#unsent emails

[unsentmails]

dear you,

i hate you for leaving, and i hate me for crying.

[aeide-thea]

lol schumer sent me back a really mealy-mouthed response to my signature on an anti-KOSA petition so i went to his website and sent him another email about it. will this have any impact? probably not, but it was satisfying.

also lol i c/p'd what i'd written before sending bc i was curious abt what i'd been angrily yelling into the text field and it's uh. longer than i thought and also almost sounds adult??? wild.

There is no way for websites to distinguish between adult and minor users without forcing everyone who signs up to provide their legal ID, which will put an enormous amount of sensitive personal information about our identities and preferences in the hands of corporations who have done nothing to demonstrate they can be trusted with it. No social media website should be able to connect posts that reveal e.g. a marginalized sexuality or gender status back to the poster's offline identity. You wrote: "[T]he KOSA would require social platforms to provide minors with options to protect their information, disable addictive product features, and opt-out of algorithmic recommendations." Frankly, these are options that should be provided to all users of these platforms, regardless of age; making these tools available across the board, without inquiring into users' age or identity, would protect children and adults alike. That's legislation I'd support. I take this issue very seriously. Internet freedom was critical to my self-discovery as a teenager, and I'm vehemently against seeing that stifled for future generations (not to mention for those of us still using the internet today!); in addition, past well-intended legislation like FOSTA/SESTA has had a crippling impact on freedom of expression and safety, while not, in fact, accomplishing its intended purpose; please see https://aidsunited.org/fosta-sesta-and-its-impact-on-sex-workers/ for a discussion of this. Similarly, I have no confidence that KOSA would even protect the minors it's intended to help—what would stop them from just entering their parents' information to create accounts on age-restricted websites? Please do more than "closely monitor [the] progress [of this bill] through the Senate": please do some real thinking about the implications of this bill, especially for Americans in red states getting snowed under by homophobic, transphobic, antichoice legislation, and speak out against it. In what's nominally the land of the free, we deserve better than legislation intended to suppress and surveil. Thanks very much for your attention to this issue.

[me-hee-hee]

oh how i love the unsent project

[badger-with-a-boa]

I'm shaking

FROM SO MUCH EXCITEMENT

[khlur]

this is the week where i live out being a tantrum throwing petulant bitch baby who refuses to do all tasks

[crestofshame]

Just had one of the scariest online experience of my life

[system-reset]

unspoken truths

hi [mother]. it's me, your eldest spawn. I'm 19 now, and I'm sure you've erased me from your memory by now. you won't ever recieve this email, but I figured I'd write it anyway. so... here goes nothing.

you told me growing up that you loved me. you told me that love was unconditional. it was supposed to be. a mothers love is not meant to have prerequisites. but the truth is you never were a mother, and your love was just a contract with rules. you were a puppetmaster. you built a shell for me, and when I grew too large for it you denied me further care.

what you wanted wasn't a child, you wanted a clay soldier you could mold into any shape. and when I had learned enough about the world to begin to understand my place as my own person, you grew cold.

we were sat in the car one day, and I asked what your biggest mistake was. you told me "it's sitting in the back seat." you meant me. I want to believe you're ignorant of the damage that did. I want to believe you're unaware of the pain you caused when you called me retarded "as a joke" at the dinner table every night. I have to believe you don't understand that you broke me, because if you do know then... you must have done it on purpose.

people used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I'd tell them pretty lies, "an artist," I'd say, but really? all I ever wanted was to be enough for you. all I ever wanted was for you to care for me like a mother cares for her child. but you never did.

sometimes people ask what one thing I'd do if I had no restrictions. if I could do anything, without worrying about the limits of physics. I often say silly things like "shapeshift" or things that could benefit everybody like "end world hunger." but the bitter truth of it is that if I could do anything I wanted, I'd get away from you.

because, though we're distant geographically and we don't communicate with one another, though you have found peace in a life without the burden of a child whose mind is his own, I can never escape you. half my thoughts are still just the awful things you said to me, bouncing around in my skull. I still feel worthless. I still feel like I'll never be good enough. I still feel like a mistake.

so while you sit there with your one remaining marionette, I want you to think about all of this. I want you to think about the damage you've done. I want you to feel like you've fucked up significantly. because you have. and you're still doing it.

I may not believe it yet, and you may never believe it, but I am enough and I am worth the effort it takes to love.

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

. the projected-to-be 6 chapter afohiko fic is now over a year old with no updates. :/

... i did say it would take a while

[casbeeminestiel]

Helb

[lucindarobinsonvevo]

paulrobinsonshotel. i am working on some notes for you, but im trying something a little different this time and putting them directly onto the story through comments rather than notes. I promise I have not forgotten you and your fic!!

[queercriptid]

academia is a scam

[unsentmails]

life can be okay. life can be my thing. life will be okay, and life WILL be my thing.

[emailspedia1]

How to Recall or Unsend Email in Outlook 2019?

If you sent an email that you don't want to share and now you are supposing is to recall it. But if you don't know how to do it then this is especially for you.

[pansyfemme]

my grandmother seems to exclusively communicate by typing out an email on her computer and then taking a photo of the unsent email with her phone and texting it to all of us and this is admirable for it’s artistic avant garde approach but also seems like there are easier ways to do this

[jarofstyles]

Cerulean

Here it is! Indigo part 2… even years later lol. after literal years... we are continuing with it. If you're unfamiliar, here is part one.

I hope you enjoy our new(ish) babies.

Check out our Patreon!

warnings- mention of anxiety, tattoos, tooth rotting fluffy babies, miscommunication

WC- 4.2k

----

Y/N stared nervously at her phone. Harry’s contact was up in the bubble, her first message to him sitting unsent on the screen.

He had actually given her his number. He said that he would talk to her about his tattoos and his shop and he had said she could call him H, which- Gah! She wanted to squeal when she had woken up and remembered it all. The headache had been gnarly, but she recalled most of the night very vividly. How Harry had taken charge and told the man bothering her off, how he had admitted that she intimidated her somehow because he thought she was pretty and his glaring wasn’t because of hatred- it was nerves, anxiety and trying to figure out how to talk to her.

He’d placed her number into his phone under a simple letter, H, and promised to text him later.

Did the next day qualify as later?

It was almost noon and she had sent off a few emails to her publisher that was working with her on one of her fashion articles, trying to waste time to not seem overly eager. Washing the dishes, switching her laundry, even taking her cat for a walk(unconventional but Nibbles had been a street kitten, he liked to go outside), even taking a full body shower with the shaving and the deep hair mask. Her headache had faded to an dull throb with the help of a tylenol, and she was now ready to bite the bullet.

Y/N: Hiiii :D It’s Y/N.

Y/N: Hope I’m not bugging you but I was thinking about finally getting a tattoo. I had some questions and I figured you’d be perfect to ask.

It wasn’t a lie. Y/N really had been considering a tattoo and asking Harry, though she had been planning on going to him anyway out of courtesy before she had gotten the whole ‘i think he hates me’ thing cleared up. She’d never go to a different artist if she could support someone in the friend group. Now it was an exciting thing for her, a giddiness in her stomach rising when she saw the three dots in the texting bubble showing that he was replying.

Hm. He didn’t have his read receipts on. Interesting.

A response popped up quite quickly after sending her message.

H: Hi. You aren’t bugging. Come down to the shop, it’s slow today.

Y/N nearly choked on her lemonade. He wanted her to come? Today?! Her bare foot tapped anxiously against the carpet as she blinked at her phone screen, trying to find the right words to respond. She didn’t want to bother him or annoy him, even though he had said she wasn't’ bugging', the girl was still a bit nervous. Last night she had called him super cool and said she wanted to spend time with him alone but she had to wonder if she was brave enough to do it so soon.

Y/N: Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother or anything.

His response came just as fast as the last. Did he have his phone screen open or something?

H: You aren’t. I’m doing paperwork so I don’t mind.

H: Can you bring me a coffee? I’ll venmo you.

She felt a laugh bubble from her throat as she looked at the messages. She hadn’t said yes but he was most definitely telling her to get her ass over there if she read between the lines. Considering it was a weekend, she had no excuse not to. Besides her nerves, she didn’t have one either. She liked Harry. She thought he was really cute and mysterious and he was polite when he spoke last night and something about him had her so intrigued. The girl knew she would kick herself if she didn’t go, so that’s how the decision was made.

Y/N: Sugar or cream? Do you do a latte or something fancy? Frappichino?

H: Black, please. Cold foam on top. Thanks xx

—-

Harry knew he was being awfully presumptuous but he also knew himself.

It was now or never.

Last night he had finally found his balls and spoken to the cute little thing. Granted, it took him standing up for her against a creep, but he had still done it. Y/N was coming to the nearly empty shop to talk about a tattoo, what he knew would be her very fucking first, and he was so nervous he could probably vomit if he thought about it too long.

He had always been known to be an intimidating man. He was littered with dark swirls of ink on his skin, piercings on his nose and eyebrow-and some other not so visible places-, he was pretty tall and broad shouldered and he was said to have what Niall loved to call a ‘bitch face’. His hair was longer, needing a cut as it was falling into his face, and he had his moody demeanor which tended to scare people off. Even as a teenager, pre tats and everything, he had sat quietly behind his friends while he observed and was able to keep prying people away with a simple quirk of the brow.

While that intimidating air worked wonders for getting annoyingly nosy people to fuck off and to get laid every once in a while by a girl who wanted a night with a ‘bad boy’, -words said by 2 of them, not himself- he sure as fuck didn’t want Y/N to think of him that way.

Y/N was just… She was his opposite in every way and he really, really liked it. Soft curved features as opposed to his own hard ones, a gentle glow to the eyes instead of his hardened glimmer. She had a sweet, bubbly voice that made him hang off her every damn word when he got the privilege to go out when she was there. She had called herself a fucking cinnamon roll, and she had been right. Sweet and fluffy and coated in sugar. Something he’d fucking love to taste, given the chance.

That would be a bit down the line considering Y/N wasn’t the type of girl he’d want to hook up with. She was the girl that he’d want his Mum to meet. She was the breakfast in bed, flowers every week, buy pretty dresses for type of girl. Every woman deserves that, but for him? Y/N was that exact type. He hooked up with girls that he knew he wouldn’t get attached to. Quick fucks at their place, bar bathrooms, cars. He didn’t let them inside his world because he knew what he wanted.

He’d dated before, had his heart broken a small handful of times to know what he wanted and what he didn’t. Hopefully he’d be able to sniff out some more about Y/N that he hadn’t found out through the social gatherings, grapevines and checking out her social media. She made cute little videos of her outfits almost every day on her instagram story that he watched when he had the chance. She had a cat as well. She liked pastel colors and drank a lot of tea and lemonade. She liked the pink starbursts best- he knew just from the exposure he’d gotten. The itch to gather more information had hit him hard.

Thankfully she was coming to see him today and he could stop being such a pussy. Face her alone and talk to her face to face. She was too nice to judge him if he stuttered or said the wrong thing, at least not outwardly.

He’d hoped she would text today, hoped he’d have an excuse to see her. His outfit had a bit more effort than his other ones. Sticking with all black because spilled ink was an absolute bitch to get out, if not impossible, he chose his favorite black jeans with the holes in the knees, frayed strings something to pick at when he was bored. On top he wore a black button up with little roses as buttons, left open down to his mid chest. Maybe it was slutty, but he liked to show off the ink he had. It was something he was proud of. His necklaces hung down mid chest, the silver chains and pendants slightly tangled now that he had taken a look, but it sort of worked.

He had been mid inspection when he heard the door bell jingle and the receptionist greet Y/N.

Y/N was a bit shocked at just how nice it was when she walked in. Outside she had seen the neon light in the window and the sign up above, already impressed, but it got better when she walked inside. The red and black tattoo shop had an edgy vibe. As she stepped inside, she was greeted by the checkered floors that give off a retro feel. On the left-hand side, there was a flash wall littered with a plethora of designs, featuring different what she assumed were the tattoo styles of each artist who worked out of the shop.

As she walked towards the reception desk, Y/N noticed it was made of thick dark wood and had a glossy finish and a smiling dark haired receptionist sitting behind the desk. Black frames on the side wall showed off their business license and framed newspaper articles about the shop. Obviously it had raving reviews. Y/N felt a bit guilty for not knowing, but proud of him. Obviously it was a well respected show.. Behind the desk, there was a glass cabinet displaying various jewelry for piercings and shop merchandise. She wondered if she could buy one of the hoodies or tee shirts to support him?  Oh, maybe a tote bag. That was definitely something she would use. She’d always liked the little logo. It was a bit of a surprise to her that she’d never seen him wear any of it before, only on his instagram.

Maybe he didn’t want random people talking to him about tattoos when he was out?

Greeting the receptionist, she let her eyes wander around. There seemed to be rooms for tattooing and piercings down a long hallway, some thick black, crushed velvet curtains that can be drawn closed for privacy. Convenient. At least they cared about that. Some of the ones she had looked at online pre-Harry had the bare minimum.

“Hi! Did you have an appointment?” The girl behind the counter was dressed in what she could tell was retro clothing, a slightly off the shoulder red top and a string of chunky pearls around her neck. Her hair was done up so neatly that Y/N had been instantly jealous. She had never been good at doing updos, nor did she look good with that sort of poof, but she wished she did. Her bright red lipstick would be a lot during the day for someone else, but on her? It worked. Y/N was a little intimidated already. She seemed really cool just by looking at her.

“N-No, uh, Harry told me to come-”

“She’s here for me, Liz.” Harry’s voice interrupted her own. Y/N turned around, tray of coffee in hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “This is Y/N. She’s cool.”

Cool? He thought she was cool too. Y/N felt herself flush under her clothes, swallowing thickly as he sauntered over and took the tray from her hands. “Thanks for this, gorgeous. Forgot to get new coffee for the machine.”

Y/N felt like she was having a bit of an episode. Gorgeous? He had called her gorgeous and walked over to her so confidently, as if his nerves that had gotten him to make her think he hated her had disappeared. Perhaps it was because he was in his own domain, his element. Thankfully, Liz had kept her from having to respond right away.

“Oh, sick.” She smiled up at her from her swivel chair. “Harry never has his friends here. Besides the ones who work here and Niall, but he always leaves a mess in the break room. It’s nice to see a new face. You’re really pretty.”

Y/N had to admire the confidence she carried. She was so pretty and could easily talk to people, joking with her already as if they were friends for years. “Thank you, you are as well.” She replied, the compliment making her feel even more flustered. “Niall is very good at leaving messes, I’m afraid.” That’s something she knew first hand. “I don’t have any tattoos yet so uh, Harry offered to talk to me about it.”

“Virgin skin! How exciting.” Liz chirped, twirling her straw around. “Honestly, Harry’s a great artist, perfect for a first timer if you can ignore the mean mugging. He’s super gentle and has the best lines I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N had to smile. Of course he was good. A glance at him had her observing the slight pink in his cheeks as he narrowed his eyes at Liz, who to her credit, didn’t seem phased. He was slightly embarrassed at the attention on him but still happy that she had talked him up.

Harry would be heartbroken if he scared her off of tattoos, but he tried to be a good artist with everyone. Perhaps he wasn’t super talkative but most of his clients were veteran ink people with loads already on their skin. They knew to sit quietly or listen to the music, or bring a friend to chat with so he could do his damn job.

“Anyways.” Harry cleared his throat. “Mitch’s appointment just pulled into the lot. Y/N and I are going into the office, scream if you need me.” His nod to follow her was brief, Y/N holding on to her handbag for dear life as his long legs carried him down the hallway at a much faster pace that she usually did. Thankfully she was able to hide how winded the quickness of the long hallway had made her once he opened his office door.

The floors were hardwood in his office. He had his own black desk, a black leather couch with a red acrylic coffee table and a shelf full of books. Windows from behind the desk gave it decent lighting. It was clean in here, cleaner than Y/N had ever kept her own office.

“Sorry about that.” He murmured to her, setting the coffee down on the smooth red table. “She’s really overly friendly. Great for customers but a bit nosy.” He walked towards his desk to grab his iPad and stylus, slightly flustered when the white thing fell back on the desk. His nerves were most definitely showing. Turning around he was ready to keep talking, but he was met by her body halfway across the room to look at some of his old framed flash sheets he had on the far wall.

“These are so cool, Harry.” She said quietly, eyes scanning the designs. “And you just thought of all these off the top of your head?” Turning herself to face him, she watched as he gave her a tiny bit of a smile. Still pink in the cheeks, which soothed her own nerves a little. His confidence at first had made her a tad bit scared that she was the only one stressing out about it, but he was obviously affected just as much.

“Erm… some of them. I use some reference pictures, get inspired by other works and change it so it’s my own. A lot of it is things I randomly get ideas for, though.” He rubbed his knuckle over his chin. “I work with a lot of clients who already have ideas and wants so the perimeters are more strict, so with flash it’s more of what I want to do. People who get them have a say in color and size but usually it’s a pre-printed stencil.” He explained, crossing his arms as he approached her.

She smelled really good. Was that a weird thing to think? Maybe. But it was true. He was hyperaware of everything right now, trying his best to not put his leather boot into his mouth and fuck up. There was genuine approval on her face, getting closer to the frames to scope out details and truly admiring each one. “Are these the retired ones, your favorites? Why are they stuck back here instead of with the ones out front?” Inquisitive eyes met his own.

“These are ones I’ve already done. I don’t do a ton of flash anymore because I’m usually booked for customs.” His own eyes took in the old flash sheets. Each design was something he had loved creating, but the time for them had passed. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to remember them, though. “But all of these were claimed by people when we had flash events. I don’t think it’s bad to have similar tattoos as other people but I tend to not do the same thing twice. I had gotten really sick of doing the same infinity signs and hearts and roses when I was an apprentice at the first shop.” God, he was glad that trend was over. Mostly. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with hearts or roses, s’just repetitive and I like to do stuff that challenges me. Y’know?” He turned to look at her, finding her already staring up at him. That stupid flutter moved around his stomach again.

“Oh, I can imagine. I’m really glad I didn’t get the tattoos I had on my pinterest board. I had it growing from like… 2013 to 2017 and all of them now seem very…” She rolled her lips together as she tried to politely find the word for cringe. “Not me. It’s actually why I haven't gotten anything yet.” Arms wrapped around herself, feeling a bit insecure about it. Here was this beautiful tattoo artist, in talent and looks, and she was telling him about her pinterest board of tattoos. He must be internally rolling his eyes because he did a good job of keeping a soft smile on his lips. Was it even legal for men to have lips that pretty and deep pink? Maybe it was just unfair. “I wanted to wait until I felt ready.”

“That’s a really good thing to do.” Harry was proud of her for that. Smart girl. Leaning against the side of his desk, he kept his arms crossed as he continued to talk. “You don't know how many people get impulsive tattoos as their first and regret it later. Now.. m’not one to judge because I’m fuckin’ littered in dumb ones, but I always think of it as a memory. Even if its’ a memory of being a dumbass.” His heart fluttered when he got a giggle out of her. Fucks sake, he was pathetic. “Removal is possible but not at all fun. Got a few mates and some clients who got their old ink taken off and it isn’t pleasant. Waiting is the smartest thing to do if you’re someone who thinks you could possibly regret it.”

Y/N didn’t strike him as an impulsive person. Every time he had seen her, she had seemed pretty put together. Though she could seem a little chaotic, it was an organized chaos that he had always liked. Harry, despite his impulse with tattoos when he was young and tipsy in his partying stage, liked to be a controlled person. Sometimes it was too much, which led to the anxiety he had. It was part of the reason he had such a hard time talking to Y/N at first.

She was so cute and so sweet and Harry wanted their conversations to be perfect. He had a track record of saying dumb things or at the very least, not saying them how they were meant when he was nervous. Usually his anxiety was hidden very well. He didn’t get it when it came to clients or tattoos or anything work related, but in his personal and social life? It was rampant. That was part of the reason he had quit drinking. That was a story for a different time, though.

“Yeah, I really don’t want removal.” Her nose scrunched a bit like a bunny, making his heart stutter in his chest. Cute little thing, she was. “That’s why I wanted to come to you.” There was a slight pause. “I was going to come to you even when I thought you hated me. I’d never want to support a different shop when someone in my circle is talented and has their own business.”

That hurt him a little. Even when she was under the impression that she hated him and was glaring at her, that he had made her uncomfortable, she had planned on supporting him anyways? What sort of fucking angel was she? He winced visibly at the reminder of her original thoughts. He had massively fucked up with that. What an idiot he had been. His nerves had gotten the best of him yet again.

“Y/N, I truly am sorry that I came across that way. It’s not the case, nor has it even been.” He swallowed, looking down at her hands that were clasped together. She was rocking on her heels and he could tell she had probably not wanted to bring that up, but he was glad she did because it did need to be properly addressed while she was 100% sober. “What I said last night is the truth. You just… y’make me a little nervous and I don’t like that I had no idea what to say to you.” She had come into their little friend group and been so fucking adorable, so kind and ready to take someone home if they needed, buy them a drink, talk about her little fashion brand deals. Y/N listened to everything people said, she would find the eyes of a person who had been drowned out by other conversation and encourage them. The best sort of person. “I don’t do well with people I think are pretty, people I think are sweet. S’a little intimidating for me.”

Y/N still didn’t know how that worked, but she could imagine that it must have been weird for him. She couldn’t see how she of all people could be considered intimidating but it made her a little giddy that Harry had found her to be pretty and sweet. It had been the complete opposite of what she expected to be the reason. “Well, thank you. For thinking I’m pretty and sweet, that’s- that’s really nice.” Her eyes fell down while she couldn't keep the smile off her face. “I thought maybe I’d done something like… I dunno, I get kinda touchy and gooey when I’m drunk. I asked everyone if I had accidentally said something or hung on you the first night and didn’t remember meeting you but they’d said no.” That was one of the downfalls of Y/N drunk. She loved to spread love and give cuddles and hugs. Sometimes she didn’t think twice and that had caused her friends to keep her wrangled in their grasp.

“No, no. I wouldn’t have minded any of that.” Harry realized what he had said but continued talking. “It was just me being nervous. I just wanted to apologize again cause I hate to think that you were upset about it at all… n’then…” He rolled his head back to look at the ceiling for a moment. “I feel shitty that you were going to come to me for a tattoo even after I was a dick. Even if I didn’t realize it then. You’re just a really good person.” He looked back down to see Y/N giving him a tiny smile, stepping closer to him. “Fuck, I’m rambling. Sorry.”

“No! No, it’s okay. I uh..” Another pause was paired with a pink tongue peeking out to lick her lips that Harry paid a bit too much attention to for his own good. “It’s just nice to hear you talk. You’re always so quiet but you’ve got a nice speaking voice. I like it.”

Harry wanted to scream, actually. He wanted to groan and drop his head into her sweet smelling neck and do god knows what, because that compliment made him feel really flattered and flustered. Y/N just had that fucking thing about her, this weird trait that he couldn’t quite describe that made him feeling like he was a schoolboy all over again being paired up with his crush for an assignment. How lucky was he? She had wanted his art on her forever.

“Thanks.” His response was slightly shy, looking back up at her with the pink tint still on his cheeks. He knew the back of his neck was probably flushed too.

“No problem.” Another slight pause where neither of them knew how to proceed followed but, this time neither seemed to particularly mind. Deciding to move it on so he didn’t have to look uncomfortable anymore, Y/N shot him another one of those smiles before moving back towards the coffee table, grabbing her cup from the cardboard tray. “So. Let’s talk about designs.”

[lynnielovestlou]

au where abby and reader try to break up :( emphasis on try because they just can’t stay away from each other :( they keep talking and updating each other on things until its too much :( and they get back together :)

(i put my whole back into this pls be nice)

꩜ cw: no smut! abby x reader , reader works at a plant nursery , use of pet names

masterlist

the breakup was rough, to say the least. abby was your first everything. your first kiss, your first girlfriend, your first time, and your first everything. letting go of that was the most heartbreaking thing either of you had gone through.

for the first couple of days post-breakup you could hardly eat and sleep. your bed felt so cold and so empty without her next to you. you even made a lame attempt to line some pillows up to make it seem like she was there. and for a moment, it worked. but her warmth wasn't there for you to wrap yourself in. her heartbeat wasn't there to listen to. and her arms weren't there to hold you.

despite the fact that you were no longer together, you still talked. but less than you usually did. so many messages went unsent, so many calls you hesitated calling.

the first time either of you said something to one another was when you texted her about the job you had been wanting for months. she knew how much you wanted to work at the plant nursery down the street from your apartment, even before you split up. so when you got the email after your interview saying that you got the job, your immediate instinct was to tell abby.

"i got the job!" you had texted her.

"thats so amazing, sweet girl." she responded so quickly that it made you think she was anticipating you to text her, "i'm proud of you."

and just like nothing had happened, you were smiling down at your phone, just like you were before you started dating.

but that butterfly feeling in your stomach didn't last long. it fizzled out when you remembered you were no longer with her.

over the course of a few days you chatted about little things. your first day at your new job. abby's dog, alice, catching a squirrel in her backyard. little, minuscule check-ins. nothing too serious.

until a week later.

"want to get coffee?" she texted you one day, while you were busy watering plants in your denim overalls.

it caught you by surprise, to say the least, but you knew it wasn't a date. just two friends getting together for a cup of joe. not romantic. strictly platonic.

no matter how much you wanted to run back into her muscular arms and re-familiarize yourself with her touch, you couldn't. you shouldn't.

"sure." you text her shortly, without the need to ask which coffee shop or what time. while you were dating, you went every week to the same coffee shop at the same time on the same day and ordered the same drinks.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟthat weekend ｡┈┈⋆

the second you walked through the doors of the coffee shop your nostrils were filled with the scent you missed so much. freshly brewed coffee grounds and warm pastries. the faint sound of chattering from the patrons enjoying their own treats.

and there she was.

sitting at a two-top table, two drinks in front of her. she was already looking at you, as if drinking in your image. even though you were devastated and still a little heartbroken from the previous events of your relationship, you did a good job at finding distractions. which is probably why you don't look quite as miserable as she does.

"hey." she greets you as you sit down across from her, "i um.. i ordered the drink you usually got."

she remembered.

the mug was still warm, so she couldn't have been here long.

"thank you." you nod your head once, "you didn't have to do that."

"its no big deal." she shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. black coffee, to be exact. you never understood how she liked the bitter taste of it, "how have you been?"

"good." you answer quickly. so quick that she has a hard time believing you. in reality, you were good. but you weren't great. you would never admit to her how you would accidentally cook too much food, because you were used to cooking for two people. you would never admit how many times you've accidentally set the table with two plates instead of one. how you would say 'i'm home!' when you walk through the door, even when nobody was there to listen, "i'm uh.. how about you? how are you?"

"im alright." she says.

but not good. you tell yourself in your head.

for a little while the two of you just chit-chat back and forth, talking about nonsense for half an hour before you notice abby fidgeting. she can't sit still, and you have a gut feeling you know exactly what's wrong.

"sweetheart, i cant keep doing this." she finally breaks, interrupting your rant about how you hate one of your coworkers.

"wait, huh? did i say something wrong?"

she shakes her head, glancing around the coffee shop like she's afraid to make eye contact with you, "we shouldn't have broken up."

oh.

your heart falls to the pit of your stomach, "what?"

"i need you more than i thought i did. i miss you."

you stare at her, eyes wide and lips slightly agape. you wanted to hear these words, but you never thought that you ever would, "are you.. are you serious?"

she nods her head, looking back at you.

"abby, i... i dont know."

"baby." she breathes deeply, desperate for your forgiveness, "dont make me beg."

you exhale, your cheeks burning crimson. you had waited so long for one of you to finally say something about the breakup. you waited so long for one of you to speak up about the need for the other.

without another moment of hesitation, you lean across the table, boldly smashing your lips into hers.

she tastes sweet, just as she always had. she was wearing coffee and the mint chapstick you left at her house and she never returned it, because she liked being able to have your taste with her.

she smiles against your lips, baring all her teeth. when you both pull away you can see her little dimples on her cheeks, the skin underneath her freckles a light shade of pink.

"so.." she says, folding her hands together in her bulky lap, "is that a yes?"