#which means this is far too soft and uplifting for me to write

[acowardinmordor]

I was thinking about how self destruction is a form of running away. So I was thinking about Eddie self destructing in the aftermath of something awful happening. Then I saw several things with rockstar eddie and paramedic steve. Then I thought about how to make it more painful.

And I'm just gonna go ahead and put it under a cut. Bc Ow. Warnings for injuries, drugs, alcohol, AIDS, and the like. idek if its good. just thinking about it.

Eddie's best friend Chrissy came with him when they left their small town, and they kept each other afloat until someone signs Eddie and he becomes a rising star. She's with him for the parties, the fights, the late nights. They're not together, but they've hooked up several times over the years. It's just how they are.

But its the late 80s and the early 90s, and they're both queer enough that AIDS is inescapable. They've gone to more funerals than someone that young should have to see. They've watched friends go to the doctor about a rash and come back with a death sentence.

So yeah, they party, they drink, they hook up with people, but they're both careful. No shared needles, always wearing condoms.

Except careful isn't enough.

It's through something impossible to predict. An injury. A car crash. Visiting a sick friend who can't stop coughing. Both of them are there, because they're almost always together. Both of them get the same exposure. But its just Chrissy that gets sick. gets tested. gets the news. HIV positive.

And Eddie won't run. He won't leave her alone. They've seen too many friends die alone. He won't run, but he will self destruct.

He starts to spiral on the fact that she got sick and he didn't. That he's always been less careful than her. That he's taken risks and woken up next to people he doesn't remember.

That between the two of them, Chrissy is the one who is good and kind and who deserves to have a long beautiful life. Eddie is, and has always been the fuck up. Worse. Everyone knows that this is the gay disease. Chrissy isn't straight, but she was a lot straighter before she became Eddie's friend. Didn't go to parties like this or drink like this.

So we have Eddie self destructing, he isn't trying to catch it. He's terrified of it. He's terrified every time he sees her. But he is taking stupider risks, and drinking more, and taking more and mixing more drugs.

There's a bad stretch. Eddie wakes up with strangers and track marks. Chrissy's family finds out and disown her. Eddie gets tested. Chrissy gets a bad cold. Eddie gets yet another negative test.

So after his next show - generating buzz as they start to talk about a tour next spring - Eddie spirals, gets shitfaced, blackout drunk, high on who-knows-what, and tries to fight some guys. It takes one shove for Eddie to be flat on his ass with blood on his face.

Paramedics get called.

Steve listens to this guy half incoherently begging for them to go help Chrissy instead. How Eddie deserves to die and she doesn't. That she's his best friend, that she's everything, that she-- They ask what he took and they ask if he has any medical conditions or illnesses they need to know about. Eddie goes hysterical, talking about how he should have it, but he doesn't, because Chrissy does instead.

They get him to a hospital for observation and a few stitches.

There's no reason for it to matter. Eddie is too out of it to remember the paramedic he sobbed on outside of a bar. Steve could go home after his shift and never think of him again. But something about it echoed with how he and Robin are. So, after a 12 hour shift, Steve goes to sit with Eddie - this gorgeous, broken hearted man who is cracking apart because he's helpless to save his friend.

That's it.

That's what I want as the set up of a story that starts with Steve being sent on a call to help a guy who is on the edge of overdosing. Then let it get into the guilt and the fear, and the need to help.

And because I'm feeling kind this evening: Chrissy lives. It's terrifying. Every cold and cough and injury feels a thousand times worse, but she's lucky. It never progresses to AIDS.

[prince-liest]

Hi! About your staticradio series (which is PHENOMENAL omg😍) - I know you said Vox is kinda falling in love while Al will remain aro. Which is awesome, we love to see rep! But I'm wondering if they will end up as QPPs (who fuck, lol)? Or it'll strictly be FWBs? Gah it's diffifult to describe it bc labels are so subjective and often too limiting, but I guess what I'm asking is whether they'll have an emotional relationship too, however it might look with their orientations? Will Al in particular have any soft feels for Vox & be fond of their unique bond? Even if Vox is in love with him when Al himself isn't? (I worry that would scare Al away😭) An intimate emotional closeness regardless of the specifics?

Thank you so much!! I've been enjoying writing it enormously so it always brings me a lot of joy that other folks are, too. >:D Just a heads up, this post has turned a little long because it got me talking about Alastor and the way he handles his feelings vs his ego in general.

First: I think the answer to this depends fully on how you personally define a queerplatonic partnership! I don't think Alastor would ever go for, like, a committed relationship with Vox in any form, but I also don't think that this would necessarily be a sad state of affairs for Vox, who I obviously write as poly as fuck with his toxic yaoi husband. Maybe it's because I'm aro af, but I feel like from Vox's end, "Yeah, I get to fuck around with the guy I'm obsessed with and he's not, like, nice, but I think I Stockholmed him into giving a shit about me!" is not actually a state of affairs he'd dislike! Especially since it's got that shiny "I'm special!" vibe in the sense that Nobody Else Gets To Get This Far With Alastor.

As for Alastor's side of things...

I think that so much of their dynamic dynamic isn't just set by Alastor being aroace, it's also set by him being a fucking sadist and a narcissist, HAHA. Like, he is very much in the middle of developing feelings about Vox, which (if my favorite interpretation of his little breakdown in the finale is correct) is also where his character arc is heading with regards to the hotel crew in canon, too, but his friendship-and-trust arc is slowburn as all hell and not entirely linear.

Part of the fun in writing Alastor is the process of qualifying all of his feelings with his sense of superiority in a way that is protective of his ego. He is freely and openly fond of people when that fondness doesn't expose any kind of emotional vulnerability in him. For example: He feels a condescending but genuine fondness for Niffty and Mimzy, whom he protects, and that's safe! He's quirky friends with Rosy, who is a benevolent semi-equal who uplifts his ego, and that's safe! He... may or may not have started caring enough about the hotel crew to have put himself at risk for them, and that is not only dangerous to his physical well-being but also massively humiliating, which is arguably worse to someone like Alastor.

He has SO many ego-prioritizing defense mechanisms and it's fun for me to pay attention to because I, too, am someone whose cardinal sin is probably pride. Anything is permissible only as long as it can be framed in a way that doesn't insult his ego.

Anyway, the point is: I don't think "soft feels and fondness for their unique bond" is on the list of ways that Alastor is able to find himself feeling about someone like Vox. The whole reason their whole situation in 666: Live on Air! started is thanks to Alastor's awareness and amusement at how obsessed Vox is with him. He sees himself as above Vox, and knowing that Vox is more emotionally invested than he is is part of the appeal. It's just gone from (derogatory) to (fond). (Which is, guess what? Safe!)

(It also means realizing that Vox is falling madly in love or whatever just nets a reaction somewhere in the region of, "Wait, is that significantly different from what you were already doing?", lol, because the only thing that's changed is the flavor of feeling, not the level of exposed emotional underbelly that he thinks Vox is showing him.)

TL;DR: He likes Vox like a cat likes a favorite mouse.

[tackytigerfic]

my year in fic

I was tagged by own personal ledgebag @maesterchill to share a few lines from every fic I posted this year. Behold her list of Drarry/rarepair majesty here. I checked my AO3 and i have five - one of which was a collab which involved me writing two fifty-word segments but I've included it nonetheless. This year was a tough one for me writing-wise - I had hoped to finish and post my long WIP and I didn't manage that due to real-life pressures interfering, so I admit it's been a disappointing year for me. However I did manage to get a foot on the ladder of original fiction, with two short stories published and some great feedback, and new deadlines coming up for more original writing. So swings and roundabouts I suppose. My only goal for next year? Finish my long fic! And wishing all fandom creators a satisfying and uplifting year ahead for 2023.

🩳Gather Your Will With Mine - Drarry, E, 1.9k, a massive collab so here's one of my fifty word segments.

"How can I be sure?" Harry whispers, later—a Muggle hotel bed, his whole body one delicious ache. "You know," Draco answers, but opens for Harry's Legilimens anyway. Harry's favourite chippy order; that first desperate kiss outside the Natural History museum; an unexpected infinity of tenderness.  And then the door opens.

📸Far Side - Drarry, M, 1k, werewolf Harry, dad Draco

“Look at your face, though,” Harry says, and they both watch the photo in silence. In it, Draco’s head dips and raises in a constant, wondering loop, face brightening when he peers into the swaddled bundle as though he’s holding magic itself, a new sun. His unbearably young self untucks the blanket and Scorpius emerges, still wet and crumpled-looking, the small starfish clutch of his hand reaching out, his opening mouth a silent squall.

“I wish I had been there,” Harry says gently, and Draco wishes Harry could have—somehow, impossibly—been there too.

👻The Edge of Something - Drarry, M, 1.4k, kidnapped Draco appearing as a ghost to Harry

“It seems like such a waste,” Malfoy said, Harry’s head on the pillow, Harry’s heart knocking in his chest. Malfoy’s hands slid like atmospheric pressure across the buttons of Harry’s shirt. “Take this off,” he said, and Harry did while Malfoy watched, eyes clear and grey as a bottled memory.

“I didn’t know,” Harry told him. “I didn’t know you felt the same.”

“Why do you think I’ve come to you?” Malfoy said. “Of all the people in all the world… Potter, I don’t want to wake up before—”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Yes, Draco, yes,” and he scrambled to wriggle out of his jeans.

🛒Take the Moon - Drarry, M, 15k, friendship to cursed marriage bond, dad Draco

“The old ways?” Harry said, idly curious, half-listening, and Draco smirked at him.

“Essential magic,” Draco said mischievously. “A blood rite, maybe. Or more simple, and almost certainly more pleasant—a consummation. But something serious, something… with meaning.”

“A consummation,” Harry repeated slowly, and he couldn’t help it, his eyes dropped to Draco’s lips, saw the moment Draco’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. Though maybe it wasn't surprise; Draco must have known, there had been a few times over the years when things between them had nearly tipped over into something else, and now there was nothing but the two of them, a year of togetherness, and matching rings on their fingers.

🌕Howl - Drarry, M, 9k, werewolf wartime AU.

Right at that moment everything felt fresh to Draco, but especially Potter; the urgency of new sweat, the decisive laughter lines around his eyes from the way he was still smiling at Draco, the dense night-sky sheen of his dark hair, much longer than it had been in school.

“I knew something like this would happen,” Draco said, still staring at Potter’s flank, the skin around the bite that looked very soft, the glimpse of his neat dimpled lower back, the lowslung trousers that could have done with a belt. Draco let the tip of his tongue drift to first one incisor, then the other. He was hungry. “I knew they were going to come after me. I didn’t expect that they’d try to murder me, though. Rude of them.”

I'll tag everyone who fancies doing this please - would love to see other people's choices.

[malleux]

Here’s my info for our trade

Fire Emblem male matchup plz (any of the games is fine)

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: heterosexual ally

Zodiac: Capricorn

Appearance: 5’2 African American hourglass body (although I’m more top heavy if you know what i mean) black curly wavy hair blackish brown eyes chubby cheeks wears glasses sometimes (im far sighted so it’s usually when driving in class or at the theater)

Mbti: infj

Enneagram: 2w1

Personality: kind smart funny motherly responsible empathetic anxious emotional moody perfectionist helpful people pleaser caring compassionate nerdy curious protective polite respectful indecisive fearful nervous introvert shy awkward clumsy low self esteem low confidence (more pertaining to my talents or personality then my looks) sassy sarcastic (I’m mainly these things with people i feel comfortable with like friends or family) soft spoken cute (my friends think im cute because i can be pretty innocent plus I’m small physically)

Likes: animals books reading writing fantasy magic sci fi anime music video games friends alone time learning personality quizzes sweets and bread helping being a part of something bigger than myself

Dislikes: spiders loud sounds people who harm others people who don’t take others into consideration (like make insensitive jokes or don’t consider the comfort of others or are mean just cause they can) people i care about not caring for themselves (im a hypocrite on this i take care of everyone else but not me) not being listened to weird holes and patterns math and tests (I’m being tested for a math disability and i have test anxiety)

Love language:

Giving: acts of service gift giving and physical affection (if they’re ok with it)

Receiving: words of affirmation and physical affection (although i can be shy about it)

Extra: i pace a lot i sing when im alone i talk to myself im a picky eater (mainly with textures) i have a cat i have minor ehlers danalos (a hyper mobility disorder) but it doesn’t hurt me like it does my sisters i get abdominal migraines which is basically like a migraine but instead of headaches it’s nausea

Thank you

hi lovely! thank you for doing this! it’s been super fun. also, apologies if i get something wrong it’s been forever since i’ve played fe3h.

i match you with… ashe!

Ashe is genuinely one of the most caring and kind people you’d ever met. You met your first day at the monastery and accidentally tripped up the stairs going to the library. Ashe saw and immediately asked if you were okay, making sure you had no injuries and reassuring you if you were a little embarrassed.

You mentioned that you were new, and he offered to take you on a tour of the monastery. You’d already been given one by Seteth, but Goddess knows he was difficult to pay attention to, so you agreed. It was way more fun than studying, and Ashe’s company was a lot better than being alone in a new place.

You grew accustomed to having him by your side—whether it be in the Blue Lions classroom, the training arena, or the dining hall. You were inseparable.

Sure, the rest of the Lions were amazing company, but it just didn’t compare to Ashe.

You both kept the other Lions out of trouble, making sure they do their best in school and training as well as each other. Ashe uplifts you in every aspect of your life, whether it’s your academics, talents, training, or just being your best self. He’s genuinely your biggest supporter and this is still before you get together. Imagine how he is once you actually do.

Ashe is like, the sweetest boyfriend to exist. He wants to do almost everything for you just for the sake of taking care of you, but also respects your boundaries. No PDA or affection that is too much for you to handle. Keeps an eye out in case you do get shy, but thinks it’s super cute so he might do it on purpose here and there. Never too far, though.

It gets rough when Lonato dies, and even harder once the war begins. With Dimitri and the Professor’s return, the war becomes serious and your relationship is put under a lot of strain. There are stressful times and hard conversations about your lives on the line. But never once does he want to leave you or think that you’re not worth the added stress.

If anything, Ashe trains harder to be able to protect both him and you, even though he knows you’re fully capable of protecting yourself. You do the same, ready to risk your life to save him even though you promised him you wouldn’t.

Luckily for the both of you, it doesn’t come to that. The war is won, and it is time for peace.

You and Ashe find peace in Faerghus, where he takes over Lonato’s lordship and works closely with Dimitri and Byleth to rebuild Fodlan. You help him, supporting your now-fiancé to the best of your abilities.

Your life has been up and down since the day you met Ashe, but you wouldn’t change it for anything. Especially when you see the tears in his eyes as you walk down the isle, all of your former classmates and friends around you. Life is good.

[pastelvelvett-2nd]

I love you so much it's eating me up inside.

A tooth rottingly sweet yandere writing blog ♡

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(Below is the full masterlist!)

(Here is the OC masterlist!)

(Writing commissions are open!)

Welcome! I hope you're hungry. :)

(Scroll for a list of the yandere stuff I've posted here!)

You can call me Pastel, Velvet, or Vel! I've been (extremely) into yanderes for a good portion of my life and I want to share this weird ass interest with strangers on the internet because fuck knows I can't talk to people in real life about this lmao

On this here blog I'll be writing yandere x readers, yandere imagines and anything else yandere, maybe poetry too idk guess we'll see 🤷‍♀️

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Requests are currently open,

But there are some things that I really wouldn't want to write about. Some of these include, but are not limited to:

Pedophilia and large age gaps

Incest

Cannibalism

Yanderes that intentionally abuse their darlings emotionally or physically

Harming or killing of animals or children

NSFW, I'm fine with mentioning it in passing but I'm in no way good enough at writing that to post it publically

If you request something that's not on the list and I say "sowwy I don't really feel comfortable writing that", it's because small brain forget to add on list, I'll update it whenever that happens.

If you have a question about one of these rules, about whether or not I'm familiar with a particular fandom, or anything else yandere related, go right ahead and ask me!

(Also, like the 2nd in my name suggests, this is a second blog I made specifically for yandere writing! If you want to check out my personal blog where I talk about all the cringe things I'm interested in and about whatever else is on my mind that day, my username is pastelvelvett!)

Now that we have that out of the way...

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What are you waiting for? Take a bite, whatever catches your pretty little eye. ♡

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~<>Menu<>~

♡ Bitter Indulgence: How can love be so bitter? This cake's taste is definitely an aquired one. While some consider the flavor unpleasant and overly intense, others appreciate its complexity and find eating it to be an interesting experiance. The interplay of sweet and bitter can become addicting, if you let it. Imagine bitter black velvet layers, between each of which being a mouth-wateringly sweet cherry jam of such a beautiful, vivid color.

The works listed here are more focused on drama and are more likely to include emotionally distressing themes. This doesn't mean that every story in this category is extremely depressing and/or disturbing, there's tiers to it! (And with every post there will be trigger warnings in the tags, so make sure to check them to see what's specifically kinda fucked about the one you're about to read)

Mild: ●○○

• Harper - OC introduction

Medium: ●●○

• Martin (rf5) - Yandere x reader

Intense: ●●●

(Works to be added!)

♡ Fluffy Treat: This love is a home you'd never wish to leave. Everyone needs a bit of comfort every now and again, and this cake is here to give you just that! Its simple, sweet flavor is a familiar one, one that sends you back to a time in your life when you were far more carefree and happy. And in that state of mind, you lose yourself in your want for comfort, forgetting that something feeling good doesn't necessarily mean it is healthy. Imagine a confetti cake, with colorful, uplifting sprinkles baked into the batter and a hint of vanilla essence packed in every bite. The sweet frosting on top is reminiscent of a soft, fluffy cloud.

Works listed in this category are meant to be comforting and comfortable, so they're far less likely to include more triggering elements. These are the kinds of things you'd read to relax after a long, stressful day, when you feel like you already have enough to think about so you don't really need the fanfiction you read to put you on an emotional rollercoaster of its own. This, of course, doesn't mean that they can't be disturbing at all, just that the disturbing elements that are in here are pretty much par for the course when it comes to yandere fics. Trigger warnings will still be included for each fic, but because these never get too crazy, there isn't really any need for an intensity rating.

• Yandere!Harvey (sdv) x Sick!Reader

♡ In between

• Harper (OC) - Yandere!Honor Student x Shy!Reader

Tags:

#a bite🍰 for poems and imagines

#a serving🍰 for x readers

#intro🍰 for character introductions

#🧁 for posts where I talk about yandere related things

#🍪 for reblogs

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.......

Did you enjoy your stay?

.......

Please,

Do come again soon.

.♡.

[zoeykallus]

Hey there! This isn't a request or anything, I was just thinking a lot about a request you got not long ago asking which body parts the Bad Batchers would like and I think the requester thought Tech was a boob man or whatever.

Anyway, that's not really important. What I want to talk about is you mentioned that you didn't feel comfortable writing it because you didn't want anyone to feel upset or offended.

I just want to tell you that is not your fault. It is not on you.

Your writing has been taking off and I am so happy for you, I am so happy that more people are finding your talent. But with having more readers, there's a chance that people will want to "police" you and you don't deserve it. It's a reader's responsibility to know what they're reading and to understand that if something were to upset them, it's not okay to take it out on a writer. Headcanons are different from person to person and so are preferences and that shouldn't be a reason to fight in fandom. You have every right to write whatever you want and whoever doesn't like it can just go touch grass.

You're a writer, not a babysitter. You have the right to enjoy what you write and to write according to your own headcanons and interpretations and if someone gets offended or tries to call you out for that, it's not your fault and they're big poopieheads.

Plus you are literally not problematic. SW fandom loooooves to point fingers at problematic people, and you're not one of them. You're a light in this fandom, you gift us with beautiful writing, and we love you.

You are wonderful and don't you forget it!

-🍄

Thank you very much! This was very enlightening, enjoyable and encouraging. I must honestly say that so far I have been lucky not to be criticized too much or often, so far the fandom has been really very welcoming and loving.

I'm always very critical of myself and cautious, if only because English is not my first language and I never really learned it, but taught myself for the most part. Much of what I want to write, I often can not express as I would like to.

You're right, I'm not babysitting anyone, but in today's society everyone is so cautious and oversensitive and puts far too much on the gold scale that when I write it sometimes feels like I have to perform complicated acrobatic acts.

To be honest I still feel new to the "gender game", for example, a bigger trigger for some people, it never cocerned me personally and I still have to really find out what all of it means for some people. There are soooo many new triggers compared to ten years ago.

Most of the time I still write the way I feel, sometimes soft, sometimes hot, sometimes very sad or even desperate or sometimes uplifting, comforting. I've found that I just can't work through my projects on a schedule anymore, not even always in the same order, because sometimes you just don't feel sexy, or happy, or dark enough for what's ahead in that story or request. However, I always try to answer sad asks who need comfort a little faster than others, but even that is sometimes not that easy. So at the moment everything is a bit messed up and I took three days off because I experienced a private low and I couldn't concentrate.

Now I continue to write. I just hope that I am forgiven that my rhythm these days is different and not quite as accurately ordered as it once was.

There are so many people who welcome you with open arms and who openly show their joy. And there are those who just sit and wait to criticize something, and these people I find exhausting. So far, I've rarely experienced this, but I've seen it in the comments of other writers and silently thought to myself, "Why is this a problem? Let people write the way they want".

In the end, everything is fiction anyway and everyone has their own idea of how certain things should be, or how certain characters behave, what personal traits they have. You can never really make everyone happy. If you want to write in a balanced way, I think you really have to get out of the habit of trying to make everyone happy.

The reason I didn't write those HC's was of course because I would write something like that completely out of how I feel about this, there's no other way to do it at all. I am who I am and I can't and don't want to write anything generic just to make everyone happy, because I wouldn't be happy with that (as egoistic as it may be). I also have no desire to deal with the exhausting people who would certainly put each word individually on the gold scale. Part of me thinks though as I said in the reply then, some people might be sad, they wouldn't complain but feel let down in some ways.

Meanwhile I have almost 1.5k followers and somehow I already have the feeling that I have a certain responsibility or, a different relationship to the fandom as before, I'm suddenly in the middle of it and suddenly have a few people who sometimes comfort themselves with what I write. I had people contacting me, telling me how much reading this or that meant to them. It is beyond any explainable feeling.

To read your message was very pleasant, has given me courage and showed me that I probably do something right (sometimes ;) ) Thank you again. You have brightened my day.

[cosmicangel888]

Go Beyond - that is the way ~ 5D Earth

We are meant in the most profound joyful excitement to take every aspect of our life on earth & transcend it in pure alignment of our hearts, oneness, peace jump off from there

We are not meant to remain stagnant at any level in anything

We are evolutionary beings; light is this way

The Master Jesus, was not a religion-we created that around His essence, message, energy in our earth, all life; we wrote stories meaning around His offering;

Purposeful yes, but ready for renewal & upliftment; there is far more He used divine sound, mudra's beyond any rule, definitions will never squash the eternal growth and wisdoms that is the Masters, angelics, God, Mother, Father - all is One

The Holy Jesus, used mudra's, sounds, the pure alignment of God within , this is healing; purity of heart & God connection; it is profound and will bring you to your knees and alter your life, body, reality in a moments breath - this is God - God is not a religion of old ways and corrupt actions and rules of subjugation - better than, less than, control and ego pastors of guilt and shame;

We are beyond such - we are divine and all life is sacred; and all is equal and measured such in the Heavens - this is our new earth - so be in all masters of life - I write with the fire of the Heavens, the love of the Mother and the will of the Holy Father - I am that messenger of all blue crystals in hope and promise of a loving graceful earth - humanity of respect and bowing at all feet of the life breathed of the Divine - we have lost such importance of life - ©

We are new

Make this thy will of respect and valour of thyself and pure heart - all will be shown, The Mastery of Jesus - He was a divine being of many realms; the Pleiades, Sirian, Lyran as a Healer, He was alchemic perfection of DF/DM and soft and gentle in His step - He was of the honour of all life - where in which life grew at His feet - the sweetness of God is this way; there would not be life without the bearer of Divine Feminine the will of the Father and the peace of the planet in waiting - all is such - we are to be the embodiment of such - if you choose - all is choice, ©

Rejoice in the uplifting of humanity and liberation of love, light, oneness, sacredness of spirit singing through you for more life - or not

Do we idolize the entertainers that bid against one another to be more popular, or ones that bring human suffering to greater stillness, peace, recognition, balance, what do we idolize; the first statement should be love of oneness within

This is our lesson - we are now awakening - what is your remembrance

All is purposeful - judge not - simply be in love within -

Crime, Violence, death and disease is not necessary - all is the spark of the divine - heavenly and true - should you see it, allow it, surrender into IT

Heal thy triggers, wounds, so they do not become anothers ©

There are celestials aliens - watch what happens next - Divine feminine will lead the way of liberation in creative expression that will allow for the depths of suppressed purging and subjugation of limitations of all ages - these are sacred truths and we are so ready for it

God has blessed me for such delivery and all is a secret and all is what God, the Mother and the Father - of whom all that had suppressed and pressed down upon me, the word will be lifted, the love will be shone on all life, life upon life, life between life

A single note is eternal - it never ceases to exist - it is the living song of Spirit, all matter is spirit - so too you -

Blessings be of oneness and peace for all Creation - love is

Joanna

#ascension

#enlightenment

#awakening

#christconsciousness

#Arcturus

#ChristConsciousness

#Soul

#destiny

#healinghumanity

#God

#consciousness

#healingourchildren

#healingearth

#Gaia

#peace

#unity

#healingDivinefeminine

#healingDivinemasculine

JoannaCosmicAngel@yahoo.com

Donations are always appreciated * Awaken to Oneness ~~~~~

Donations and sacred offerings, please see our

PayPal link here; paypal.me/JoannaLRoss

[alanis-altair]

dark hallways and potions | marauders x platonic!reader

summary | Moony, Padfoot and Prongs find their best friend sneaking through the abandoned corridors of Hogwarts at night.

pairings | marauders x platonic!reader, slightly Sirius Black x fem!reader

warnings | it's actually total fluff, but mentions of wounds and bruises, domestic abuse and a little self destruction aaand English isn't my first language as you may have already noticed so I'm sorry for my lame ass writing and every mistake I did (maybe you'll find the name Alanis somewhere instead of y/n because I always write those fics with my name first, I'm sorry if so)

word count | 1910

...

It was far after midnight as the not so tired Sirius Black gave up and opened his gloomy eyes in a deep sigh. He couldn't make it to sleep; nightmares keeping him up, that caused him to turn left and right, desperately trying to find a good sleeping position to make him feel comfy. But all of his attempts didn't work.

So the black haired boy looked around. The moon was gently shining onto his covers, while soft snores came from his three friends. The loudest noise was definitely caused by James, not that it surprised Sirius. Still, the young boy kept quiet, not wanting to wake up Remus, who just had had a rough night.

Sirius started to get bored and glanced at his bedside table. Only two things had managed it onto the table; his squiggly wand and the infamous Marauder's Map. Shortly after, Sirius mumbled a 'Lumos' and illuminated the dorm a little. The spell followed another one, including some of his favourite words: 'I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good' and the Map showed him whole Hogwarts.

With curious eyes the boy watched every step of every person awake, until he stopped at a very certain name. y/n y/l/n. His y/h/c haired best friend was wandering through the abandoned corridors, well aware of the consequences she had to face if she got caught. She moved towards the Tapestry Corridor, near the Dungeons, where the potion storeroom was located.

What the bloody hell was the infuriating girl up to again? And why would she need some potion ingredients? Sirius had no clue. He felt like he didn't have a choice other than waking up James, which is what he simply did.

"Prongs! Prongs!", he screamed in a whisper, making his good looking friend mumbling and turning to the other side of the bed.

"For fuck's sake, wake up, you lad!"

"What is it, Sirius?", James replied in a screaming whisper, too. He didn't sound amused or happy to be woken around 2AM.

"Looks like Mane is doing some mischief without us, can you imagine?", Sirius shortly explained, which caught James' attention.

"Ugh, not again...", the brunette sighed.

"Well, I think we should check on her, now!", Padfoot proposed, earning a brief nod from his best friend.

"'Right...", James said and got up. Both of the Marauder's quickly dressed and grabbed their wands. They were about to leave their dorm as a raspy voice stopped them.

"You're not going anywhere without me", Remus started, "especially not if you're that bad at whispering!", he exclaimed, voice held low to not wake up Peter, too.

Padfoot and Prongs turned around surprised, but remembered Remus' Werwolf senses and that it was impossible to whisper without him hearing every single word. The two boys sighed; Sirius a little mad at himself because he was eager to grant the young wolf some sleep.

The three boys sneaked almost soundless through the Gryffindor Common Room and used some of the secret passages to avoid the open corridors.

"So, what do you think y/n is doing again?", James asked curiously and a little tired. How many times had he and his friends protected the little girl from getting herself killed? He couldn't remember.

"What she's always doing", Moony answered, "hiding something from us or preparing some pranks on Snape."

It sounded simple, but it wasn't. y/n had, similar to Sirius, great problems with her family, who was trying to make a perfect pure blood wife out of her; beating her up badly when she wouldn't listen to what her father told her to do.

The y/e/c eyed girl hid her bruises from the Marauder's every time, not that it would stop them from finding out, though. But still, she was bloody stubborn and determined to keep her problems all to herself, causing the four boys to worry a lot.

She was a loyal part of the Marauder's, too, and never hesitated to sacrifice herself if James, Sirius, Remus or Peter were in any danger. She nursed all of Remus' wounds and scars and helped him to accept his flaws, while y/n practically was Sirius' therapist and James' advisor for everything that had to do with Lily Evans. Even for Wormtail she took her time and put effort in integrating him more into the group, although Peter secretly accepted that the girl with the mane resembled more of the Marauder's spirit than he did.

Knowing that y/n creeped through the black hallways again made not only Sirius uncomfortable. The three Marauder's quickened up their pace, following every of the girl's steps on the map. Some minutes passed, when they were close to the Tapestry Corridor. Three wooden wands were uplifted; enlightening the dimmed corridor and revealing a small back, covered by y/n's hair.

"Mane? Hey! What are you doing here?", Sirius addressed the girl and y/nstartled. Quickly she turned away from the door she was about to open with shaky hands.

"None of your business, Black! Could ask you the same question, couldn't I?", was y/n's rough answer.

"Well, we're not the ones sneaking through the hallways at night!"

"Well, James. In fact, you do. Right here, right now", the y/h/c haired countered.

"What Prongs was trying to say was that we're only here for you. You're the one doing stuff without informing us", Remus caught up, "and I'm sure you're hurt again by the way your hands are shaking."

y/n cursed the tall boy with the freckled face for his gift to read people like a book. He was attentive and good with human behaviour, exposing the unofficial fifth Marauder more often than she would like to.

"Ugh, I hate you. Y'all", y/n commented and catched Sirius' worried look upon her.

"No, you don't. You love us, all of us", James corrected the tiny girl and grinned.

"So, are you going to tell us what you're up to here?", Sirius demanded to know, again.

"Wanted to brew a potion, nothing more...", y/n admitted. But of course this wasn't enough of an answer for Sirius fucking Black.

"For what purpose?"

"As painkiller, certainly. Just look at how her body is all tense", Remus replied instead of y/n herself. The girl sighed resigned and leaned her aching body against the cold of the door behind her.

Almost simultaneously, Sirius tuck his wand into his waistband and stepped forward to lay a hand on y/n's waist and back. She hissed in pain, but relaxed when the warmth of Sirius' body reached her own shivering figure.

y/n leaned into his touch and was secretly more than grateful her friends discovered her; not sure if she would've made it without them. The last encounter with her father wasn't a nice one.

"What about I and James get the ingredients for your potion and brew it, while Sirius puts you to bed, huh?", Moony made a proposal and got a weak nod from the typical strong girl. Her legs started to feel like jelly, as all of the pressure left y/n at the presence of her friends.

Without hesitation, Sirius lifted his best friend into his muscular arms. Immediately y/n curled up and placed her vibrant head against his shoulder; absorbing all of his warmth and smell.

"Hold on a minute...", James suddenly interrupted, "is that Padfoot's joggers with Moony's flannel?"

This thought came into Prong's mind as his wand gleamed onto y/n's body, searching for any outer wounds or bruises. Just the moment he said it, Remus and Sirius laid eyes on the almost sleeping beauty.

"Yeah, that's definitely my joggers! Been searching them for a couple of weeks now!"

"I guess our Mane here felt free to use our closet...but we can't be mad, Padfoot. Just see how good it looks on her", Remus noticed and giggled after.

"You're probably right...", Sirius said before heading towards the boy's dorm again.

Unsure James and Remus were left alone, watching the storeroom door as if it would open just by their gaze. Which it didn't.

"Any idea what we need for the potion?", Prongs questioned and observed Remus and the door.

"Kinda...", Moony whispered, drawing attention to the correct opening spell for the door.

"I mean, we should take her to Madame Pomfrey. Her pain seems bad, so..."

"You know we can't do that", the young werwolf stated, "her parents will know and it'll get worse. I dislike this as much as you do, but look at me. I'm the perfect example that our potions do their work, otherwise I wouldn't be standing here.

Remus' calm voice convinced James and he nodded in agreement. "Fine, then let's open this bloody door."

...

Meanwhile Sirius was carrying a half asleep y/n to his bed. She didn't move on the way back, nor did she talk to him. But his eyes already found some deep blue and purple spots on the skin of her wrists, giving him an answer. He'd absolutely kill her father if it'd stop him from hurting the precious girl in his arms. Just as all of the boys would defend y/n.

James had already thought of asking Mane to move in. With Sirius and so on, so she was safe. But it was something he knew y/n would be too modest to accept; she'd feel bad after, which is why Prongs kept quiet.

"Here you go, little one", Sirius whispered as he tucked y/n into his bed. She let out a content groan because of his smell surrounding her. She snuggled into the soft pillow, looking as cute as hell.

"Hey, y/n, you need something else?", Padfoot asked softly while caressing her cheek.

"Just you", she aspirated tired. Sirius' heart grew warm at the words of her. It meant the world to him that an angel like y/n, put on the hell of earth, still managed to melt his heart and giving him so much love, even though he wasn't sure if he deserved it.

Fulfilling her wish, the boy with the long dark hair laid next to y/n and pulled her into his arms again. She let out a relieved breath and buried her head into Sirius' chest.

He was almost asleep too, when James and Remus returned from getting the ingredients they needed for the healing potion. They eyeballed Sirius and y/n position knowingly, giving Padfoot a certain look, that he decided to ignore.

Moony and Prongs made quick work of the potion, not even waking up Peter, who was sleeping as deep as a stone, while Sirius watched the sleeping girl on top of him.

"Portion's ready. You should wake her up so she can sleep through and feel better tomorrow", Remus mumbled eventually. Sirius did as he was told and started to stroke y/n's hair, in order to carefully wake her up.

"Mane? y/n? C'mon, love. Wake up and take your medicine."

"Huh?", y/n murmured sleepily, not understanding what was happening around her. Remus sat down next to her and Padfoot, holding a small bottle of glass in front of her face.

The y/h/c haired girl thanked the boy with a grateful look and took a sip without squinching up her face at the bitter taste of the liquid.

"Thank you all, boys. For wasting your time to sleep and caring for me...", y/n said with a small grin.

"Always", they responded and smiled before going to bed, this time all of the five Marauders.

...

annotations

Mane is the Marauder name for the reader I came up with because I thought it was fitting (I'm sorry if you don't like it)

[merakiui]

How did you manage to write Kazuha as a yandere? I'm over here restarting the chapter for the fourth time.

But enough of that. How are you? I hope you're drinking enough water and getting the right amount of sleep! And I would add more but I'm honestly kinda awkward when talking to people lmao-

Make sure to take care of yourself!

I won’t lie; writing that yan!Kazuha oneshot felt like such a fever dream. It happened so fast and I’m still surprised I managed to keep it interesting!

Maybe I just like it because the concept of yandere!Kazuha falling for a stowaway is neat to me. 😂 There’s so much potential! Kazuha thinks he has a little secret because you told him to keep quiet, so there’s this special connection between the both of you. And then you’re discovered by someone else and it doesn’t feel special anymore because the secret is exposed. :< Poor Kazuha, you’ll get the chance to have some inside jokes with stowaway!reader eventually… If Beidou found out about his not-so-healthy cute infatuation, I think it would be funny if she became his wingwoman!

But aside from that, I see Kazuha as more of a silent, reserved yandere. On the surface he’s very well-mannered and kind, but below that he harbors a sick obsession. He’s more obsessive than possessive in my eyes, but considering what he went through I can definitely see him slowly growing more possessive over you as time goes on. It’s especially difficult if you always find yourself in danger; that’s just more fuel to the fire for his need to protect you.

Kazuha thinks about you a lot. It’s usually little thoughts that come to him throughout the day. Things like what makes you smile the most, your favorite foods and hobbies, and even how you complete your morning and night routines. He’s reminded of you when he goes about his duties on the ship, when he’s fighting, and even when he’s drifting to sleep at night. When he looks up at the sky and sees the stars twinkling above, he can’t help but picture your amazing smile and uplifting energy.

Kazuha isn’t exactly a tough yandere. He’s not one for torturous mind games or extreme violence and threats. He’ll resort to emotional manipulation if he feels like there’s no other way to get you to see things from his perspective. Since he’s on the run, he wouldn’t want to settle down with you until he knows he’s safe and won’t be pursued. As much as Kazuha doesn’t want you to get caught up in his mess, it’s sort of unavoidable when he asks you to stay with him.

He’s surprisingly tame for a yandere. At least, until he’s pushed to act rashly. If the situation calls for drastic measures, then such measures will be taken in order to protect you from the cruel world. And though he’s seen firsthand how rough it can be, Kazuha knows that the world’s far better when he’s with you. You’re the reason he’s able to wake up with another purpose and maybe one day you’ll also wake up with him on your mind.

He likes to think that you’ll understand where he’s coming from, even if he’s a little obsessive and wants to constantly be around you. Kazuha knows he’s imposing and that being clingy is impolite and annoying. He tries to keep his distance, which often leads to him silently staring at you from across the ship or waiting outside your quarters like a diligent guard dog. His helpful and caring actions prove that he means well. It’s what he truly thinks that could be worrying, as this love of his is far from normal.

That’s the basic characterization I have for him so far! It’s bound to change once we’re introduced to him in the story, but I see him as a soft yandere who just wants the best for his darling no matter what. Although I imagine the calm and gentle Kazuha can get quite scary when he’s forced to act that way if there’s no other choice.

And I’m doing well! I hope you’re doing well, too! Please make sure to eat healthy, get plenty of sleep, and take care of yourself!!! （＾∇＾）

[wizkiddx]

without making this a sap story ive had some not so great news from home and am in one of them moods to not talk abt it. but i need a tom h to hug me , pls could u write something like that?

hey anon - i am sending u all my love, and hope things get a little easier for u as soon as possible. if u ever do wanna chat abt nothing or rant just send me a pm x  I hope this is at least somewhat what u were looking for <33

summary: life is sometimes not good, but your fave boy makes it just a little easier to deal with (with some original help from his brother too)

a bit angsty but i promise mainly fluff (and a popcorn fight?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What drew you out of the sort-of-trance was a two soft but firm knocks at the door - well Tom’s bedroom door. You’d been relaxing with him and Harry, watching the new ‘Line of Duty’ when your mum had called for the daily catch up. Admittedly, she had already tried to call you twice today but somehow you’d managed to miss both of them. On reflection, possible not that shocking because you’d been at a charity golf day with the boys which involved a fair amount of noise, chat and competition. 

Thankfully the boys had both done pretty well, Tom coming slightly ahead but that was the norm between the two. It meant they were both happily basking in their relative victories and not moody and grumpy like they are oh so often when things go wrong. Because to them, against your pleading, begging and sometimes lecturing…. golf was not just a game.  

You and your mum had always been very close, so usually speaking to her was uplifting and made you feel a little bit more complete - what with travelling with Tom for work, her voice was a slice of home. This time though, it was not so much the case. It was just sad news about your home town. Nothing directly to your family or close friends but still, it makes you feel generally down. 

Who knows how long it’d been since you’d hung up on the phone, just staring at the wall opposite. Everything felt just hollow and empty, lacking in meaning somewhat. You weren’t necessarily thinking, more like devoid of emotion, of thoughts, of anything. Just a bit cold. 

“Y/n…Y/n?” His voice sounded hesitant, as though scared he was interrupting your call. When you didn’t respond, the door cracked open and his fluffy head poked in, not that you noticed - your brain was still half absent. Tom on the other hand, was instantly looking you up and down, very much confused as the why you looked so rigid and not present. Noticing the phone was lying quiet on the bed in front of you, he felt safe to enter. He made a beeline for the bed, perching himself down on the edge, in-front of you - so he was blocking your fascinating view of the grey wall opposite. 

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” His voice was soft and gravely, choosing not to put much energy into his vocal box as he rubbed up and down one of your arms. 

“Hmmm? Sorry, was miles away.”

“Could tell darl.” As he chuckled his eyes crinkled round the outside. “How was your mum?”

“Yeh…um okay, I-I guess.” As much as you wanted to shake yourself out of it, it just wasn’t that easy. Everything was laced with this underlying chilliness. 

“You sure? You dont really sound it?” 

“No, I um…well I’m not sure. I think I’m okay?”

“What happened?” You shook your head in response, making Tom press his lips together with a small nod. “ Don’t wanna talk about it huh?” 

“Not… not right now. Please?” 

With a permitting nod, Tom stood up and squeezed your hand, urging you to follow. Trailing behind him into the living room, he then instructed you to take a seat on the sofa adjacent to Harry, Tom himself disappearing back into the house. It made you pout a little, you wanted him to just look after you a little this evening but that self pity wasn’t allowed to last long - because a piece of popcorn flew into your cheek. You whipped your head around, with mouth open feigning shock, to see Harry smirking at you cradling a bowl full of other possible missiles in hand. 

“And what was that for?” He shrugged his shoulders, turning his head back to the TV.

“You looked sad.”

“…” Your mouth was open, no words coming out though, as you looked at the frizzy haired boy in bemusement. Sometimes you thought you understood how his head worked but at other points, the boy was a bloody mystery. Instead of explaining his thought process (because there almost certainly wasn’t one), he just smiled evily at you - wiggling his brows. And I know you know what that meant.

Sure enough by the time Tom reentered the room, arms full with different objects he’d collected round the house, the floor had been littered with popcorn kernels. You and Harry were squealing at each other as handfuls of the snack were catapulted vaguely at each other as you chased him round the room. It took Tom shouting at the both of you for you to freeze, slowly lowering your hands in ceasefire with a giggle. 

“I leave you alone for two minutes.”

“ It was his fault!” You protested, causing a 5 minute of ‘ he said-she said’ between the two of you, even if Tom wasn’t listening to the bickering. Instead, he quickly whizzed round the room picking up all the obvious popcorn bits and then spread out all the blankets he’d got from round the rented house on the sofa.

 You knew Harry, in his very own and special way, was only doing all this to cheer you up and you couldn’t appreciate it more. Your relationship with him had recently got so much closer, thanks to Tom being busy on set actually filming - while you and Harry just had some quality ‘almost sibling’ times. And now living with him too - naturally he had grown to know your tells almost as well as Tom. 

“Alright children calm down… thought we could watch movie?” Plopping himself down on the cream seat, Tom made grabby hands to you which of course you had to comply with. 

“I’ll um… I’m gonna leave you to- well to the being in love shit. It’ll make me chunder”

“We love you too bro” Tom called to Harry, who was already on his way out - but the tone of gratefulness in his voice was evident, he appreciated Harry noticing that the two of you could do with time together. 

“Don’t make it weird!” Harry’s response had you sniggering, as you pulled the fluffiest blanket over both you and Tom and nestling into his side. 

After a few minutes of Tom pretending to argue with you about film choice, before ultimately agreeing with your choice of ‘La la land’ as he always planned on letting you. The Holland boys were both very talented at subtly being a shoulder if needed, and yes you knew it was all an act - but you weren’t about to call him out. About halfway through he kissed the crown of your head and murmured. “Can tell you’re not watching darling.” He wasn’t wrong to be fair. Yes, you were looking at the screen - but your mind was far away from the plot line. 

“Sorry I um… minds like a runaway train sometimes.” Tom released a breathy chuckle at that before murmuring a ‘come ‘ere’ to you as he all but lifted you up from sitting by his side. You ended up lying almost onto of him, with both of Tom’s strong arms holding you tightly to him. Smiling into his chest, you nestled closer so the soundtrack to the movie played over the top of his constant thudding heartbeat. It took a few moments of you both just staring into the screen, completely contented for Tom to speak, squeezing you slightly tighter whilst the two of you watched Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone twirling on the road.

“I gotchu now lovie” 

And you swore then that all the thoughts racing in your mind were outpaced by those of a different kind. Still intense ideas, ones that buzzed round your brain, but these were happy. Thoughts of ‘how could I be so lucky’ and ‘I love this man with my whole heart’. 

Apparently these thoughts were also a comfort because when Tom looked down at you after what must’ve been at least half an hour, you were spark out. Breathing deep and unchanging, eye locked shut and mouth slightly squashed against his chest so your lips were pressed together. But what made the boy physical pout was the way you relaxed hand was loosely balled round a fistful of his purple hoodie. As if you were clutching at him to keep him as close to you as possible. 

He felt so grateful - not only for you, but also for the fact that he had the ability to make it a little better. You didn’t need him - Tom swore you were one of the most fiercely independent people he’d ever met - yet it was clear you wanted him. You wanted him when you felt down, the same way you wanted to be around him when you were overly hyper and chatting pure rubbish. You didn’t want him because he was the ‘Tom Holland’ you wanted him because he was Tom. 

He couldn’t fix what was going on back at your home (I mean right now, he still didnt even know what was going on). But he did know how to make everything just a little less shit. He knew how to be your person. 

And that would forever be job Tom was most proud of.

once again sending u all lots of love (esp u anon 💕)

would love to know what u guys think if ya made it this far ;)

tagging (link to join) : @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Six. 

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 13.8k

WARNINGS: sexual content

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts! 

January 4, 2018 

With every article of clothing that flew from the closet, Harry neatly folded each piece as he laid them flat in Luci’s suitcase. He remained seated on her beige rug, leaning against the side of her bed with an open luggage that was sat next to him as he intently listened to her ramble nervously about the new adventure she was about to take on. 

Luci had a flight tomorrow morning that was quite early for her own liking, and she was just now packing her belongings. To be fair, she had been busy meeting Samantha for extra discussions about work, and she even met her new manager, Thea, who had been so excited to meet her and manage her. Thea was a forty-two-year-old woman who had quite the experience in being a Hollywood manager. Her and Samantha were a dream-team, as they would like to call themselves, for a few years now and they’d managed to raise the newest stars up on the Hollywood sign itself. Their work was promising, and Luci put her trust and her career in the hand of the two women. 

For the past three days, Harry and Luci had been spending as much time with each other. They were saddened to be together for only three days, which was the exact amount of time they’d officially been in a relationship. But they were making the most of their time with making dinners together and sleepovers since that was the only available time Luci had since she had been so busy during the day. Harry was lucky school wasn’t back in session yet so he could put his full attention on Luci. 

Once her luggage was filled with all different types of clothing and shoes, Harry closed it for her, rolling it over next to the front door before grabbing the duffel bag he lent her and dropping it next to the luggage. It was nearing ten at night and Luci had to leave for the airport at four in the morning since Thea had booked her flight for six because she was going straight to the studio to meet the rest of the cast and do table readings. 

Harry found Luci leaning against the countertop with her back towards him. He could tell just how tense she was because of her anxiety and nerves that were boiling in her body; her shoulders seemed like they were frozen because of how tense she was, and he knew her neck started to ache because she kept rolling her head around to relieve the pain. All he wanted her to do was relax, and he could only do so much to help her ease the nerves. 

He’d learned that Luci’s love language was words of affirmation, indicating that she needed constant reassurance. It seemed fitting because as an actress, she always wanted feedback on her work; plus, she was always one for needing validation for every single thing she was proud of. And Harry seemed like the perfect guy to give her that reassurance because he loved uplifting her mood, hyping her up, and making her happy. 

Pressing his chest against her back, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin against her shoulder. His hands rubbed her lower stomach, and just the mere touch had made her relax as she loosened up in his arms; he held her up tightly so she wouldn’t have to anymore. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, knowing it was a dumb question, but he always wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just nervous,” she responded, even though he had already known. 

He kissed her cheek, and Luci melted. “You’re gonna do amazing, I just know it. The producers were so impressed with you that they wanted you to be in their movie. No one could deny your talent, Ci, I can promise you that. You’re fucking marvelous.” He had said the exact words that Luci needed to hear; she smiled, caressing his tattooed arm with her soft hand. 

“Thank you, baby.” She turned her head to the side, meeting his lips before planting an appreciative kiss for all that he had done for her. 

“C’mon, wanna show you something.” He unwrapped his arms, making her turn around suspiciously before leading her into her bedroom. 

On her bed was a photo album that had a brown leather exterior with black trimmings to protect the edge of the book. They both sat on the edge of the bed as they looked down at the front of the album. 

“This is just a little something that I thought you would appreciate,” Harry said before handing it to her. 

Luci slowly opened it to the first page of the album. Taped on a thick white construction paper was the Playbill booklet of the show, along with Harry’s ticket that he purchased next to it; at the bottom had the date of the night Luci had performed for the first time in Harry’s handwriting. On the back of the first page was every single good review everyone had to say about Luciana Suki. The reviews were cut out into strips as he tried to fit as many reviews as he possibly could on the square paper. When Harry was glueing the reviews on them, he left out about ten critics because they simply couldn’t fit on the paper; a sense of proudness had washed over him because Luci was just a likeable person along with her amazing talent—no one could not like her, 

Flipping the clear plastic sheet protector, the next page was Halloween, where Harry printed the pictures Nina had taken of them. He did not forget to write at the bottom of the page that it was Luci who had asked him out, along with the date. They both laughed once they read it because it was a memory they simply would never forget. 

On the back of the Halloween page was their first date. They had taken a selfie in front of the sunset, moments before their first kiss, capturing their well-spent day together. Along with their picture was the fair food Harry had taken, imitating a food blogger; a picture of Luci with wide eyes, staring into the camera as she took a bite of her food. Harry had smiled, heart fluttering after he’d taken the picture. 

The last page was recent; the day Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. He’d managed to make a copy of the photobooth strips since he wanted to keep the real ones on hand. The date he asked her was written in between the third and last picture as those were the exact moments he’d asked her and she said yes. 

The scrapbook was the most sentimental and thoughtful gift Luci had ever received; the time and effort Harry had put into making the entire thing showed within his creative scrapbooking skills, and it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever given her. 

“Harry…” her eyes were blurry from the tears, threatening to fall out. 

“This’ll be our little memory book. I know it’s very early in our relationship, but I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and that I’ll look back on these memories and smile because we had the best times. And I’ll keep this going and fill it with all future memories and your accomplishments because I’m so incredibly proud of you.” He delicately took her face into his hands as if he was holding a piece of art as he caressed her soft cheek with his thumb. Luci’s tears had hit his finger, overwhelmed with how much adoration and admiration Harry was giving her. 

“Thank you. I…adore you so much.” 

Far too early to say those three words, she settled for the second closest thing that verbally told him how she felt, but her feelings were just as close to the real thing, no matter if it was too early or not. 

Harry blushed. “I adore you, too.” 

Just like her, he felt those three words swimming on the tip of his tongue. His heart was beating unbelievably fast for how early their relationship was, and he made no effort into slowing down his heartbeat because he quite liked how she had that affect on him. 

Gently, she connected her lips with his. They kissed and swirled their tongues together as the electric spark ignited inside of them. Luci held onto him as tight as she possibly could, savoring his presence, his touch, his closeness since she would go months without any of those things. 

He pulled away from their intense and passionate kisses, making Luci pout and he quickly pecked her lips, kissing her frown away. 

“Can I show you how much I adore you?” 

The question had caught her off-guard. “You wanna…” 

“Only if you’d let me. I wanna take care of you,” he said genuinely. It didn’t take Luci long to nod yes. “Let me hear you say it. Please, I need your words.” Harry pleaded. 

She looked at him intently before she softly said, “Take care of me, Harry.” 

Her words only brought him relief before he kissed her cheek and pushed at her shoulder to lie back. Luci got comfortable as she laid in the middle of the bed; Harry had moved his lips down to her neck, kissing and nibbling at her skin but not hard enough to leave a mark. She softly moaned at the feeling; his lips had affected her quite a lot, and it always left her wondering what else he could possibly do with those pink lips of his and she was finally going to find out. 

Harry settled in between her legs, which she was quick to welcome him. He was hovering over her, kissing every bit of exposed skin that he saw as his hands were toying with the hem of her sweater. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, referring to her sweater.

“Yes.” She nodded.

Harry lifted her sweater, chills entered her skin as her warm sweater was taken away from her and thrown to the side of the bed. The newest bit of skin that he hadn’t seen only made him want to kiss every inch of her, to learn and memorize every crevice and dip of body. Eagerly, he kissed the valley and tops of her breasts.

“You’re so beautiful, Luciana,” he complimented. There was something about Harry telling her that she was beautiful and adding her full name with it that made her feel like snow on a warm day; she had melted entirely just by his statement.

He took her hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking and pulling at it. Luci’s hand met his hair, scratching his scalp lightly as she let out soft breaths of air. Kissing down her body, her eagerness heightened as she subconsciously bucked her hips slightly into his torso as she felt Harry smirk against her stomach. 

“Don’t laugh,” she said, looking down at him. Harry looked up as her elbows were slightly propped up against the bed with a smile that matched his. 

“Not gonna laugh, baby.”

“Okay…” she dragged out, her tone teasing. 

Continuing, he kissed the skin above the hem of her leggings before he asked if he could take them off, and she said yes. Kneeling on the bed, he took off her dark grey leggings as her legs went straight up; she was left in her cotton nude underwear, and Harry felt like he could come on the spot. He’d truly never seen someone so beautiful until he met Luci, and his admiration for her had only increased. 

“Stunning. Gorgeous. Every fucking synonym for the word ‘beautiful.’” He was amazed by her beauty, and he clearly wasn’t afraid to let her know. He loved the way she looked when she was shy and flustered, and when her cheeks would heat up too much for her own liking. But Harry thought she was absolutely adorable when she was feeling those emotions. 

“Harry, you’re too sweet.” 

“Mm, and I bet you are too?” He raised his brows, a smug smile appeared on his face. Luci bit one side of her bottom lip before she licked her lips. 

“Then why don’t you hurry up and taste for yourself.” In all honesty, she was impatient, and she was eager to feel his mouth against her. 

Harry chuckled, grabbing one of her ankles as he pressed a kiss to it, trailing his lips along the inside of her legs. He felt the goosebumps that had pricked her legs, and he loved having that sort of affect on her. Once he got to her thigh, he put her leg down and laid on his stomach in between her legs before proceeding to kiss up her thighs. 

Satisfaction was handed to him when he heard Luci heavily breathing through her nose due to his heavy and teasing kisses when he hadn’t even touched her where she wanted it the most. 

“Baby, please.” Luci’s tone was desperate as her arousal only increased, anticipating the relief she was going to feel once he touched her core. 

“Alright, alright. Since you said ‘please.’” He removed her underwear and dragged them off her legs. The sight and scent of her only salivated his mouth, only ready to devour and pleasure her to the fullest. His blood had rushed below his waist, slightly straining against his sweatpants. “Fuck, aren’t you a sight.” Luci felt shy and intimidated under his stare, causing her to close her legs, but he was quick to stop her before she closed them all the way. “No need to go shy on me, Ci. Just admiring your beauty because you’re absolutely marvelous.” She thanked him, a small smile found her face. “Now, can I please get a taste?” He asked once more. 

“Yeah, make me feel good.” 

He kissed the crevice of where her thigh and vulva met before he licked her clit. A spark was sent through her body as he continued licking, sucking her sensitive bud into his mouth, pulling back slightly. 

The feeling of his mouth on her was everything she ever hoped for. She had been so stressed about the changes that were happening quite quickly that made her feel on edge and extra needy. Especially when Harry was her boyfriend, looking extra good, she was particularly eager to jump his bones. 

“Mm, yeah, like that.” She moaned out, bucking her hips against his mouth as the tip of his tongue rimmed around her entrance, collecting and tasting her arousal. 

“Taste so good, fuck. Could be down here for hours,” he said before he boldly licked a long stripe from her weeping hole to her clit. 

He took his thumb and rubbed the bud, making her jolt because of how sensitive she was already while taking his middle finger, lubricating it with her wetness before inserting it into her hole. He pumped in and out, curled his finger, and caressed her walls, all while slowly rubbing her clit in circles. Harry earned a throaty moan, and since his hands were occupied, he finally had a moment to really look at her and take in her appearance on what he was doing to her. 

His beautiful girlfriend had her legs wide open with her back arched. She let out a string of moans and a series of curses as she placed her hands on her tits, kneading the flesh and playing with her nipples to only add to her sensitivity and pleasure. 

Harry was rock hard once he had a taste of her, but seeing her playing with herself, touching herself was the cherry on top. As if he could help it, he bucked his hips against the edge of the mattress as he let out a soft moan of relief, even though he’d rather have Luci touch him herself. 

“Harry. Harry. Harry.” She chanted as if it were the last and only thing she knew. His name off her tongue sounded like poetry—so sultry, so sensual, and so seductive. He never wanted another person to say his name again because for all he knew, Luci had possession of it. 

“C’mon, baby. Get there. Get there for me, yeah?” He never once stopped his movements, and he would beat himself up over it if he did. 

“Another…finger.” Luci requested, and he complied. Adding his index finger right next to his middle, he curled both of them up in sync, hitting the soft part of her upper walls and her g-spot. 

He relentlessly hit her sweet spot over and over again, and it had Luci moaning loudly; her sounds bounced off the walls of her room, going straight to Harry’s ears. Just as Luci was, he was on the edge as well; he continued rutting his hips against the mattress and wanted to release so badly, but he was waiting for Luci’s pleasure to wash over her. 

Replacing his thumb that was rubbing her clit so graciously with his tongue, he flicked his tongue up and down in a fast motion as he kept fingering her. She was quick to respond to the change as she tightened around his finger. 

“When you’re ready, baby, come for me.” 

Those were just the words that she needed to hear; her breaths were staggered as they were caught in her throat. For a moment in between the anticipated orgasm she’d been waiting for, she looked down at Harry because she knew that with just one look at him, she would combust. And when she did, Luci met his jaded eyes that were looking so hopeful for her release, like he was hungry for it. Her mouth fell open, disconnecting her vision from Harry as she threw her head back onto the pillow while her orgasm had tickled her skin into a toe-curling, back-arching, and loud-moaning pleasure that took her breath away. 

The rough tugs of Harry’s hair from Luci’s hands and the taste of her orgasm on his tongue only gave him the release that he was working for. He moaned against her core as the vibrations were sent through her body, making her shake. Harry’s hips slowed its movements as he breathed heavily through his nose, licking and tasting every drop that Luci had to offer him. 

Harry rested his head against Luci’s thigh; they both were catching their breaths from their orgasm as soft huffs came from their mouths. She propped her elbows up and looked down at the gorgeous man below her who was pressing kisses to her inner thigh. Running a hand through his hair, Harry looked up and she gave him a sweet smile. He crawled onto the bed, still in between her legs as he propped down onto her chest; Luci giggled at his adorableness. 

“You’re…,” she couldn’t finish her sentence as her orgasm made her speechless. Harry planted his elbows next to her, coming face-to-face with Luci before pressing a kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on him as she swirled her tongue with his. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime, anywhere, Ci. I should be thanking you, though.” Luci tilted her head in confusion. “I, uh, seemed to have taken care of myself also,” he said bashfully as her eyebrows raised. So, that’s what all the moaning and heavy breathing was about, she said to herself. “I’m sorry, that’s kinda embarrassing-”

“No.” She immediately stopped him. “That’s not embarrassing at all. That’s actually pretty fucking hot.” She reassured, the corner of her lips turning up. 

“Really?” He’d never came before while eating someone out, but he’d been so captivated by her sounds and her taste that he couldn’t help but let himself go. 

“Hell yeah, baby.” She placed a hand on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. Their kiss didn’t deepen or lead to anything more than just sweet affection; it was enough to ease all of Harry’s worries away. 

Once they giggled and shared a few kisses, they cleaned up and refreshed themselves for bed. Harry’s ability to make her feel incredibly good had made her forget that she had a flight to catch early in the morning; and it would take her away from Harry for four months. Her sadness and anxiousness had begun to settle once they finally got comfortable under the covers—more so, Harry was comfortable as Luci was anxious. 

Despite the dreamy orgasm, her body was tense against him, and he’d felt it easily. He turned his head to look at her, and her mind was present; she stared up at the ceiling, toying with her fingers as she rolled her foot in circles, her ankles occasionally cracking once they returned to the starting point. 

“Hey,” Harry broke her away from her thoughts; Luci looked up at him. “You okay?” 

She nodded, though he could still sense her unsureness. “Just sad…nervous,” she admitted. 

Harry lowered himself on the bed so he could be leveled to where she was laying. They shared a pillow, which they’d done plenty of times and left no room for the ‘cold side of the pillow.’ But it was intimate and sweet, and a mix of both their scents combined. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” He asked softly. 

Luci took a deep breath before she started. “Everything’s happening so fast, and it’s making me nervous. I-I just don’t want things to completely change.” 

“Nothing’s gonna change, Ci. And if it does, it’ll be for the better. Your career is gonna take off and you’re gonna star in so many amazing films and shows. That’s what you wanted, right?” 

“Yeah…” The one thing on her mind had been bugging her for the past few days, and it drove her up the wall once she thought about it too much. But the only way for her to put her gear into reverse and come down from that wall was to tell him the truth. “I don’t want anything to change between us.” 

If he was being honest, Harry had thought about that quite a bit. Hell, he’d thought about it even before he asked her to be his girlfriend and when they were just friends. He had thought about how when Luci was famous, their relationship and friendship was bound to change. Would they still be together? Would they still be friends? Would she forget about him and forget about their time that was spent together? So many questions had scrambled in his brain that all of the overthinking thoughts felt so familiar to him. 

But he wasn’t going to spew out every single one. 

Instead, he kept an optimistic attitude about their relationship. 

“Nothing’s gonna change, alright? We’re gonna get through this. And if things do change, we’ll work together to adjust to it,” he reassured, although he was unsure himself. He didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire Luci had in her head at the moment because that would only make things worse. Plus, she had a flight to catch early in the morning, and she really needed to rest now. 

His words seemed to calm her mind down, and she was grateful that one of them was stable enough to comfort the other. So, she nodded, taking what he said to heart. They were gonna get through this, and she put her whole faith on them. 

She murmured a ‘thank you,’ feeling too tired to talk any more as it seemed her head had exhausted her. She got comfortable next to Harry, tucked away in his side as her fists huddled up the material of his sweater, wrinkling the area. Harry rubbed her back, soothing his girlfriend for a little before hearing snores, thankful that she was able to sleep with no trouble. 

He lied awake in a complete daze as the only thing on his mind was Luci and how amazing she was without the complete knowledge that their relationship was definitely going to change. 

It had been two weeks since Luci left for California, and Harry had never felt more alone in his life, not even during the times before he met Luci. He knew it would only get better with time, but he’d gone months talking and seeing her almost everyday until this moment. 

She made sure to text him whenever she got the chance to, which he was relieved about. Her texts had always provided a sense of comfort and happiness to him whenever he saw her name on his phone. Each greeting was filled with excitement and longing. Whenever it just so happened that Harry was busy and Luci was available, she’d text him ‘I miss you,’ along with other types of messages that practically begged Harry to get a glance at his phone to see who was blowing up his phone. 

Their new long-distance relationship was unfamiliar as neither of them had ever been in one before. It was unspoken how they handled it, besides from the basic ‘call or text me when you get the chance.’ However they knew they’d face the problem head-on together. 

“Alright, everyone, hope you all have a great and safe weekend!” Harry announced once the loud bell rang before them. “Make sure to catch up on all your readings, please. You know who you are,” he said in a teasing tone. 

He sat down in his black chair that swiveled and reclined, great for his back; a few of his students had asked him a few questions about their essays once he sat down, which he was happy to help and glad to see that they were using their time to ask him questions. He said ‘goodbye’ to the last student who was exiting his classroom and wished him a ‘happy Friday.’ 

Pulling out his phone from the top drawer of his desk, he smiled as his phone lit up, seeing a message from Luci that was sent thirty minutes ago. 

Finished with table reading :) Might go for some drinks with the cast. Hope class is doing well! 

Quickly, he typed back. His fingers seemed to take over, hoping she’d see his message before she puts her phone down for another few hours. 

Hi, baby. Just finished with class and gonna head home in a bit. Are you up for a call later tonight? No worries if you can’t and you’re out. x 

Harry set his phone down once he didn’t see the bubble pop up as he looked at their message thread for two minutes. He figured he could get some grading done and impute the student’s grades into the system so he could distract himself and make use of his time. 

Every five minutes, he would pick up his phone, and once he saw that there was no text from Luci, he’d put it face down and get back to work. He did that for the next two hours, and ended up staying until four, grading papers and constantly checking his phone. 

A knock on his classroom door had made him whip his head towards it, finding his colleague standing in the doorframe. 

“Not going home any time soon?” Carina, one of the math teachers, crossed her arms and smiled a bit. She was one of the first teachers Harry had made friends with and one of the closest in the school. She’d been working at the middle school for three years and had introduced Harry to the staff once he started teaching. Harry had to admit, he had the slightest bit of crush on Carina as her red hair and green eyes seemed to attract him. 

They hung out a few times, mostly inside one of their classrooms during lunch. Harry even developed the tiniest crush on her, only because Carina was a new person in his life and she was quite nice. 

There had been one Friday where Harry invited her to his apartment, and they popped a bottle of wine and talked and drank. She was nice, Harry thought. But the wine had gotten the best of both of them and they soon found their lips pressed against one another. Harry thought it was nice to kiss someone, but as Carina pulled his hair and stuck her tongue into his mouth, he realized that his crush for her had disappeared instead of heightening as it was supposed to. So, he stopped her by pulling back, explaining that they couldn’t do that anymore and that he was sorry. He truly didn’t want to lead her on. Luckily, she was understanding and told him that she was going to head home. 

But to his surprise on her way out, they ran into Luci who was just unlocking her door from a night out. On the inside, he was freaking out because his new neighbor had caught him red-handed—the neighbor he thought was incredibly beautiful. And he found himself completely drawn to her, pushing his feelings for Carina out of his body and welcoming the new profound feelings he had for his neighbor. 

“Uh, I’m not sure yet,” he answered. 

“Okay, well, since it’s still early, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out?” She asked confidently. Carina had always been quite confident and was a people person. Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t so much a talker when it came to new people; it really depended on that person’s vibe. 

He weighed his options in his head. He so badly wanted to talk to Luci tonight, or whenever he got the chance, and he was afraid that whenever she did text back, he’d be hanging out with Carina and not giving her his undivided attention because he hated being on his phone when hanging out with someone. 

“Uh, maybe next time? Sorry, I’ve been-”

“No, it’s okay. I get it, you don’t have to explain. Have a good weekend, Harry.” She smiled, although he could sense the defeat from rejection inside before she walked down the hall and away from his classroom. 

Harry felt bad, honestly. He didn’t like disappointing people or making them feel like what Carina probably felt. But he just hoped that his rejection still made them friends because he wasn’t really close to anyone in the teaching staff. 

A big yawn took over him for a moment as he stretched his back and arms into the air before he decided it was time to go home. He hadn’t had much plans after Luci left, seeing as most of his plans for the weekend involved her, and he hoped that he could at least hear a snippet of her voice tonight to help fill the void of her presence. 

But when Harry got into bed at eleven at night, he’d lost hope, and would try again tomorrow. It was minutes of tossing and turning, not finding the right position for his liking. So, he accepted his discomfort and laid on his stomach, arms and legs spread across the mattress. After a few moments of lying in silence, his phone began to vibrate against his bedside table. He looked at his phone that was face down on the wooden table, the slightest bit of light shining from the edges. Sighing, he decided to take a look at who might be calling him, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Luci’s contact picture and name plastered all over the screen. 

Quickly, he pressed the green button to answer. “Hello?” 

“Harry!” She said loudly against the speaker phone. He could hear chatter around her and utensils hitting the glass plates, so he assumed she was at a restaurant. 

“Hi, love. How are you?” 

“I’m good.” She dragged the word ‘good’ out, giggling at the end of it. Luci had been drinking for a few hours now, casually sipping her drink that was barely enough to get her fully drunk as everyone was talking amongst themselves and eating. But one of her cast members had bought continuous rounds of tequila shots, so she was now to the point of drunk—tripping over her step, finding everything funny, and wanting to talk to her boyfriend. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you more, love. I’m so happy I get to speak to you, even if it’s just for a moment,” he said honestly. He truly believed that not talking to Luci up until he slept at night was the reason why he was up, completely sleepless. 

“Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back…” she said softly as she stood in the middle of the hallway of the restaurant that led to the restrooms. 

“No worries. I’m glad you’re having a great time, though. That’s all that matters to me is that you’re happy.” His genuinity made her eyes full with tears. She wasn’t usually someone one who cried when she was drunk, but just hearing Harry’s voice and not being physically next to him made her emotional. Sue her. 

“I am having a great time. Just wish you were here.” 

“Me too.” 

“Miss everything about you.” 

Harry smiled, laying on his back with one of his arms propped behind his head. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm. Missed your hugs, your kisses, your eyes, your lips. Swear, they’re the best lips I’ve ever kissed.” Her voice was low, not wanting the people who passed her to hear what she was saying for Harry only 

He couldn’t help but blush at her flirting. Even over the phone and on the other side of the country, she still managed to make him blush while his heart flipped. 

“Well, now you’re just flattering me, baby.” His accented voice that was crackled through the phone had sent a chill down her spine, making her bite her lip as she leaned against the wall. 

“I’m being serious!” She exclaimed, talking over the loud clatter of plates and glasses as the restaurant was cleaning up for closing. 

“What else do you miss about me?” Now, he was just teasing. It stroked his ego to hear her tell him everything she’d missed about him; it made him feel good inside. 

“Missed…” she paused for a moment as she was unsure if she should say such a thing in public. 

“C’mon, tell me, Ci,” he encouraged. His tone was pleading, and if she were right in front of him and not across the country, he’d be on his knees in front of her just by how he presented his words. 

“Missed you between my legs.” She curled his lips into her bite, preventing herself from biting her lip as she might accidentally seduce someone that passed by. 

Harry smirked. “Yeah? What do you miss about that?” He heard her sigh, and he knew that she was trapped under his spell that he’d miraculously casted from New York. With that certain memory, he constantly thought about it. The sounds she made. The way she tasted. How she felt in his hold. It made sure she was tattooed in his mind. 

“Missed how you made me feel good; how your mouth and fingers felt inside of me.” Her voice itself was enough to get Harry’s cock to twitch inside of his sweatpants as it was extra raspy because she was trying her hardest to keep her volume at a low level. Now, she couldn’t stop confessing everything she missed about him, and who was Harry to tell her to stop? “I miss the way you would lick me, how you would tease me a little even though it drove me insane. I missed the way your hair felt between my fingers, and when you would moan because I pulled at them roughly. I, especially, miss the way you made yourself feel good and how you came just from seeing me come. That was my favorite part of that night.”

She crossed one of her legs over the other as she squeezed her thighs together. Her words had given her blinks of flashbacks from their last night together; and oh, how she so badly wanted to make that moment last. Harry was fully hard underneath his pants, and he tried his hardest not to relieve the straining pain. 

“Fuck, baby. You have no idea how much I miss you.” 

“Promise me you’ll show me once we’re together again,” she demanded, and a smug smile appeared on his face. 

“That’s definitely a promise, Luciana.” 

There he goes again with her full name, Luci thought. Before she was about to respond, she saw the group get up from their chairs from her peripheral view. 

“I’m looking forward to it, baby. I-I gotta go.” Their chat had sobered her up just a tad bit, and the wetness of her panties had slightly woken her up, wishing Harry was there to take care of her. 

“Alright, love. Get back safely, please, and text me when you get back to the house,” he requested softly, not necessarily wanting to know her every location but to know if she’s safe. 

“Will do. I…adore you.” 

Harry smiled. “I adore you so much more.” 

With that, they hung up. Luci said goodbye to her coworkers before getting into an Uber to Thea’s home, where she would be staying for the time being; and Harry relieved himself by touching and making his hard-on go away with the thought of Luci in his head and how she tasted, which made him realized that he was going to need another taste of her so she wouldn’t disappear on his tongue, 

After three weeks of rehearsals and getting to know each cast member and crew on set, Luci was exhausted. Ocean’s Eight was mostly going to be filmed in LA, where the production had a set built, but she anticipated the two to three days where she gets to be in New York to film in the Met Museum. So, being in the same state as Harry only excited her further. 

It hadn’t even been a month yet nor had they even begun shooting for the film, but getting through table reading, rehearsals, and an entire run-through of how the movie was going to be filmed was taking a toll on her physical health. She felt like she hadn’t slept properly, or had gotten a good amount of sleep ever since she left New York; and mentally, she was missing her family and Harry. 

Her family had always made sure to check in with her to see how she was doing because just like Luci, they shared the same excitement for the first movie she was acting in and missed her dearly. She continued to make contact with Harry, but it wasn’t as much as she would like to. Work had been so busy for her that whenever they started to have a decent conversation other than the usual ‘hi’ and ‘how are you?’, her break would be over and she would have to walk away from her phone, which was the closest she’d been to Harry in three weeks. 

It was almost five in the evening on a Wednesday night when everyone had wrapped up for the day. Sighs of relief were heard through everyone as they all knew that rehearsals were over and sometime within the next few days, they were going to start shooting. 

Luci packed up her belongings, taking an extra water bottle for the road before she said goodbye to everyone and headed out of the studio. It was a chilly evening as the soft winds brushed past her while she quickly made her way to her car that she’d rented out. The white Honda Civic keeping her safe on the roads of Hollywood was nothing like the subways of New York, but it was a nice change since she hadn’t driven in a while. One thing she absolutely hated about driving in LA was the traffic and the aggressive drivers in said traffic; and all Luci could do was groan, saying that they weren’t going nowhere with that kind of traffic. It’s always the Prius drivers who’re reckless, she thought. 

Just as she was about to get inside the car, one of the producers, Jane, had called out for her, catching her before she drove away. 

“Hey, Jane. What’s up?” Luci rolled down her window. 

Jane took a deep breath, catching her breath. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. This is the new schedule for next week with all the scenes that are scheduled for each day. You’ll start filming in a week, so you have a small break. So, you’ll come back here for a few days to film a few scenes as needed, and then, we’ll be off to New York, and back here again.” She explained. 

With her eyes wide, Luci took the freshly printed schedule that had a calendar outline until the end of April. Jane had highlighted her scenes, in which she’d have to go on set, and it seemed like she was booked until April. 

They talked a bit more about some scenes, and Jane let her know that she may need to be on set even if she wasn’t filming but her actual start date for shooting was a week from now. They bid each other ‘goodbye’ as Jane told her that she’d see her next week, and Luci had a surge of happiness rush through her as she headed back to her temporary home for the next few months. 

Unlocking the front door, Luci stepped into the dark hallway as she immediately kicked off her shoes and hung her coat in the closet right across the front door. She quietly tiptoed to her room down the hall, her feet covered in fuzzy brown socks that padded along the wooden floor as she made her way straight to the bathroom to shower off the long day she had. The scalding hot water hit her skin as she washed her scalp and used her coconut-cream body scrub that she’d been using for years, lathering up the suds and spreading it on her skin. 

Once she finished in the bathroom, she headed over to her bedroom, pulling the soft pink comforter back before she laid down on the mattress as a breath of relief took over. She shifted towards the left side of the bed, towards the figure that was sleeping on her side; the familiar scent engulfed her senses. 

She pressed her chest against his back, wrapping her arm around his waist as she placed a soft kiss to his neck that was exposed from his t-shirt. Her worries had washed away once she took him in her arms; the amount of comfort she found was astonishing, but she was grateful for that comfort. 

He shifted and turned around in her arms, making her pull back a little bit as to not wake him from his slumber. He was now face-to-face with her, eyes closed as his eyelashes fanned out against the top of his soft cheekbones while soft breaths puffed out of his mouth. Carefully, she pushed back his floppy hair that had landed in his face, and she admired more of his beauty. 

After a few moments, he moved once more but this time he felt a pair of arms around him, making him jolt as a way to wake himself up. Luci stared at him with an amusing smile on her face as she watched him wake up to realize that she was in front of him. 

Blinking a few times, his vision cleared and what he saw struck him—he felt like he was dreaming, though he's not complaining if this was a dream. 

“Luci?” 

“Hi, Harry.” She responded, a smile plastered on her face as her eyes glossed, from what he could see in the dark room. 

“W-What are you doing here?” He leaned against his elbow, slightly sitting up to fully wake himself, testing to see if this really was a dream. 

“Came to see you.” Luci simply stated, brushing the side of head. Harry’s eyes were droopy, confused, and still sleepy. 

“But…how-”

“Shh, we’ll talk when we wake up again, okay? It’s, like, five in the morning.” Harry had no energy to protest, but he also didn’t want to sleep because if this was an actual dream, and the next time he woke up again and Luci wasn’t holding him, then he would be very sad and disappointed. 

As the minutes passed by, the two found themselves laying together and looking at one another; neither of them spoke a word as they basked in the silence and beauty and elegance they found in each other. The moonlight hanging far up in the sky and the distant lights from the city as a few people were getting an early start of their day was seeping through the curtains of the small window in Luci’s bedroom. 

And this moment, dream or not, they held each other tight as they let exhaustion and sleep take over them. 

The next time he woke up, Harry woke up in a frantic, gasping for air as his lungs shook him awake, begging to breathe. He looked over at the window, seeing that it wasn’t dark anymore but it was bright out in the cold and blue atmosphere. Recollecting his dream, he turned his head to the space beside him but there was no one next to him; the sheets were wrinkled and cold as he must’ve shifted around a lot in his sleep. 

The time read 10:23 a.m on the bedside table. There was a moment of panic because it was a school day, but he remembered that he took the day off and called a substitute teacher in advance. 

Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, grabbing the large glass of water on the bedside table before chugging the entire thing to fulfill his thirst. He walked to the kitchen to grab some more water until he saw his girlfriend in a wrinkled Whitney Houston tour t-shirt and some sweats as she flipped a pancake on the stove. Luci was swaying her hips, humming a tune, and Harry realized that she had earphones in, so she hadn’t heard him walk in. He stood still for a moment, wondering if this was another dream, but he wanted to act upon his thoughts where he would attack her with hugs and kisses, but disappointment would seep through him once he realized it actually was a dream. 

But this wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t blissfully in his slumber, dreaming about his girlfriend. This was very real. The sharp sting of his fingers pinching his arm had reddened his fragile skin; he purposely bumped his elbow against the wall, hitting his funny bone as he bent down in hysterical pain; he gently slapped himself a few times until he realized this was all real. 

Finally, the corners of his lips turned up as he walked to stand behind Luci. He placed the glass on the counter in front of her, making her jump as she turned around, pressing her lower back against the edge of the white countertop. She took out her earphones, setting them aside as she smiled, finally getting the chance to properly greet Harry. 

“You’re here,” he said, bewildered at the thought. He turned the dial of the stove off before placing his hands on the edge of the counter, trapping her in his arms. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Thought I said ‘hi’ to you when I got here, no?” She tilted her head as she looked up at him, running her hands up and down his arms; goosebumps enraptured on his skin. “Happy birthday,” she greeted; he thanked her, though he had almost forgotten it was his birthday. He hadn’t even checked his phone since he’d woken up as he was sure there would be plenty of texts from Anne, who was most likely getting emotional that her baby was getting older; and Gemma, who was having a blast that was turning twenty-eight since he always teased her for getting older. But the first thing he did was find Luci. “Oh, and happy one month.” 

“How…” 

Luci chuckled because he still seemed to have the same reaction when she’d arrived. “I was informed that I don’t start filming until next week. So, last night, right after rehearsals, I booked a flight out here to see you on my time off, just in time for your birthday.”

“Wow, I…” Harry was speechless. “If I’m being honest, I thought that was a dream. I was sad to see you weren’t in bed when I woke up.” He pouted dramatically. 

Luci chuckled. “I’m sorry about that. For the new few days, I’ll make sure to stay a little longer until you wake up. Speaking of, I’m glad to see you made use of my spare key.” She raised her brows teasingly. 

When she left three weeks ago, she’d given Harry a spare key to her place just in case anything happened, so he would have access to it. She also told him that he was allowed any time in her apartment whenever he felt like it, so a couple of times a week, he would let himself into her place and sleep in her bed. Her scent that was displayed all over the pillows and the entire apartment had brought him some sort of comfort, but her sweet fragrance couldn’t compare to her presence where he could wrap his arms around her body instead of a pillow and her comforter. 

Harry smiled bashfully. “Well, you did say…” 

“I know what I said, and I don’t mind it. I think it’s really adorable that you sleep here sometimes.” Luci pulled the sides of his t-shirt, bringing him forward so he was closer. “Now, can I get a proper kiss hello? I’ve missed you.” 

He smirked, pressing his front against her before he took her face in the palms of his hands, leaning down as Luci tiptoed, they placed a loving and tender kiss to each other’s lips. Neither of them knew how they'd gone so long without the other’s touch because once they kissed each other, they couldn’t stop. 

Everything seemed to align when they felt each other’s touch; the day seemed to get brighter, the birds chirped louder like they were singing a tune, and their admiration was stronger than ever. Every emotion and word was told through their kiss, and it was a kiss of longing and yearning.  The pure desperation to compensate for the time that wasn’t spent kissing; a kiss that simply said ‘I missed you. Please don’t let me go this long without your lips.’ 

Matching swollen lips and a flustered state that was plastered on their faces seemed to be the theme of Luci and Harry’s reunion as they pulled back to catch some air. Harry quickly took her lips into his again before he bit down on her bottom lip, pulling back slightly, making a throaty moan escape from her, which ultimately caused Harry’s cock to bloat up. 

“You can get more than just a kiss ‘hello.’” Harry muttered against her; Luci inhaled sharply. “I did promise you a little something once we were together again, right?” He challenged, a smug smile emerged on his face. His thumb caressed her cheeks, and she wrapped her hands around his wrists. 

“You did.” She confirmed. “But it is your birthday, so I think I should take over today, no?” Her voice and words were doing everything right to his body. He felt every single word she spoke, and her sultry voice was going to be a broken record in his mind every single day. All he did was nod, not trusting his ability to speak. “Words, Harry, I need your words.” She’d said his words that he used when they were last together, when it was him who made her feel good. 

“Yeah, take over, baby. Please.” He was completely under her spell, physically and mentally luring into her. Luci reached up to give him a brief kiss before she pulled his arm, leading him to her bedroom. 

The back of thighs hit the edge of the bed, and she gently pushed at his chest so his back landed right in the middle of the mattress. She climbed onto the bed, legs astride his thighs as she began to kiss his neck, leaving a small hickey on his skin that he would admire until it faded. Playing with the hem of his shirt, she pulled away, giving him a devious smirk. 

“Can I touch you?” She asked, looking so intently in his eyes. 

He nodded. “Please.” His dreams and fantasy were coming to life as his mind had been filled with Luci’s body and touch when his nights were extra lonely. He didn’t need to fulfill himself with the minor satisfaction when Luci was prepared to do that for him as she lifted his shirt up, exposing his tattooed torso to her sight. 

Harry took off his shirt, throwing it onto the floor before watching her become so immersed with his body. The permanent ink fascinated her, and she delicately touched the tattoos that were exposed to her eyes like it was a prized possession. Leaning down, she planted a kiss to the swallows on his collarbones, trailing down to the butterfly that was plastered on his stomach; Harry’s breath hitched as he felt himself get hard underneath her. She then licked down to his lower abdomen, where his happy trail lied between two ferns; and she opened her mouth and nibbled on the skin in between his laurel tattoos, making Harry internally groan at her tasteful teasing. 

Running her fingers along the hem of his sweatpants, she asked him if she could take them off, to which he breathlessly responded: “Yes, please. Take everything off.” 

His cock rested on his stomach while Luci took in his large size. Her mouth practically salivated at him; and she was eager to get him in her mouth, to get him inside of her. But she wanted to take her time to appreciate and admire his endeavours. 

“You’re beautiful, Harry,” she complimented genuinely. Harry looked down at her, and just as he was about to thank her, her tongue licked the base to the tip of his needy cock, earning a loud exhale from him. 

She slipped the head of his cock into her mouth, sucking and tasting the pre-come that had spilled out of the tip, swirling her tongue all around. Harry moaned, throwing his head back onto the mattress as he gripped the sheets harshly, wrinkling in his hands. 

Luci took him into her mouth further, holding back the urge to gag. She breathed through her nose as she bobbed her head up and down while raking her fingernails on his torso, increasing and adding to the sensation. 

“Fuck, Ci.” He breathed out, panting. The slightest bit of embarrassment took over him for a moment because he felt like he was on the edge of an orgasm; it had been way too long since he’d felt another person’s touch, another person’s mouth on him. 

Pulling him out of her mouth, a string of saliva followed as it connected to her bottom lip and the middle of his cock. “Like that, hmm?” She asked, batting her eyelashes at him flirtingly. 

“You have no idea…” he trailed off, burying his hands into her hair. He didn’t mean to rush her into blowing him again—all he wanted to do was touch her, and the closest thing was her head—but Luci took that as a sign to continue her movements again. 

“Fuck my mouth.” She requested. Harry’s eyes widened, not expecting to hear that from her; but everyday, she surprised him. “Please. Want you in the back of my throat.” She was trying her hardest to take him further than she would like, but she couldn’t quite reach that point. “Think you deserve that, birthday boy.” 

Harry inhaled sharply, containing his demeanor as a smirk landed on his mouth as he sat up, sitting on his knees. Luci’s feet were planted on the floor as her upper body was laying flat on the mattress 

He leaned down so his mouth was next to her ear as he whispered, “Best birthday ever,” before giving her a quick kiss. Luci placed his dick back into her mouth, wrapping her lips around his tip as she waited for him to take over. Harry tangled his fingers into her hair before slowly bucking his hips forward as he slid into her mouth. Placing her hands on the back of his thighs, she pushed him further, urging him that he could go faster; Harry complied. 

Harry felt like he was on top of the world, like nothing else mattered except for this moment right here. It was like he was in between the soft clouds that could be matched for the blanket and mattress underneath him; like he was looking down at the nature and beauty of the world conform to the beauty of Luci below him; like he was screaming at the top of his lungs his secrets for the world to hear, which corresponded to the filthy words he was spewing out and his loud moans that filled the room up; and it was like the world was screaming back at him, which was a wild Luci moaning around him, sending vibrations up his body. 

He was feeling everything all at once. 

And he fucking loved it. 

When he pulled back to check on his girlfriend, she gasped for air. She had tears in her eyes—a few had streamed down her face—her lips were swollen, and her hair was a mess—and Harry absolutely loved it. Luci kissed up his body, meeting his lips as she gave him an eager and sloppy kiss. Their mouths connected, and he tasted himself on her tongue with the side of Luci. The best flavor ever. 

“Want you so bad.” Harry managed to say between the heated kisses. 

“Have at me.” She moved past him, laying down on the bed before she quickly stripped her clothes off, throwing it onto the floor where it landed next to Harry’s clothes. 

“You sure? Thought you wanted to take over?” He smirked teasingly. 

“Unless you wanna take over, I’m very sure.” She reached into her bedside drawer to grab a condom—an unopened pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. “Mind if we use lube? I know I’m pretty wet, but I don’t know if I’m that wet, and I want you inside of me already and I want it to feel good for the both of us.” 

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need to feel comfortable, feel free to do it.” He kissed her reassuringly before smirking, wondering how long she’d been waiting for this moment. 

He grabbed the foil packet, and rolled it onto his aching cock that was begging for a release. Grabbing the water-based lube, he squirted some of it onto his hand and rubbed it on his length before running his hand up and down her slit, and to her sensitive nub as he circled his finger, making her mewl. He settled in between her legs, placing his arms near her shoulders as he hovered over her, kissing her sweetly. 

Asking her once more if she wanted to push through with it, she gave her consent, grabbing his dick before lining it up with her entrance. Harry slowly pushed in as Luci gasped at his size; he was stretching her out so well that tears pricked her eyes, the overwhelming invasion of his girth and length had made her pant. 

Once he was fully in, Luci looked down in between them, seeing he was balls-deep inside of her; they both moaned in unison. 

“Baby…you’re so big.” She squeezed around him, causing Harry to hiss, gripping her hips tightly. “Move, please. Need to feel you.” She couldn’t count the amount of times she’d dreamed and fantasized this moment; her fingers and her vibrator weren’t cutting it anymore. 

He began to thrust; her arousal lubricated his dick even more as he smoothly slipped in and out of her. Leaning down, he took her breasts into his mouth, licking and sucking as his hand fondled the other before switching. Luci slipped her hand in between their bodies, touching and rubbing her throbbing clit; Harry smiled at the sight. 

“You look so fucking pretty touching yourself, Ci. Making yourself feel good?” She nodded, closing her eyes as she threw her head back. “Am I making you feel good?” Harry’s thrusts began to quicken as his hips slammed against the back of her thighs. “Tell me.” An urgent praise needed to fill him, and her filthy words needed to be spoken. 

“So good, H. Fuck…” she continued rubbing at her swollen nub as the tip of Harry’s cock brushed against her g-spot. “There. Right there. Please, don’t stop. You’re so fucking good.” She cried out into the air as he continued his movements, sweetly hitting her special spot. Unexpectedly, she grabbed one of his hands and wrapped it around her throat, covering his large with hers as they squeezed her neck together. 

Harry felt like he could come right there and then at the sight of their hands wrapped around her neck. He felt her squeeze around him once more, making him groan. 

“Pretty girl, Luciana. Can’t get enough.” Even in her filthy state, she still managed to get shy at his words, making him chuckle. “Don’t go shy on me now, baby. I’m fucking you, and now is the time you get shy?” He squeezed his thumb a little bit more into her skin, feeling her pulse point that was quickly pounding hard. He took his other hand and rubbed at her clit since she stopped due to all the sensations she was feeling at once. Luci began to involuntarily buck her hips, moaning louder than ever. “C’mon, Ci, give it to me.” 

After a few more thrusts, a few more rubs, and a few more squeezes, she came so intensely that she saw stars. Part of it was because she was lightheaded, but her orgasm had washed over so powerfully that her body began to slightly convulse. Harry came into the condom a few moments after as a raspy groan filled the air. 

Once they calmed down, Harry gently pulled out of her, taking off and throwing the condom away in the trash before he laid down beside Luci. He pulled her exhausted body to his chest, and they laid there for a moment, regaining their energy back before they could greet one another. 

Luci was the first one to break the silence. “Happy birthday.” 

“Thank you, baby. Happy one month.” He brushed her hair out of her face, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Happy one month. So many more to go.” 

Harry smiled at her words. He felt a certain reassurance once she’d said that, like he wasn’t the only one feeling the intense and quick feelings that laid between them and their relationship because he truly felt like their relationship was for the long-haul, and she felt the exact same way—no matter if they’d only just started dating. 

So many more to go. 

“I have your gift,” Luci said, detangling herself from his arms. They’d been cuddling for the past twenty minutes, talking about random things that came to mind. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” Harry sat up against the headboard as she opened her luggage, pulling out an burnt-orange knitted sweater. 

“I should’ve wrapped it, sorry, but…” she handed the folded sweater to him. “Happy birthday.” 

“This is so cute! I love it.” His fingers touched the soft material, observing the details and the stitching. “Thank you so much.” He held her hand, gently pulling at it so he could place a kiss to her lips. 

“I’m glad. I’ve been knitting it since October, and finally got the chance to finish.” Harry’s eyes widened as he felt his heart swoon at the fact that she was doing something entirely sweet and thoughtful for him before they were even dating. 

“I truly love it. Thank you, Ci. Your talents continue to surprise me.” Luci smiled, nodding her head as she thanked him. Looking at him with bright eyes, she saw the world within him. She was so insanely lucky that Harry was her boyfriend, the guy that she met the day she moved in; a certain fondness fell over her. 

For Harry’s birthday and their one month celebration, he wanted to take Luci to his favorite Chinese restaurant called Tasty Plates, two blocks away—the restaurant that he bought food from for Luci’s birthday. He wore the sweater Luci gifted and made for him since he was quite excited to wear it one of his girlfriend’s creations. 

Upon entering, Luci noticed a very friendly atmosphere as the employees chatted with their customers as if they’d known one another for years, which they probably had. The smell of fresh and authentic Chinese food filled her senses, and she could already feel how home-y this place was. 

The restaurant was a self-seated restaurant, so Harry led her to one of the tables next to the wall that had frames upon frames of pictures and signatures of famous celebrities, athletes, and chefs that had the privilege of visiting the restaurant. 

“You’re gonna be up there one day.” Harry interrupted the intent observing that she was doing to the wall. 

“Hmm. You think so?” 

Harry nodded his head as if it was the most overt belief. “Absolutely. Being on this wall is, like, equivalent to having a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I already know they’re gonna have a picture frame bigger than all the others because they’d want everyone to see your picture.” 

Luci smiled, appreciating the sweet compliment as she reached across the glass table and held his hand. They chatted for a bit before one of the waitresses, who was also the owner, had taken their order. Kai, greeted Harry with a wide smile, glad that he was able to visit their restaurant. Harry introduced Luci to Kai, to which he earned a teasing expression from her; Kai practically knew almost every detail of Harry’s love life since the day he entered the restaurant, and Harry really didn’t mind—Kai provided him with some of her wiseful advice on relationships since she’d been in plenty of them in her time; but a piece of advice that really stuck to him was when she said ‘You’ll meet hundreds of people as you grow older, but you’ll know when you’ve met the right person. And if there’s anything that I’ve learned, it’s that when you have that person, don’t let them go because you’re going to regret it.’ Kai was speaking from personal terms, and she proceeded to tell Harry the story of when she met her husband, the co-owner of the restaurant, and how they went years without talking and loving, which were the most difficult years she’d ever went through. 

And Harry carried that advice everywhere he went. 

Kai brought out their food in a record-breaking time, saying that since Harry was her special customer, he got special treatment at the restaurant. The three joked around, laughing and teasing before Kai left their table, allowing them to eat. Luci excitedly told Harry everything about work—her cast members, famous actors and actresses along with producers that she’d met on set, and her upcoming schedule. She was glad to have someone to share this information with, aside from her family, and just the thought of telling Harry everything excited her. 

“I’m pretty booked until the end of April…” she mentioned. 

Harry looked down at his food before looking back up at her. He noticed a certain look that she carried, and it was a look of guilt. He placed his chopsticks on top of his bowl of rice before he grabbed her unoccupied hand, holding and caressing her skin. 

“Talk to me,” he said softly. He didn’t want to assume what she was thinking; he’d rather hear her voice her thoughts. 

“I feel bad, y’know. I mean, we just got together and we’re not even spending time with each other because it’s my fault-”

“Nothing is your fault,” he objected. 

She looked at him sadly. “If you think about it, it kinda is. Harry, we’re spending our one month anniversary when we haven't seen each other in three weeks. What the actual fuck is that?” 

“Well, I know you’re not going to quit the movie; plus, I wouldn’t let you.” He pauses for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows, mouth turning into frown as if a realization had just hit him. “Unless this was a mistake-” 

“No!” She shook her head, and Harry immediately felt bad because she looked like she was about to cry. “This will never be a mistake. One of the best choices I’ve ever made when I asked you out.” She reassured him. “It’s just…we’re supposed to be in the honeymoon stage, y’know? How could we do that when I’m always working and on the other side of the country?” 

Harry understood, he really did; and he didn’t know the way to answer her question since he didn’t know the answer himself, but he tried his best and said, “Well, then that just means when you come back home, we’ll still live through and be in the honeymoon stage four or five months from now.” And that answer seemed to satisfy her as she smiled, looking down at her lap as her cheeks heated. 

Drifting away from the serious topic, they enjoyed the rest of their lunch by talking and laughing. 

“What’s your mom like?” Luci asked, wanting to everything about him. 

Harry’s heart fluttered. “Her name’s Anne. She’s great—one of the kindest women I’ve ever known.” Luci smiled as she listened to him talk about his mother. “She’s done a lot for me and Gemma, and even though we’re older now, she would do everything and anything for us all over again. That’s just the kind of person she is—selfless, kind, and definitely knows how to crack a joke or two.” He smiled at the memory of when he was a child and how his high-pitched laugh would come out when Anne would joke around. 

“Is that where you get your love for jokes?” 

“Definitely. Can’t say I have better jokes than her or else we’ll have a joke battle.” Luci laughed; she loved listening to him talk about his family. His face lit up every time, and he had a smile that replicated his childhood photos. 

They talked for an hour before the conversations were coming to an end as a comfortable silence was washed over them. Kai brought out custard tarts, which she knew were Harry’s favorite Chinese dessert, that was on the house. They thanked Kai for their wonderful food, service, and for the dessert before Luci paid, tipping extra. 

Kai told Harry that he’d better not be hiding Luci because she really liked her, and hoped that he would bring her back soon. Harry promised, even Luci said that she would visit even when Harry wasn’t with her, which made Kai very happy. 

Back at Harry’s apartment, they ended up cuddling on his couch and eating ice cream together before he turned his body towards Luci and asked, “Can we talk about this morning?” 

Luci turned her head towards him, raising her brows. “You mean when we had sex?” She wondered, and he nodded. So, she put her finished bowl of ice cream on the coffee table in front of them before giving him her full attention. 

“I just wanted to know what you thought of it. Feedback is very much appreciated.” He smirked.

“Are you saying that so I could feed your ego more than I already do?” Luci teased. 

“Maybe…” 

She chuckled. “I liked it a lot. Sex had never felt like that before,” she responded honestly. No matter how many times she had sex before Harry, how many partners she’d slept with, Harry was undeniably the best one; and she thinks it was because he was her boyfriend, but either way, there was this compelling connection between them that had their minds and bodies were on the same page. 

“I agree. But I also wanted to ask if you were open to new ideas in the bedroom. I know that we’ve only had sex once, but I couldn’t help but notice-” 

“That I like being choked?” She took his words right out of his mouth, putting a devious smile on her face as she said them. He nodded, a bashful smile on his face.

“I’m pretty open, yeah. I haven’t tried many things, but there’s a first time for everything. So, I’m up for experimenting and I’d want some of my first times to be with you,” she straightforwardly said. He loved how honest and open she was, and it was just a quality that was going to be added to the long list of why he adored her. 

“I feel the same way.” He smiled. 

“Can I just say, though…I loved it when you talked to me the way you did. It’s really sexy and it makes me feel sexy.” 

Harry smirked. “Noted.” 

For the rest of the night, they talked about things they’d want to try on each other. They had a growing list of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ on things to try in the bedroom, which ranged from being handcuffed, blindfolded, over-stimulating, and mutual masturbation. Luci was open to spitting and slapping if Harry was down to try it, and he told her that was up for trying anything with her, but he answered that he’d love to test out the waters on those two to see if they both liked it. 

It was only going to grow from when they experiment and talk about it again. Their conversation had sparked up a sense of arousal in both of them that they were fretting in their seat and couldn’t keep still. Luci noticed him grow hard in his trousers, so she straddled his lap, and asked him to take her to bed, which he wasn’t going to say no to. 

He watched as she rode him to oblivion, throwing her head back as her tits glistened with sweat despite the cold weather on the first of February. Harry then ate her out, burying his tongue in between her folds. At first, he denied her orgasm, telling her that he’d allow her to let go once he gave her permission to because he wasn’t quite finished with licking her up. Luci was whiny as she cried out into the room, gripping his curls the hardest her strength would allow her. And when he gave her permission, she came on his tongue, his face, and his chest, wetting the sheets below her; and Harry swore it was the filthiest but hottest thing he’d ever seen. Their breaths were heavy, making the room even warmer than it already was with all the tension and passion that swirled through the air. 

After they regained their energy back, they went a few more rounds until they were absolutely exhausted. And they both knew they were going to be incredibly sore the next morning, maybe even the next few days; but they say that the best kind of sore is when you’re finished with a workout, so Harry and Luci both categorized their rounds as the best cardio. 

April 27, 2018 

Cheers and claps were spread all around as the director called out the final cut to the final scene of the film. It had been a long and tiring process, but a wave of proudness and relief was felt throughout the entire studio. 

Luci felt relieved she was finished with this project while still feeling a bittersweet rush of emotions. This was her first ever major film that she was a part of, and she felt nothing short of proud of herself at how hard she worked to get to where she was. But the journey wasn’t over yet as she couldn’t wait to start her next one, and where that adventure would take her. 

Harry was all she could think about. She couldn’t wait to finally go home to him for a while and not have to worry about anything. They only saw each other for one and a half days at the beginning of March when she was filming in New York before she had to fly back to California, but one and a half days were better than nothing.  

She hugged the crew and cast as a big smile stayed on her face for the remainder of the time she was on set. Everyone took pictures with one another after the cast had changed out of their wardrobe and costumes while the production crew was cleaning everything up. 

Thea and Samantha arrived on set once filming was over to congratulate Luci. They hugged and took a few pictures, which was now going to be a tradition after Luci was done with a project. After everyone had settled down, the adrenaline ceased a bit, Luci headed back to her trailer with Thea. Before she could enter, Thea pulled her to the side to introduce Luci to a journalist who was waiting for them by the side of her trailer. 

“Hi, Luciana. My name is Audrey.” They shook hands as Luci politely introduced herself and greeted the interviewer. 

“Audrey is just going to interview you, is that okay?” Thea asked, and Luci nodded, seeing as it was for harmless promo. She was a bit nervous because this interview was probably for an important media outlet, and it was her very first one too. 

Throughout the months, Luci had gone through media training since Thea mentioned that it was necessary and inevitable since she was now in the spotlight, so public appearances and special interviews were required for her to go through that training. Her media coach told her the basics: to be herself—people love to see true and raw personality to a celebrity; have interesting stories to tell upon asking because people will ask, and be passionate because the media loves to pick up on nitty gritty details about one’s appearance and attitude, which will cause them to flip the switch completely. 

The entire process had overwhelmed her a bit as later that night, she called Harry in tears as she explained the training to him as he tried to comfort her through the phone from across the country. 

He assured her that everyone was going to love her because she had a loveable and approachable persona to her that it would be difficult to not love her; Harry had almost slipped his three words that were lingering on his tongue to further prove his point, but he stopped himself, not wanting to say them over the phone. 

Thea let herself into the trailer, leaving the two to begin the interview. 

“Okay, do you mind if I record you?” Audrey asked, looking down at her phone, making Luci trail her eyes down to the voice memos app where Audrey’s thumb hovered over the record button. 

“No.” She shook her head, and Audrey pressed the red button. 

“So, Luciana, I was informed this was your very first major film project. How do you feel about it?” Audrey questioned in a professional interviewer voice. 

“I-I feel very honored to be working in this film with so many people that I’ve watched on the screen growing up. This film has such an amazing crew and cast that it felt like family; and I learned so many things from this entire journey, so I’m very appreciative and grateful to be part of this.” She may have rambled a bit, but it was a solid and genuine answer. 

“Who are your inspirations that you look up to while being part of this business?” 

Luci thought for a moment, gathering the actors and actresses that popped in her head. “To name a few: Meryl Streep, Sandra Bullock—I had the honor of working with here—and Cillian Murphy, to name a few. I’ve also really loved and was always inspired by Giulia Stone. I loved all of the movies she did in the seventies, and she’s just so iconic and a legend that I will always admire.”

Audrey then asked about her upbringing—where the new and potential star grew up, and her past job on Broadway. 

“Broadway was also a dream of mine when growing up, and the atmosphere was insane. I loved every minute of it, and I left the building with so much adrenaline and energy every night because the audience was always so wonderful.” 

They then talked about her role for Miss Saigon, and Luci was reminiscent of her part before she stepped into the world that was filled with well-known actors and a big industry. In a way, she missed the Broadway universe, and for the first month of shooting for the film, she considered quitting and going back to Broadway as she felt like she wasn’t fit enough to be part of the job, but she pushed herself through (with the help of Harry and her family). She believed everything happened for a reason, and perhaps her time on Broadway was limited to what she’d expected because the film industry was calling her name. 

“Last question to wrap it up.” Audrey chuckled. “Do you have a lover? Anyone special out there that has your heart? These questions will be asked frequently, so might as well get used to them now.” The curiosity poured through the interviewer’s body, and portrayed in her exterior as her eyes bulged, lips curled in as her hand moved her phone closer to Luci, making sure to get her answer on record crystal clear with no chance to mumble or hide her answer. Luci didn’t like how she said the last sentence, like it was an obvious question to ask. 

For some prideful and egotistical reason, Luci didn’t want to fill her satisfaction, to fill the media’s curiosity in hopes to feed people the latest gossip and the inaccurate news. Sure, Luci wasn’t a big name, people barely looked twice at the mention of her name, but something inside of her didn’t want everyone to know what her personal or love life looked like; frankly because it wasn’t any of their business. 

Confidently, she subtly leaned her head a little closer to the speaker of Audrey’s phone before answering, “No, I don’t.” 

Audrey pressed the red button again to stop recording, and Luci would later on know that she made a big mistake saying that.

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, favorite moments and scenes! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be up next saturday!

[theydigthecape]

it may not a kind story, but it is a good one.

it’s not a happy or uplifting story, nor is it a story about superheroes superheroing, saving people and/or ‘the world’. some people die, some people live, and it’s mostly up to chance or fate. some people are saved, some people aren’t, some don’t need to be saved, and some choose not to be saved, if one can term it saving. what constitutes the twinned notion of saving and being saved is based on personal biases and values; it differs depending on the person, and this story acknowledges that. it as well acknowledges the world as important both conceptually and in hard scientific fact, given that without a combination there would be no story to tell

Monstress isn’t a story about ‘a’ world or even ‘the’ world, conceptual or terra firma, though its worldbuilding is fantastic. it is, in fact, a story about women. all sorts of women, living all sorts of lives. it’s a story about mothers, and about the daughters of those mothers, and about the importance of mothers to daughters, and vice versa. it’s a story about one particular daughter of one particular mother, along with all of the mothers and daughters stretched back along their line behind them

it’s a story about a daughter who loved her mother, and who still obsessively loves her mother many years after her mother’s death. it’s a story about a daughter whose dead mother is still the driving force in her life. it’s the story of a daughter who hates her dead mother as much as she loves her, and wants to understand how and why that mother did what she did to make her daughter what she is

it’s a story about monsters, of course; monsters of every branding you could possibly imagine, physical, psychological, metaphorical, and so many more. it’s a story about the perception of monstrosity: about what makes a thing or person seem monstrous to another person, and why. it’s a story that tips its reader’s perceptions over like a raccoon with a waste bin, and leaves the contents scattered about, oracle bones to be interpreted anew

it’s a story about people being ineradicably people, no matter what shape or size or genetic variation they come in, and those kinds of stories will always be favourite

this is Maika Halfwolf, and Monstress is her story

she’s an arcanic, a person whose DNA is a blend of human and Ancient, and her genetics have given her some abilities that, to many people of many different cultures and races, even her own, make her seem monstrous

she’s also a survivor of a genocidal war that slaughtered thousands of arcanics, enslaved them, and butchered them for magical and scientific experiments, as well as to harvest the innate properties of their blood and bones

she’s a trained killer, a living weapon in more than one way, and a source of ancient power that pretty much everyone wants. all she wants is a better understanding of her own nature, along with closure for her traumatic childhood, and she’s not swayed by appeals to her better nature. if someone wants something from her, they’d better have something she needs or wants for bargaining, otherwise it’s right out. for every story where a protagonist is swept along on the ‘good of all’ bullshit fed them, Maika is the ultimate antidote. she does have her soft spots, but they are few and far between, and well hidden

also, if you piss her off too much (or even if you don’t), she has an old god who eats people living in her left arm stump so. yeah, she’s disabled, did i mention?

probably don’t piss her off. except that she lives in a state of permanent pissed off and people will keep trying to get their hands on her

her companions are a fox arcanic (Kippa) and a nekomancer (Ren)

idk, if these two don’t make you want to read this story just by existing...?

so yeah, fox people of all permutations (and wolf people, and bear people, and shark people, and basically every Ancient-human hybrid imaginable). and cats. just cats. lots of cats who are cats that look and act like cats but also speak the languages of Ancients and humans, and can walk on their hind legs if they feel like it (which, i mean. It Happens). look up there at Ren. two tails aside, that could be my cat looking at me and saying, ‘We’re fucked’. it’s very cool feline representation, and it makes me very happy :)

Monstress is steampunk fantasy influenced and informed by Chinese and Japanese legends and mythology, with a side dose of general Western fantasy mythology. the writer is Taiwanese-American, the artist Japanese, and they’re both women. Monstress is written by women about women, and the queer is strong with this one. romantic relationships aren’t the focus, the genre is steampunk fantasy/horror, not romance. but if fantasy with acknowledged and accepted queer life woven through it, a lesbian protagonist, and many queer and queer-coded women and nonbinary characters is your thing, Monstress will make your day

it definitely made mine. i started reading the first volume yesterday, and i’m already on the fourth and thanking providence that there’s a fifth volume left to read and a sixth being released in September, with the comic ongoing. i added it to my pull list last night

fair warning, if it hasn’t come across: this is a gory story. there is child death, and that death is often brutal. it is not, as i stated at the top of this post, a kind story. there’s racism, genocide, people being horrible to other people in most every way they can, though no rape so far, either explicit or alluded to. one more indication that an allo cishet dude’s not writing or drawing for this title

don’t get me wrong, there are many good comics being drawn and written by allo cishet dudes, but. historically most comics writers and artists have been allo cishet dudes, even when the characters they create are queer. i’m very glad that isn’t the case this time out

[socketz]

Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

Indulge Me.

Type : Fluff! (with a wee bit of Angst thrown in there)

Warnings : Internal conflict, swearing, kissing (pretty detailed, though nothing overly sexual), a little alcohol consumption I suppose, and that’s all. It’s super fluffy! 

Word Count : 6.3k (kinda short, I know :/ my bad) 

Request : Not Requested.

Summary : Johnny x Female!Reader, where they have been close friends for a super long time, and the reader (you!) has slowly developed feelings for him. A confession, a walk, and a sweet, slow, kiss, in the rain. 

Authors Note : I don’t know why I got the urge to do this, but I started writing and simply did not stop, so here we are. I thought it turned out quite cute, although it is very cliche :) Also, Johnny is not famous in this, though it’s set in like ‘91, or ‘90. He’s just a really sexy regular guy, I suppose. That’s all :) Enjoy!

Indulge Me, Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

There was truly something about him - about Johnny - that you simply could not place. The two of you had been friends, strictly friends, for almost too long to remember, and it seemed that with every passing moment either of your spent, swaddled in each other’s company, that relationship merely grew. It manifested, and developed, so incredibly, yet entirely unnoticed, by both Johnny, and yourself. It was incredible, really, that such a friendship could hinder quite so rapidly, and seemingly only for one participant. 

You didn’t mean to begin noticing the little things, the details, about him. Like the way he smiled, so incredibly gentle and uplifting - contagious, you could argue - or the way he would change, so naturally, when around you, in comparison to that of everybody else. His laugh would grow louder, freer, and his voice would amplify; no longer riddled with nerves and a sense of timidness. Comfort, you supposed, was a factor he allowed himself to become engulfed by, whenever you were present, and you certainly liked it. You began noticing the way he would touch you, tender, and cautious, or the way he held your hand - merely due to instinct, he would always blame, though your butterflies wished it something else - and the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, when you complained for the cool breeze, never once bothered by your close proximity. You noticed the way his eyes could light up, and he would smile something small; ridden with joy, for no particular reason at all. You noticed that his hair was longer, now, and that it fell to a messy central parting, digits consistently brushing it from his gaze - you liked the way he styled his hair, you decided, and it was so soft - so tender. You began to notice the way he treated you, so polite, yet bitterly brutal when his jokes played themselves around. You noticed things that you probably shouldn’t have, and, well, such an inconvenience caused a severe disruption to your whole mechanism. 

At first, you thought it to be an illness of some sort. The stomach churns - the best kind, as you later discovered - and the butterflies, the tingle between your thighs. Am I sick? You began to think, as you checked yourself for a temperature. Alas, there was nothing but a flush of embarrassment to your reddened cheeks, and a heavy sensation within your chest, as you supposed that it would all disburse within a matter of days. 

Well, a couple of days came, and went, and things had only gotten worse. 

You began to dream of him, and, admittedly, you enjoyed them - of course you did - but it only made your face-to-face discussions an almighty difficult task to partake in. The butterflies ascended into a trail of breathtaking tingles, ignited by the slightest touch, and a sense of fire ruptured within your throat - it was so difficult to say the things you wanted to say, when your infatuation threatened to spill from your tongue at any given moment, and his beautifully chocolate gaze held you so captivated, so numbingly, to your place. He rendered you silent, your mind falling blank, with a simple smile, or a glance. Pathetic! That’s what you’d call it. Utterly pathetic. And, realistically, you knew it would only grow worse, the longer you decided to repress such information from your closest companion - and apparent lover, in your emotions’ eyes - but you simply couldn’t find it in you, not at all, to utter such simple words.  

They could do so much damage - undo so many memories! And ruin everything. Maybe you were simply paranoid - maybe you were driven by utmost fear - but romance seemed so terribly painful, and you weren’t entirely sure if you could handle the way it would end. After all, everything good must come to something bad, right? Perhaps it was just the way your childhood played out, between lies and heartbreak, separation and loneliness, and fear and rejection - or maybe you were right. Maybe everything people were taught, all that they would read, about love, and about fictional infatuation, was just that - fiction. Maybe true love didn’t exist, and the books had it all wrong. Though that would not explain the thin sheen of sweat, glistening something noticeable upon your forehead. 

You were nervous, to say the least.  

The seven o’clock News displayed upon your television, igniting the darkened room in an expanding, blue, illumination, and you nibbled your nails somewhat anxiously, thoughts engulfing the surrounding buzz of the visual journalism - not that you ever paid it any mind, anyway. You always found the News boring - they reported nothing but shit, and you made sure to voice such an opinion, whenever Johnny would force you to watch it. “It’s educational!” He would laugh, gripping onto your hips and forcing you upon his lap. Of course, it was only something playful, and his arms would snake around your waist, chin against your shoulder. It was comfortable, you could never deny, but the News was still ever-boring and droning. 

Though, now, it seemed appropriate. You were far too nervous to concentrate on anything in particular, like a gameshow, or something of the sort. Even the soccer seemed far too involving for you. 

After all, today was the day you finally relieved yourself of such a weighty secret. You could hardly contain yourself any longer, and you were growing tired of the worried glances Johnny would throw your way, when you flinched from his burning touch, or paused mid-sentence, struggling to find your gasped breath. God, it was all so embarrassing. You hoped sincerely that it wouldn’t render something awkward, or differentiate your friendship, in any which way, but you were certain it was all one sided, and just wouldn’t be the same after. Perhaps he already knew, and was attempting to ignore such a thing, as best he could, and for that, you practically worshiped his ability to handle difficult situations lightheartedly. Or maybe he was as entirely clueless as he seemed to be, and it would be as awkward as you could picture the whole ordeal going. 

Either way, you needed to say something, before it accidentally slipped within a regular conversation, and ruined everything. You attempted to reason with yourself, that if things truly did turn bitterly awful, at least tonight there would be pizza and wine, to salvage your mortification, and- 

The soft jingle of metal echoed, distant, yet alarming, throughout the quiet and dim apartment. Scuttling, your hands grasped the remote control, muting the television in a rapid and almost panicked manner, breathing laboured and uneven. You weren’t ready - you definitely weren’t ready. You couldn’t do this - tell him how you felt, that is. How the hell would you even go about it? It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just bring up- 

“They didn’t have any of that wine you like.” He sighed. You froze, rigid in your seat. “I got somethin’ else,” He trailed, “Doesn’t have a brand, I don’t think.” Two rustling bags settled in place before you, his keys landed with a loud crash upon the glass surface, jacket shrugged upon the ground with a sudden waft of cool breeze. Johnny glanced toward you, as he slumped hastily upon the sofa, booted feet kicked out before him. “What’s up?” He mumbled, his eyes fluttered to a gentle close, eyebrows furrowed gently. 

“Nothing.” You said. How great of a lie it surely was, though you refused to blurt your confession aloud just yet. 

An eyebrow raised, doubtful for your unconvincing reply, as a gentle grin teetered to the corner of his lips, and, oh, didn’t he look pretty. “C’mon,” He teased, “What’s up with you?” A finger jabbed to your side - an extraordinarily ticklish disposition for yourself - and you squirmed instinctively, a certain warmth engulfing your chest at the familiarity of that supple smirk. 

“Really,” You persisted, “It’s nothing.” A breathy chuckle falling from upon your quiet tongue. “Have you tried that wine before?” You could confess your adoration for the poor man amidst the meal, though for now, it could wait. 

“Uh-” He frowned, the quiver of a smile to trace his gaze.“No.” He said. 

A subtle laugh dripped from your throat, gently shaking your head, as you mumbled a witty response. “Am I surprised, Jonathan?” To which he scoffed, his gorgeously depthful eyes rolling, and shone you a wickedly charming smile. 

“Guess not.” He muttered, a beat of comfortable quiet to drift you both by. “You’re watching the News?” He then added, a furrow to draw his eyebrows closer; glance fluttered between yourself and the blare of the silenced television, projecting utter bullshit as it went - ever-the-regular, you could argue. 

You simply nodded, “I am.” You said, somewhat a grin to upturn the crevices of your expression. A soft round of laughter fell from the man beside you, and you found your breath stuttered within the depth of your throat. It was an angelic muse, really, and thus you found yourself unable to conjure a furtherly coherent - never mind advanced - response, the simple two words proving enough for his bemused self. 

“But you fucking hate the News.” He scoffed. “Why the hell are you watching it?” 

A subtle giggle left your throat, and you snatched the lip of the bag before you, eager to indulge within the gorgeously scented - and warm - food. “Shut up, Johnny.” You said, a gentle smile to follow, “What’d you get?” 

“I don’t know.” He smirked, “Somethin’ meaty, I think.” 

“Of course,” You sighed, unable - quite - to dislodge the grin upon your rosy cheeks. “I mean, why would you know the pizza you ordered, right?” 

“Precisely.” He smiled, “I’m thrilled you understand.”

“Always a pleasure.” You simply said, for your mind had distilled something blank, useless, and your words had seemed to fail you. The sofa was old, it was desperate, clinging on to the stitching hardly reliable, but it was comfortable. It was familiar.  Johnny, and yourself, had refused to refurbish it - those cushions had been with you both, from the very first night. Roommates, you were. And simply the best kind. But there truly was something so tragic about a romantically tinted friendship, no matter for whom the sufferer seemed to be. 

Johnny latched upon the large pizza box, throwing it open, and - unsurprisingly - knocking the wine glasses with a greatly shrill ring, their clink a subtle jump. They wobbled, slowly, though regained their posture, and you found your shoulders slumping to a tender slouch. “Idiot.” You muttered, a certain fondness about your breath, as he merely smirked, and picked up a stringy-cheesed slice, mauling the triangular corner with not but an ounce of grace. 

A shimmer of grease coaxed the pout of his peachy lips, cheeks bulged with bread, and with toppings; over-loaded and particularly Johnny. Meats of various kinds - various shades - littered upon the excessive amounts of cheese. “Did you order extra cheese?” You mumbled. The man nodded, a wolfish grin to reciprocate his childish gaze, and you merely breathed a subtle chuckle. Of course, you thought; of course he did. 

You reached for the wine, popping the cork with a slight groan, and you poured a tester within the clear glaze of the bowled glass. You raised the edge to your mouth, took a sip, and smacked your lips. “Not bad.” You uttered, decidedly enjoying the rich tang of fruity combustion, flat and coiling, upon your tongue. You poured the glass full, hardly a centimeter from the brim, and you took a rather large gulp, quite liking the flavour, as it trickled upon the back of your throat, and you sat back, nestled within the comfortable cushions of the wondrously aged sofa. It was almost moulded to your body; for you always sat on the right, and Johnny, the left. 

A comfortable silence embraced you both, and you found yourself almost wishing it could remain undisturbed - you couldn’t find it in you, no matter how hard you probed, to conjure any kind of courage at all. Your knees, they felt weak, and your stomach churned uneasily - entirely disagreeing with the digested mouthful, as you rammed the corner of a pizza slice within your mouth, and you chewed slowly, cheeks beginning to rise in temperature. How the fuck would you even go about it all? ‘Oh, by the way, Johnny, I’m entirely in love with you, and I lose myself every time we touch!’ It sounded ridiculous. There was no possible way you could simply blurt out such a destructive sentence. You weren’t even sure if your feelings were real! They had just bothered you, and you feared that they’d somehow escape the breach of your lips, and flutter around, utterly unnoticed. Goodness, it was terrifying. 

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we gonna sit here in silence?” Johnny said, a light amusement to simmer upon his tone. You gulped, swallowing a particularly dry mouthful, and your muscles seized up. 

Surely this was the perfect opportunity, no? “Well…” You trailed. You did not want to ruin everything you’d worked so effortlessly to build with each other. Maybe you were just being silly, and your feelings were hardly potent at all. Maybe it was all dramatic, and you were fine. Maybe it was an exaggeration, and the entire thing was meaningless, and- “I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted. Fuck. Fuck, fucking fuck! Your eyes clamped shut, and you loathed the white noise. You could hope that he hadn’t heard you, though he wasn’t chewing, anymore, and he seemed suddenly rigid beside you. That was certainly a way to go about it, you scolded, wishing - with a burning detestation - that the sofa would swallow you whole. 

Say something, you begged, silent, and to yourself, as the quiet continued on. He shifted, and you froze - furtherly, if apparently possible. You daren’t share a glance with his gaze, fixated upon your burning mortification, as another gentle bite snuck between your lips. You chewed, and you chewed, a soft shimmer of sweat beginning to accumulate upon your brow - how foolish you had been, to admit such a thing, in that kind of way. “What was that?” He muttered. Shit! His throat was tight, you could hear the subtle restriction, and tone low, quiet. Don’t make me say it again, you thought, a volumed gulp to follow such a ponderous moment. Please, don’t make me say it again. 

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. Goodness, was it always supposed to be quite so difficult? Something began to wedge within the base of your throat, aching substantially, as the rising sensation of freshly salted tears began its ascent. Were you really going to cry? “I didn’t-” The voice caught in your throat, hindered by that ever-growing lump. God, you really hated this. “I didn’t mean to.” You didn’t mean to ruin your friendship, and everything in between, for a stupid confession that held you to the brink of fucking tears. 

More shuffling was to be heard, and you noticed his hands swiftly maneuvering the - now closed - pizza box, delicately dropping the white board upon the coffee table, no longer perched between you, and him. His gaze burned upon your expression, and your cheeks flamed scarlet, glare locked unwaveringly upon the television, slightly glazed with something fearful. You truly didn’t want to lose him - to have him laugh in the face of your affection, and turn you away. And although you knew the let down would be gentle  - it was Johnny, afterall, and there was hardly a bad bone in his body - you anticipated the worst. “Y/N,” He said.You gulped. A sigh escaped his lips, and he maneuvered the pizza slice from within your subtle grip, sneaking a quick bite as he went, and placed it quietly upon the table. “Y/N.” He tried again. You turned to face him, hesitant in yourself. His expression was gentle, the comforting kind of soft, and the corner of his lips lightly fluttered to the ghost of a smirk. “What are you crying for?” He scoffed, the grin simply growing as he spoke. “Don’t cry, Love.” You had hardly noticed the slip of a few salty confessions, as a soft laugh fell from your lips, hands roughly ragging upon the moist complexion. Pathetic, you thought, you were so fucking pathetic. “Come ‘ere.” He said. Your eyebrows drew together, glance unsure and lightly confused. He was so calm, and seemingly unphased by your confession - you couldn’t quite understand it. 

He rolled his eyes, the tilt of amusement to pepper his cheeks, and he grasped your upper arm, dragging you along the short distance of the sofa. You slumped into his side, another giggle trickling from your tear-tangled throat, his arm engulfing you in a tight embrace; one along your shoulder, and the other curled upon your waist. You rested your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat subtle and calming, and he shuffled about, gradually withholding a lying position, yourself flatly placed along his front. “I’m sorry.” You repeated, a light sigh to accompany the apology. You meant it, really, you did. It was never truly your intention to adapt to such feelings, to succumb to your attraction - he just made it so fucking difficult, with those beautifully brown orbs, and a smile filled with the brightest kinds of sunshine. 

“Please don’t apologise.” He said. A short silence followed, and - perhaps it was simply an imaginational malfunction - you thought the rhythm of his heart rate differentiated, though only for a fleeting moment. “Did you mean it?” He whispered, tone soft; hesitant. 

A gentle frown caressed the bow of your expression, and you tilted such to face him, his features crossed handsomely with a sense of slight worry. Of course you had meant it - why on earth would you lie for such a thing? “Yeah.” You said. His gaze flickered between your eyes, a whir of doubt embracing the warm stare, and his tender wrap upon your frame squeezed for a passing moment. The hint of a smile glazed his orbs, a certain light suddenly rupturing within their mocha tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched a feathered smirk. 

“Oh, yeah?” He said. 

Your eyes rolled, seemingly still slightly dampened by your emotional concern. “Yes, Johnny.” You said. 

“Ah, right,” He muttered, grin widening to that of something toothy, and warm. “See, I thought I was going crazy.” He craned his neck to the slightest degree, gaze dropping momentarily to your parted lips, before springing back up, a twinkle of mischief to glaze his eyes. “I thought,” His tongue darted gently, dampening the flush of his lips, and you found yourself staring with a tingle of a blush - God. Your thighs began to ache, camped tightly together, at such a marvellous sight. “There’s no fucking way,” He continued, slowly, as his tone simmered to that of a tender whisper. “That the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, could fall in love with me.” 

Beautiful. Beautiful, he had said. Beautiful! He thought you were beautiful! Your heart stuttered, and a furrow found your eyebrows, consciously aware of the circular trail, lightly peppered upon your waist by his wandering fingers. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, a mere mumble beneath your gaze of adoration and concern. What was wrong with loving him? 

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, the simmer of amusement and amorous repentance dancing within his stare. “Well, why me?” He said, “You could choose anyone.” He shrugged, “Kenny, from that corner store. Andrew - you know, Andy, the one that makes the cakes all the time?” You merely nodded, albeit speechless as to his rambling. “And what about Louis? The flower guy?” You raised an eyebrow, “You could take any of ‘em. You got a choice. So why pick me?” Why wouldn’t it be him? Why would it be anybody else? You couldn’t quite understand his doubts, as you adjusted your positioning, and leaned up ever-so-slightly, with great attempt to level your shared beam. Surely he wasn’t feeling insecure, he had no reason to, after all - none that you had given him, that is. 

“Don’t start that.” You said, “I wouldn’t want anybody else.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, “And why’s that, Love?” He was teasing you, you could ensure, though you felt little resistance to fall within such bait. 

“I wouldn’t want anyone else, because,” He glanced feverishly to your mouth, and the words seemed to pause, caught briefly within your throat. His gaze returned to yours, his smirk filtrated with some kind of newfound arrogance, and, my, didn’t it look devilishly handsome on him. 

“Because what, Deary?” He said, a sudden dark swirl to his tone. It was rich, nauseatingly good. 

“Because I want you.” You said. “And I’ve always wanted you.”   

Though your fear found itself wretched, stammering doubts of rejection within your conscience, you supposed there was just no going back from that. And you didn’t truly believe you wanted to.  

A glimmer of something heartily mischievous eloped within his gaze, “In what way?” He humoured, a slow smile beginning to trace the very corners of his wondrously entrancing lips. You paused, a moment of silence, and wondered whether you could dare to be as graciously brave as your protruding thoughts were  starting to grow. 

Your tone fell to something quiet - low. “In any way you’ll let me.” You said. And, oh, it had you aching, the way those delectably beautiful eyes darkened, and a pepper of thickening quiet settled between the two of you.  

Johnny’s mouth opened, the breach of something verbal threatening to fall from the gasp, though nothing came out, and he closed it, instead. His breathing stammered, you dared to notice, and you felt almost ill, bereft with the simplicity of your want, your need, for his emotional acceptance. “I see.” He said, somewhat breathless, and entirely succumbed with - what you depicted, perhaps foolishly, to be - love. You felt something rise, flutter, within the depth of your digestion - almost drabbled with such pride, that you could affect him in any which way. A grin engulfed his expression, once more, and elated the darkness, clouding his chestnut orbs in a magnificent kind of way, as one hand crawled up from upon your waist, and clasped the curve of your blushed cheek. His calloused thumb traced a thing of gentle affection, stroking the soft complexion in a timid manner, and that flock of butterflies found themselves satisfied with their numbingly strong fluttering, crawling upon your skin in a matter of nerves and anxiousness. “Well,” He spoke, glancing adoringly between your eyes. From one to the other, as though he couldn’t quite believe you to be smitten within his hold, reciprocating his feelings so endlessly. The warmth of his adorning breath fanned the supple part of your gaped lips, expectant; waiting. “Best go put on your shoes, then, aye?” He whispered. 

And with that, he was gone. Hoisting you up, as he stumbled to his feet, and his expression elated a smile. He squeezed twice on your shoulders, humoured by such a frown, and he swooped down to collect his jacket from the floor. “Go on,” He said, “We’re off on a walk.” 

“We are?” You echoed, a slight distance woven within your tone. 

Johnny smiled, “We are, Love.” He said, and he barreled himself through the arms of his coat. 

You paused, be it only a moment, as gentle tufts of hair drifted upon his forehead, and he brushed them back, a toothy grin etched upon his face. He stretched up, an arch to his back, and muttered a; “Go on! It’s raining, you’ll get your feet wet if you don’t.” With a hustle, and a small shove to your shoulders. 

Frowning, you found your feet drifting you to the corner of the room - he’d gone mad. It was decided. Though, perhaps, you thought; you were just as crazy as he. For why else would you slip on your shoes, and throw on a jacket, hanging up on the wall hooks? Without another thought of hesitation, you shoved it all on, and you regained your full height, a little breathless - unfortunately so - and met the uneven smirk that was utterly Johnny’s.

He clapped his hands together, a soft connection, and rubbed them slightly, bounding to the door before you both, and swinging open the darkened oak. Neither you, nor he, bothered to dismantle the blaring illuminant that was the television, as he awaited the passing breeze of yourself. 

You wandered him by, mind a whir of incoherent thoughts, though one - one in particular - stood out, among the others. He hadn’t said it back. 

The weight of his arm, curled around the crease of your shoulders, brought you away from such a thought, and you had hardly noticed the few tender steps you had traced. “You smell nice.” Johnny said, a slight smile to his tone, “Fruity.” You merely grinned something small, and rolled your eyes. Ever the strange one. 

“You’re sure you haven’t had any of that wine before?” You jested, “On the way over, perhaps?” 

He smiled, something soft, as his free hand fumbled within his depthful pocket, and his gaze found his shoes. “The cheap stuff gives me indigestion.” He smirked, “Didn’t want the heartburn.”

“Ah,” You breathed, “I suppose that does make sense.” 

You approached the stairwell, poised to the end of the depressingly dim hallway, and watched as he bounced upon every step, no longer wedged beside you, but rather bounding upon the echoing chorus of the descending metal. His hair, naturally dried from a drizzle of cooling rain, flowed - up, and down - in a majestic kind of motion, as a subtle giggle fell from you, and your legs maneuvered a slight jog, to catch up with his waiting frame. 

He stood, slick with a grin, at the door, his arm a barricade upon its weight, as you muttered a curt thanks, and you stumbled into the waft of approaching crisp. The winter chill embraced your figure - a sudden movement, as it trailed from your toes, to your hips, to your finger-tips, and your nose - and you draped your hands within the depthful pockets of your dark coat. You shuddered - Heavens, was it freezing - and you clenched your jaw, spat with a sprinkle of dainted moisture, as the clouds shed their supple solemness. 

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Johnny muttered, striding to that of a similar pace, as his hands, too, found the inner comfort of his pockets, and his arm brushed with yours. You warmed at the touch, though not by much, and you simply assumed it was all in your head, dismissive for the sudden heat. “The night.” He continued. “There’s just something about it.” 

You turned, gaze fixated upon the gorgeous glow of his sculpted features, contorted with a content smile, orbs fluttered upon the scenery before you both, unmoving, and entirely comfortable. Happy, you dared to notice. And as were you. “I know what you mean.” You mumbled, a saddened grin to quiver upon the corners of your lips, though you simply couldn’t force it’s obtain, as it fell, and your eyes found the floor. He hadn’t said it back. 

“It’s like-” He paused, tongue winding upon his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed momentarily. “It’s like the whole world is asleep.” He smiled. “It’s not, but it feels less… Alive.” 

You breathed a gentle laugh. “Like it’s only you.” You mumbled, “Without the pressure, and the judgement.” There was a subtle nod, as he brushed the fallen hair from within his vision. 

“I know how to be myself, when the moon’s my only company, y’know?” He admitted, nibbling the tender flesh of his lower lip, as his gaze darted, between the street, to the tree, to the housing scattered around. “Like whatever happens, under the stars, it-” He paused, he let out a breathy chuckle, and continued: “It won’t matter in the morning.” You simply nodded, as he opened his mouth, a stuttered mumble falling from his tongue, and your silence remained, for you knew he was not quite finished. “I just- I-” He paused, another shaky exhale, and your eyebrows furrowed. He scratched the lower-crown of his hair, ruffling it, slightly, with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t want-” He frowned, gulping, and continued: “I don’t want tonight to be one of those nights.” 

Your furrow seemed to deepen, the words falling before you found yourself able to grapple them. “What do you mean?” You mumbled, a gentle cloud upon the frozen nightlife. 

“Look, I think-” He sighed, pausing mid-step, and standing, amidst the weighted rain, as it grew heavier, and you simply grew wetter. You paused, expression contorted with a slight confusion, dribbled with copious droplets that you didn’t bother to brush away. “I think I could dote on the darkness, forever and a day.” He said, and you frowned. You wondered just quite where he was going with such, though failed to interrupt his continuance, as he spoke, soft, among the patterning rainfall, draping upon the concrete with a rhythmic dance. “But it’s not-” He caught himself, one more, as another nervous laugh trickled from his dampened lips. Verbal gold, it surely was. “None of it - it’s not- it’s not as, uh, captivating, as you.” 

Your chest fell woozy with a supple ache, furrow one of grave compassion, and he glanced, hesitantly, with a curt removal, to your expression. You smiled, a glaze of sorrow melting from upon those amorous features. Captivating. He thought you were captivating. “And I think you- uhm-” He coughed, a slight smile to catch the corner of his lips. “I think you taught me to love, again.” He mumbled, head-up tilted, as his warm, genuine, gaze, infiltrated your own. 

“Oh?” You grinned, truthfully unable to rupture the flutter of great tingles, encasing your shivering complexion - a certain warmth cursing throughout your frozen blood. 

He laughed, a glance of something shy to his shoes, and he nodded. “Yeah.” He mumbled, returning to meet your joyous expression. “And I think I’d like to dote on you, instead.” 

“In what way?” You muttered, mocking for his previously sly commentary, a gratuitous - particularly brazen - step closer, to the grinning man, as his hands, slightly coaxed by a pink chill, from the breeze of winter's embrace, draped upon the clothed fabric of your hips. 

He drew a step closer, your shoes toe to toe, and he spoke - dangerously low; nauseatingly rich. “In any way you’ll let me.” He smirked. And, well, that seemed quite enough for you. 

There was a certain warmth about it - the capture of your supple lips upon the soft flesh of his own, molded wondrously to a hymn the Angels could never know. Eyes fluttered to a gentle close, engulfed with a sprinkle of vanishing warmth; the rain no longer seemed to matter. For you were clothed, slick like a second skin, in the thick moisture of everlasting water - wet, to the very bone - but no longer did you shiver, no longer did you tremble, with the ache of a chilling night. The pressure was timid, and the exploration a motion utterly anew - yet so beautifully divine, so entirely right. 

Your fingers - pink, and bitterly numb, in themselves - wove to clutch upon the lapels of his cotton jacket, a clutch of passion, and of longing, to emancipate the wondrous flutter in the depth of your gut. It twisted, it turned, it ached, it shrieked - you felt ill. Ill with the fever of amorous recipricance and a lover so sickly sweet, you felt you’d awake with cavities, in the later morn. You liked that thought, as your head tilted, be it only slight, to the side, and he followed your subtle retreat. Like honey, did he taste; like gold, did he display. And, oh, if this was love - if this, two lovers combined amongst the ache of winter’s cue - you decided that it was, undoubtedly, real. It was real, not a mere description of romanticised fiction. No. No; it was the golden sunlight, woven between your very hands; it was the melody of the birds, so suppley sweet; the dew upon the whispered grass, a lick of crisped morning; the enticing ferociousness of the oceanic waves, an azure of alluring power; the liquid gold, to drip from a Poet’s pen, woven beneath the tongue of their romantic thoughts - Oh, it were all that, and more. So much more. 

And, as his feeble smile fluctuated upon his bowed lips, and his fragile hold - something so gentle, upon the flush of your frozen cheek, you hardly noticed the grace of movement, thumb brushed beneath your fluttered eyes - draped across your features,  you found yourself discovering all that it ever could be. 

His tongue, though warm, and tender, slithered something slow upon the breach of your lower lip, and your cheeks furrowed a blossoming grin. Parting your lips, subtly, you allowed the delicate invasion of a gratifying, sweet, pressure, as the flesh ran along the side of your tongue, and you encased it within a frail suck, withdrawing from such an entanglement for hardly a moment. You inhaled a particularly deep breath, unfinished and wondrously interrupted, as his lips found yours once more, a collision of teeth, and of grinning hearts, and he craned upon your stature, a barricade to crawl along the base of your lower back. The soft slosh of clapped fabric wove amongst the rainfall, and a breathy chuckle harmonized from upon your lips, himself ridden with a gorgeous grin; chest-to-chest, with a kind of warmth you had never before known cursing throughout the very complexion that was your own, as your bodies collided, and his strength held you close. 

You inhaled the scent, familiar, though certainly different, and it tingled the depth of your nostrils - like woodland, and a subtle cologne. It seemed raw, so ravenously close, and your lips twitched upward at the thought. Oh, how you loved him. It ached your smitten chest, as he moulded his lips upon your own, and your movement harmonized something bitterly perfect, and it combusted among your soul. It tore the very sense you once held, from within your capacity, and it brushed such necessity beneath the carpet; for what was sense to a girl in love?

Nothing. All that made sense was him - was he - and you yearned to know it all; every crevice, every dent, for the rest of your days. Forever seemed a long time, though life so awfully short. To spend forever, a faux illusion of endless measures, by his side - it spread a warmth, such burning heat, throughout your tender frame, and you ached to know the script of every moment spent together, all until every moment were merely a memory, with nothing left to come. 

His feathered affection fell to a tender null, a lingering pause to disperse upon the gape of your swollen mouth, and he draped a peppered peck upon the very corner, withdrawing from such an intertwined proximity. You fluttered your gaze to meet his own - a stare of saturated honey; of every nightfall; of every poetic tale - and he smiled. A smile, so incredibly warm, you found yourself unable to withhold the reciprocance, as a timid blush crawled upon the complexion of your grinning features, and your eyes retained their strengthful embrace. 

For the bitter breeze had returned, and your lips were falling cold, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered - not the howl of brash wind, curling within your locks, and whipping the hood of your coat; the ache of layered rain, as it pattered, continually, upon the distilled world around; the treacherous ache of all things nauseatingly woozy, engulfing your frame in an intensely warm ambiguity - unfamiliar, though entirely welcome. None of it mattered - not as you drowned within the softness of his adoring gaze. 

Adoring, you thought; oh, did he adore you? “I love you.” He mumbled, a quiet crackle upon the pattern of rain, though you caught it - oh, did you catch it, clutched within the fragile hold of your softened heart, ached with the pressure of convicting ribs, it cried for freedom, for home; for Johnny. A smile, so genuine, so utterly enticed; joyous, draped upon your lips, and the corners of your glimmering eyes fell to a crease. He loved you.  He breathed a gentle chuckle, soggy arms curled upon that of your shoulders, as he drew you close - so unimaginably close - and he clutched your warmth upon his own. “God,” He breathed, his cheek slumped upon the crown of your head, down-tilted, and soaked with the cold of splattered rain. “I love you.” 

Arms draped across his middle, clutched upon his lower back - you ached from the cold, though you minded it not - as you smiled, and you breathed the only response you felt acceptable. “I know.” You said. 

“And I’ll give you the sun.” He continued, a mere rumble upon the quiet noise. “Indulge me, and I’ll give you the sun, ray, by fucking ray.” 

Oh, how you ached for such sonerous truth - for you knew he would never lie to you. 

[ezrasarm]

Come Back To Me In Waking Dream

[ Day 5 | Angstaggedon Masterlist ]

Pairing: Ezra x Reader

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: Torn apart by the forces of the universe, Ezra becomes a ghost of himself.

Warnings: ANGST, hints at depressive episodes and thoughts of death, more angst. This is not an uplifting story.

Credits: A huuuuuge thank you to @din-damn-djarin​​ and @chaotic-noceur​​ for beta reading and letting me use them as a human squash court for me to bounce my ideas off of! The title is inspired by a piece of poetry written by David Keenan that preludes his song “Full Stop” and I thought it fit just right.

A/N: Not to toot my own horn or anything but... I hope y’all brought tissues.

As with any line of work, the longer you’re in it, the smaller the world- or in this case, the universe- seems to become. You and Ezra had made a number of first encounters through your years working the aurelac business. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, no matter what the precious gem associated with it might suggest. The work was rough and often fruitless. But, on those rare occasions that you managed to find a sizeable deposit in those tangles of rhizomatic roots- provided you had the skill to extract them, one, without killing yourself, and two, without damaging the delicate bounty in the process- you could make quite the pretty penny off of it. And you could make it fast. It was part of what made the industry so cutthroat in the first place. It was also entirely the reason that making lasting relationships, business or otherwise, was nearly impossible for you.

Both Ezra and yourself had gotten into prospecting and harvesting aurelac even before the rush. It seemed like your timelines were interlinked. You couldn’t stop running into one another if you tried. You could recall quite vividly the first time you saw him. His rich smooth voice and exuberant charm were not things that detracted attention from him. So he was hard to miss in the small, dingy convenience store on the freighter back from the Bakhroma system. When you finally acquaintanced yourselves with one another quite sometime later, he insisted he had seen you around here and there long before that. You argued that he must have been mistaken because you couldn’t possibly have failed to notice him and that peculiar blonde patch in his hair. And that even if you did, you would have heard him coming even sooner. “That,” he said, “is not necessarily true.” But none the less you managed to crack him up. He’s had a soft spot for you ever since.

You had gotten to know each other pretty well through the many drinks you shared when you found yourselves on the same planet and the odd job you would work together in between. You now knew him well enough that if you were feeling bold you might venture to call him a friend. Perhaps even admit that at times you thought you could be a little more than that. Although you would never have the nerve to say it to his face.

Then he disappeared. One moment he was on The Pug scanning the boards, the next he was gone. Funnily enough, the job he managed to scrounge up was one you had been eyeing yourself. You got pulled away on a contract with an old client of yours to do some appraisals and he set off for this prospecting mission of his. He said it would take a week tops and that he had something he wanted to tell you when he got back. Then you never saw him again.

You see, Ezra had just been working up the courage to tell you how he felt. He swore the next time he saw you would be the day he told you he loved you. That you were the star of his dreams when he slept and the object of his reveries when he woke. That practically every moment of every day he spent away from you he was thinking about where you were or what you were up to. None of this stopped when his pod crash-landed on Bakhroma Green.

He just needed one more job to save up to take you out on Kamrea, your temporary home when you could afford to live there. He had this grand plan to woo you with a nice meal and a necklace made from a small aurelac crystal he had harvested on one of the first jobs you had worked together. He knew how hard you pushed yourself. You never gave yourself a break. He thought it would be nice to treat you to more than just a drink in a bar for once.

It was supposed to be a simple job. Prospect potential dig sites, maybe even harvest a little while he was at it, then get the hell out of there. But none of that happened. Instead, he got stranded on that godforsaken rock. It was years before anyone came to his rescue. He lost his arm somewhere along the way. A rogue thrower shot from a skittish young sater. He was normally quite conscious of staying out of their territory but with the seasons changing, foraging for food brought him out of his comfort zone. The resulting infection cost him his dominant hand.

But his physical injury was hardly the worst of his ailments on his extended visit to the Bakhroma moon. He was quite positive he was going insane hauled up in the damaged drop pod that only served as a reminder he wouldn’t be leaving the forest moon any time soon. As he quickly came to find, he and prolonged periods of time without human contact were not a good combination. While saters and other prospectors may have passed through every now and again, he often had enough trouble bargaining with them for his life, let alone a ride off the dumb rock. They never stuck around long and they certainly weren’t talkative. His mental health took a nosedive quite early on. He took to talking to himself, writing to keep his mind busy. At his worst, he could recall experiencing fits of hysteria and even hallucinations. He had the delirious diary entries to prove it.

It was around the time he lost his arm that he began to lose hope too. The longer he was stranded there, the more doubt that there would be any way out at all began to creep into his mind. There were some nights where the thought of seeing you again, brushing that rebellious strand of hair out of your face and pulling you into a long-awaited kiss, was the only thing that kept him going. He could still see your face. The upward quirk to your lip and the light graze of your hand against his as you passed him by in the hall on his way out. You were in some big rush as you always were. You assured him you would see him later. All he could think of was how wrong that assumption was now. He never could have imagined that would be the last time he saw you. And now here he was projecting phantom memories on the blank ceiling of the pod, cursing himself for not telling you what he should have the moment he knew. He refused to let himself die without letting you know how he felt. Maybe he would be able to rest easier if you knew.

For the first couple cycles you worried yourself sick. The risk associated with your field of work was not lost on you. He wouldn’t just leave you like that- he couldn’t. You wouldn’t let him. But years had passed. It soon came time for you to confront the acceptance of one of two realities: either he was dead, or he had abandoned you. The thought confused you. He wasn’t yours to be abandoned by and yet the resentment that came with it stung you just the same. You couldn’t tell which hurt you more but you knew you couldn’t sit around waiting for a dead man. And if he was alive, you refused to spend another second pining over a man who would up and leave you without so much as a goodbye. So you swallowed your yearning, the nag in your heart that clung to the hope he would still come back for you, and you moved on.

When Ezra got off the Green he hardly recognized himself anymore. His hair had grown shaggy despite his attempts to keep it under control, there were patches of grey in his dishevelled beard, his face had thinned, and those were just the physical changes. It was one of the last sling-backs before they killed the Central-BG line for good. A Kaslo Porting team, dropped to scavenge for old scraps and parts they could mark up and sell second hand, stumbled upon his pod. He was deathly frail when they found him. With his food supply having long since been depleted he had almost poisoned himself by mistaking a species of berry for its edible cousin in his desperation. If they hadn’t found him sooner, the doctors on board the freighter couldn’t see how he would have survived. He wound up hospitalized for weeks.

After all that time with just one thought on his mind, he knew he had to find you. Upon being discharged he searched high and low for you. He felt foolish checking all your old haunts. It had been so long. But he didn’t know where else to begin. He checked with mutual friends and old employers. They all seemed too surprised by being in the presence of a ghost to give him a straight answer.

He went to just about every place he could think of, asking your name as though it carried the same weight to everyone else as it did to him. He was sure he had searched every last corner of the galaxy. When he kept coming up empty he began to doubt whether you yourself were alive. It seemed like he was the only who knew who you were. It was like you didn’t exist. It was like you never had existed. He went so far as to question if he had made you up. If you were merely some fucked up defence mechanism manufactured by his brain to keep him hopeful. To keep him from giving up so long ago as he had been tempted to do. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop looking. That would be admitting something to himself that he would never be ready to. His head would perk up if through the chatter of crowded spaces he would hear a laugh similar to your own carry across the room. He would lose his place in conversations when he would see a flash of hair not unlike your own out of his peripheral vision.

Then one day he found himself back on The Pug, scanning the boards the exact same way he had been the first time he laid eyes on you. He wasn’t actively looking for you. No more than he always was. But sure enough there you were. Your arms crossed over your chest and your gaze tilted upward to read the job postings that flashed by not unlike flight numbers in an airport. You had matured a little. You wore your hair differently now. Shorter than he remembered but he liked it just the same. Your posture had changed too. You looked calmer, more confident and at ease as you watched the boards. Not tense and nervous as you used to be when you lived paycheck to paycheck, desperate for every opportunity you could leap at. Life had treated you well, he remarked to himself. As it should have. You looked just as beautiful as you were in that faded photograph of the two of you he carried everywhere with him. The same one he studied every night as he tried to fall asleep on those lonely nights on the Green.

He felt his heart leap in his chest when you turned in his direction, a graceful smile across your face and your arms outstretched. He felt the adrenaline kick in, like a jolt of electricity through his entire body. He realized then that he hadn’t moved since he had laid eyes on you, too startled by the long anticipated discovery to function. A hysterical grin had stretched across his face. He couldn’t believe he had finally found you. That you were there standing right in front of him after all he had been through trying to get back to you. He was just about to step towards you. To shout your name, take you in his arms and do what he should’ve done long before. That’s when a young tike, hardly three years old came darting past him, tripping over her own feet as she bumbled towards you at top speed.

Then it dawned on him. That smile? Those open arms? They weren’t for him.

You crouched and swept the child up in your arms, peppering her face with kisses as she giggled back at you. It was now that he could see the resemblance. The twinkle in the young girl’s eye and the way she threw her head back when she laughed were not foreign to him. A man he didn’t recognize came trotting after her, scooping her up from your embrace before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It finally occurred to him why no one had recognized your name.

You looked happy. The smile on your face made his heart swell as he watched you from a distance. He only wished that he was the cause of it. The realization struck him that he could never be that for you. A husband. A father to your child. Even if he wanted to, years of breathing in toxic particles does things to a man. Now he was too late anyway. He had never wished so strongly that he hadn’t taken that job, that he hadn’t boarded that pod and set off to Bakhroma Green. Tears stung his eyes as he choked back the confession welling in the back of his throat. He couldn’t do that to you now. You deserved better than the trauma of a phantom walking back into your life after all this time. And stood there, every semblance of hope he had harboured since your fingertips slid off his own in that hallway shattered around his feet, he considered something. He should’ve let himself die on that rock. It would have been a more merciful death than the one he had just experienced as he watched the very dream that kept him alive all that time fall apart in front of him.

[ Angstageddon Masterlist | Ezra’s Arm Masterlist ]

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[leggomylino]

Pushing Up Daisies | Seo Changbin

Genre: fluff, crack, comedy, college au, secret admirer/stalker au

Pairing: Seo Changbin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

A/n: Masterlist(s) linked down below and in bio!!! | Requested by @hanniiesuckle17​ <3

— ✔✘✔✘ —

Darkness fell like a cloud over the room, a hazy mist where Changbin found the most comfort. It was a place where he felt calm, collected, cool, and accepted.

It was also the place he resided to watch Y/n L/n. The cute new transfer student from out of town.

Now, he didn’t think what he was doing was creepy. Or weird. Or immature. Not by any means; he was simply keeping an eye on her to make sure she was safe; the library could be a dangerous place, and there were all sorts of sick and twisted weirdos running around at this late hour of six p.m. that purposely targeted nice foreign girls like Y/n. He’d seen it happen all the time. It was more common than he’d like to admit. Which is why it was up to him to keep an eye out for her, since Chan was working late (again) at the studio and the mighty Lord knew Han Jisung wasn’t gonna do jack squat, especially not after Hyunjin had to go mentioning the grand opening of some new restaurant called...Factory Cheesecake? Cake Factory? Something like that.

That only left himself to rely upon. The only one truly trustworthy and qualified to keep Y/n safe. Even if it meant having to—

“Changbin!”

Clank. “OW!”

Rubbing his now slightly swollen forehead, he turned around the cramped space to peer over his shoulder. “What is it? What are you doing up here?”

Felix bowed his head, an apology hanging in the air. “Sorry. Seungmin sent me to get you. He said he’s clocking out in five minutes and he doesn’t want to get in trouble for your…“deed.”” He blinked. “He used other words I’d rather not repeat, though.”

Changbin scratched his chin. Ah, yes. The perks of having a roommate that worked part-time at the campus library: free access anywhere, so long as they’re on duty. And you don’t get caught. Like that one time he and Han scoured the back storage room for vaults holding the answer key to Mr. Kim’s final, and...well, that wasn’t important now. “Tell him I’ll be down in ten. I think she’s almost done.”

Felix glanced through the slits of the metal air duct, then back at his buddy. “...Are you sure you’ve really thought this through all the way?” His face scrunched up in an awkwardly distasteful matter, and he looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to commit such a crime. Like what he was doing was even criminal. “Why don’t you just talk to her? Instead of...y’know…” He blinked, gesturing to the cramped space around them. “Hiding in the air duct? It’s kinda creepy, is what I’m saying. And unethical...actually, very creepy and very unethi—“

“Okay! I got it already!” Changbin waved his hands. He didn’t need to hear this from someone he cared about. “Shoo, shoo! Go have dinner with Hyunjin and the bottomless cake pit.”

“You mean Han?”

“Duh.”

...Sighing, Felix left without another word. 

Finally—

“...I really think you should just talk to her!” His voice echoed. Changbin sighed.

...Okay, a few words. “Go!!!”

His harsh command bounced around the narrow chamber, spiraling down out of the air duct. Gasp. He covered his mouth, praying to heaven no one heard him; peering down, the study corner Y/n was in— if not the library itself— was nearly vacant, with only one other student reading at a far table and a few stragglers making their final choices.

It would appear his voice had gone unnoticed. Phew.

Y/n was still standing at the same shelf. She’d been standing there for over twenty minutes, occasionally pacing back and forth a few steps, side-to-side, trying to make up her mind. Most guys hated that, but Changbin couldn’t help but find it cute and endearing; like a lost little star trying to find her way home, calculating the best route, hesitant, waiting to shine. Most guys took it as a lacking sign to confidence, but to Changbin, it just showed that she was smart. She didn’t want to barrel straight ahead; she gathered data, took notes, and made the best option that would satisfy both her needs and her interests. And to Changbin, there was nothing hotter than that...

Suddenly, her hand moved. The one with the leather watch she wore, rumored to be a gift from her father. It was worn and frayed, the inseam splitting at the ends. Brown; tan. A simple clock face encased in basic sterling silver. She wore it everyday, but it’d been a while since he’d seen the pleated pink skirt that swayed above her ankles, or the matching floral-printed scarf—

Her hand brushed against the spine of a worn old poetry catalogue. Oh no. This is it. She’s really going for it. His letter…

She was so close to finding it. Twice a week, Changbin would rush down seven flights of stairs and across five blocks of campus property to make it to the library an hour before Y/n was set to arrive, as she always visited the library after English 1302 on Mondays and Wednesdays. Something about departing from that class must have left her longing for more, he figured; she was a writing major, after all. He didn’t do well under too much pressure, so after panicking about what he was going to say this time, he’d steal borrow some of Seungmin’s fancy calligraphy paper in order to write her a poem, something soft and...what was that word he’d looked up last week...lilting, which he was pretty sure meant the same thing as uplifting and...happy. Then he’d have Seungmin (one time Han; big mistake) hack into her leasing record in order to find out which books she was currently into, or which ones she had on hold. He’d carefully and strategically place the handwritten poem inside the book’s first few pages.

The book was in her hands now. She’d chosen his book! Again! She was examining the cover...flipping it over…...now, she was…?

...She put it back.

Again. He lowered his head with a sigh. Game over. You lost again. He gripped his hands into fists; when? When would he learn? When would it be his turn to win?! …!

Oh? What was this…?

A figure turned the left corner too fast, crashing into Y/n. She stumbled to the right, dropping said book as well as her belongings and sending them somersaulting to the pale blue carpet.

The letter he’d tucked between pages four and five spiraled out a foot away. Unopened, still sealed securely in a crisp white envelope with a Molang sticker. He’d heard she liked him.

Some Shady Guy was now talking to Y/n. “I’m so sorry! Let me help you— I’ll get—”

Y/n picked the book off the ground, dusting and checking it for damages like her first priority. She was so selfless, caring more for a damaged old tomb rather than her shiny new laptop and fancy water bottle. “Oh, no, that’s okay, don’t worry about it…” 

Her eyes fell upon the letter. Changbin held his breath. Oh no. Not now. Not with some punk watching! The moment would be totally ruined!!!

Shady Guy beat her to it, his undeserving fingers tainting Changbin’s craft. “Here. Is this yours?” He examined it. Smirked. Disgusting. “Cute. Aren’t you a little old for cartoons, though?”

Who here gave you permission to judge her?! ...Wait.

Y/n took the letter, frowning. “I don’t think so...Molang is for girls and boys of all ages. He’s cute. But, this isn’t mine…someone must have left it as a bookmark.” Her eyes swept the room. “I’ll go return it to the front desk.”

The… The front… 

His face hardened. What?! No!!! That’s your letter! URGH!!! Were girls always this frustrating?! ...And why is this guy still standing so close?! … … 

It couldn’t be helped; with defeat, he watched the two of them walk away.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The next day at lunch, Minho squinted at him in anger.

“I can’t believe you skipped out on dinner with us again to go stalk the new girl.”

Beside him, Hyunjin huffed his agreement over a juice box that was meant for a five year old. Changbin groaned. “It’s not stalking. You make it sound like I’m a pervert or something...I’m not, I’m just…”

...His voice trailed off into a long, steady exhale. Beside him, Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Next time, at least quit using the air vent. I’m tired of growing a collection of ulcers in my gut because I’m afraid you’re going to make one wrong move and come crashing down through the ceiling like doom over Narnia, and then we’re both going to get in trouble for it.” He practically slammed down his bowl of soba. “I need this job, Bin.”

Across the outdoor picnic table, Minho froze halfway through unwrapping his sandwich, Hyunjin nearly choking on his orange juice. The former of the two cast a chilling glare while Hyunjin fought through a coughing fit. “You…”

Crap. And just when he’d thought Seungmin would be the least likely to open his big mouth. Changbin pressed his lips into a hard line before speaking. “...It’s not what you think—”

“Isn’t it, though?!” Hyunjin blurted. His juice box went flying into the nearest trash can as he pointed drastically in the direction of the library a few blocks down. Dance majors. “You’re telling me you’ve been bailing on dinner with us at the best new restaurant in town to go crawl through the dusty library airways and spy on a girl who doesn’t even know you?!”

“Say it a little louder, why don’t you!” Changbin hissed. “And hey,” he added, leaning over his ramen. “We’ve talked before. We’re in the same writing class.”

“Over a project!” The Dance major roared. “That hardly counts!”

He and Changbin both fell back into their seats with a thud, exhausted with each other. Minho sighed. “Well,” he mumbled, “I guess we’re just going to have to show him.”

At this, everyone gave Seoul University’s one and only Bundle Boy a quizzical look. “What do you mean?” Seungmin asked.

Bundle Boy smiled, already stacking his leftovers. “Come on. Finish eating already and we’ll show you.”

Hyunjin blinked, gesturing back and forth between the two of them. “We…?”

Smack. “Just do it already. Let’s go. Quickly.”

Stunned, he had no choice but to inhale his soup on the way over.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The library was ironically closed for renovations that day; something about a generous donation from some well-to-do politician wanting his name engraved along the school walls. Whatever.

After bribing Seungmin into using his key, in the very same room where Y/n had been pondering her next private adventure surfing amongst old worn pages, Minho placed his hands on his hips, taking the roll of stage director. “Okay, now.” He pointed left. “Hyunjin, you go backstage. Pick a book off the shelf and get yourself ready. You two,” he piped, startling the remaining cast members, “will sit over there. Watch how it’s done.”

“......” Side-eyeing the other, Changbin and Seungmin took their seats at a nearby study table. The former could tell the latter was regretting his decision to let them in already.

Minho smiled. “Great,” he said, taking what was supposed to be Center Stage. “Now—” 

Seungmin raised his hand. The director sighed. 

“Yes?”

Seungmin lowered his hand with a soft plop. “Do I really have to be here for this? Don’t we all have better things to be doing right now?”

...It was a fair question. But Minho didn’t really seem to care much for fairness. “Yes, this is a team effort. I’m telling Chan you said that at our next rehearsal.”

The boy groaned.

“Now,” Director Bundle began. “Watch and learn how the pros do this. I’ll be Changbin, and Hyunjin is Y/n.” He turned his head to the side. “Cue!!!”

The lights suddenly dimmed, shocking the audience as they looked around curiously. “I could have sworn no one was on staff today,” Minnie mumbled.

Then the lights rose again, slowly in escalation, as a far-too-tall and far-too-muscular Y/n entered Stage Right. His eyes blinked wildly from atop the horizon of an encyclopedia about frogs. “Look,” he cooed, voice far too high and squeaky. Changbin and Seungmin both cringed. “I’m Y/n! I love books and boys and all the many girlish wonders that girls like me enjoy! Teehee!”

...Dear Lord, strike him now. Changbin rose from his seat. “Stop!!!”

His cry fell on deaf ears as the show went on, Minho turning and giving his best, dreamiest, disgustingly playboy-ish smile. “You’re Y/n?”

Hyunjin giggled (to which Changbin felt sick), the book never leaving the lower half of his face. “That’s me!”

“Changbin” (Minho) cocked his head aside, shifting his bangs to the right. Seungmin gagged. “That’s a cute name. A cute name for an even cuter gi—”

Fzzt! ...The power went out.

From the far corner, the real Changbin glared a storm across the room, holding the power extension cord too tightly. “That’s enough,” he grumbled, tossing the extension aside. “I didn’t come here for you to mock me. Or her. I’m not sure what I’m more angry about: the fact that you dare mock an innocent girl, someone I care about, to my face...or the fact that the two of you are supposed to be my friends.”

Hyunjin tossed his book on the table, doing his best sassy Dance major pose: a hand on his hip, knee slightly bent, head tilted to the side. Dance majors. “You can’t say you care about her, Changbin. You hardly know her.”

“I told you we’ve spoken on more than one occasion!”

“Over a project! That doesn’t count!”

“You said it hardly counts before!!”

“Yeah?! Well now I’m changing my answer!!!”

“Okay, okay…” Seungmin rose from his seat, wading between the two. “That’s enough. Fighting never solves anything.” He peered over his shoulder, focusing his gaze between the shelves. “Also, you need to keep your voices down— I’m not losing my job over something this dumb.”

“......” With a grunt, Changbin marched his way toward the exit; Screw these guys, whatever. He didn’t need their help and never asked for it anyway. He was doing just fine in his relationship with Y/n that...didn’t quite exist… 

He’d almost made it to the door until Hyunjin stopped him. The should-have-been Drama major’s long fingers curved harshly over Changbin’s bulky shoulder. 

“...Just face it, Bin,” he whispered. “Y/n...she’s one of those girls. A bookworm. She’s out there. Way out there.” He sighed. The whole room seemed to. “Girls like her live on another planet. You’ll be pushing up daisies before she agrees to go on a date with you.”

“......” 

Changbin scoffed, carrying his storm out of the room.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

At 2:46 a.m that night (morning?), Changbin lied awake in his dorm room, pondering many things. Too many things that shouldn’t have had any connection whatsoever, yet did all the same. Because life was messy, and love was fornot.

What is it with girls? He thought. I’ve never put so much thought into one before. They were just...there, and then Y/n showed up, and suddenly it’s like I forgot how to read. I saw her smiling, looking all pretty by the lecture hall window...I know I’ve written a song about her before.

Shift. The gray wall facing him gave no comfort.

...And what about them? Hyunjin, Minho, Seungmin...criticizing and judging me like that… Hyunjin… He had no right to say that to me. “You’ll be pushing up daisies before she agrees to go on a date with you!1!1!” ...Pfft. Please. What does he know?! Who does he think he is giving me advice? About Y/n?? After his horrible misrepresentation of her?!? ...Man, I miss Jeongin. I wonder when he’ll be back from his field trip...

Toss. The ceiling was no help either.

Then again… Is it really that strange? I was just keeping an eye on her. She should be grateful, right? Who doesn’t like having protection throughout the day? … … 

Sigh. ...Maybe… Maybe it is kinda weird what I’ve been doing...how I’ve been acting...my behavior… … … 

Turn. The ticking of the far clock mocked him. All his lost hours of sleep...tormented by his own thoughts...

… … … 

“...Hnnn!” 

Shift. Toss. Sigh. Turn. Watching the seconds pass him by Changbin rolled about in agony, puzzled and tried over the last few weeks. Perhaps, as Hyunjin had said, even before his most recent insult, Changbin’s behavior as of late really had been “ugh.” …

A pillow fell over his face. He didn’t know what to think anymore. Maybe, as ridiculous as it all was, Minho and Hyunjin had been onto something; maybe all he needed to do was introduce himself. Start fresh, simple, anew. Maybe, this whole time, all he needed was to treat Y/n like a person he was interested in, rather than a science experiment he had to guard from afar. Maybe, just maybe, all he needed to do was say “hello”...

Unfortunately for him, “hello” was currently the word he was most afraid of.

“Changbin…”

He rolled over, peering down at the lower bunk; what could he say, except, Music and Photography majors didn’t make that much? At least not as undergrads. “Hm?”

Seungmin squinted up at him with sleepy eyes. “Turn off the light. I have two exams tomorrow…”

Shoot. Changbin grimaced, reaching for the switch. “...Sorry.”

Chink. Lights out. 

“...Changbin?”

Chink. Lights on. “Yes?”

“......” Seungmin sat up, trailing his drowsy behind to the guest couch on the other side of the 12 x 10 room, the one Chan or Han sometimes crashed on during late nights producing or editing soundtracks. He pulled a blanket over his head, curling up beneath it like a puppy. “...Do you wanna talk about yesterday?”

Changbin scoffed, shifting his gaze to glare anywhere else. “...Like I’d wanna spend my precious time talking about those two.”

“So it is bothering you.”

Changbin fell silent.

“...The fact that you’re awake right now tells me that you’re letting them get to you. You shouldn’t.”

“I’m not! I never said they were bothering me!”

“It’s what you didn’t say that tells me otherwise.”

Changbin huffed. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

“I have two, actually,” the boy answered. “One at eight and one at nine.”  

“Then go to bed. Quit worrying about me and mind your own business. Class starts in a few hours.”

Chink. Lights out.

...But though he rolled over, pulling the sheets above his head and facing the gray wall, the annoying brat missing from the lower bunk didn’t move. In fact, Changbin could feel his eyes burning a rash on his skin, spelling out the words, you’re lying; accept your feelings. Talk to me.

Chink! He swung back up into a sitting position. 

“Okay, fine! Sheesh…” he groaned. Below, Seungmin almost bounced in delight, were he not engaged in a battle of fending off certain unconsciousness.

“Great...tell me what’s troubling you.”

“...That’s…” 

Good grief. That was far easier said than done. He’d become so defensive, the automatic response to escape Changbin’s lips were always, “That’s none of your business,” “It’s none of your concern,” “Quit asking me about it.” 

Now, here he was, at confession hours. He adjusted himself, the words swirling in his gut; hissing at the proposal of facing sunlight, wishing to remain buried. “...I just…” He began picking at the fabric around his legs. “...I don’t feel like myself lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so tired… Everything was fine until Y/n came here. Now…” He breathed. “...It’s like I can’t do anything properly anymore, and I’m not myself at all. I lost myself the moment I walked into class, and she was standing there, smiling under the sunshine and fluorescent lighting. ...Argh, listen to me! I never said crap like this before she came! It sounds so stupid!”

Seungmin continued to listen, patiently, as Changbin spilled his thoughts. Every waking thought he’d had since a few Monday’s ago. He nodded his head...starting to sway…

“...And it’s like, I’m saying all these words I’ve never even heard of before, y’know? You’ve noticed it too, right? Like my vocabulary is proliferating. It’s a nightmare! But...what really scares me is…” 

He paused. On the couch, Seungmin fell over, beginning to snore softly.

“...I don’t like the person that I’ve become. I heard it said before that when you fall in love, or some garbage like that, you’re supposed to...become a better person? That learning from that person is supposed to help you mature? … All I’ve learned to do is become...some creepy stalker. I never saw myself becoming like this, not for a minute, but with her it’s like...I totally…”

“...Zzzk!” Seungmin sat up. “...Hm? What? ...Oh, uh…” He rubbed his eyes. “I heard you, I swear I did. Hang on…” He yawned, squinting upward. “...You’re not learning from her.”

Changbin turned toward the couch. “What?”

Seungmin adjusted himself, working at removing a year’s worth of sleep in his eyes. “You haven’t been following her example. You’ve been letting your unchecked emotions run all over you. It’s an act of immaturity and being insecure. Also, what you said before is only true if you and the other person are both mature, and share an intimate relationship. You don’t. And you’re not mature.”

To this, Changbin opened his mouth to give back some witty reply he’d stored in his new-found vocabulary somewhere, but of course, the boy dozed off, getting away with the last word like he usually did.

Pssh. Even his internal clock is in sync with his antics. Spoiled brat. That sure was a lot of words for three a.m...

… … …

He let those words reside with him. “You haven’t been following her example. You’ve been letting your unchecked emotions run all over you. It’s an act of immaturity and being insecure.”

… … …  

“Also, what you said before is only true if you and the other person are both mature, and share an intimate relationship. You don’t. And you’re not mature.”

… … … 

...Bah! He hated it. Hated hearing it, the way it sounded out loud, directed at him. 

But perhaps it was a bitter truth he had to overcome. 

“Tomorrow, you can always start anew.” ...That was a lyric from one of his favorite songs, from a rapper he admired all too well. Perhaps...maybe…

Tomorrow, I too, can start anew. … … 

...Reaching over, he turned out the light.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The next day was Wednesday. The climax of every week. Shouts of “hUMP DAYYYY!!!” could be heard echoing around campus corridors, with students and faculty scurrying this way and that, some walking with direction and purpose, a few jogging, and others moving to a slow, leisurely pace, just getting out of class or having nowhere in particular to be.

For Changbin, it was a day of change. When the sun rose, after ignoring it for a few extra hours in defiance toward the clock that mocked him, he got dressed, ate a waffle, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair with his fingers as he hustled out the door.

“Hey!” Chan greeted him outside the door. “Ready for—”

“Busy,” he called over his shoulder.

English 1302 wasn’t until 3 p.m., but seeing as it was currently noon and he only had three hours to set himself straight, well...setting yourself straight was a daunting task. He’d need all the time he could get. Ignoring the fact that Chan and Han followed him out of the dorms and down two blocks while muttering precariously puzzling things, he set his focus solely on his current destination.

“I’m here,” he announced, slamming his bag on the front desk. Behind the library counter, Seungmin sighed, tilting his head back. 

“I’m not letting you into the air vents anymore. I told you, I’m done.” He glanced at the clock behind him. “Aren’t you a little early? Your class hasn’t even started yet. I thought you’d still be sleeping.”

“Can’t. No time.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his English textbook, the one with a soda stain he’d have to pay for later thanks to Yours Truly (Han Jisung). Seungmin observed it curiously.

“What’s this?”

“My textbook.”

“...We don’t have stain remover. Try the laundry room.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, biting his lip. Don’t let pride get to you right now. “...I uh…” He cleared his throat. “...It’s not that. I want you to help me study. I’d like to have something to fall back on, when talking to Y/n. In case things fall flat.”

When he looked up, the expression on Seungmin’s face was that of a thousand suns. Like the skies had cleared, and the war was over. It looked like something Shakespeare or Dr. Seuss would write about. “At last,” he said, “the drought has ended. Seeds have sprouted. There really is a brain in there.”

Changbin swatted at him. “Just shut up and tell me when your next break is.”

— ✔✘✔✘ —

“Y/n?”

Her name came rolling out of Changbin’s mouth like a stone. It started light, yet gained velocity and fell into the pool of sweat at his feet with a heavy thud.

The moment she turned around, sitting up a little straighter, a little taller, looking him right in the eyes, his mind went blank. “Yeah! What’s up?”

… … … 

He had no idea what was up. What was up? What was down? Which way was it to the nearest train station so he could use the last of his tuition money to board a train and haul it all the way to the highest bridge so he could— …

Cool, Changbin. Play it cool. The sun has risen, so you’re Mature Bin now. “Uhh…”

“......” She listed her head. “Yeah?”

“......”

“......”

“...Cake!” he blurted.

She blinked, shifting herself back while the surrounding pews started. “I’m sorry?”

“Ahh…!” Changbin adjusted himself. Took a deep breath. 

Still cool. Roll with it. 

“......” He smiled. “...Cake, uh...there’s a new cake shop that opened downtown.” He pointed...somewhere towards the door. “I was wondering if...maybe you’d...like some?”

The kindness that radiated off her features made his heart soar. “Are you asking me to come with you?”

“......” He nodded, looking away. But from the corner of his eye, he could still see her smile.

“Okay! I’d love to. Say, after class?”

He nodded again, more fervently. “...But aren’t you going to the library after this?”

Her gaze turned a bit sour and peculiar. “You...know about that? You must have seen me before.” 

Having walked in right on cue at 2:59, Hyunjin made an irate sound that wasn’t unusual of a sassy Dance major such as himself. Dance majors. “Oh, he’s seen you, alright. He—”

The nearest pencil went flying towards his head, marking his pretty boy face.

“Ahh! Seriously?!” He rummaged through his bag. “I have practice after this!”

Having turned away before, Y/n examined both men curiously before clearing her desk space for class. “Well, it can’t be helped. I do spend a lot of time there, so you were bound to pick up on it subconsciously, I’m sure.”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.”

He and Hyunjin shared a glare.

She giggled, shaking her head. “Alright then! How about this: we’ll stop by the library, and then we can go to the cake shop from there. Sound good?”

He grinned from ear to ear; blissfully, simply, politely. But most importantly: in control. “Yeah, sounds good. Oh, and Y/n?”

The clock struck three, the professor walking in right on cue. As his voice took hold of the classroom atmosphere, the two lowered their heads, voices tumbling into whispers. “Yeah?” she asked. “What is it?”

Mature Bin held fast to his smile. “Hello.”

— ✔✘✔✘ —

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

[sunsetinmyvein]

The Radio Station - Chapter Six - Why Can’t We Be Friends?

26th of November, 2018

  Eventually, she saw it all unfold in the headlines. The lies. The heroin. The trip to rehab. It was devastating to discover the root cause of Matty’s behaviour in such a disconnected way from how she might’ve expected to discover it a few years ago. A part of her wanted to reach out, to check in and see if he was doing all right, offer to help, but she suspected after their last two interactions that maybe she was better off just leaving it. However, in contrast to the sinking feeling from knowing he had been going through such turmoil, it was incredibly uplifting to see him getting back on his feet. For him to be writing and releasing music again meant that he must’ve successfully made it to the other side. Whenever the announcement of a new album came, she waited in anticipation for the email confirming that he’d be coming back on the show. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was excited at the thought of seeing him again, or absolutely dreading the prospect of things still being uncomfortable between them - her emotions seemed to regularly flip flop between the two. It was awfully close to the album release date when she finally got the confirmation from her boss; she had begun to suspect maybe he didn’t want to come back on the show after how they’d left things. He’d have every right to resent her after how she’d treated him.

 She was knocked out of her thoughts whenever she heard a soft knock at the door, turning in her chair to see Matty standing outside with a sheepish smile, having arrived early. His hair was cropped quite a bit shorter than she’d seen it before but he was still sporting his natural curls. He was wearing some puffy yellow coat over a plain shirt, and stock standard worn out blue jeans. It was probably the most… average, that she’d ever seen him look (not that average was ever a truly fitting word to describe Matthew Healy). She waited for him to push the door open and come in, but he seemed to be waiting for her to let him in. As she stood up and opened the door, and he gingerly made his way inside and loitered next to her desk for a minute, she was suddenly vividly reminded of the first time she’d met him. All she could see was the nervous twenty-three-year-old that she’d met six years ago, who was scared shitless about his first proper radio interview. The nostalgia hit like a freight train, and before she could give it a second thought she grabbed him in a tight hug.

  He hugged her back, pressing his face into her shoulder as he let out the breath he had been holding. “I’m sorry…” She said quietly after a moment.

He gave an incredulous laugh at that, “You’re sorry? For what?” He asked. “I was the dickhead.”

“I just…” This hadn’t really been the way she expected herself to instantly react, nor had she thought of anything to say in this situation. Her mouth was running dry trying to come up with the right words to explain what she was feeling. “I wasn’t exactly a good friend.”  

“I think we were both a bit guilty of that.” He chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair, taking a step back.

“I should’ve tried harder.” She tried to explain, frowning at herself as she floundered for the right sentiment.

“It’s fine, truly.” He reassured her. “I wouldn’t have told you what was happening, anyway. Nobody knew.” He added with a shrug.

  They took their seats opposite the desk, both feeling slightly relieved but well aware there was still tension surrounding them. “Uh, is there anything you want me to avoid asking about?” She asked eventually, busying herself with checking the text line to avoid looking directly at him.

“No.” Matty replied instantly. “I’d prefer you ask what you want to rather than censor yourself for my benefit. I won’t answer it if it’s too much.” He clarified. “Thanks for checking, though.”

“Are you…” She hesitated, unsure of the boundaries of their friendship now and how much she should be asking for her own curiosity. “Are you all right now?” She asked as she looked across to him.

He cracked a small smile, “Considerably better. Probably not all the way there yet, though. It’s hard with my girlfriend back at home for the moment, but I’m managing. Keeping busy with other stuff to stay occupied.” He answered truthfully. She nodded in understanding. “And you? It’s been at least three years since we’ve had a proper conversation.” The realisation of how long it had actually been stung slightly, but she ignored that feeling and instead focused on the fact that he seemed to genuinely want to know how she’d been.

“Good.” She grinned. “Doing well on the morning slot now that it’s been a few years.”

“You’ve been making a bit of a reputation for yourself over here, I hear your name get kicked around a bit when I’m at home. It’s nice to see you getting proper recognition for your efforts.” She tried her best not to blush at the subtle compliment.

 Thankfully she didn’t have too long to dwell on his kind words and any connotations behind them before the interview started. The nervous butterflies sat at the pit of her stomach as she switched the live audio and video feeds over, lying in wait in case the interview still felt as awkward and forced as the last two.

“Matty, great to have you back.” She spoke, clearing her throat slightly.

“Great to be back after so long.” He said cheerfully.

“The 1975 release their new record in six days, A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships-”

“Only six days?” He muttered to himself in slight disbelief.  

“We’ve only got a relatively short interview today, because after this you are heading straight into the live lounge to play a few tracks for us.” He made a noise of agreement. “We’ve heard five singles off it, all of which sound very different from one another in true 1975 fashion.” Matty laughed lightly at that. “And I noticed that you did the same thing with this album as what you did with I Like it When You Sleep; the first single you released was the first track on the album. Is this becoming a habit for you guys?” She asked.

“Probably not a habit.” He started, letting out a huff. “It just felt like the most natural thing to do. Whether it felt like a primary statement or not, I’m not sure. We’d already made an album by that point, we hadn’t made a group of singles. I hadn’t been thinking ‘oh, how do we butter them up?’ Just thought… this is the first song on the record. Put it out.” He shrugged.

  “Do you think this is your strongest record so far?”

“A hundred percent.” He answered instantly.

“I’ve heard people comparing it to OK Computer. Saying that it’s a similar thing for the millennial generation.” She prompted.

He let out a groan, “I try not to think much about it.” He admitted. “I mean, what do I say? It’s so humbling and amazing, but strange also, because… the only realisation that I really came to, about the record – I think the reference to OK Computer is maybe it’s kind of, the narrative is incredibly twinned with how we communicate and the internet and all those kind of things. Which is obviously OK Computer in a nutshell. My favourite records are about life.” He said, clenching his fist for emphasis and knocking the microphone lightly. “It’s maybe a bit of a big thing to say, but I was just writing a record about relationships. Well… I wasn’t even doing that; I was just writing a record. And it turns out if you’re trying to write an honest record about relationships and how they’re mediated in the modern day, you’re kind of by proxy writing about the internet.” He explained. Things already felt more natural than what they had of late. Matty felt more open and responsive, which instantly put her mind at ease.

  “One of the other singles that we’ve heard from the album is Love It If We Made It, which is…” She tried to pick her words carefully to best capture her thoughts on the song succinctly, “a pretty powerful song to say the least.”

Matty nodded enthusiastically before answering, “The thing with Love It If We Made It… it was very, very difficult to write. It’s a list of information. The idea stemmed from the fact that over a year we collected tabloid newspapers every day to make the lyrics. Unfortunately, when we got to trying that, it was too slapstick. The song was hard to get right. It needed to be as objective and as fair and as anti… ‘watch out sheeple’ as possible. And that’s hard to do.”

“It seems you guys did a good job with it in the end. It’s been resonating well with our listeners.”

“Thanks.” Matty grinned proudly.  

“It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You has also had quite the response.” She added, hoping he’d have a bit to say about that, and that maybe it could work as a segue to the questions blowing up her screen in her peripheral vision.

“It’s… I don’t know…” He sighed, staring blankly at the wall behind her as he tried to formulate an answer. “The way I always explain it, it’s like it’s a song that sounds poppy but it’s about something serious. Which, okay, that’s straight up 1975. And that’s because the feeling that I get from music, narratively or musically, can kind of be the same thing. You know like being nervous or being like, er, anxious for a date, physically could be the same feeling as the fear of heights if you get rid of all the intellect. Emotionally, you get the same thing. I’ve always been like, I get this feeling when I read the lyrics of Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen but I get the same carnal feeling when I hear the music to Girls Just Want to Have Fun. So… the synthesis of those ideas has just been the most obvious thing in the world for me, you know what I mean?” He looked across to her for confirmation. “I think that idea really sums up The 1975. If you’re a big fan of The 1975, that’s the most 1975-iest song on the record.”

  She had hoped he would jump straight into the lyrical content of the song, but clearly she would need to segue into it herself. “That totally makes sense.” She agreed. “There’s been a bit of a debate about the subject matter of It’s Not Living.” She said, giving him a cautious glance. He’d said not to worry about asking whatever she wanted to, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like she was delving too deep into his private life.

He hummed thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure most of the fans know what it’s about.” He said with a dry laugh. “I’ve not like… done some big reveal of my relationship with drugs over the past couple of years. I think that because…” He stared down at the desk with a frown, “I used to have nightmares about being exposed. Because remember, my whole game has always been that ‘do I know that you know that I think that I’m a rock star?’ that’s always been my whole thing.” He said with a pointed look. “So, the idea though, of actually being known for being a junkie and doing those kinds of things, used to terrify me. Because then I’m a cliché. I lose all of my irony and lose all of my funniness because I’m an actual cliché. So, I think even when I’m talking about it on this record, I’m still going ‘Danny ran into some complications-’ it’s like I’m using characters. It’s a bit like somebody going ‘I’ve got this mate, right, and he’s got a bit of this weird rash-’ “ He chuckled. “Like ‘yeah, all right, well tell your mate-’ it’s like we know who you’re talking about. I think the idea that I’m still trying to hide and remove myself from it is part of the gag. But then the chorus is brutally honest. It’s difficult to write a song like that. It’s hard to despise the idea of fetishizing or romanticising drug use as a behaviour but then only having my truth. Like I don’t have anything else, I don’t have anywhere else to talk about it. There is a hopelessness to drug addiction. You don’t keep doing it because it’s cool, you keep doing it because you feel like there’s no life without it.” His expression seemed to become quite sombre at that before he continued his train of thought. “And to express that… it wasn’t like a relief for me. The music is a catharsis for me, but it wasn’t like I needed to get that out. Unfortunately, I’m only my set of experiences, and they’re pretty limited as somebody who’s been on the road for four years trying to mediate his life through drug addiction, y’know? So yeah… it’s difficult to walk that line. Um… But I just had to make sure that… like with most of my work, any discussion of my behaviour is normally with a profound distaste. And kids are smart, man.”

  She hadn’t really expected him to be so open about it so readily. “What started it?” She asked instinctually, almost forgetting for a moment that she was at work and meant to be providing entertainment. “If you don’t mind me asking.” She added as an afterthought.

He waved a hand dismissively at her worry. “I’d be on stage, and there would be however many thousands of people. And I’m genuinely trying to connect with people, you know? And then it’s done. Go back to the hotel room. Go to sleep. Like… what?” He answered with a frustrated huff. “I was trying to change culture in my head ten minutes ago and now I’ve gotta go to sleep? I used drugs to go to sleep primarily. I’ve never had a good relationship with sleep, anyway… I’ve always been jealous of people they’ll tell me about a dream and they’ll kind of like explain this little kind of film that they’ve been that has a dynamic of emotions and it was up and it was down and my dreams are just like terror. Just fear. I’ve never had that many good dreams. And drugs stop you dreaming. But then obviously… you have solutions to get rid of that post-show buzz. Didn’t really get me anywhere. Spoilt it, as well. Did way too much. Did loads of it.” He admitted. “So, I can’t do anymore of it… when I’m older.” He laughed.

  “So, you became reliant on that as a comedown?” She questioned.

“It was always gonna happen with me with opiates.” He said bluntly. “I only say this in case people relate to it, but like, when I was younger, I kind of used to dream about being sedated. And unfortunately, sex, drugs, other things, religion, I’ve loved all these things in my life but they’ve never just-” He clicked his fingers, “turned it off. And unfortunately, when I tried those drugs, I – temporarily, for a moment – had that. And I was like, right, this is gonna help. And erm,” He picked at his nail anxiously. “It just takes your shine off, slows you down. Makes you lie, which is a nightmare for somebody who is so Mr Tell The Truth.”

“The lies are what got you caught?”

He made a noise of contemplation. “The problem is… I’m very, very lucky, is what I am. And I have an infrastructure around me of like… we’ve been a band since we were fourteen, I’m twenty-nine, right.” He said with a pointed look in her direction. “We’re like brothers, we love each other. I have amazing opportunities like this,” He gestured around the studio, “I have my health, I have all these things. There’s not a lot of people around me who allow stuff like… hard drug use. And that’s really annoying when you’re a drug addict. But it also makes you reflect, you know what I mean? Because you just end up lying, and being a version of yourself that- but that’s part of the sickness. You incentivise things weirdly.” He explained with a shrug.

  “And the rehab centre you went to was in Barbados?” She asked. He nodded in response. “I heard that the band paid for that?”

His expression visibly softened when she brought that up. “Yeah. I think the nice story was that uh… Obviously, I’m in a fortunate place in my career that - obviously I have to think about those kind of financial things - but before I went I was kind of thinking ‘I’ll sort that out when I’m out there’ and then I remember saying to Jamie ‘oh-‘ and he was like ‘aw nah, nah, it’s all sorted’ and I was like ‘Oh, how much did it - what was it?’ and he was like ‘oh, well we just did it out the band’ and I was like ‘oh really??’ “ He seemed visibly touched by this story, even retelling it now.

“That was pretty amazing of them to do.”

“Yeah… Yeah, it was.” He muttered, still clearly caught up in his own thoughts. “And you know what, if you want a band to last forever, share.” He added simply.

  “And this place you went to, supposedly they do a bunch of stuff with horses?” She asked in confusion. When she had heard this information, she was almost certain she had gotten her wires crossed, but Matty was already confirming what she had said.

“Equine therapy, yeah! It was, basically…” He started trying to explain, before cracking a smile and looking across to her. “In reality what it was, for the first two or three days was me stood in a field rolling my eyes next to a horse.” He said with a laugh. “That’s what it was really. This guy put me in a field with a horse and was like ‘talk to the horse’ so I’m like” He gave a sarcastic look, “ ‘…all right?’ So, he leaves me alone and I’m like ‘hey man’ and the horse obviously didn’t say anything.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “And then he put me in the round pen, right. He put me in this pen which was just round – was a good explanation of it.” He reprimanded himself with a snort. “And I stood in the middle, and basically he said ‘I want you to walk towards the horse. It’s gonna send the horse around in a loop, and I want you to assert your position. You’re not going to get the horse. You’re just telling the horse that this is where you’re going’. All this stuff. So, I do it. And he goes ‘you’ll notice three things, at one point the horse will dip its head, then it’ll bow its ear to you, then it’ll start biting its lips. Once it’s done these three things, I want you to turn your back and drop the rope.’ So, I’m like right, lips, thing, do this, yep. And the horse is running, the horse is running, I watched for these three cues, and I dropped the rope and I turned round. The horse stopped dead.” He clapped his hands together for emphasis, staring at her seriously.

  “I swear to you, it was one of the most profound moments of my life. The horse stopped dead, came over to me and stood behind me – and this is a horse that for three days had mugged me off. And I was… stood there with this horse, that now… wanted to be with me?” He seemed entirely perplexed by this. “Then when I walked it wouldn’t cross my feet,” He gestured to his feet as he said this, knocking his microphone in the process. “Sorry, I keep hitting the microphone. Way too gesticulated today. Erm, when I went into the field and hung out with it, it wanted to be with me. And then I stood there and was like ‘Ah… Right…’ Then all of these profound things… It was so…” He tried his best to find the words. “It ate everything it needed to eat, and didn’t complain about it, and didn’t eat too much of it, and ate the right stuff. It had the ability to destroy anything it wanted, but the desire to hurt nothing. It was physically perfect and strong. It was forgiving with its time with me. And it was kind of compassionate in a way, ‘cause he’s a horse, he doesn’t want me there, he just wants to be a horse. But he let me be there.” It was abundantly clear how much of an impact this experience had on Matty. He spoke about it so passionately that it was hard not to feel moved by what he was saying. “I found myself envying all of these human qualities in a horse. And I think that was the point of it…” He said with a look of finality. “At least, I hope that was the point of it. Otherwise I’ve screwed it up and learned nothing.” He laughed loudly. “But it worked for me.”

  “How are you finding it? Being off the drugs?” She asked, leaning back in her seat after having been leant forward in interest for the last few minutes as he told his story.

He pulled a face as he tried to answer that in a manner suitable for a mass radio audience. “I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m this ‘beacon of sobriety’ “ He punctuated that with air quotes, “that’s kind of, telling you how it is to be an ex addict. I don’t know.” He answered sincerely. “I’ve not gone long enough. I’m not gonna start talking about ‘I haven’t done drugs in five years - ten years’ it was only a few months ago. I was still doing loads of them.” He said as he scratched at his neck.

“Is it harder now without them?”

“I don’t sleep as good as I used to with it, but I’m getting by.” He replied with a nod. “I’m all right with sleeping now. The band and my girlfriend have been really supportive and helpful. I’m doing all the things now that I used to do when I took drugs all the time. So, I’ve just made a record without doing it all the time,” He ticked that off on a finger, “so that was an experience, that was a challenge. I’ve now started touring without doing it all the time,” He ticked that off as well, “that’s an experience, that’s a challenge. I’m now about to start getting on planes all the time and touring internationally,” He added that to the list, “that’ll be a challenge. But you’ve just gotta take it day by day as the cliché says, or you’ll freak yourself out.”

  “You talk about drugs pretty freely in your music, but you don’t really speak about it in interviews, was that to try and stay… disconnected from it to some degree? Did you think it was going to get as bad as it did?” She asked. She had entirely tuned out of the fan questions being sent in now, asking these questions almost purely from her own curiosity to know what had happened to the Matty she knew.

“No, no, no… I didn’t. I mean, I think the thing that I think I always have confidence in is that because I’ve – regardless of if it’s drugs or relationships - the main thing I’ve done with The 1975 is spoken about myself with kind of quite a profound disdain.” He answered. “There’s not really been a celebration of the behaviour. I think that if I was ever romanticising or fetishizing the use of drugs, I think I’d catch myself doing it. And if I ever have done that in a lyric, it will be immediately met with a lyric that shows that one up to be ironic or flawed.” He elaborated. That made sense. Most of his songs did reflect that attitude. “I’ve just had to be honest. Religion allows you to kind of give something away, sex, exactly the same thing. They’re just ways of giving up some kind of responsibility in the moment. But by that point I’d done ‘em all!” He grinned, still trying to keep the mood light despite the heavy topic. “Drugs was the only one left.”

  She stared at him for a moment, just taking in all of the information he’d given her in such a short timeframe. It was a lot to process all at once, but it made a lot of the pieces click into place and answered a lot of questions that had kept her up at night when they had lost contact. Eventually she clocked back into reality, seeing that he was watching her just as intently as she had been watching him while he had divulged some of the most intimate aspects of his life.

“So, to a lighter note-” She segued.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind talking about it.” He said with a chuckle.

She smiled back at him, “I’m sure our listeners have enjoyed hearing it all in such great detail. But, there are some other big events that have been happening in your life as well that we haven’t brought up.” She said.

“Oh?”

“The 1975 will be headlining Reading and Leeds next year.”

“Yes!” He beamed. “It’s our first big headline festival. It gets me proper emotional. We didn’t just go as kids, after I got to thirteen, Christmas took a back seat and the date on my calendar was Reading and Leeds. I went one year with a tenner and no tent. I mean, I’ve had some moments there. It’ll definitely be a very humble show. All of this ego and confidence here will be gone.” He scoffed, “ ‘Honestly guys, thanks so much for coming.’ ” He said in a feigned blubbering emotional voice, before giggling at himself. “But like, we’ve just become a really good band in my opinion. I think we could headline Reading and Leeds tomorrow if you asked us to.”

  “Are you particularly excited to have content off the new album to perform there?”

“Definitely. There are some songs on there that will be added into the festival setlists. It was about creating a distillation of what preceded it. Everything needed to be better, more extreme. Poppy bits poppier, heavy bits heavier, honest bits more honest.” He explained with a nod. “You can look at your work and be like ‘what did I do there that someone likes’ or ‘let’s try and do that piano thing’. Me, when I’m like, really personal, really honest, that’s when I get the best reaction. So, I just tend to do that. Like what’s gonna make me, y’know-“ He started pretending to tear up for emphasis.

“And you guys are already working on the next album, Notes on a Conditional Form? This one’s not even out yet!”

He just laughed. “We went away and what happened was, we finished A Brief Inquiry, kind of had a week off and then we started with Notes. I’m just letting it happen.” He shrugged. “I’m letting it happen in the next six months. It’ll be before…” He seemed to be doing some calculations in his head. “August. It has to be in time for Reading and Leeds.” He added decisively.

  Glancing down at the clock on the screen next to her, she could see that they had in fact gone over time. “Well, as always Matty, it’s been lovely having you on the show, but I think we have to wrap it up so you can scoot over to the live lounge and get yourself set up.” She said with a small sigh, disappointed that the interview had to end after how well it had been going. Matty had felt entirely captivating as he spoke today, clearly on his game.

“God, this’ll be the first time we’ve played together in… ages.” He said as he pulled a hand through his hair and leaned back into his chair. “And we’ve not played these songs live yet, either. This will be the debut.”

“Incredibly exciting.” She nodded. “So, I’ll let you go. Tune in folks in half an hour, The 1975 will be playing a short set for us of songs from their new album, A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships, in the live lounge.” She spoke into the microphone, before rounding out the interview.

  Matty didn’t move from his chair across from her as she switched the camera feed off and switched over to the next round of tracks.

“Are you coming?” He asked as soon as she took her headset off. “To the live lounge?” He clarified.

Her shift was meant to end in just over twenty minutes, and they started in thirty. She could probably finish up quickly enough to make it down there in time. “Yeah, I can do that.” She said with a nod.

He grinned eagerly, “It’ll be wicked to have you there for it.”

“It’s probably about time I saw you guys play.” She laughed as he stood up.

“I’ll see you shortly.” He said over his shoulder as he made his way out of the studio.

  * * *

 By the time she made her way down to the live lounge quite a crowd had already formed. Her handover between shifts had been fairly rushed in an attempt to get out of there quickly, but obviously The 1975 knew how to draw an audience. She managed to squeeze her way through a few crew members to get a decent enough viewing point. Whenever she caught Matty’s gaze, he waved at her excitedly. She waved back, suddenly feeling a bout of nerves at the thought of finally watching him in action. Once the cameras were set up and all of the equipment had done one final round of checks, they launched into quite a boppy first song. She recognised this instantly as Tootime, as it had been her favourite of the singles that were released. He sounded a bit rusty and raw, which thankfully he could cover with the filter over his voice, but his enthusiasm to be performing again was unmistakable. The looks he was throwing to his band were nothing short of ecstatic, and despite being out of practice they played the song flawlessly. They finished up the first song, and he shrugged off his yellow jacket as they changed their gear over for the next two. Their little live set was only three songs long in the end, but they felt It’s Not Living and Sincerity Is Scary were excellent choices to best get across the vibe of the new album. After seeing what they could do in a tiny room with minimal fanfare, she was suddenly kicking herself for never getting out to one of their live shows.

  When they had wrapped up the set, Matty started packing away his gear before seeing her starting to leave. He quickly dropped what he was doing and called out to her to wait up. She turned to face him, as he suddenly realised that he hadn’t worked out what to actually say. “Look, I’m sorry about… how I’ve been lately.” He eventually settled on.

“It’s okay, you were going through a rough time.” She reassured him.

“I was,” He nodded, “but it’s not really an excuse.” He added with a sigh. “Can I take you out to lunch after this? To apologise properly.” He asked with a hopeful look.

“You don’t have to-” She started, before he interrupted.

“I know I don’t have to - I want to.” He corrected. She considered this offer for a moment. “Please?”

“Sure.” She nodded, trying to conceal her smile. “That’d be nice.”

  She waited patiently as he packed up his gear, feeling slightly awkward for loitering around a studio that wasn’t hers while she watched everyone else clear out. Once everything seemed fairly put away, he exchanged a quiet word with the band and walked over to where she was standing.

“Any preferences for where we eat? It’s your apology lunch, after all.” He said as he slipped his jacket back on.

She grimaced at his choice of words. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why?” He laughed.

“It makes me feel worse than I already do.”

“Suppose we’ll just feel bad together, then.” He said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ushered her back out of the building. She couldn’t deny, it felt nice to be seeing Matty act more like he had when they’d first met. Whether that was because she enjoyed the attention or because it was nice to see her friend feeling more himself was up for debate.

  Due to neither of them being the one to want to make the call about where to eat, for fear of the other not enjoying it, they ended up going to the only place that served food within their direct eyeline – a bakery. It made her feel less like she was taking advantage too for him to only have to pay for pastries and coffee, not a proper fancy meal with drinks. They caught each other up on the fine points of their lives that they’d missed out on hearing over the last few years: highlights in careers, people who’d come and gone, other artists they’d met that had proved to be noteworthy (for good reasons and bad). It was incredibly reassuring for the both of them to know that conversation still flowed easily enough between them when they weren’t actively disliking each other.

“Sorry if the interview was a bit… too personal. We didn’t really talk about the record all that much, in the end.” She said, thinking back to how long they’d spent discussing his drug habits rather than his impending album release.

“Stop apologising.” He said around a mouthful of food. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying sorry. And I’m sure the fans would’ve liked it.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to force stuff out of you for the sake of entertainment.”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t want to.” He reminded her.

  He waited a beat, composing what he had originally wanted to say today before clearing his throat. “I really am sorry, you know. For how I left things.” He said as he stared down into his mug of tea.

“It’s genuinely okay, Matty.” She reassured him. “I wasn’t really any better.” She added under her breath.

“I was just a bit oblivious and hopeful when I fucked stuff up initially. I wanted to act like I hadn’t dropped off your radar for two years.” He admitted as he scratched at the side of his head. “If I’m honest, I was reaching out to get some support from an old mate in a time when I felt pretty overwhelmed by everything that was happening. But I went about it in all the wrong ways and just made it a whole lot worse.” He clarified with a dry laugh. As if she hadn’t already felt bad enough, now he tells her that she’d shut him out when he had been trying to ask for help? The guilt increased tenfold.

“Sorry.” She said. He was about to tell her off again for apologising, but she cut him off. “I was already pretty shitty that I hadn’t seen you in so long, so I was pretty quick to want to end that interaction when things started getting… difficult.” She explained.

  “Guess you live and learn, huh?” He said with a small smile. “At least we’re still mates now.” Hearing him say that helped ease a bit of her worry that she’d done as much to fuck things up as he had. At least now that it was all out in the open, they could move past it.

“Yeah.” She concurred, returning his smile. They finished up the pastries that Matty had bought before stepping out of the bakery. Both of them felt like a weight had been lifted now that they knew they hadn’t screwed stuff up for good between them. Having each said their piece, they were pretty confident that they could give friendship another shot.

“It was great to see you.” He said as he pulled her in for a hug tight enough that it almost made her lose her breath.

“Next time we’ll have to make sure it’s not so long.” She said as he moved back from the hug.

“We’ll keep in touch.” He agreed with a nod. “And I mean it this time.”

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