a spot right underneath her jaw as she kept on laughing, “stop laughing. It’s not funny!” 

“Oh my-- Oh my god. You thought I was leaving for good, weren’t you?” Y/N tried, and failed, numerous times to force the laughter down though it was proving to be quite difficult. 

Her heart felt so much lighter than just a few minutes ago. It was soaring through clouds, literally floating up to the heavens in happiness.

“I got scared okay?!” Kevin prodded at her tummy, face dropping into a pout, “I thought you were never going to come back because of--because of what happened.” 

“I’m not that dramatic.” 

“I know, I’m usually the drama queen.” 

“So,” a teasing smile lifted at the corners of Y/N’s lips. Her eyes narrowed towards his, mischief dancing in her eyes, “you love me, do you?” 

“You’re never going to let me hear the end of it, are you?” 

“Nope,” she singsonged, “it’s too adorable to forget.” 

“Hmph,” Kevin groaned slightly and she shivered at the contact of his lips against her collarbone. He lifted his head to kiss her cheek softly, mouth traveling over to land on her lips then, “as long as I get a girlfriend out of it, I’m okay with that.” 

[fishmongeringstudies]

twenty one: i keep waking up in rooms i don't recognize and then realizing that i am still dreaming. my therapist says this is a symptom of a dislocated knee. i have not gone running since march. everyone that i know is lying to me

when i was a kid my parents used to take us to the same restaurant for brunch every sunday. it was on the first floor of a shopping mall which had big panes of glass stitched together for a ceiling and consequently let in far more natural light than your average building, but the restaurant itself was dark. moody. the walls were black and so was all the upholstery. the coffee mugs the waitresses served you coffee in were so dark you couldn't tell how full they were unless you looked extra hard at them, which i rarely did. in most memories of this place i'm seven or eight and i only drink two things: lemon tea and milk. so i'm sitting there with my frosted plastic cup of lemon tea, methodically stirring in my syrup with a skinny metal spoon because they make their lemon tea from scratch here which means no sugar and lots of tea, and my parents are drinking from their big adult mugs, and my sister's picking apart the roasted tomato on my dad's plate, and life, well. life is simple. good.

i can't remember when we stopped going there but i know that by the time i was nine and traipsing around in the hallways of the chinese primary school my parents had transferred me to, it had closed down and been replaced with some other restaurant whose name and shape i can't recall. well before i turned sixteen that entire wing of the first floor was demolished and replaced with the monstrosity that is singapore's flagship muji store. the muji's still there today. it's got a retail area and a few showrooms showcasing lifestyle choices for the upper-middle class citizen and a cafe with a dining area marked out by eclectic hanging decor that looks like a hundred little wastepaper baskets made from twine tied together to form a spotty mural of sorts. i'm fond of the cafe. their desserts are on the expensive side but they're thoughtfully made and look pretty in pictures, prettier in person.

your childhood years are one of those things that gets shinier the further away you stand from it, like how a bad experience becomes bittersweet by necessity if you give it long enough or you'll be stuck carrying that baggage with you forever. looking back, for example, on spring, i am inclined to see the educational takeaways instead of the moments in which my brain shut off and was replaced with a vat of screaming kittens. in this way we propel ourselves forward with the wisdom of the past, scrounged together from moments of pain and deep embarrassment. in this way we find ways to stay alive.

this summer i have wound up in upperclassmen housing by some unfortunate trick of fate. my apartment suite has five bedrooms but only four of them are occupied; i live in the room at the end of the hallway. my flatmates live in the next three. it has been five days since i moved in and i am convinced all of them think that they are living with a cryptid constructed in the scp containment breach format and unsure how to let them know that they are correct without making it personal. last night i woke up after a brief period of dreaming to use the bathroom; while washing my hands in the sink one of my flatmates walked past in the hallway behind me. 'hey, it's you,' she said. 'i feel like i haven't seen you forever. i mean. i've seen you, but i haven't seen seen you, you feel me?' asleep on my feet and ready to crash facefirst into bed, i nodded. 'yes.' she stood there for a few seconds as if expecting me to say more, but i had a vending machine for a brain at the moment and couldn't find it in me to press any more buttons. i certainly could've tried. but i was tired.

when i got on campus in february i resolved to sign up for therapy sessions with the school's mental health services since i was paying an ungodly amount for 'health insurance' (not a thing in singapore, really; not necessary in most places except america, really) anyway and i might as well make use of some small part of the astronomical sum that had been deposited in the pockets of some old white people i would likely never meet in my life. i got as far as filling out the form embedded in the school website and opening the automated email i received a few days later asking me to list my free times each week. i forgot about the rest. we are therefore entering the summer of my twentieth year without a goddamn clue what the inside of my head looks like apart from the fact that it must be pretty cool in there. it has to be cool. if it isn't cool what's the point of holding onto any of it anyway? we live for the spice of life. like garlic powder. cumin. oyster sauce.

this morning i went to target to look for sugar. the dining hall here doesn't do any of its vegetables justice but their desserts are to die for, and i've found myself suffering from a mild withdrawal since i started scrambling eggs and boiling about five hundred grams of cauliflower a day for the sheer therapeutic effect of it and because i don't really know any better. the target near campus is located in a shopping mall and surrounded by miles of parking space on both ends. while walking back across that stretch of empty parking space, i came across a smear of orange on the pavement. it was an orange. or it had been. the rind had been ground into the gravely surface of the road by a repetitive smoothing action so that it looked less like a bit of roadkill and more like it had been there all along. i can't stop thinking about that orange. who the fuck drops an orange in the middle of a road? why didn't they pick it up?

i have been cursed with an idea. it came to me last night before i fell asleep and it has been sitting on my shoulder since then like the devil in the popular angel-and-devil writing device which all nine year olds are taught by their teachers in chinese class, whispering to me about how great things will be if i can teach myself the fundamentals of sound design in three days. unfortunately it is when one decides to start a war that they are forced to confront their contacts list and the vast, untraceable geography of its contents. i cannot tell you if anything will result from this. but i hope that it will.

back when i still talked to her i mentioned the idea of doing puzzles to soothe the mind once and she took to it with so much genuine enthusiasm (she was always enthusiastic. too enthusiastic. enthusiasm was the problem, and the lack of willingness to curtail it the thing that eventually nailed the coffin shut) that i went to target the next weekend and bought a set of four puzzles depicting various scenes from old disney films. over the last two weeks i have done each puzzle three times, save for the last one, in which mickey and minnie mouse waltz down a red carpet and the people on the sidelines cheer for them with champagne moustaches and glittering beads for eyes. i cannot decide if this is meaningful. i cannot see the point of summer. but i am trying.

i don't remember the name of that sunday brunch restaurant. i don't remember the names of a lot of places our parents brought us when we were children, but my sister has been on a nostalgia trip since april and sends me screenshots of old pc games we used to play together from time to time. ernie's adventures in space. timmy's sea adventures. barbie island princess. i open each image and feel something inside of me physically ache in response. it appears that despite my best efforts, i will never be seven years old again.

i'm not a huge fan of lemon tea anymore. i prefer water. how it cleanses the palate like a vacuum cleaner sucking up all the dust and grime in a musty room. it's hard to distinguish between the inside and the outside of a thing when both are the color of a blood-red sunset but we try our best, you know? we draw lines on the sidewalk with chalk and we say 'here is my side of the universe and here is yours'. we act diplomatic when inside we are drunk and slurring our words all over the bartender's white vest. and then, because there is nothing else to do on this planet, we keep on living.

06.10.21

[midwinterblinder]

This is me trying

Chapter 6: “So she’s back in New York then.”

Josephine leaves early the next morning. It had been nice to talk to Beth and the others the night before and with Benny on the other side of the group she didn’t have much interaction with him after the question he asked about her father. She stayed longer than she planned to, which means that she hasn’t slept all that much and she has a long trip ahead of her. Luckily she won’t be driving herself, but sitting in a bus for hours isn’t exactly her idea of fun either.

As she makes her way down to the lobby with her suitcase, she thinks back to the long car rides with Benny. If the trip was 12 hours or less they always drove instead of taking a plane. They would play chess and talk about everything and nothing in the car. When the elevator doors open she shakes her head with a sigh as she tries to shove the memories to the back of her mind.

When she steps into the lobby and starts to walk to the reception, she’s surprised to see Benny standing there. He seems to be checking out as well, which is strange because she’s not sure she has ever seen him leave a tournament this early in the morning.

Benny is just as surprised as Josephine when he sees her as he turns to walk away from the reception. “Leaving already?” He asks as his eyes move to her suitcase before coming back up to her face. When they were together they didn’t leave before 10 in the morning and it’s only 8 now. He was actually hoping to avoid seeing her by leaving early.

“Yeah.” Josephine nods. “I have a bus to catch.” She adds and her eyes find his. She’s not sure if she should keep the conversation going or if she should just go her own way. “I should check out.” She says after a moment of silence.

Benny nods and moves out of her way. “You don’t want to miss your bus.” He says casually as he swings his car keys around on his finger. “Have a safe trip.” He adds as he walks towards the exit.

*****

Josephine takes a deep breath of New York air when she finally gets off the bus. It was a long trip and she’s happy to be back in the city that has become her home once again. She grew up in New Jersey and moved to New York when she moved in with Benny. She had fallen in love with the city over the years that they lived there, but when she left Benny she also left New York.

She moved back a few months ago, but has so far carefully avoided any of the place she used to frequent with Benny. It’s not even that she doesn’t want to see him, it’s more about what will happen when they’re seen together, about what will happen when he hears she’s been seen around Benny.

Now is not the time to think about that though, so she gets her suitcase and heads in the direction of the subway to get to her apartment. New York is expensive so she shares an apartment with Gina, a girl she had met a became friends with when she first moved to New York with Benny. Gina was probably her only friend outside the chess world and Josephine is beyond grateful that she was willing to share an apartment with her. Gina had been begging Josephine to move back to the city and when her old flatmate moved out she offered the vacant room to Josephine.

Gina isn’t the one that greets her when she steps into the apartment though. There’s a man on the couch, a man she recognises instantly as Hilton Wexler. A decent chess player, but more importantly a good friend of Benny. “Jo, hey.” Hilton says when he sees her walk in. He looks uncomfortable, clearly unsure how to act around the ex of one of his closest friends. It never used to be this awkward between them. Hilton wasn’t just Benny’s friend, he used to be hers as well, but he had known Benny first so after the break up they didn’t speak anymore.

“Hi.” Josephine says as she places her suitcase down. “It’s been a long time, Hilton. How have you been?” She tries to sound casual, but everything comes out forced. What she really wants to asks is why he’s there in her apartment, but that really can’t be the first question she asks him in four years.

“I’m good.” He nods. “Just here to get Gina. We’re going out.” He gestures to one of the two bedrooms where Gina is probably getting ready. “She said you were out of town for a tournament. Does that mean you’re coming back?” He asks and she’s pretty sure she sees a hint of excitement on his face as he says it.

“I’m trying to.” She says as she takes off her coat and hangs it by the door. “I got my ass kicked by Beth Harmon in the final though.” She sighs as she walks further into the room and sits down on a chair as the awkwardness slowly seems to leave the room.

“You played Beth?” Hilton raises his eyebrows. “I would have loved to have seen that.” He mutters. “Wait if you were at the same tournament as Beth that means you saw-“ He trails off, not sure if he should same Benny’s name around her.

“Benny?” Josephine asks and Hilton nods as he sends her an apologetic smile. “You can say his name, Hilton. It’s fine.” She assures him with a smile of her own. “Yes, I saw him and we spoke. It was awkward, but not as bad as I expected it to be.” She tells him honestly.

Hilton seems to relax as he sees how she’s taking it. “That’s good.” He nods. “I mean, if you’re getting back into chess you’ll probably run into each other quite a bit so it’s good that it wasn’t too bad.” He expands and Josephine nods.

Any further chance at conversation is put to a stop when Gina steps out of her room. “Okay, I’m ready.” She smiles at Hilton, who gestures to the chair Josephine is sitting on. “Oh you’re back.” Gina says as she turns to face her flatmate. “Hilton and I were just going out.” Gina sends her an apologetic smile. “You can join us if you want.” She offers.

“No, no.” Josephine shakes her head. “Go out. I need to wash off the bus ride and then replay my last game so I can get mad at myself for every mistake I made.” She half jokes as she stands up and gives Gina a brief hug. “You have some explaining to do.” She whispers in Gina’s ear, because her flatmate had definitely neglected to tell her she was seeing Hilton. “It was nice seeing you again.” Josephine smiles at Hilton when she pulls away from Gina, who blushes slightly at Josephine’s earlier words.

*****

The next day Hilton is sitting across from Benny as they play a game of chess. He’s not sure if he should tell Benny about seeing Josephine or not and it’s not doing his chess any good. “Alright, what’s going on?” Benny asks when he has beaten Hilton for the fifth time in a row. “You’re distracted.” He adds as he leans back against the pillows in the corner of his apartment. He can tell something is bothering his friend just by the way he’s playing.

“It’s nothing.” Hilton tries to brush it off, but Benny raises his eyebrows at him and he gives in. “I saw Josephine yesterday.” He sighs. “She’s living with Gina.” He adds as he watches Benny’s face. Benny manages to keep his expression under control, but Hilton sees a flash of emotion pass behind his friend’s eyes.

“So she’s back in New York then.” Benny mutters more to himself than Hilton. Benny’s not sure how to feel about Josephine being back in the city. He was the one who introduced her to New York all those years ago. He showed her around and took he to all his favourite places and it just feels wrong that she’s in New York but not with him. It just doesn’t make sense that she could be walking the streets of his city right now without sharing a bed with him.

“Yeah.” Hilton nods slowly as he tries to gauge how Benny is feeling. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you.” He says. “She said you saw each other this weekend and that it wasn’t that bad. Is that true or was she just saying that so things wouldn’t get awkward?” He asks.

“I’m not sure how she experienced it.” Benny shrugs. “I snapped at her though.” He admits to Hilton, who doesn’t look surprised. Benny had been bottling up all his feelings since she left, so it was bound to come out at some point. Hilton is just about to speak up, but Benny clearly wants to move on so he beats him to it. “So you and Gina, what’s going on there?”