#I hope that your day goes as wonderful as you are

[goodlucktai]

WAIT WAIT WAIT ok im sorry you can ignore this ask and the other ask too BUT I've been on a baby casey & f!leo fatherson kick brainrot lately and I just think prompt 27 would be heatbreaking and wonderful all at once, ok but fr love you big fan 💕🫂

dialogue prompts

27. “Breathe... breathe. Look at the stars, kid.”

it's @soldrawss birthday and i JUST found out because apparently i am a huge joke to her /j

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOL i hope your day was lovely and that you enjoy this small offering

x

They’re barely home for an hour when Casey’s breath catches in his throat. 

It’s sudden enough that he chokes mid-word and starts to cough, his body trying to clear its airway except that there isn’t any blockage there to dislodge. When he finally manages to suck in a breath that fills his lungs halfway, it rattles in with an audible reedy wheeze. 

Maybe no one noticed, he thinks hysterically, and lifts his eyes to find his entire not-family staring at him from their various positions around the room. 

“You good?” Mikey says, wrapped hands already up like he was ready to make the save if Casey keeled over. 

“Fine,” he says, or tries to. It comes out sounding so hoarse that he might as well have just opened his mouth and croaked at him like a mutant bullfrog. 

Mikey’s brow furrows beneath his dirtied orange mask and he whips around to look to his big brothers for guidance, the way he never really grew out of doing, even after the end of the world. 

Leo is already moving, pushing himself upright off the cot that Raph just set him down on. He waves the instant chorus of “Leo, I swear to god”s away and limps over to where Casey had stationed himself by the handwash sink. He starts to limp over, anyway, and one of his legs folds beneath him immediately, and he would have eaten concrete if it weren’t for all the hands that shot out from all sides to catch him. 

There are still hands to catch him here. It’s nice. 

The tightness in Casey’s chest is unbearable now that he’s given it a second of attention. What he mistook for anxiety and adrenaline was maybe not entirely that, after all. He’s usually better about catching the warning signs—if he’d run the system update that’s been haunting the corner of his HUD for the last week like he should have done, the program designed specifically to monitor his asthma symptoms would have thrown up its own red flag by now. Multiple flags in multiple colors, even, impossible to ignore and more annoying by the second until Casey admitted defeat and took himself to the medbay. 

As long as the update is queued, taking up memory, there’s a ghost in the CPU. As long as there’s a ghost, his family still exists somewhere. They’re not gone, they came here with him. They’re alive and the world didn’t end and Casey can breathe. 

Later, he’ll feel really stupid about this. Later, he’ll hate the way he snatched up Leo’s hands the second they moved into his line of sight and clung to him like a scared little kid. 

But right now he is that scared little kid. 

“Hey, Space-Case,” not-sensei says with sensei’s crooked smile. He almost definitely has a broken cheekbone, and two black eyes, and he’s smiling like he doesn’t feel any of it. “Sounds like you’ve been holding out on us. Slow and steady, life’s not a race unless you make it one.” 

Casey knows what it sounds like when Leo is worried, can hear the upset under the polished glass surface of calm. It shouldn't be comforting to know that, but it’s comforting to know him. He ekes in a breath, it scratches all the way down and it doesn’t feel like it makes a difference, but the success emboldens him to suck down another. 

“You were breathy on the ride home, I thought it must have been from all the smoke,” Leo goes on. “But I guess that was a trigger. Do you have an inhaler?”

“Y–” Casey starts to say, and coughs again, and Leo’s fingers tighten around his before he can panic. “Belt,” he gasps. 

“Okay, that’s enough from you,” Leo says a little shortly. Which isn’t very fair, Casey was just answering his question. Then he realizes Leo’s clipped tone is probably because Casey’s dizziness is overpowering his ability to stand upright.

“Going down,” Leo says to someone else, and instantly, Casey’s controlled fall is arrested halfway to the floor. 

The last time Uncle Rapha held him, he was much smaller and Raph was much bigger, but somehow it feels the same. He leans back in Raph’s lap, the solid plastron behind him bracing him upright, and clumsily tries to help Leo paw through the pouches on his belt. The third time Leo bats Casey’s hands away, Raph reaches around and holds them still. 

“Let’s let the boss work,” Raph rumbles softly. It’s a miracle that he has any softness to spare for Casey, of all people, who closed the door and left his brother behind it. Left his brother in the dark where the monsters live. “We’re still breathing, right, big man?”

“R—Right,” Casey says, but it’s barely got enough air behind it to count. 

“No inhaler,” Leo announces, already turning to address someone else in the room. “Donnie, metal cabinet by the door, third drawer down, should be one in there.” Turning back, he leans in and pins Casey to the spot with a look. “Keep breathing, Case,” he says. “That’s your only job. Don’t slack off now.”

“Why do we have one?” Mikey asks in a voice that shakes. Casey manages to split enough of his attention to regret scaring him. 

“Red used to have asthma when you were all just little turtles,” Splinter says quietly. “He outgrew it, but Blue always says—”

“It’s chronic, not curable,” Leo says in a falsely bright tone, the cadence of an ancient argument. He catches the box his twin throws over and wastes no time ripping it open and shaking the inhaler into his palm. Within seconds, it’s primed, and Leo is curling one hand behind Casey’s head and bringing the mouthpiece to his lips and ordering, “Deep breath.” 

He obeys, feeling the medicine go to work, and holds without exhaling for as long as he can. It’s not long, barely five seconds. Leo shakes the canister and has it ready for him again when he’s ready to suck in another desperate puff. 

“Okay,” Leo says, studying his face with back and forth flicks of bright gold eyes. “You’re okay, Casey. Breathe.” 

“Breathe… breathe,” sensei says, large fingers combing Casey’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. His hand is calloused from the hilt of his sword, rough with scars that didn’t heal well, and gentle. 

“Look at the stars, kid,” he adds, their family’s little joke. There hadn’t been a clear night since the war started, the skies overcast with smoke and ash and pollution from the Technodromes, but every single room Casey had ever lived in had glow-in-the-dark constellations on the ceiling. 

“Look at the stars,” sensei says. 

There aren’t any, Casey wants to cry, maybe would if he had the breath to. There aren’t any anymore. 

Instead he inhales and exhales, carefully, counting each second in his head. The tension seeps out of the room like water through a sieve. Splinter is talking about hot drinks, April is talking about calling her mom. Four bright lights stay sat, a constellation that Casey is somehow in the middle of. 

“I haven’t had an attack in years,” Raph murmurs. He’s rocking Casey very slowly and doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it. “Since I was—six or seven, maybe. You kept one this whole time?”

“Correction, the medication expires, so he has consistently replaced one this whole time,” Donnie says, and sways disinterestedly with the force behind Leo’s disgruntled shove of his shoulder. 

“Oh,” Raph says. “But why?” he asks a moment later. 

“So I could say I told you so when you ended up needing it,” Leo replies disingenuously. 

Casey could say that sensei carried an inhaler in his kit every time he went into the field. Even after Uncle Raph died, he stayed in the habit. It saved Casey’s life once, the day they discovered he had asthma in the worst possible way. Sensei didn’t say I told you so to anyone. That was never the point.

“He loves you,” Casey says. “That’s why.”

For a moment, none of them speak. Then Mikey’s smile fills the room like stubborn sunshine finally breaking through rain clouds. Donnie says, “Intelligent beyond your years. I understand now why Future Me kept you around.” Leo seems to be considering the pros and cons of sinking into his shell and never coming out again, hunched small and embarrassed beside his big brother.

Casey can’t see Raph’s expression, but he can imagine what it looks like. He knows the feeling.

Casey was loved by Leo once, too.

[419jhat]

Not Just Friends

Summary: Eddie flirts with Steve constantly, and Steve flirts back. The lines start to blur, and Eddie gets all in his head about it, until he sees Steve with another guy and realizes that their weird little game was never that special at all. Or...maybe Steve's just a dumbass.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,230

***

“Family Video, this is Steve.”

“Hey, hot stuff, wanna make a big mistake?” Eddie asks.  

“You sure it wouldn't be a small mistake?” Steve shoots back with zero hesitation.

“What- I'll have you know, it would be a very big mistake, Harrington. Extra large, ok? Ok maybe not extra large but definitely large,” Eddie insists.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, “did you call me this morning for a specific reason or are you awake with the sun for once on accident?”

Eddie clears his throat. He’ll never get over how easily Steve accepts the flirting. It makes him wonder what's going on in that pretty little head. Did he think Eddie was joking? Did he secretly like it?

“Do you want a movie or something? I'm free tonight,” Eddie asks, fiddling with the phone cord.

“What makes you think I'm free tonight?”

“The fact that you're never doing anything?” 

“Jesus, Munson. Or something.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“I work at a movie store. I watch movies all day. No movies. I want the something.”

“It's a date,” Eddie dares to say.

“Whatever you say,” Steve says. Eddie can hear the smile in his voice just before the line goes dead. He feels a little accomplished, even if all he did was invite the guy over. Something he did every week at this point. But hey, this was progress, right?

He turns to look at the clutter in his bedroom and recalls the expression in Steve's face when he saw how dirty his old mattress was. 

He starts cleaning.

About an hour later, when he's been thoroughly sidetracked with reorganizing the miniatures on his dresser, he hears a knock at the door. He flings the bedsheet into something nicer than the crumpled mess it had been and rushed to the door.

“Welcome to my humble abode, your highness,” he says with as he opens the door. Steve's fanning his shirt, sweat dripping down his forehead, but still waits patiently for Eddie to get out of the way like the perfect little houseguest. When he does, Steve beelines straight for Eddie's bedroom. He strips his shirt off and collapses on the bed under the window AC, basking in the cool air.

“Damn, Harrington, I see how it is,” Eddie says, then he squeaks when Steve balls up his shirt and tosses it at his head.

“Can’t you buy me dinner first? I'm feeling used,” Eddie jokes.

Steve pats the bed next to him.  “Lay down next to me.”

Eddie listens, because he's a hopeless fool. He leaves some room between them, since he's already been coming on kind of strong today and doesn't want to scare Steve off for real. But then Steve closes the gap and rests his head on Eddie's chest.

He says something. Eddie's not sure what it is because he's too busy trying not to do something stupid like pulls steve on top of him and squeeze him as tight as he can.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, when he realizes Steve is silent again.

“I said, do you want to turn on the radio?”

“Oh! Why didn't you say so?” Eddie asks with a nervous chuckle.

“I did,” Steve says.

Eddie balances on his elbow and awkwardly stretches to reach the radio without jostling Steve's head. He's starting to form a cramp in his wrist from twisting it all wrong just to reach the thing when the weight on his chest lifts and suddenly, a shirtless Steve Harrington has one arm braced by Eddie's head and the other reaching across him.

Eddie stares at the hair on his chest, the dusty nipples right within reach of his mouth, the little moles dotting across his skin, tanned from whatever it was he willingly did outside in the summer heat all day.

“Got it,” Steve says, and suddenly Madonna’s singing in the background.

“You changed the channel,” Eddie complains distractedly. His palms are sweaty. He's hoping and praying that Steve won't look at his face and see whatever expression he's making because just knows it's going to be embarrassing. And apparently the man upstairs is on his side because Steve just lowers himself right there, right onto Eddie's chest. 

“Your heart is racing,” he says.

Eddie can feel it, just like he can feel the rise and fall of Steve's chest with every breath, and the way his fingers curl around the hem of Eddie's t-shirt.

“Because you're so heavy,” Eddie scolds lightly, using the opportunity to touch the bare skin on Steve's back. He lets his hands linger there, and then decides to take a bigger risk and indulges a little, running his hand down his spine and then back up again to the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It's gotten a little long. He wonders if Steve's planning on growing it out as he plays with it.

“You know, people make fun of her, but Madonna is actually really talented. Did you see her new music video on MTV? She really knows how to stick it to the conservatives,” Eddie rambles. He's not sure why he's saying it. He respects Madonna, but he's more nervous of Steve realizing how weirdly intimate this position is and punching him in retaliation, or something.

“Yeah?” Steve asks. Eddie can feel his mouth moving against him as he speaks. And then, just because Steve is for some reason compelled by the universe to drive Eddie insane, he says, “I bet you could do better.”

Eddie tries not to scream.

~.~.~

Steve calls him next time. Doesn't even introduce himself, like he knows that the mere sound of his voice commands Eddie to do his bidding.

“Hey, man. Want me to pick you up after work?”

Eddie's never been one to need a plan to agree to something, but obviously he's going to say yes. Steve could invite him to sit in the ocean as the tide went up and he'd be perfectly fine doing it. 

“Sure,” he says casually. He tries to think of what else to say, but before he can, Steve's already hung up.

Eddie got a new job through Wayne's buddy at the local parks and rec center, cleaning up and maintaining their public spaces. It's outside, which practically burns his soul through the mandatory jumper he has to wear in the summer heat, but he likes that people leave him alone. The town still doesn't trust him, but he puts up with it for Wayne and the kids.

And Steve.

He stands outside and waits next to the tiny building his boss does all the paperwork in, blocking the sun from his face with his hand until he sees that familiar BMW rolling towards him.

“Did you have a good day?” Steve asks, because he's genuinely nice like that.

“Eh,” Eddie says as he climbs into the passenger seat, “I had to wash vomit off a slide from a kid's birthday party. I've had better.”

Steve's nose wrinkles with sympathy. He's got the windows down, probably because it's hot as balls outside, but it's whipping his hair all over the place. Eddie wants to reach over and fix it, but he's not so sure Steve would like that. He's so distracted by it all that he doesn't even notice they're pulling to a stop on the road that backs up to the quarry.

“What's going on?” Eddie asks.

Steve smiles wickedly.

“Wanna smoke?” he asks.

“Oh?” Eddie says, lifting an eyebrow. He didn't expect that. Especially since it's his weed Steve's asking to smoke.

“You asking or offering, Harrington?”

“Both,” he says coyly, pulling a spare joint from his box of cigarettes. It's one Eddie gave him a few days earlier. He lights up and passes it over, his hand hovering in the short space between them. Eddie stares, thinking about how Steve's lips were just on the end of it, and now his lips are going to be too. It's kind of like a kiss, in a way. The idea makes him blush.

“So…is this how you treat all the girls, big boy?” Eddie teases.

“What?” Steve asks. He doesn't sound angry, so Eddie keeps pushing. 

“A secluded parking spot in the woods at dusk, some weed, windows down. All we're missing is a little music and it could make a guy fall in love,” Eddie says, holding a hand to his heart.

Steve turns the keys in the ignition, bringing the radio and AC back to life.

“One can only dream,” Steve says with a wink that has no business being as smooth as it is.

And God, how Eddie can dream. He wonders yet again, if Steve is really this oblivious to their little game. 

Steve turns the car back off and runs a hand through his hair like he does when he's thinking hard about something. Eddie can only hope it's that he's suddenly realizing that he's into men. He takes the joint, willing himself to stop thinking of foolish things. 

With the car off, and it's starting to get disgustingly warm, so he focuses on that instead. Focuses so much on it that he ends up peeling the top half of his jumper off revealing an old ripped Metallica shirt.

“I'm sorry we couldn't save your guitar,” Steve says suddenly. 

“Hmm?” Eddie asks. He meets Steve's eyes in the rearview mirror. Steve's staring at his shirt. “Oh, it's ok. I mean, it isn't, actually. I'll miss that thing until the end of time. But that's kind of the point, right? I can miss it because you guys saved my life, so, it's fine.”

He's rambling, because it feels ungrateful to feel sad about the loss of his guitar. His baby. His one and only. 

Steve places a comforting hand just above his knee. It's warm, and weirdly intimate enough that it shakes Eddie out of his mournful thoughts.

“It's ok to be sad, man. You were pretty cool with that thing,” he says.

Eddie can't process Steve Harrington telling him he looked cool and touching his thigh at the same time. It's simply too much for him to handle. He takes another hit, keeping his mouth too busy to say something embarrassing. 

“I never got to see you perform. I mean, I saw a bit of your show in the upside down, but nothing else,” Steve says.

“I can play something for you sometime,” Eddie says, before he can think it through.

“You'd do that for me?” Steve asks. Which is a stupid question. Eddie would obviously do anything for Steve.

His hand is still on Eddie's thigh. Guys don't usually do that, do they? Was Steve flirting with him for once? Without provocation?

“Yeah, I've got another guitar. It's an acoustic, but it does the job.”

Steve's quiet for a moment. Long enough that Eddie focuses back on his fingers slowly tapping his knees, like he's thinking something through.

“You want to go swimming?” Steve asks.

“... really?” Eddie asks, surprised that Steve would even want to after everything that happened with the upside down. Steve seems to understand, because his expression softens and then he shrugs. 

“I think it would be easier if someone went with me,” he says softly.

It occurs to Eddie that this must have been Steve's plan the whole time, and maybe the weed and talk of guitars was just a distraction. It's honest and vulnerable enough that it makes him feel a little honored that he held Steve’s trust. He can't say no to that, so he agrees before he can even ask about swimsuits. 

Steve releases his knee and climbs out of the car, walking toward the Quarry with a look over his shoulder to check if Eddie's following. Eddie wipes the sweat from his brow and looks up just in time to see Steve removing his shirt. 

He can't look away, and that's how he gets the shock of his life when Steve removes his jeans too.

“Oh- uh,” Eddie stutters.

Then, off goes the underwear and Eddie's got an eye full of a round, tan, Harrington ass. 

At this point, the sun is setting and Eddie doubts anyone could see them in any amount of detail. But he doesn't know what to do with a naked hot dude right in front of him. Does he touch? He wants to touch. But Steve is confusing, and touching might not go well. Instead of standing around like a lovesick dumbass, Eddie wolf whistles and dramatically fans his face.

“Well, I'll be damned, Harrington. Maybe you're the extra large between the two of us!” he says, even though he can't actually see Steve's dick with him turned around. Steve completely ignores him.

“Come on!” he says, rushing toward the shoreline. Eddie quickly decides that he likes Steve enough to get naked with him, even if it's not in a sexy way. He kicks off his boots and leaps toward the water with a shout.

~.~.~

Steve’s got his head resting in the spot between Eddie's thigh and hip bone, competing for space next to his guitar as Eddie plucks away songs he knows he'd recognize.

“You're so talented,” Steve says, for the millionth time that night. He's repeating it over and over, pushing Eddie's ego sky high. 

“I just play what I hear,” he says humbly.

“I can't even sing what I hear,” Steve says with a little laugh. He's got his legs hanging over the edge of the couch, feet tapping along to the best as Eddie plays.

“It's not that hard. I can show you, if you want,” Eddie says.

Steve looks up at him through his hair. “Really?”

“Get up, buttercup, and I'll give you a short lesson,” Eddie says.

Steve lifts himself away from Eddie and sits up on the couch, shoving Wayne's favorite pillow into the floor. Eddie decides the pillow can survive the disrespect and shoves the only remaining shard of his shattered musical soul into Steve's arms. Steve holds onto it like it's made of glass, which is a good first step in Eddie's opinion.

Eddie moves Steve's fingers into the correct position to play Yesterday, which is kind of setting a beginner up for failure with the bar chords. 

“Move your other hand like this,” Eddie said, mimicking the strumming motion. Steve tries and fails. Eddie grabs his hand and tries to help, but he still doesn't get it. His brows are furrowed cutely as he focuses hard on the strings like they'll make it all work out for him.

“Let me show you,” Eddie says, pulling Steve so his back is pressed against Eddie's chest. He wraps his arms around him, pretending that being this close doesn't make him want to kiss the top of his shoulder and bear hug him until they fall asleep. He laces his fingers through Steve's, helping him feel exactly where to go.

“Your fingers go here, and your other hand moves like this,” he says over Steve's shoulder.

It's impractical and isn't teaching Steve anything. He just likes the feeling of Steve against him, the way he accepts Eddie's hands against his without any weird looks. Eddie hums the lyrics, a bit unable to stop himself because the song is a classic, until Steve lifts their hands away from the guitar and curls his fingers around Eddie's, looking at them closely. Steve pulls Eddie's hands close to his face and twists one of his rings, rubbing his thumb against the pad of Eddie's left pointer finger. He wishes he could see his expression.

“Is this what girls mean when they talk about guys that play guitar?” Steve finally asks.

Eddie laughs, sharp and loud, which makes Steve shoulder him away. 

“Don't shout in my ear,” Steve complains. 

Eddie scoots back on the couch, still laughing. Steve rolls his eyes and plucks at the guitar with his thumb.

“How often are girls telling you about guys that play guitar?”

“I mean, they talk,” Steve shrugs. 

“Oh yeah? What do they say?” Eddie teases, “that you're not doing a good enough job?”

Steve looks up at him sharp. No smile.

“They tell me how it feels,” he says.

Eddie pauses, brains scrambled, because Now he's imagining Steve describing how it feels and it goes straight to his dick. Which is awkward because they're sharing the same couch and Eddie isn't exactly sitting with his legs crossed.

Still, he wants to know more.

“How- uh- what do they say? About how it feels?” he stammers, shifting a little further from Steve. He's feeling a little hot under the collar, and he knows he's really pushing the limits, but he can't help it. Not when Steve's right there, egging him on. Because that's what this is, right? He's not alone in this. Steve has to know what he's doing.

As if to answer Eddie's silent question, Steve scoots closer, squeezing the guitar between them as he leans in, face only a few inches from Eddie's. His knee is digging into Eddie's crotch. If he moves his hips, he's sure Steve would learn just how little Eddie’s playing around. 

That makes him feel even hotter. 

He can feel a puff of hair against his face as Steve laughs lightly, face splitting into a perfect, teasing smile. Steve grabs Eddie's hands and places them around the guitar, fingers brushing against his forehead a moment longer than necessary.

“I don't kiss and tell, Munson,” he says, and then he gets off the couch, leaving Eddie hard as a rock.

~.~.~

Sometimes, Steve spends the night. He falls asleep after an hour of whispering nonsense back and forth in the dark, with his back pressed against Eddie's chest, arms curled close to his body. Then Eddie wakes up to see that Steve is already gone, like the shared heat on the mattress is just a figment of his imagination.

He tries not to let himself think it means anything. He always stays awake a moment longer, always lingering on the man in bed next to him, wondering when he'll finally be sure enough to put himself out of his misery by leaning over for a kiss. 

Then, at least he'll know what this is. 

This time, Eddie wakes up and it's still dark out. Someone is touching him. He turns and sees a figure in his bed, the blankets pooled around their waist.

“Eddie?” Steve asks sleepily.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

Now that his eyes are adjusting to the dark, he can see the outline of the moon leaning through the window blinds, turning Steve's hair stark white where the light hits it.

“You were having a nightmare,” Steve says, placing a hand on Eddie's chest. Eddie can feel his heart, frantic and stressed, under Steve's hand. “Are you ok?”

“I'm fine. I don't even remember it,” Eddie says.

Steve slumps down next to him and leans in. Something brushes against Eddie's cheek, something soft and sweet, so quick that Eddie nearly thinks he's dreamt it up- 

A kiss.

Steve just kissed him.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, rolling over like it was nothing. Like he didn't just steal Eddie's heart through his lips. Eddie roughly grabs Steve and hugs him from behind, pulling him as close as possible. He wants to merge into one with this man. He wants signs of Steve across every inch of his skin. Steve makes a sleepy noise of protest, but lets it all happen, and Eddie falls asleep happy with no room for nightmares anymore.

~.~.~

“Who the fuck is that?” Eddie asks, nose scrunched up with disgust. He's just entered Steve's house for some pool party the kids bullied him into hosting, and was instantly met with the most irritating sight he's ever laid eyes upon- a handsome stranger hanging off Steve's shoulder.

“Oh, it's Steve's friend from Italy. Gabriel,” Robin says with a roll of her eyes. “I didn't even know he had friends.”

“Hey, he has us! And the kids!” Eddie says, trying to pretend he isn't watching Steve like a hawk.

“You know what I mean,” Robins says.

Gabriel. 

Fucking Gabriel.

Eddie watches as Steve lingers around this other man. This man and his curly brown hair, lightly tanned skin, muscular body, and soft blue eyes. This man and his touchy hands that linger along Steve's body like they're glued together, playfully grabbing at Steve's sunglasses.

“How long has he known him?” Eddie asks defensively. He crosses his arms across his cropped Dio shirt, suddenly feeling a little inadequate in the presence of fucking Michelangelo over there. 

“Since they were kids,” Robin shrugs.

Eddie's heart feels tight. He's sure he's going to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West, or something equally dramatic. Because Steve is up and close in this random man's space, in a swimsuit nonetheless, showing off his hairy tits and chatting it up like it was totally normal to be practically in someone's lap.

Which, it was.

Between them.

Some girl Eddie doesn't recognize is laughing it up with Nancy and Jonathan off to the side. She's equally gorgeous and Eddie knows right away that she must have come from Italy too. 

Since when did Steve go to Italy? Was this some rich boy shit he'd never learned about? 

“Eddie's here!” Dustin yells from the pool. Eddie's saved from having to fake happiness around the kids by Mike tackling Dustin from behind. He's probably drowning or something, but Eddie's not too concerned because somewhere, music is getting louder and fucking Gabriel is pulling Steve up to dance. Steve and Gabriel move like it's second nature, laughing and a little too close, a little too much hip movement for it to be guys being guys.

Eddie didn't know Steve could dance. He didn't even know Steve liked disco. 

Why does it suddenly feel like he doesn't know Steve at all?

“Whoo! Those two are always like that,” the pretty girl says with a lazy smile. Nancy and Jonathan don't seem too shocked to see Steve acting like this, which is another sign that Eddie is a gullible fool.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks. She sounds worried. Eddie's not looking at her. He's watching Steve plant a kiss on Gabriel's cheek after their stupid little dance stops.

Eddie isn't alright. 

He feels like an idiot. 

He thought they had something special, but it turns out that Steve is just…like that.

He turns and walks into the kitchen, so he can work through his shame in peace. That way, he can behave like a normal human long enough to make an excuse and leave in favor of crying into his ratty trailer pillow that probably still smells like Steve and his stupid hairspray.

“Whoa, what's wrong?” someone asks.

It's Steve, of course. He's standing at the kitchen door, looking at Eddie with genuine concern. His sunglasses are pushed into his hair, artfully keeping it out of his face. He looks behind himself and closes the door before walking up to Eddie, getting in his space.

Eddie steps back.

“I didn't see you get here. You look sick, are you ok?” he asks.

Eddie wants to say that he's fine, but looking into Steve's eyes makes everything worse. Much to his horror, he feels a lump forming in his throat and a familiar burn forming in his eyes. He tries to blink it away, but that just makes a premature tear roll down his cheek. 

Fuck.

Steve steps even closer and lifts his hands to Eddie's face, gently holding him, brushing the tear away with his thumb. And now that it's started, he can't make it stop. Eddie starts to cry even harder.

“Is it Wayne? Did something happen at the trailer?” Steve's asking, appearing to genuinely care.

“No,” Eddie says.

“Are you hurt?”

“No!”

“Did someone-”

“No, no, no! Steve, just stop!” Eddie says, elbowing his way free from Steve's grasp. He feels a little bad about it, when he sees how hurt Steve looks. But he feels too shitty to care much about anything at the moment.

“You're crying, Eddie. Can't I help?”

“You've done enough, honestly,” Eddie says.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“Dude, are you really that dense?” 

Steve kind of shutters at that, and then Eddie really feels bad. He's made an ass of himself and now he's being an ass too. 

“Just- stop, ok? Go back to your Italian boyfriend,” Eddie says.

“Huh? Gabe?” Steve asks. 

Oh, so they have nicknames now?

“Whatever his name is,” Eddie grumbles, even though he knows it's going to be impossible for him to forget that name for the rest of his life. 

Steve scoffs for a second and then shakes his head. “Are you mad that I have other friends?”

Eddie can't believe it. It's the worst case scenario. Steve didn't know. Somehow, Steve was completely oblivious to Eddie's feelings. There was no game between them. Eddie had made it all up in his head. Steve's just an oblivious flirt. He was matching Eddie's weird, lovesick energy.

God, how embarrassing.

“No, Steve,” Eddie says, already done with the conversation and ready for the consequences, “I'm mad that you're flirting with this dude after weeks of flirting with me!”

Steve looks shocked. Like he would've expected maybe a week after the upside down, back before this all began and he didn't know Steve that well. Turns out, he never knew Steve. 

He just thought he did.

“I- I wasn't flirting with you,” Steve says with a nervous little laugh.

“You slept in my bed and kissed me on the cheek. You rubbed your knee against my dick during our guitar lesson.”

Steve's just staring at him like all of this was in Eddie's head, which makes him feel even more defensive.

“You said you knew how it felt to get fingered!” he hisses.

Steve's cheeks go bright red. 

“Oh my God, I've been flirting with you,” he says. He lifts a hand to his forehead, like the information is too much for his head to handle.

“You also- well- I mean…yes?” Eddie says, not really sure what's happening anymore. He's so confused that his tears have stopped. Steve takes a step closer. 

“You've been flirting with me,” he says, pointing at Eddie.

Eddie nods. 

“And I've been flirting with you,” he says, pointing at himself.

Eddie nods again.

“I was flirting with Gabriel! Do you think he's into me?” he asks, pointing at the kitchen door.

Eddie's frown is severe. 

“Sorry, no. Forget I said that. Eddie, I think I have a crush on you,” Steve says with wonder in his voice.

It's Eddie's turn to blush now. He's witnessing Steve realize he's into men. Specifically, that he's into Eddie. Steve paces around the kitchen, combing a hand through his hair in that way he always does when he's thinking hard about something. Eddie recognizes it because he does know Steve, after all. Maybe a little better than Steve knows himself. Steve's cheeks are still bright red and he's breathing kind of weird. It's very strange, to watch someone come out to themselves.

And then Steve starts to cry.

Eddie rushes forward just as Steve leans back against the countertop and curls into himself.

“Hey, no, no, no, it's ok. You're still you,” he says, pulling Steve into a hug. 

What the fuck is happening? 

“I made you cry,” Steve says.

“It's ok,” Eddie says, rubbing his back, “you'll get used to it.”

“I don't want to get used to making you cry!” Steve whisper-shouts. 

“No, I mean that you'll get used to being into men,” Eddie says.

Steve pushes Eddie back a hair and looks him in the eyes.

“Why would I need to get used to it? It's obviously true. I'm upset because I've been such a dick to you,” he says softly.

Eddie just stares at him. He wonders if Steve is ok. Maybe this is what a breakdown looks like? Funny, how quick their mental states flipped during this conversation.

“Steve, it's ok to freak out a little. When I first realized I was into men, I cried until I threw up,” Eddie says.

Steve leans in and kisses him on the cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. It's so light and quick that for a moment, Eddie's not even sure that it happened. It makes his heart flip twice over.

“I'm not freaking out. I'm just trying to figure out how to make it up to you.”

Eddie lifts an eyebrow. Steve's fully serious. He's dried his face and is wrapping his arms around Eddie's back, brushing his hands against the belt loops in his jeans.

“Wow, you're serious. You genuinely-”

Eddie's cut off as Steve pulls him into a real kiss. The kind of kiss he'd seen in movies, sweet but also kind of hot. Eddie wants more. He crowds Steve against the countertop and runs his hands down over that ass he couldn't stop thinking about since seeing it in person, grabs his thighs just under his swim trunks and lifts, pushing their bodies as close as possible.

Steve has one hand tangled in Eddie's hair, steering his head to the side, and another gripping around his back pocket, pulling Eddie's hips right into his.

Eddie can't believe it. Steve's kissing him. He's rolling his hips into him. 

Steve chose him over fucking Gabe!

Steve pulls their bodies even closer than Eddie thought possible, and Eddie can feel every detail of his dick hardening against him through his jeans. It leaves him breathless, desperate to drop his hands from Steve's warm torso and under that swimsuit so he can feel it in more detail. Steve's not so shy. He's driving Eddie crazy with his hand sliding around his zipper, lifting up to the hem and back down again. 

“Eddie,” Steve gasps into his mouth as he starts fumbling with the button.

Eddie’s experiencing something religious with Steve's tongue when a shout breaks them apart. 

Eddie leaps halfway across the room before bothering to look around to check that nobody is there. He turns back to Steve, who's watching him carefully.

“I think it's just the kids. We should probably go back outside,” he says.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees reluctantly. Based on the look Steve's sending his way, he feels the same. He jumps down from the counter and walks over to the door, then pauses. 

He turns to Eddie and says, “You should sleep over tonight.”

“Ok,” Eddie says, feeling his cheeks go warm again as he tries not to assume anything after an afternoon of assuming things, “I like your guest room, it's got a really comfortable mattress-”

“In my bed,” Steve clarifies.

“Ok!” Eddie squeaks. “I could run home and grab something to sleep in-”

“Naked,” Steve says bluntly. Then he seems to realize something, because he looks away from Eddie like he's embarrassed. “I mean, unless you don't want that. No pressure. I have something you can borrow-”

“I want that,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve smiles. He flicks his sunglasses back over his eyes and leans in to kiss Eddie one last time, short, and promising more for later. As he opens the door, Eddie spots Gabe lounging around with that pretty girl and gets an idea. He shoves past Steve and smacks his ass on the way by, smiling at Gabe, just to cement his victory.

“Damn Harrington, feels as good as it looks,” he says. Gabe looks completely confused. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Don't get addicted,” Steve says.

[ryanishyperfixating]

I just wanted to say that I have absolutely loved reading your comic - the emotionality, storytelling and art style are all so incredible! And of course I am excited to read whatever happens next.

But I think I speak for everyone when I say you absolutely don’t need to apologize for taking time between the pages; we are all more than willing to wait! Your health and wellbeing comes first.

Thank you for sharing your art with us, it has been wonderful following this story, however long it takes. I hope the rest of your day goes well!

I have a really hard time liking my art, and it lifts my spirits immensely seeing people who not only enjoy it, but want to see more. And I struggle to see my writing as good, and yet you guys are always commenting and loving it. And I really, really don’t want to let yall down.

I already have part 11 fully outlined, but before I get to that I have a commission to finish and an art trade to work on.

Ill try my best to not take an entire week between parts again, but its really nice to know that you guys don’t mind if I do.

[mayday2007]

When Daryl Dixon first lays his eyes on you at the quarry, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. He sees you, all flustered and a little scared, having tumbled from the forest straight into their camp, and everything around him just goes silent.

He's never felt like this before, never felt the strange warmth begining to spread from his stomach up through his chest until time itself slows down when he looks you dead in the eyes. His surroundings fade into a blur of colours and all he can focus on is you. He's beginning to wonder if he accidentally inhaled some of that stuff Merle was sniffing a few hours back.

"Yeah,tha's it." He thougt. 'S jus' a lil drugs 's all."

As the day goes by, he has this need to talk to you but he just can't seem to find the courage. So, he just sits outside his tent, watching the other girls around the camp all fawn over how pretty you are, and he can't help but think the same.

"She is kinda cute." He thought to himself. "Whatcha talkin' bout baby brother?" Merle asked from behind him, startling Daryl a bit. "Nothin', 'sides, ain't yer damn business wha' the hell 'm thinkin' bout anyway." Daryl said gruffly to his older brother,cheeks a dusty pink. Guess he was thinking a little too hard.

That night,as everyone is gathered around the fireplace eating canned soups, Daryl sits next to you, and the entire group is stunned. Ever since Daryl came to the group at around the first week of the apocalypse, he has preferred to eat in his tent, leaving everyone else to worry about his brother.

You stayed there long after the last person went to bed with Daryl by your side, growing ever curious about you. Because in the time you had been at the camp, you hadn't said a word. He looked at you, but when you sighed he looked away, wondering if you had silently caught him for staring, then he blushes with embarrassment knowing himself that he was starting at you. "You just gonna sit there and stare at me till I go to bed or are you gonna tell me your name?"

Daryl whipped he head around to look at you. And to his utter surprise, you were looking him dead in the eyes, smirking up at him. "Y-you talkin' to me?" He asked incredulously. "No, I'm talking to him over there." You said, pointing behind Daryl. He turned his head to see where you were pointing, to see not a soul standing there. When you started laughing, he turned his attention back to you, the melodic sound soothing his ears. "Of course I'm talking to you, silly. There's nobody else up." You laughed, but there was nothing malicious behind it, so Daryl found himself chuckling a bit.

"Daryl." He said gruffly, looking at you and admiring your beautiful features. "My name's Daryl. What about you?" He asked, hoping he hadn't overstepped any boundaries. "My name is y/n, pleased to meet you." You held out your hand for him to shake, and he was a bit taken back by your straightforwardness. He clasped his hand in yours and shook it, blushing slightly at the difference in size.

When the quarry got overrun and the group headed to the farm, Daryl made sure that you were by his side the whole way. He made sure to take you hunting with him, and when he went looking for Sofia, you insisted that you accompany him. And when Andrea accidentally shit him, he was looking up from being helped inside to see you marching towards her, landing a punch on her face, and he couldn't help but be proud of you.

Then the farm got overrun by walkers and you were both separated. Daryl was distraught, thinking you had been bitten or killed. But, when Rick, Carl, Hershel and himself got reunited with Maggie, Beth and you, he had to hold back tears as he ran to you, swiftly sweeping you off your feet in a massive bear hug. He repeatedly asked you if you were okay and if you had any injuries, and it made you giggle slightly at his protectiveness. The time that Lori was pregnant leading up to the prison was hard for the whole group, but having you by his side 24/7 made Daryl feel slightly at ease.

When you lot found the prison, he made sure to keep you near him even more. You both shared a cell, him on the top bunk and you on the bottom. You both grew closer to one another the more time you spent together. One time, Daryl managed to find a bottle of whiskey and you both downed it in one night, telling eachother stories about your lives before the fall. In the morning, Daryl woke up to you still soundly asleep on his chest. He blushed and frantically thought of a way to get you off him whilst keeping you asleep, but he eventually just went back to sleep himself, being too comfortable to move.

After the prison fell, you were with Daryl the whole time along with Beth. You three found the cabin with the moonshine and decided to drink some. Two or three glasses each later, Beth fell asleep, her body curled up beside you as you and Daryl continued to talk until you felt sleepy. Daryl came and sat next to you so you could lay your head on his shoulder, him falling asleep not long after.

When the group found terminus, you were taken into the slaughter house along with Daryl, Rick, Glenn and the other men that had been kidnapped. Daryl was more concerned for you, having been the one to barge one of the men who was going to slit your throat off you before he had the chance. You all made it out alive and Daryl held your hand and refused to let go.

The group eventually found Alexandria, having a safe place to finally call home, Daryl finally confessed his feelings for you while you were in a meadow close by. He picked you a daisy and put it in your hair, a sweet gesture that made you giggle, and it sort of just slipped out.

"I really like ya," he said, his cheeks going a pinky red colour after he realised what he said. "Really?" You asked, sweeping some of his hair out of his eyes. "Y-yeah, yeah I do. In fact, I don' jus' like ya, I love ya. I love ya so much, darlin', ya have no idea." You smiled and leaned in, your noses touching as you could feel his hot breath fanning over your lips. "I love you too Daryl, more than you'll ever know." You then punctuated your sentence with a kiss.

A few months later you were married (yes, married), and a few months after that you were carrying his child. Then there was another child. And another. Soon, you and Daryl had the perfect life, a lovely home, three beautiful children and a dog.

( And a cat that Daryl would always say he hated. "Told ya woman, I ain't a fanna cats." But would later be found snuggled with his three kids on the couch in the living room after dinner with said cat on his chest. )

[soleilpinto]

Cruising in Papaya: Sparks at the Starting Line ˚‧｡⋆🍁

“Life’s Better on Saturn ” ˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ (Saturn, SZA)

Synopsis: Y/N Laurent, a glamorous socialite, meets Lando Norris during a race weekend, sparks fly between the two, but as their feelings deepen, they struggle to balance their secret relationship with their public lives, all while navigating the pressure of the fast-paced F1 scene.

Genre: (Some) Angst, Fluff, Romance

AU: Social Media and Written!au

Pairing: Lando x Afab!Socialite!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Welcome to the start of my brand new Lando smau that I can’t wait to work on! The Franco one got really good feedback so I thought why not work on this as well? I hope you guys enjoy reading! As always, don’t forget to like + reblog as a form of support to me and other writers.

Cruising in Papaya Masterlist. (Prev./Next.)

liked by gracieabrams, evejobs and others

laurant.yn upper east sider goes downtown

littlefoxhermes gorgeous girl x

— laurant.yn says you omg

ivygetty 💋

@gridglamore y/n laurant is all smiles in the paddock today. if she’s the new face of f1 weekends, i’m here for it

@formula1glam why does y/n laurant showing up to an f1 race feel like the start of a scandal waiting to happen? 😂

@racingteatime the way y/n laurant blends into the paddock like she’s been there forever… is she about to become an f1 staple or what?

The Miami sun glints off the mirrored glass of the paddock buildings as you step out of the car, your heels clicking softly on the pavement.

Dressed in a breezy white linen dress with delicate gold accents, you feel the Florida heat wrap around you.

A light breeze tousles your hair as you adjust your oversized sunglasses, scanning the bustling paddock.

It’s not your usual scene, but you’re here on assignment—filming content for Richard Mille, one of the sport's luxury sponsors.

As you make your way to the designated filming area, the hum of engines fills the air, a sound both foreign and thrilling.

You don’t know much about Formula 1—just enough to recognize the intensity around you. But you’re not here for the cars; you’re here to do your job with the same grace and precision expected of you in any setting.

Inside the hospitality suite, a member of the Richard Mille team walks you through the schedule.

Your first task is a video shoot showcasing their latest timepiece, shot against the vibrant energy of the Miami paddock.

“We’ll head to the pit lane for the second segment,” they explain, and you nod with a polite smile, even as you internally wonder what, exactly, a pit lane is.

When you’re introduced to a McLaren staff member who’ll escort you around the paddock, you greet them warmly, extending a hand.

“Thank you so much for helping me today,” you say, your tone sincere.

They seem momentarily taken aback by your elegance but quickly recover, leading you toward the garage.

The crew captures footage of you walking gracefully through the paddock, pausing to greet staff and smile for the camera. A mechanic hands you a small, futuristic-looking object.

“This is the steering wheel,” he says with a grin.

“Oh, wow,” you reply, carefully holding it.

“I had no idea they were so compact. It’s incredible how much goes into this.”

Your genuine interest catches him off guard, and he starts explaining the intricacies of the wheel while the cameras roll. You listen intently, nodding at the right moments, grateful for the impromptu lesson.

Later, you’re seated elegantly on the pit wall, the Miami skyline shimmering in the background. The cars roar past, and you can’t help but jump slightly at the noise.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” you admit to the assistant beside you, flashing an apologetic smile.

As you step into the McLaren hospitality suite, the last of the day’s filming wraps up. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm glow over the paddock.

Your team moves quickly, gathering equipment and talking through the final shots of the day. You’re grateful for the calm moments now, as the noise and energy of the paddock begin to settle.

Just as you’re about to sit down with a refreshing drink, the McLaren social media team approaches.

“We’d love to get a few more candid moments with the drivers,” one of the team members says.

“Lando and Oscar are available for some content, and we thought we could get a group shot with you—would you be open to that?” You nod graciously.

“Of course, I’d love to,” you say, your smile effortless.

The social media manager gives you a quick rundown of the plans, and soon enough, Lando and Oscar approach, both wearing their team kits, looking sharp but casual in a way only drivers can manage.

Oscar, ever the charming one, greets you first.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve seen you around the paddock, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk.” He extends his hand, and you shake it, giving him a warm smile.

“I’ve been so caught up with the filming, but it’s lovely to meet you as well, Oscar,” you reply, your voice calm and kind, a steady presence amid the chaotic energy of the paddock.

Lando arrives moments later, his usual smile wide but carrying a certain twinkle in his eyes. He greets you with a casual wave, but his gaze lingers for just a moment longer than usual.

You catch his eye and offer a friendly smile, completely unaware of the subtle tension building in the air.

“So, are we ready to film some magic?” Oscar says, trying to lighten the mood, his grin contagious.

You agree, letting the social media team direct you into position, arranging you, Lando, and Oscar for the group shots.

The team starts rolling, and as the cameras flash, Lando notices the way you stand, the ease with which you interact with everyone around you.

The way you talk, with that grace, without a hint of pretension. It’s nothing like what he’s used to, and yet, there’s something magnetic about you.

He can’t quite place it, but something in the way you laugh softly at Oscar’s jokes has him drawn in.

After the photos are done, the social media manager suggests a candid video of all three of you chatting.

You start discussing the race, asking them about their preparations, but Lando can’t focus on the questions. He’s too intrigued by how poised and composed you are, even in this chaotic environment.

Your voice is calm and thoughtful, and the way you listen to him intently makes him feel like the only person in the room.

“You know, it’s refreshing talking to someone who’s not trying to get the inside scoop or, you know, make a headline,” Lando says with a half-smile.

“You’re just... easy to talk to.”

You smile at the compliment, your eyes meeting his, and you simply respond, “I think it’s important to just enjoy the moment, don’t you?”

The sincerity in your voice hits him in a way he didn’t expect, and for a second, he forgets that he’s still wearing his bright orange team kit, surrounded by cameras and flashing lights.

There’s just you—graceful and effortlessly charming—and Lando can’t help but feel a shift in his chest.

Oscar, noticing the sudden tension between you two, steps in with a lighthearted comment to break the silence.

“Lando, I didn’t know you were such a deep thinker,” he teases.

You both laugh, and the atmosphere lightens again, but Lando can’t shake the pull he feels toward you.

As the social media team wraps up, you thank them for the experience, your tone polite but warm.

“It was fun working with you both,” you say, your gaze moving between Oscar and Lando, but it lingers on Lando just a moment longer.

Lando watches you walk away, your posture elegant even as you turn toward your team.

There’s something about you—something beyond the surface level—that keeps pulling him in, and he finds himself wondering just how much more there is to you than what meets the eye.

“Are you okay, mate?” Oscar asks, noticing the way Lando’s gaze follows you.

Lando blinks and clears his throat, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah... just thinking about what she said. She’s got a good vibe.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it.

“Sure, mate. Whatever you say.”

But Lando’s thoughts are elsewhere, and the idea of seeing you again keeps running through his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before you cross paths again.

You set your phone down, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

This was your first glimpse into the fast-paced world of motorsport, and you couldn’t say you minded—not when the Lando Norris was already charming you in ways one could only dream about.

liked by laurant.yn, f1 and 3,125,632 others

lando WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

oscarpiastri well done man 👏 👏 👏

georgerussell63 Congrats mate!!

The crowd erupts into cheers as Lando crosses the finish line, taking the checkered flag and claiming victory at the Miami Grand Prix.

You find yourself clapping along with everyone else in the garage, swept up in the electric energy of the moment.

The roar of the fans, the team celebrating in the pit lane, and the sight of Lando standing atop his car with his arms raised in triumph—it’s all so overwhelming and surreal.

You’re not entirely sure why you feel so proud. You barely know him.

But as you watch him soak in the cheers, helmet in hand and grin wide enough to light up the entire paddock, you can’t help but feel a tug of admiration.

After the podium ceremony and the champagne celebrations, you find yourself in the McLaren hospitality suite, where the post-race buzz is in full swing.

Lando enters a few minutes later, his race suit unzipped to his waist, hair still damp from the champagne.

He’s surrounded by team members congratulating him, and you hesitate for a moment before stepping forward.

“Lando!” you call out, your voice cutting through the hum of conversation. He turns toward you, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Y/N,” he says, making his way over, his smile as bright as ever. “Did you enjoy the race?”

You nod, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

“It was incredible. Congratulations! That was an amazing drive—you really earned it.”

“Thanks,” he replies, his tone warm but casual. “First time at an F1 race, and you get to see me win. Not bad, huh?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head.

“Not bad at all. You set the bar pretty high, though—I don’t know if any other race will compare now.”

His grin widens, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his expression, something that lingers as he looks at you.

“I’m glad you were here to see it,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost as if the chaos around you has faded into the background.

The moment stretches just long enough for you both to notice it. Your smile falters slightly, not from discomfort, but from the realization that this feels... different.

You were here for work, for a brand, for a world you didn’t belong to, but somehow, this feels like more.

“Well,” you say, breaking the silence with a soft laugh, “I should let you get back to celebrating. I just wanted to say congratulations.”

“Wait,” Lando says quickly, as if he doesn’t want the moment to end. He hesitates for a second before adding, “Thank you. Really. It means a lot.”

You meet his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like there’s an unspoken understanding between you.

Maybe this isn’t just a fleeting encounter. Maybe this is the start of something you didn’t see coming.

You smile one last time before stepping away, your heart a little lighter as you leave the suite. Behind you, Lando watches you go, his mind racing faster than it did on the track.

liked by lando, juliavalentineee and others

laurant.yn heart in miami x

lettiemng she’s glowing!

— laurant.yn love you!

francisca.cgomes 💋💋

alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

Taglist: @bakingpiastries @linnygirl09

[sitp-recs]

hi! do you happen to have any drarry recs where draco just gets harry? like even if he doesn't say anything, maybe reading his body language, his facial expressions or just simply knowing him so well? and harry being relieved he doesn't need to say much because draco just gets him? sorry if this seems confusing hope i articulated myself well enough, its not my first language...

Hi there! That’s a great ask - I’ve read this theme being explored in a few different ways so I went a bit wild here, I hope all of these work for you:

Begin As You Mean To Go On by @doubleappled (E, 3k)

The first time, it was an accident. The second time, Harry’s going to have to ask.

A Little Death Never Hurt Anyone by @tackytigerfic (E, 4k)

Harry's getting good at slipping through the Veil. He's determined to win the war, even if means he has to raise the dead to do it. Draco just wants a stiff drink and a good night's sleep.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (T, 9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?)

Unseen by astolat (M, 11k)

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

Trouble, My Old Friend by Tepre (E, 21k)

Harry goes rogue investigating an illegal potion and ends up at Draco Malfoy's dodgy lab.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

[morrowbright]

First of all, thank you so much for posting this, @tvgirlsays! Gil-galad and Elrond are two of my favorite characters, both separately and in terms of their relationship as king and herald. We haven't had nearly enough Gil-galad for my liking (I do understand that there are a lot of stories being told) so I appreciate how you've highlighted so many of these small moments that speak not just to their mutual care and respect for one another, but their changing relationship as well. I found myself nodding enthusiastically with all of your points! As you opened to door to other thoughts and theories, I'd like to offer the following:

On putting Elrond in charge of the company going to Eregion, yes, I agree that this is in part due to Gil-galad's respect for the steadfastness of Elronds convictions. I think it's also an acknowledgment of Elrond's growth and understanding that sometimes chosing the course for the greater good of the people you lead (or love) may challenge or contradict those very convictions. Sometimes there are no perfect, or even good, choices; sometimes the best choice is the one that will do the least harm, or the one that contains that small glimmer of hope in an otherwise nightmarish situation, and a good leader has to be able to navigate such complexites in order to make difficult decisions for the greater good. We've seen this theme come up between Gil-galad and Elrond a few times already, but a deeper discussion of those scenes, as well as the scene with with Cirdan that starts to shift Elrond's thinking, may be beyond the scope of this reply.

On the scene with Damrod the hill-troll, I think you've analyzed it beautifully and have nothing to add to it.

That moment in the battle when Elrond is on the verge of breakdown, and Gil-galad looks at him with compassion before turning to rally the remaining elves is honestly my favorite Gil-galad moment in the show thus far. It was the moment I found him the most relatable and the most, dare I say, human.

You know his heart is breaking for Elrond, who has already experienced so much trauma, but perhaps not quite like this, as a battle commander with the added weight of his father's casual propechy that one day he would hold Celebrimbor's "life in [his] hands". He has been bolstered by the belief that if he could manage to hold the city until dawn then Durin's forces would arrive to save the day. When the morning arrives without Durin, Elrond, already exhausted, is unable to absorb this fact along with the realization that despite all their efforts, the bloodshed and lives lost, Eregion will fall. When Gil-galad takes command and turns to rally the remaining elves with a weary and resigned call to form ranks, I initially saw it as Gil-galad simply doing what needed to be done: make a final stand of resistance because what else was there to be done? Your post has re-framed it slightly in my mind: he is not just taking command, but he is specifically taking it from Elrond, because he knows that Elrond is unable to shoulder it in this moment, and I just quietly love that. (As a brief aside, I'd also like to reference this beautiful post by @fantasyquests centered on a Tolkien quote about "doomed resistance," which expresses so much of what I love about this scene far more eloquently than I can.)

Benjamin Walker has intimated that Gil-galad does have a sense of what his eventual fate will be. In the moment he glances down at Elrond, I wonder if he is also getting a foreshadowing of Elrond's grief and the burdens he will have to bear in the wake of Gil-galad's eventual but inevitable fall.

As alluded to in your post, we as viewers, are also getting a possible foreshadowing of Elrond's future grief, rage, and devastation during the scene where he goes absolutely beserk after the uruk threaten Gil-galad's life. It's a scene that I've been trying to wrap my head around and get into words for some time, but I shall do my best.

As Elrond is a scholar, a lover of learning and philosophical truths, it is understandable that he is desperate enough to bargain his own life for the safekeeping of Celebrimbor's scrolls. Elrond even voices a willingness to trade Gil-galad's life for the preservation of the scrolls as well; at the very least he suggests that the books are more valuable than either of their lives. I am not certain to what extent this is his actual belief or how much it is his desperation speaking. I think the scrolls represent the one small piece of goodness and light that he can still hold on to in the midst of all the other desecration and loss. If he cannot keep Celebrimbor safe, there is still a chance he can keep his lifework safe. Of course the uruk move to burn the scrolls anyway, AND threaten Gil-galad's life, and this is when Elrond finally, completely loses it. The loss, devastation and desecration has become too much; in that moment, Elrond is willing to BURN AN ORC ALIVE at the thought of losing Gil-galad too.

Finally, I have a slightly different take on the sword vs. the shield scene. Although he doesn't say it outright, it seems to me like Elrond is advocating for the "shield". He points out that the refugess from Eregion are exhausted: "Many of Eregion's bravest fell. The few that survived are all but broken, in body or spirit. They have little strength left with which to fight. They barely had strength to flee." Arondir then asks Galadriel what course she would advise. Galadriel's reply falls outside the sword/shield dichotomy. She recounts Celebrimbor's wisdom to "remind our people that it is not strength that overcomes darkness, but light. And the sun yet shines."

When Gil-galad raises his sword, it's not a battle cry (raising Aeglos would be more appropriate for that) but a sign of hope, resistance, and leadership. Like you, I love the fact that it's Elrond that Gil-galad turns to (literally and figuratively), after Galadriel offers her little nod/bow of support and encouragement. Elrond's expression is a bit difficult for me to read here. I interpret it that Elrond supports Gil-galad's decision, but he is also growing into and developing his own type of leadership: for him, founding Imladris as a place of healing, sanctuary, and beauty is going to be his priority. The fact that he is positioned a little further back than the others underscores this for me*. I do believe that both their characters and their relationship will continue to grow in season three, and it will be interesting to see how their relationships shift as Gil-galad begins to build the Last Alliance, and Elrond founds Rivendell.

(And to anyone who has actually read this far, thank you. I've been wanting to talk, really talk, about these characters for so long)

*In fact, I think the positioning of Galadriel, Gil-galad, and Elrond could be read as the following: Galadriel is positioned on Gil-galad's right; she represents the "sword", but again, not sword as a weapon, but sword as a symbol of hope, resistance, leadership, and light. Elrond is to his left, in the position of shield; his represents a different type of strength: ensuring the protection of those who are most vulnerable. So as you alluded to, I think Elrond will remain Gil-galad's faithful herald, while continuing to follow his own path forward.

Gil Galad and Elrond: Season 2

While Season 1 and the beginning of Season 2 were fraught with tension between High King Gil Galad and Herald Elrond, there were some interesting and subtle moments that seem to hint that we will be seeing them form a stronger bond as king and herald in Season 3. I would like to highlight those moments!

The first comes when Gil Galad places Elrond in charge of the company being sent to Eregion. Despite the disobedience displayed in Elrond's waterfall jump, I think Gil Galad respected his steadfastness to his convictions.

I think that's why he puts Elrond in charge of the mission. As Benjamin Walker stated in an interview, Gil Galad now sees Elrond as a "wild card" and someone is now coming into his own. Placing Elrond in charge is a huge show of trust and an opportunity for Elrond to explore his potential as a leader.

There is a subtle moment between them in the Battle of Eregion that I love: Gil Galad does not join the fight until after Elrond has been swiped by Damrod the hill troll. Did Gil Galad see this happen, and this is why he finally took action? It certainly seems that way.

Of course, Elrond is upset that the king has put himself in danger, to which Gil Galad responds "A king's place is whenever the need is greatest." And it's true. This is the moment that Elrond needs him the most.

Throughout the entire battle, Elrond's goal has been to reach the wall and the stop the ravager from breaching the wall. He starts off on horseback with his cavalry, then continues on foot with a small company, and finally reaches the wall alone, and damages the ravager on his own.

But it isn't enough, because the troll presents a new and even more dangerous threat. Arondir's arrows cannot kill the troll and Elrond cannot face it alone (although he likely would have tried). That is when Gil Galad arrives, helping both Arondir and Elrond to kill it. It's one of the best moments of the episode!

Then comes the moment when the Elves find out that the Dwarves are not coming... Elrond is in denial, clinging to the belief that his friend will come, despite being told otherwise.

Elrond is usually a very logical, very calm elf. Throughout the entire battle, from beginning to end, he is focused and resourceful, giving Adar more of a fight than the Uruk leader expected.

But in this moment, we see his human side coming through. He can't wrap his head around the fact that Durin is not coming and that the battle is lost.

Gil Galad clearly sees this and recognizes that Elrond is on the verge of emotional collapse. He knows how much the friendship with Durin means to Elrond (in Season 1) and he knows how eager Elrond was to save Eregion.

I think he also realizes that Elrond has been fighting all day and night (not to mention running to and from Lindon to Eregion) and is at the end of his strength.

So he takes command for the last charge and does not reprimand Elrond for failing to join the fight. I like seeing this dynamic between them on the battlefield, because it sets things up really nicely for their roles in the Battle of the Last Alliance.

Once the battle has been lost and the leaders taken captive, we see Elrond pleaded with the Orcs to spare Celebrimbor's collection of scrolls. They laugh in his face and burn them anyway. It is not until they hold a knife to Gil Galad's throat however that Elrond unleashes his fury on them.

It takes 2-3 Orcs to subdue him, and even then, he manages to kill one and injure several others. While Elrond is clearly distraught by the burning of the scrolls (his library of Alexandria), his rage is only triggered when his king is threatened.

Despite their differences over the years, he clearly feels protective of Gil Galad. I suspect Gil Galad's death in the Battle of the Last Alliance is going to truly destroy him for that reason.

In the final scene of Season 2, Gil Galad chooses "the sword" rather than the shield as he faces what remains of the people of Eregion. I love that the last person he looks to before raising the sword is Elrond, his faithful herald. My hope is that this is an indication of their relationship heading into Season 3.

Gil Galad gained a lot of respect for Elrond in Season 2, and Elrond came to see that Gil Galad would always there for him whenever "the need was greatest."

What's interesting about Elrond's position in this final scene is that he stands directly in Gil Galad's shadow and is apart from the rest of the group.

What does this mean for Season 3? Will Elrond's role as Gil Galad's second in command become more of a highlight? Will he be separated from the other Elves as he establishes Imladris?

What are your thoughts and theories?

[yan-may-fire]

Art Tips and Feedback

Hey! So, as you may know (or if it gets reblogged and you don't know me, hi!) I'm what people in the industry call "an artist". I've been doing this for many many years now and have amassed some knowledge about what I'm doing and why I'm doing it - from friends with artistic education, classes, YT tutorials, my own exploration, you name it. And I've semi-recently started thinking about tutoring, but! I have no teaching experience.

So, per my good friend's advice, I wanted to do a little activity with you! Send me your works for tips and feedback - I'm not gonna be harsh and you'll accept that whatever I say is just an opinion of a dude who likes to draw. You'd be helping me immensely and I hope I could help you too.

Send the works you'd like to have feedback on to alik.yaf10@gmail.com . You can mention what you're struggling with and want some pointers, maybe it's not so much a struggle as a general wish for improvement - everything goes. It's also helpful if you describe your work a little, what are the subjects, materials, mood, setting, etc.

Have a wonderful day, everybody :)

[domestictetsurou]

caleb girlies, hear me out... idk about you, but is this how it feels like to finally have a true main LI??

i didn't have any interest for the other LIs at first, but then chapter 4 came... and instantly, caleb was my first love. (as u can see from my username, i'm weak for guys with big domestic energy 🥺)

but then they blew him up. i cried. i grieved him. i continued going forward but i found myself keep rewatching chapter 4 over and over again (i've probably done it hundreds of times by now).... i missed him. i missed him so much, so often, it sometimes feel miserable. only able to hold onto scraps infold provided of him (1 chapter, 1 call, short message...). relying to fanfics and fanarts for comfort... because what else do we have of him?

but now he's here… he's back... we're gonna have more of him.... and i guess the months (almost a year) worth of grief exploded inside me??

i seriously can't think about anything else. the live announcement came with heaps of info but i don't care about everything else. i just want caleb to come home soon.

i want to know his story... how he survived, what happened to his arm, what's with that sad room and his nightmare and the gloomy environment and the holding onto the necklace? (i want to comfort him, the trailer was so heartbreaking 😭)

i want to soon unlock our memories, all the 5⭐ and 4⭐ cards to come, i want them all…. i wonder what experiences we'll gonna have with him...? will we have lots of domestic moments? (i hope we do) and OUR PAST LIVES? i want to know our past lives so i'd understand his perspective and i'll make sure to love him more afterwards 😭

does he still have that kindhearted, caring, doting, reliable older brotherly figure inside of him? will he show it to us in the main story? or will it be full on villainous and angsty? how is he living his life now? does he even feel "alive"...?

this is crazy... i yearn for him so much i have dreamed of him for 2 days straight by now… 😭😭😭 and i think i get why infold released the trailer on friday night. THEY WANT US TO THINK AND GUSH ABOUT HIM NONSTOP IN THE WEEKENDS DON'T THEY??!?! 😭😭😭😭 they know i wouldn't be able to function if they released him on weekdays. 😔

so... is this how it feels like to have your main LI alive? i'm sorry my other guys, but all my attention goes to caleb now. i don't even know why, i just have no interest to even unlock the other LIs upcoming FREE cards, all i need is just caleb and caleb and caleb..... 😭😭😭

[lambilegs]

does it happen in a season? (part four: SUMMER - iii)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

last chapter: (SUMMER ii)

soundtrack: seasons - wave to earth; video games - lana del rey; well I wonder - the smiths; good old-fashioned loverboy - queen; black is the colour - cara dillon; my love mine all mine - mitski; there is a light that never goes out - the smiths

(contains: 21K words, final part of the fic ;-;, college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, discussions of trauma, depictions of anxiety, ptsd and hoarding, familial strain and issues, internalized homophobia, graphic sexual content, reader receiving strap, lee receiving oral, switchy lee + reader, kinks include: dirty talk, spanking, breeding (lee thinking about it + wishing the strap could be a real body part of hers), slight humiliation, reader is called a "good girl," reader's body referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "cunt," "tits," "breasts," "clit")

important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.

----

SUMMER. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

it takes lee about three weeks before she seats the two of you on her bed, ready to tell you everything. before the argument, she was certain that she would barely speak to you about her mother for what would most likely be several more months. and she never imagined that if she did confide in you, it’d be through the process of sharing everything at once. if it had been up to her, she’d have most likely continued just as she was before – dropping a random assortment of details and information from time to time, and hoping you one day can put it all together on your own. but, the hard words exchanged between you two had proven to her that that way of doing things wasn’t beneficial. at least not anymore. 

besides, upon some self-reflection, she’s realized that figuring it out on your own isn’t exactly a fair thing to expect of you. especially considering that everytime she had shared something with you these past few months, there was always a tug of resistance she gave into, which would pull her back from divulging anything too revealing. which probably made it impossible for you to truly piece together any of this on your own.

and so, it seemed that details, and the act of unveiling them, were necessary steps lee had to take all on her own in order for you to truly understand this part of her. but, to play such an active role like that felt overbearing, even if it were for her own secrets.

but, ever since you had cried, and spoken of your hurt while lee had knelt by your bed, feeling like she was doing confession, she was gnawed with the knowledge of how little you really know. before, she had been content with ignoring the fact that her opening up was rare and far in between. but, hearing the hitches in your breath, seeing the way you crumbled – it forced to the forefront of her mind that she had known you for nearly a year, and you knew barely anything about her past. at least, when it came to the things that really mattered. and usually, that kind of stuff didn’t bother lee. there had been several people in her life who she knew longterm and still shared virtually nothing with. but, with you, it feels wrong. not because you two are partners, but because the only reason you two had reached this point was because of trust and sharing. and lee didn’t want to break that. she couldn’t. not after the removal of sharing had damaged one bond in her life already.

a bond that she tentatively brings up on a thursday afternoon. it feels like winter again, the stormy clouds of late july shadowing her bedroom with a grey light. but, your skin, brushing against hers, is warm, and she uses that to anchor herself when she says, “I’m ready to talk to you. about it all.”

lee has never been one for words – of that, she is certain. she spent the first decade of her life often lapsing into days or weeks of silence, and even as an adult, she finds herself preferring to avoid conversation as best as she can. lest for a few exceptions. 

it makes it particularly difficult in moments like these. where her words carry a weight she can’t ignore, where they possess the sole responsibility to speak on something important. it provides her with a newfound pressure that’s a bit heavier than the already tense relationship she has with speaking. her words are all she has now, really. she knows her words will never fully convey what she’s felt all these years. but, at least it’s a good step.

“like you know, it’s always just been my mom and I. she was, um… cut off. when I was born. because she had me out of wedlock.” her stomach churns in guilt at exposing her mom’s secret like this. she’s just as private as lee is, if not even moreso. 

“because of that, she became more religious, more worried over the idea of sinning. her family reached out years later, but she refused to see them and let them visit. because she had become less trusting. towards the world, everyone. she preferred it’d be just her and I. I think she was scared someone would hurt us again.” growing up, it was easy to take notice of how alone her mother was. barely any friends, no dates, no social outings. usually, the reasons lee had to be babysat were purely aligned to her mom’s working hours, rather than anything social or purely enjoyable. lee and work were really the only things her mom seemed to center her life on. as a kid, lee leaned into the attention and affection, her mom her only friend. but, the older she got, the more stifling it was to be the person whose existence her mother’s life revolved around. now that she’s moved away, that feeling has simmered, but as lee recounts these things to you, she can’t help but feel a sudden tightening of guilt in her stomach. there was so much her mom sacrificed for her, so much she had lost and kept pushed away. both for the sake of protecting the two of them and because it seemed like nothing else truly mattered all that much to her. it’s almost like she had been content to forgo her identity if it meant being a mother.

but, the older she got, the more aware lee became about the lack. she never got to be familiar with the feeling of several relatives in a warm home. she never had anyone to run to when she fought with her mom. there was never anyone there to reveal more about her mom. anything ruth harker decided to hide remained hidden, for she was all lee could depend on to know her own mother. 

keeping her eyes pinned to the floor, she means to continue. but, her chest suddenly feels gripped with an invisible hand, the pressure surging in making her swallow a heavy breath, fingers tightening against her knees. her lips part and she shuts her eyes, trying to inhale and release steadying breaths to release the tension eating away at her.

in an instant, your hand, warm and grounding, is on her lower back, rubbing easy circles. “take your time.”

she sucks in a sharp breath, then forces the words out in a quiet slew. she just wants it over, to be done with and spat out. “when I was nine, something happened. I don’t know what, I…” she closes her eyes, frustration running through her body. she’s always hated unsolved mysteries, to not know the answer to something, for the questions to be too far from her grasp to truly conclude. but, of all the unknowns in the world, this is the one that haunts her the most. “all I know is that a car came to our house. and people had come before, yes, people who knew it was just us. but, this was the first time something…” she pauses to clear her throat, feeling it tighten as the dread of the memory curls and twists in her relentlessly. “something actually happened. I don’t know what, she’s never told me. and the entire night is hard for me to remember. but, it was bad enough that she called the police.” her lips purse tightly together, and her nails dig harder into her skin. it helps in a way, drawing her back to the present and out of the endless loop she’s spent too many years in, trying again and again to reach out for what happened that night. if she heard or saw anything.

“after that, my mom was different. she became less direct. more like… I don’t know. a shadow.” her voice cracks on the last word and she winces. “she became more lost, and it got worse the older I got. and she started hoarding.” she shifts, a feeling of disgust churning in her stomach at remembering the filth of her mother’s home when she had last visited. she knows it’s not her mom’s fault. she knows that better than anyone. but, she can’t help it. she hates what their home has become, she can barely look at it without feeling dread creep into her. 

she can’t bear to look at you. it’s odd, because it’s out of her control, what’s happened to her home. but, it’s almost like she’s so tethered to her mom, and the space they raised each other in, that she can’t help but feel partially responsible. especially considering the fact that maybe if things had been different. maybe if she had heard something sooner, or had been more aware of her surroundings, what happened on january thirteenth wouldn’t have happened. maybe she could’ve saved her mother, her family, her home. broken as it was already, at least it wasn’t destitute before that day. 

“she became more paranoid, too. she already didn’t really trust anyone, but what happened made it worse. she clung onto me. a lot. maybe she was scared something would happen again.” she pauses to gulp, the possibility hanging off her tongue filling her mind with a dark cloud, expanding and filling her mind with a dizzying panic. “the older I got, and the more I wanted to have some space, the worse she got. more hoarding, more worrying, more paranoia.” a pierce of guilt stabs through her, and she rushes to add, “I know it’s not her fault. but, between the hoarding, her worries and control, the religious stuff, it became too much. as soon as I graduated, I left." she can't even say with total certainty that her mom's faith is fully in tact anymore, a topic she often wonders about. if her mom, after all the things she's been through, truly rests her hope in god, or just stays with him out of comfort or fear for what will happen if she don't.

she sighs. she finished faster than she thought. but, it hasn’t eased the shame spreading through lee, aching and curling in all the wrong spots. she feels despicable, admitting to having left her mom after all that happened. and she is, isn’t she? she doesn’t even know what her mom went through, the horrors she dealt with that night. and still, she left her. still, she moved to an entirely different state even though she knew her mother would refuse to ever leave. because she was so selfish as to want to escape just for herself. even if it meant her mom was going to be left back, all alone, with no one to protect her anymore. and maybe it was wrong of her to seek protection in lee, she doesn’t know. but, still, lee was a daughter before she was anything else in the world. that meant something to her, meant something to the woman who raised her. she could’ve at least returned the protection her mother had bestowed upon her for years. and she did – she tried, all throughout her teenage years, to do so. working more shifts than any of her peers so that her mom wouldn’t have to undergo the struggle of heading to work. being the one to take care of her mother’s eating and sleeping habits. letting her mom hold her at night even when all she wanted was to be alone. she had tried.

but, what does it matter if she ran away, anyways? and if she’s most likely going to continue to stay away. it doesn’t change the fact that she’s now physically abandoning her mother. and sure, maybe her mom is the one who left first, in more ways than one. but, lee should’ve stayed to anchor her. she should have.

she’s tense, her body stiff, bracing itself for your contempt, your disapproval.

“why does she hoard?”

lee flinches at the sound of your voice. once the question gets absorbed in her mind, she clears her throat, trying to remain levelled. “I don’t know. my guesses are to get back to how things were before what happened, or to maybe have a feeling of control.” she knows her mother wouldn’t like being pitied, but she can’t help the feeling from worming its way through her, throbbing and potent. “she won’t tell me. she doesn’t tell me anything, really. about what happened that night, how it affected her.” her teeth clench so hard that a blast of pain stabs through her jaw. “I… I hate that she doesn’t. I think she wants to protect me, but… it’s just made things worse.”

the avoidance, the secrecy – it’s the reason why this wedge between them exists. yeah, other stuff, like her paranoia and the religion carved the path and buried the first bouts of guilt and shame, but ultimately, it was the lack of understanding that set it all into stone. lee never got to find out what happened, and so, she never knew what her mom needed or how to help her. and so, she was forced to reckon with the changes of her mother, with neither of them prepared or in grasp of the knowledge needed to understand them. 

lee flinches when she feels you kiss her shoulder, and she hates herself for it, but she shifts away from you. “I don’t… I can’t.” she feels the same way as she did in the subway with you, stifled and mind faltering from all she’s saying. and you touching her is only making her feel more overwhelmed. her mind feels like it’s on overrun, crumbling under the racing thoughts. 

“okay, okay.” 

she keeps her distance on the bed, nails digging in so hard her thighs are starting to ache. anything to distract herself.

“lee, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that happened to you and your mom. it’s terrible that she went through that, and that it caused so much damage. lee, I…” you pause to suck in a sharp breath, and lee wishes she could read your mind to know if this has burdened you at all. “I’m so sorry.”

your tone is soft, and lee can imagine how you look right now – concerned, worried. it just adds to her discomfort. it makes her feel pitied, and right now, she isn’t the one who deserves that. her mother does. and you sympathizing with her just drags to her conscience that this situation is one worth sympathizing with. which, logically, she knows it is. she would also feel concerned if someone she cared for told such a story. but, to face another person’s sympathy head on, to deal with it outside of the rationality of just identifying it as a concerning, to have another person’s worried reaction be thrusted at her like this – it makes her stomach churn. she’d rather forget it all. but, hearing your gentle words, feeling your light touch, it just reminds her of how bad it all is. and that’s something she usually tries to ignore, for she can barely handle acknowledging it. both in general, and how bad it is for herself specifically. she doesn’t like thinking of herself as a victim of something, but when you talk to her like that, she feels that way – like something terrible happened to her. and that makes it harder to ignore the weight of it all.

“I…” she chokes on the word, tears beginning to spill out. fuck, this is the last thing she wanted. she lifts her hands to her face, covering her wet cheeks. she wishes the ground could just swallow her whole. the last thing she wanted was to deliver this in any way that wasn’t fast, to-the-point and quickly done with. she feels like a child again. just as lost, just as unsteady in grasping her emotions or stopping them from overflowing. 

“you what?” and now, your voice is shaky too. but, lee can’t focus on that now. she can’t focus on anything. 

“I wish things were different. I wish my mom and I were different.” her words tremble as she speaks, littered with small, weak sobs she can’t hold in. they sound so squeaky, so meek. lee didn’t want it to happen this way, she wanted to be in control during this.

but, she can’t stop crying. her palms are moist with the tears, her mouth salty and wet. her and her mom will never get better. and that’s what hurts the most. that no matter how many christmas trees lee puts up with her, no matter how often she calls, no matter how many times lee plays pretend, there’ll always exist this strain now. it’s binding, and it’ll always be like this. forever shifted from what they once had. 

she wipes her wrist at her nose, sloppy and dripping into her mouth. she hates being in this state. it’s been hard enough crying in front of you the first two times, but this feels less quiet, less calm – the bubbling hiccups, the shaking of her body, the way her nose can’t stop running. it feels so much more messy, completely and utterly ripped out of her control and stabilization. she doesn’t like this feeling, doesn’t want to feel out of control. but, this no longer feels like a mere sting of hurt or sadness. this is a tight, choking sort of regret and devastation surging through her body. maybe this is why people say to not repress things. lee did, and now that it’s unravelled within her, she feels as though she’ll never be the same again with how much it’s eating at her from the inside out, ripping every bit of flesh and bone of her until she’s a crumbled mess.

if the suppression didn’t work in her favour, maybe the intentional isolating wouldn’t either. at least not this time, when things had reached this level.

just to at least try, lee mutters, her breaths squeezing and high, “please… I need…” she can’t even finish, just leaning in your direction. 

you clutch onto her immediately, almost as though you needed this as badly as her – though, lee can’t guess if that’s true for the life of her. she’s been so caught up in her own thoughts she nearly forgot she wasn’t alone. she’s not sure if that’s selfish. but, maybe just tonight, she can let herself be a little selfish. she doesn’t think you’ll mind. 

you two say nothing else for the remainder of the evening, remaining in that position until lee falls asleep, body sagged and depleted, with her face pressed into the safety of your neck. 

maybe this is why her mom always held her. it’s a bit easier to pretend things are okay when all you can feel is the weight of someone else against you.

–

when you wake up alone in lee’s bed, you’re immediately shooting up, concern twisting in your stomach. you turn her alarm clock to you. it’s 6:33AM. she’s probably on one of her runs. that makes you feel a bit more relieved, though the knot in your stomach remains wrapped tightly. why would she go on a run after all that happened last night? couldn’t she ever give herself a break?

you flop back onto her bed, massaging your temple. lee had meekly asked you to spend the night, requesting that you two just lie in silence. in that moment, you would’ve quieted the entire world for her. 

after she had fallen asleep, her face so soft and tear-streaked, you had wept quietly next to her, body aching with all she had told you. you still feel it, really. you had always known lee went through something, but never would’ve guessed this of all things. you went in knowing this much – lee has a controlling mom who is religious and not doing well, lee hates going back home, lee’s mom was cut off. all those things had been delivered by lee rather straightforwardly, so you knew whatever she had to be keeping from you regarding her mother was something a bit different from those things, a bit harder to swallow. part of you had been anticipating that the secret in question would encapsulate the usual trajectory most people faced – a relationship that was strained due to differences that revealed themselves in adulthood, and the harsh fights ignited by that, the wounds that still can’t be healed. but, a night with the police called, a mother becoming a stranger, lee having to take care of that mother for years. you hadn’t expected those things. and it had shaken you more than you expected.

you had never seen her so utterly despaired, so entirely hopeless and devastated. the way her body moved as she sobbed looked so unnatural to lee – lee, who is always so poised and stiff and straight. lee, your girlfriend who is always steady and prepared for anything, looked like her entire world was shattered last night. it made you feel so stupid, so confused, because you didn’t know how to handle a version of lee this distraught, this twisted and wracked by her emotions. 

how she kept her shit together for this long, you don’t even know. a night she can’t remember the contents of, a mother who may have been harmed in ways she isn’t even certain of, a relationship that became filled with estrangement and unexplainable behaviours. it’s something almost out of fiction. most people you know are aware of exactly why and how their family’s dynamics are fucked up. but, lee doesn’t even know what the fuck happened to her family. she’s been dragged and entrapped in a black hole of lost memories and secrets for over a decade now. you couldn’t handle such a thing. it’d haunt you every fucking day.

and maybe it does with lee.

you shakily tuck the blanket up to your chest, trying to calm yourself down. you need to keep your shit together. you can’t let her trauma fuck you up so much that she spends the morning comforting you when she’s the one who needs it. especially after she’s spent enough years taking care of someone else.

but, that someone else is her mother. of course lee took care of her. 

precious lee, everlastingly good lee. 

and speaking of her mother, the revelation of what’s happened has left you with just as many questions as lee. how does her mother act now? what does the haze lee spoke of entail? how often does she seem grounded and real, and how often is she a half-present stranger to lee? the questions do nothing to quell your sense of unease and shock at all that lee has told you. you’ve never met someone whose parent became a shell of themself, whose ongoings of their own home are so unknown they don’t even know what aroused such a change. the gaps and holes of the situation gnaw at you, with each question bringing a wave of secondhand anxiety, discomfort and curiosity. it makes your stomach turn – what happened to lee’s mom to cause all of this?

the possibilities make you nauseated with the range of brutality your mind skims along. and you’re just a stranger to lee’s mom. how must lee feel?

when the front door creaks open a half hour lately, you yank the blanket off, rushing to meet lee in the kitchen.

she’s in a t-shirt and jogging pants, panting lightly. when she spots you, she quietly takes off her headphones and sets her walkman on the counter. “hey.” 

“hi.” you want to hold her so bad, protect her from everything bad in the world. but, you know better. lee doesn’t need protection, she’s more than capable. but, still, if there was a way to guarantee she never had to feel another ounce of pain, you’d gladly make any sacrifice necessary for it.

you resist touching her, the memory of how she recoiled last night still fresh. it had stung, but you reminded yourself it was only a testimony to the great pain she was in. it wasn’t fair to dictate her lack of desire for touch as being anything but. 

but, not touching means you two stand there awkwardly for a few moments, simply staring.

lee breaks it first, eyes darting to the ground and remaining there. “I just needed to clear my head. sorry I didn’t wake you before leaving.”

“no, no, it’s okay!” you rush to reassure, wincing at how your voice flicks to a higher pitch. “seriously, it’s okay, I know you probably needed that.”

“you don’t need to make leniencies for me just because of last night. it’s okay if you’re upset.”

you frown. “I’m not, lee. I’m not excusing it just because of last night, I understand it because of last night. that’s not cutting you slack, it’s just acknowledging you went through something hard.”

her jaw clenches. “but, I don’t want things to be different now.”

“they’re not,” you say with a shake of your hand. it feels like a lie, considering this morning definitely feels different to any other you two have shared – more tender, more sensitive to how you react or behave. but, you don’t expect it’ll remain like this forever, nor that any permanent, strong changes will happen. so, things really won’t be different. . and even if you do make a few adjustments to try to avoid reminding her of her trauma, it’s not such a big difference, is it? it’s understandable, you don’t want to yank her back into such a dark place. “I just mean that, you know, you had a rough night, and because of that, things may not go as smoothly this morning as they usually do. but, I get it, you’re drained and it’s understandable it’d cause, you know, some changes to our routine today.”

lee breathes in a deep breath, her fingers rolled into tight fists. “I don’t want you to expect changes, though. I don’t want you to just let things slide because you pity me.”

“I don’t pity you, lee.” your voice nearly cracks, beginning to weaken under the lack of sleep and the sense of helplessness beginning to creep in you. “I just feel for you, and I’m sorry for all that happened. and I know bringing it all up last night must’ve been a lot, so I know things may be a bit different today because of how draining it was, and–”

“you don’t need to do all that.” her voice is firm, and still, she doesn’t look at you.

a sharp scoff flies from your lips. you regret it immediately, knowing she doesn’t deserve your anger right now. but, before this gets worse, you say, “fine, okay,” then turn, heading into the bathroom. 

when you’re brushing your teeth, on the brink of tears, a knock comes to the door. 

“it’s occupied,” you say, words muffled from the froth in your mouth. for once, you don’t want to talk to her. 

lee sighs on the other end. “I know. can I come in?”

“later, lee.”

“okay.” the word sounds forced, hardened by an intentional push. you can tell she wants to stay.

after spending twenty minutes sitting on the toilet, trying to gather up and straighten your emotions into something more orderly than an overtired, blubbering mess, you head into the living room.

lee is standing by the tree, carefully re-arranging one of the ornaments. when it drops to the table’s surface, she bites her lip, tenderly cradling it up and hooking it back on. the sight only makes you feel even more sensitive to tears.

you warily call out, “hey.” 

lee’s head whips to you, and immediately, she paces over. when she reaches you, her arms lift before quickly flinching back into their resting position at her sides. you gulp hard at the motion – to see her being the one hesitating to touch feels wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, fingers stretching at her thighs. “that wasn’t right.”

“no, it wasn’t.”

the corner of her lip twitches and she nods slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“I just…” you gulp, feeling your eyes beginning to burn. since morning time, your emotions have already felt extra sensitive and prickly from lack of sleep and the weight of last night’s conversation. and that makes it all too easy for lee’s earlier words to have pierced through you, leaving a burn of hurt. maybe you had no right to have required anything of her this morning – comfort, softness, talking. after all, it’s her who had shared something of note last night, not you. but, you had at least hoped that she’d let you in this morning, and allow you to support her and give her some love. “that hurt.” your voice falters, and you draw in a shaky breath to level it. “I just wanted to be there for you, lee. and help you, and make you feel better after last night. but, you made it sound like it’s terrible to do that.”

“it’s not,” she softly interjects, shaking her head. “it’s not. I just – I got scared that what happened last night, and what I told you, would make things different. and that you’d change how you treat me because of it. the idea of favours, it makes me uncomfortable.”

you nearly cringe at the words. the knowledge that your care made her feel uncomfortable is borderline humiliating. “uncomfortable because how I was treating you was, I don’t know, too much?”

“no.” she swallows, her throat bobbing. “it just made me feel like you now see me as, I don’t know, different, or pitiful.”

“but, I’ve given you this kind of treatment before. you know, like, trying to understand things may be different the day after something intense.”

“I know. but, with this situation, I…” her voice lowers, eyebrows scrunching in what feels awfully close to shame. “I already feel weak regarding it. not remembering anything, not being able to figure it out. and I just, I don’t want you to see me like how I see myself.” her mouth twists in something sorrowful, her eyes lowering. 

“but, I don’t, though.” your voice breaks, and you immediately clamp your mouth shut. you don’t want to make this about yourself or your hurt. 

but, lee catches it immediately, her eyes widening and raising to you. her mouth flutters open and shut, and she takes a tentative step forward, fingertips ghosting along your wrist. “I know.”

“I see you as strong, honestly. you’ve been dealing with so much, and you hold yourself together despite it all.”

“I don’t hold it together well. I–”

“lee, look at yourself!” you nearly cry out, the power of the shock at what she had been through pushing you forward to try to shake her into realizing what’s crystal clear to you. “you built an entire life, independently, for yourself. despite having an entire night you don’t remember, one that made things so different for you and your mom. and despite all that happened, you still care for her, without falter or hesitation. you’re a great person, a great daughter, despite it all.”

her fingers wrap firmly around your wrist. “I don’t – you don’t need to tell me all of this.”

“I don’t need to do anything, you’re right. I want to, though, because it’s the truth.”

she shakes her head slowly. “I’m just doing what I need to do.”

you draw your hand from her grip, cupping her face, pressing in close. “you’re doing things that take a lot of strength, and a lot of consideration for your mom.” you lean your head against hers. “don’t diminish it.”

“I’m not,” she weakly protests, her voice low. “it’s just not a big deal.”

“it is, lee.”

she shakily sighs, as though she can’t handle the amount of praise you’re laying onto her. “I just – I only wanted to apologize, okay? for me, at least in this situation, I usually avoid talking about it and want things to immediately go back to exactly how they were before. but, I can’t ask that of you. for you, it’ll be different. I know that.”

her understanding words have your shoulders easing in relief, for to think of moving on without acknowledging all that occurred last night feels impossible. “yeah, it’s just – it was a lot. not in a bad way, of course,” you speedily add, eyes widening to search hers for any sign of hurt that could’ve resulted from your words. “I just mean, I think I would’ve struggled to have just let it go this morning.”

“and I shouldn’t have expected you to.”

you hum quietly. “thanks.” when she says nothing, dark orbs resting on you, carefully studying, you gulp, something else still gnawing at your mind. “lee?”

“hm?” 

you start with, “nothing between us will change. and I don’t see you as pitiful, okay?”

she eyes you with furrowed eyebrows, her stare wary. “okay.” 

“but, you know, you’re allowed to feel bad for yourself, babe. sympathetic with yourself, your past self, and all they’ve both been through. it’s okay for other people to feel bad for you, too. and for them to comfort you. it doesn’t mean they think you’re pitiful. it just means they care about and love you and are just sad you dealt with something so hard.”

her lips pinch together, chest heaving with a heavy breath. “I know, but people feeling bad for me, or comforting me – it makes me feel small, especially considering how… I can barely manage the situation as is.” she rubs a hand on her face, and your chest snaps at the sight of her clear distress. lee in general doesn’t like unanswered questions – even with movies, whenever you guys saw one with an ambiguous ending, she would spend hours afterwards cracking the code of it. if something as inconsequential as that can gnaw at her mind, what would it feel like for her to face a mystery embedded within her own life, centering on someone she loves? probably terrifying, you suspect. “and I just don’t like to think about what happened with my mom. but, being comforted pushes me to think about it and everything that happened. that’s why I’d rather things go back to normal after I talk about it. not only because the alternative makes me feel pitied. but, because it also forces me to think about what happened.”

“but, does not thinking about it really help at all?”

“I…” she pauses, the firmness of her jaw seeming to deflate as she quietly ponders on your question. “I don’t know. I used to think about it more, but now, I just avoid it. it won’t go anywhere and it’s too much.”

at the vulnerable opening, you tread across the threshold carefully, not wanting to push her too fast. “but, is not acknowledging it, and how it’s affected you, really helping?”

“I–I don’t know.”

she looks so fragile, her face tense and avoidant, ducked down and shying away from your gaze. you can tell the possibility of thinking on it more, lingering on the horrors of it, is overwhelming for her, so you try to quiet your tone. “I – just think on it, okay? I’ll be here for whatever you decide.”

her throat rolls under the skin as she gulps. “okay.” 

“I–” god, you want to say it so fucking bad. but, not now. not like this, when she’s clearly already stressed.

“you what?”

“I’m here for you, okay?” you hesitate, then move forward to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t pity you, or see you as weak. but, I feel bad for what happened, lee, because it is hard what you guys went through. and I know me feeling bad for you makes you feel like I’m pitying you, or seeing you differently. but, I don’t. I’m just sad you went through this. and I just want to support you.” another kiss. “if you’ll let me, I just want to care for you.”

a small noise comes from the back of lee’s throat. you can’t see her, your cheek pressed to hers, so you wait patiently to hear her answer. 

when she sags against you, arms tightly clutching on, you have it.

–

lee jerks in surprise when two arms wrap around her from behind. her head flies back, body relaxing a bit when she sees your crinkled, happy eyes, mouth twisted in amusement. 

“‘hi’ works, too,” she mutters, very much not pulling away. her body is still tense, but after hours apart, she craves this.

“yes, but where’s the element of surprise in that?”

“not every greeting requires that, you know,” she deadpans, a twinge of disappointment flicking in her when you let go, standing by her side.

“well, I’m just happy to see you,” you whine, bottom lip jutting out. “but, I guess if that’s how you feel…” you turn away, releasing an exaggerated, whooshing breath.

lee’s mouth tingles as she bites back a smile. she wryly glances at you, hoping you’re not actually hurt beneath all the jokes. after a moment of scanning you, she shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you so that your hip is flushed to hers. 

“oh, so, now you want to hold me.”

she snorts. “I always do.”

“sure,” you drawl, rolling your eyes. 

“I do. do I need to prove that to you?”

“here?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. “didn’t know public play was your thing, harker.”

when lee spots a couple flashing you two alarmed looks, she internally winces. “baby, we’re in public.”

“yeah, I know, that’s what public play is, loser.”

she tightens her grip on your hip, leaning into your ear to murmur, “no, I mean we’re in public, so please, stop talking about the… public play.”

you bite your lip, following her nervous glances to the couple near you two. “did they hear us?”

“yes, they did.”

“oh.” you laugh, nuzzling your face against her shoulder. “my bad.”

she sighs, eyes darting to the nearby couple again. “just order, then let’s go.”

you slip from her grasp, peering into the plane of glass, eagerly taking in the colourful stamps on the other side. “what flavour will you get?”

she hums thoughtfully, looking at all the special flavours set for summer. while they look nice, she isn’t really up for trying anything new. “just vanilla.”

you cock your head at her with what can only be described as a pleading look. “c’mon, be more adventurous than that.”

her eyes carefully rove along the small, yellow shop, ensuring no one is in earshot before muttering against your ear, “this is the last vanilla thing I have since dating you, so let me keep it.”

you nod along to her words, and after a few moments, you start, your head whipping to her. “wait, what the fuck?” your face crumbles into a loud round of laughter, and a warm sense of pride flitters through her stomach. “wow, you’re funny!”

lee rolls her eyes, sniggering. “don’t sound so surprised.” despite her outward indifference, the compliments do stroke her ego a bit. she’s never seen herself as being funny, or charming, and she’s certain no one else has either. but, you have a way of so easily flashing her smiles and tossing her compliments that she can’t help but feel that at least you see her in that way. and though she’d never admit it, she’s glad to know you do.

after the ice cream is secured, you two sit on the park bench, one of your legs laying languidly upon hers. lee likes it, this easy intimacy, and she lets her fingers rub along your shin as she takes observations. there’s a woman playing frisbee with her dog, a group of students sitting on a picnic blanket, some children playing, well, a frankly poor attempt of baseball (and lee isn’t even a fan of baseball), and several other such groupings. lee wonders what any of them would think upon seeing you or her. would they see two friends, or a couple?

as lee hears the slippery noises of you happily eating your ice cream, she can’t help but feel she’d like them to think the second. you’re hers, and ever since your discussion at the pride march, she’s wanted to try to be more intentional. 

she lowers her head, kissing your knee softly. when she raises up to continue eating her ice cream, the side of her head practically burns from your unfaltering gaze.

glancing at you tentatively, she asks, “what?”

“what was the kiss for?”

she shrugs, brushing her thumb over the spot, still slick from her saliva. “no reason.”

“mm, no reason my ass.”

 she continues eating her ice cream, her body afloat in what’s finally a sense of peace. she’s been waiting for it, hoping for it. ever since she confided in you about her childhood, she can tell that you’ve grown a bit more hesitant, or at least delicate, with her. you’ve been lavishing touches on her more frequently, leaving the room when she talks to her mom, or on some occasions, staying and then hugging her silently right after. you now pause for longer beats before asking her about her childhood. she knows you’re not doing it to make her feel uncomfortable – if anything, it’s just evidence of how jilted you were from the recollection she delivered to you. and she can’t blame you for that – she lived through it, and even she can barely stomach it on most days. and knowing you, you’re probably just trying to avoid tipping her into another breakdown. which she’d like to avoid too, but not because of an evident barrier within every moment that vaguely connects to her mother or childhood.

she spoke to you about it two days ago, focused on softening her tone, a practice she rarely ever engaged in. but, after what happened last time, she wanted to be careful. at the end of it, you promised to try to not be so awkward about things. lee hadn’t told you then, but part of her also wanted the hesitancy to diminish because she thought about what you said to her last week. a lot. and she decided that she does want to try thinking about the past, talking about it, letting herself feel for it, just as you said. you were right. the silence with her mom is what shattered what they had – what if her own silence on this matter one day breaks her too?

at least now, things seem more normal. she feels less frightened about any sort of permanent change, for your questions are now laced with less pauses and wary gazes. you still seem a bit more tender than usual, but lee’s accepted that maybe that’s just a natural part of confiding in someone who feels this way about her. maybe part of acknowledging how… hard the situation was (she still winces to think of it that way) is allowing you to give her proportionate care for it. at least, well, what feels “proportionate” for you. she still struggles to think of herself as needing that much.

she watches you as you smile up at the tree shadowing you two, which is lime under the golden sunlight peeking through. “do you… do you like this area?”

the location of your university has left you no choice but to live in this kind of area, and lee itches to know what you would choose if it were up to you. both out of curiosity’s sake, and to, secretly, use your answer to adjust her envisionment of the future.

“I do.” you release a sigh, eyes scanning your surroundings. “it has nice parks, the subway makes it easy to reach deeper parts of this city, but, our place’s neighbourhood is still quiet enough to be more… serene.”

she hums, nodding. she had presumed as much, based on the way your eyes lingered on the flowers filling the lawns of neighbourhood homes, and how you sometimes stuck your head out the window of her room to look at the kids playing on the streets. 

you love her window. it makes her a bit regrettable – she hadn’t cared much about the window apart from it making her bedroom feel a bit less closed in and a bit more breathable. but, apart from that, she had only chosen that room for herself because it was the smaller one and would force her to set a desk out in the open. which she didn’t like, but she had done it so things could at least be a bit easier for you. she didn’t want to be a selfish roommate.

“you?” 

the answer is immediate, months of reflection bringing her right to it. “I could live somewhere more isolated.”

“oh?” 

she eyes you hesitantly, hoping her answer doesn’t dissuade you in any kind of form. “like, a cottage. in a forest.”

your eyes bulge out. “damn, that sounds… isolated, indeed.”

she fidgets, feeling slightly self-conscious. “in a bad way?”

“no, no, I mean, it makes sense, considering you like your solitude. but, you’d be comfortable being that isolated?”

I wouldn’t be alone. her mouth twists at the thought, stomach tightening over the fact that your phrasing makes it sound like you expect her to be there alone. do you not envision a future with her? she tries to shake off the thought, focusing on what you asked. 

but, the truth is, yes, she would be that comfortable. more than. “probably. I don’t mind being physically alone. it makes me feel at ease.”

“but, you wouldn’t be nervous? scared?” 

“by the time I could afford anything like that, I will have completed my training.” she shrugs, stroking your knee. “so, I could defend myself.”

“plus, you’d…” when you pause, lee’s hand stills, awaiting your next words. “you’d, I don’t know, maybe have me?”

lee nearly exhales a deep breath of relief, just barely refraining. it’s been prickling at her mind – the possibility that you may not want to share a home with her. it’s a foreign thing for her to worry over, and ironic, in all honesty. she’s spent most of her life anticipating the day she gets to be alone, on her own, with no one but herself to account for. and now, right when she’s on the precipice of having that, she finds herself wanting nothing more than to stay here with you. maybe it had always been less about wanting to be by herself, but wanting to be somewhere where she’s understood, and having felt convinced for most of her life that she was the only one who could give herself that fully. 

“yeah,” she mumbles, unable to resist the small smile that tilts her lips up. something had been gnawing at her mind for two days now, but the topic of conversation, as well as your confession, pushes her on now to voice it. “listen… the landlord told me two days ago we have three weeks to decide if we want to up the lease. I want to. but, if you don’t, you can tell me. it’s okay.” direct, straight-to-the-point, and done with.

when you say nothing, lee forces her eyes to you. your lips are parted, and you resemble an owl with how you stare at her.

“what?” she quietly prods.

“well, I just– you don’t want to leave here after grad? maybe explore somewhere else.”

lee blinks at you. she had never been one particularly excited at the idea of exploring new places, often too comfortable in her surroundings to stray. and graduation, finding a job, having a partner – those are enough changes as is. she hadn’t been eager to seek out more. “no, not really. I’m not in a rush to leave. I wouldn’t mind staying till I need to go to virginia.” she shifts slightly, suddenly wishing you two had discussed this before now. “I– do you want to stay?”

“I do.”

“do you want to stay with me?” it’s the question that really matters.

your face becomes a beam of light when you smile, and lee turns away, her breath hitching when you say, “do you even need to ask?”

lee breathes in a shuddering breath, taken aback by just how… happy your words make her. she wasn’t even half-ready to let go of this yet – the home you two have built the past year. it’s been an entire year, but she feels like she’s only had the briefest taste of it. she’d like to indulge in at least a bit more before whatever comes next – whether it be the two of you moving somewhere else together, moving to virginia together or even being apart during her time at the academy. it’d be hard, sure, but she knows the two of you can handle it.

when the feeling of overwhelming lightness settles down, she releases a puff of air. “well, of course, I need to. can’t up it without asking you.”

“yeah, you’d be a tad creepy for doing that, huh?”

she snickers. “just a tad.”

when the two of you wander through the farmer’s market taking place on the outskirts of the park, you loop your arm through hers. she tenses automatically from the public display of affection before easing up. even though she wants to be more open, she still can’t help but immediately tighten in tension when you do these things. she supposes it’s just a matter of adjusting.

“so, three days.” you pout, leaning on her shoulder.

lee gives you a small nod. three days until she goes back home. it’s not an entirely welcome thought, considering how uncomfortable it makes her to think of how long the two of you will be apart. but, part of her has been wanting to see her mom since she confided in you. something about speaking so unabashedly of their bond, and all her mom did for her, has her longing to see her again. though, she’s certain that in a week, she’ll be desperate to leave the house, for upon each visit, the hoarding gets more stifling, more treacherous.

“are you… nervous?”

she shrugs. “a bit. just about how much worse things have gotten regarding her behaviour, the house…” it’s an anxiety she’s grown accustomed to, one that visits and makes a home in her body, feet tossed up and all, everytime she’s anticipating a visit to her mom’s. “I can manage.”

you hum in thought and plant a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I just – I wish I knew how to grapple with the kind of things she says. I usually just stay quiet.”

after pausing for a moment, nothing surrounding you two but the soft cacophony of the crowd’s conversations and purchases, you quietly say, “maybe all you can do is tell her that when she’s ready, she can talk to you, or, you know, use your help to get help. but, other than that, just try to be there.”

“I’ve always been there.” sometimes, lee hates that she’s been. since childhood, her mother forced her into a box, with just them, content to keep herself and lee hidden from the rest of the world’s company. the wariness of the world, the protection of lee – it never truly waned. as lee got older, it only fused with other things – like her mom’s inability to do certain things around the house, and her increased paranoia of lee leaving and the resulting hesitation for whenever lee had to go to work or even school. 

her responsibility made her both grow up too fast and too little. she had acquired the necessary skills of survival, like cooking and managing money, but little of what was needed for actually living. her mother had been absent for many of lee’s most formative experiences – her first love, first heartache, first friendships. and while some of those things had been hidden away for privacy’s sake or out of fear of her mother’s disapproval, there was always a gnawing voice at the back of her mind reminding her that her mother wouldn’t be fully present even if lee did reach out. she would maybe give lee some comfort and advice, but it would only be a matter of time before she said something else that’d unnerve lee. so, lee avoided it.

and as a result, lee had to learn a lot, maybe too much, on her own once she slowly came to realize just how stilted she was emotionally. it came from careful observation, and an embarrassing amount of self-help books.

though, she can’t help it. part of her still stings with bitterness at how much she had to train herself for because her mother wasn’t there to help her. at least not as much as lee wished for her to be.

“I know,” you softly sigh, rubbing her back. “it’s okay to sometimes want a break, you know? you don’t have to put it all on yourself.”

“she doesn’t have anyone else.” lee feels an odd kick of protectiveness. it’s strange – she doesn’t enjoy visiting most of the time, but she’d never give it up. not when her mom is so alone. in a way, it’s a duty she’s caged into, but she can’t imagine escaping it even if she had the key. both out of obligation and due to the fact that when she spends enough time away, she usually winds up craving the comfort of her mother, anyways. visiting is a way to replenish that in a sense, as well as check in and help. “besides, I owe her this. I already keep so much distance as is.”

“do you think that’ll… change anytime soon? like, her maybe living with you?”

“no.” lee doesn’t mean to sound harsh, but the question is one she’s thought of before, while the answer is engraved in her mind. “I spent too long looking after her, and being scared, and I can’t– I, yeah.”

you squeeze her forearm gently, and lee peers at you, shame coursing through her. will you look down at her for being such a bad daughter?

you’re watching her with eyebrows drawn in, mouth pinched together. she anxiously wonders if it’s disappointment until you squeeze her arm again and say, “I understand. you already spent so many years looking after her, making sacrifices, feeling uncomfortable. you’re not wrong to not want that again. your visits are more than enough.”

she looks down. “thanks.” she certainly doesn’t feel like her visits are enough, but it’s really all she can manage. and it helps, somewhat, to hear you all acknowledge all she’s done. it eases the guilt somewhat, at least in this moment.

“and if you feel anxious there, or want to rant, call me, okay?”

“like a hotline?” she mutters, her lips tickling with the urge to smile. despite the joking words, she feels more than touched by your kindness. it’s nice – that you know about her mom now. at least the explanation is done with, so she can talk about these things without tiptoeing the line between what you know and what else she can reveal.

“oh, yeah,” you snicker. “if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get one of those 1-900 ones.”

lee casts you a sidelong glance, curiosity bubbling within her. in all honesty, she’s glad for the chance to discuss something else, feeling worn out from the talk of her impending visit. “did you ever call one of those?”

“yeah,” you giggle, leaning into her conspiratorially. “at, like, fifteen, I think, some of my friends and I brought a bunch of quarters so we could get at least five minutes on the phone with the girl on the other end. honestly, it’s probably what prompted my sexual awakening.” you shoot her a mischievous grin, and lee feels her neck burning. “did you?”

“no.” religious shame, innate discomfort with intimacy and a sheltered upbringing didn’t exactly make for a good combination to be sexually rebellious as a teenager. “I heard people talk about it, though.”

“eh, wasn’t really worth the anticipation. I mean, back then, it was – a woman’s ankle would’ve probably had me frothing at the mouth. but, now?” you shrug, idly brushing your fingers through a bouquet of flowers being sold at one stall. “the real thing is better.”

lee feels her face warming up more, your low tone making it evident what you mean. she can’t help but take a bit of pride in your words – logically, she knows it’s not that much of an accomplishment, but considering how much practice she committed to talking explicitly in her freshman year, it feels like one. 

“once,” you continue, cheeks lifting as you laugh, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, “a guy told me I had the voice of the speaker on 1-900-SPANK-ME.”

her mouth clamps together, feeling a whirring mix of surprise and embarrassment on your behalf. “that’s… unexpected.”

“yeah, I know! I think he liked me or something, but like, a mixtape would’ve sufficed.”

“yeah. do you like mixtapes?” she asks, hoping to sound discreet. 

“yeah, it’s like what I said – homemade stuff is always so thoughtful. I would’ve loved one back then. plus, romance-wise, it’s better than being compared to some girl he heard who said, ‘I want you on top of me so bad.’”

✩

the way you imitate the caller, raising your voice and making it sound more seductive, has lee shifting her shoulders, suddenly keenly aware of just how effortlessly you slid into that role.

“um, well, what did the person say when you called that one time?”

you seem to hesitate for a second, casting her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. whatever you seem to find on her face, though, seems to earn you a boost of confidence, for you then hover your mouth near her ear, quietly answering with a giggle. “oh, you know, something along the lines of, ‘oh, welcome to 1-900-whatever-whatever, where girls with the wettest, juiciest pussies are just aching to talk to you.’”

lee gulps, her abdomen beginning to sizzle with something warm at hearing you say something so filthy. the few times you had uttered such words during sex made her feel swept from under her feet, light-headed and flung somewhere else mentally. there was something about how your voice got huskier in its teasing tone, or higher in shy humiliation, that made her feel totally broken in any reservations, wanting nothing more to drink in all the telltale signs of how you’re feeling and figure it all out like her own special puzzle.

“I see,” she says through gritted teeth, hoping you don’t notice any signs of her sudden arousal.

when your teeth flash at her, her hope cracks a bit, but it feels nice.

you have her so worked up that that night, you two finally try lee’s toy. lying on your sides, face to face, she nearly comes undone at the sight of your mouth falling open, eyes screwed shut, as she spreads you open with her cock. you ask her to let it rest inside you for a few minutes, and for that time, lee rubs soothingly on your clit, kissing you languidly and murmuring how you’re taking her so well. words that made her feel so embarrassed the first time she uttered them, but now, slip from her mouth without an ounce of hesitation. for doing so is only made easier by the way you gasp at the words, your hips twitching. as lee plays with different parts of your body, wanting to spend the night worshipping it as though every inch is a sacred artefact, she wishes she could feel how your pussy wraps around her. how it’s tightening when she gently pinches your nipples or sinks her teeth into your collarbone.

when you adjust, lee has you on your back minutes later, burying her face in your neck as she slowly thrusts in and out. she’s sucking the sweat off your skin, lapping at the tangy taste of it, feeling close to addiction with the way you wrap your legs around her, clawing at her back. 

the sting of it has her panting, “you like that, don’t you?”

you tug on her hair, raising her to a messy kiss. “god, I love it.”

she thrusts harder into you, one thumb flicking over your budded clit, her mouth relentless on your neck. with your hands on her back, your hair plastered to your forehead, you come just like that, body arching against her, chests rubbing together. lee wishes so bad she could feel the way your pussy flutters around her cock, how you clench so hard and latch onto her.

the second time you get back on it that night, you’re riding her. every bounce you take on the strap has the harness pressing against lee’s clit, and she bites her lip to hold back her whimpers. there’s something undeniably attractive about you on top of her like this, tits bouncing, nipples hard, your entire body shaking. you’re struggling so much to keep going, and lee can’t help but wring pleasure out of that, leaning back on her headboard and watching you as you grasp at her stomach with needy hands.

when it gets too hard, you curl your fingers around her neck, panting out, “please, baby, please – ah.”

your words break into a long whine when lee wraps her arms around your torso, holding you flush to her body as she jerks her cock into you, her hips furiously jutting up. the sound of skin smacking rings through lee’s room, and it makes her hole clench in desire.

“couldn’t do it on your own, huh?” she mutters against your ear, her breath hot and moist as she laps at the shell of it. “you just need someone to do all the work for you.”

“no, no, I can do it, I–” your stubborn whines break into a long moan when lee’s hand comes down on your ass, slapping it hard. she relishes in how your skin gets warm to the touch from it, murmuring against your cool, wet skin, “not so mouthy now.”

that only makes your hips jerk harder, and the unexpected motion of it has lee crying out, her eyes tensing shut for a second. 

“oh?” you mutter, pressing your hips back down again, smiling when lee shivers, her hips bucking up. “does that feel good, baby?”

lee’s breath hitches as the pressure of the dildo’s base again pushes against her clit, sending streams of pleasure through her center. she grits her teeth, rasping out, “yeah.”

“poor baby,” you coo, ducking down to process sloppy kisses down her cheek. “feels good to split me open? c’mon, move harder, for both of us.”

“ah, okay,” she brokenly moans, bracing her feet down on the mattress and using the leverage to thrust her hips up.

you keen at the deeper thrusts, and jesus, lee wishes she could feel the way the silicone tip rubs against your g-spot, prodding and pushing the spongy texture of it. how she’d love to just feel your hot, drenched walls clamped up on her, squeezing and gripping, and begging for her to release inside you.

“fuck, feels so nice,” you whine, wrapping your arms around her neck, combing your fingers through her hair. “you’re doing so good.”

the praise has lee burning with pride. it eggs her on, pushing her to arch her hips up more. she grabs your breasts with her hands, pushing her face into them, lips moving without thought. she laps her tongue around the curve of them, nose fetching deep breaths of your scent.

your grasp on her hair tightens. “such a good girl. fuck, please, my nipples, baby.”

your voice feels like seduction personified, low and heady and making lee’s head spin with the way you’re guiding her. you use your hands to keep her arms locked in around your waist, almost as though you’re silently demanding her to help you. and lee is seized by the switch in dynamics whole-heartedly, the sight of you being pleasured and staying in control making her throb with want. there’s something almost relieving about being the one without the reigns. she’s so accustomed to having her fingers sunk deep into every situation regarding herself, wanting to weave and structure it according to the rules. but, giving herself over to you like this means that for once, her control, her decisions – it’s all tossed out the window. usually, she hates that, but with you, someone she trusts. it feels good, it feels like she can commit herself to letting go for once.

and so, lee obeys without a second thought, her mouth wrapping around your perked nipple and sucking it into her mouth, the stiff texture of it against her tongue making her groan. her fingers work diligently on the other one, flicking her thumb over it, then lightly rolling. 

your hips buck harder through it, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. lee takes the opportunity immediately, lifting her head up to draw your tongue into her mouth, eyes closing as she sucks and licks at the soft, pink muscle. 

“mm,” you whine against her sloppy kisses, “you’re such a good girl. filling me up like this.”

lee hisses, the praise driving her to push into you even harder. 

and you sit there, on her cock, taking it so well. just remaining wrapped up in her arms, tightly clutching on, as it rams into you over and over again. lee sinks her teeth into your shoulder, the wet squelches ringing through the room making her squeeze down on nothing. with the mix of lube, spit and juices lathered on your folds, you sound like a mess. god, she wishes she could add to it, wishes this silicone could be real and she could send spurt after spurt of her seed into you. she wants to claim you in every way.

and it seems you feel the same way, your mouth desperate and quick on her neck, sucking dark marks into her skin. lee’s so sensitive that she feels like every patch you give attention to is made of needles, prickling, skimming and stinging as you nip and mark her up. 

when you pull away, your lips turn up in a wide smile. you mutter, lips ghosting hers, “you’re all mine, okay?”

lee bites her lip, arousal coursing through her from the words. since you guys got together, it’s been clear you have a possessive streak to your affection. usually, lee wouldn’t like the idea of someone staking any sort of claim on her. but, with you, there’s something sweet about it, how badly you want her to be only yours. it also amuses her, since she’s been yours for months, and there’s no way she’d leave you – so, this side of is less than reasonable to her. 

but, your jealousy has never caused any dire sort of situation in your guys’ relationship, so as of now, the little showings of it are something she allows herself to find pleasure in, both from how endearing you are when it happens and from how it makes her feel to be so wholeheartedly desired.

besides, she’s not much better than you in that regard. maybe some, but not a lot.

“I’m yours.”

“good, good,” you moan, dragging her back in for a long kiss, your tongue clumsily swirling around hers. 

minutes later, you whimper, your voice timid when you mumble, “lee, my thighs… they hurt.”

lee laughs lightly against your lips, feeling heat pool in her stomach from your confession. wordlessly, she eases you off her cock, relishing in the moan you release when she slips out fully. she pushes you gently onto your stomach, nearly gasping at how good you look like this. your back’s fully exposed, sweat shining the skin, and your ass has lee’s fingers twitching with how badly she wants to hit it. she runs her fingers along your thighs, stopping to grip your hips tightly and tug you up so that your ass is in the air. you whine at the change of position, rubbing back against her bobbing, sopping dildo.

lee grits her teeth, taking in a deep breath before she starts.

once you’ve adjusted, she doesn’t falter, her hips snapping against you without a moment of slowing down. you bury your face into her pillow, incomprehensible words flowing from your mouth, muffled against the fabric. her nails dig so hard into your flesh that she leaves crescent-shaped marks, and she can’t help but fondle with the skin there, groping and pinching as she pumps in. 

“can you spank me?” you whine, biting into the pillowcase.

lee doesn’t respond, but her hand immediately plants a firm swat on your ass, teeth clenching at the way you rock back against her from the impact. at this angle, she can see the way the rim to your hole stretches over her, latching onto her cock and keeping her locked in. she brushes her thumb against it, breaths heaving at the way your arousal sometimes drips when she pulls out. 

later, you come with lee still behind you, your front pressed against her headboard, back flush to her breasts as she encircles you in her arms. her mouth feels practically ravenous, hungry kisses littered over your neck as she rubs at your clit and mumbles, “so tight for me, so good. I can’t wait to see you come for me like this.”

you cry out, clutching onto her arms. “I need it so bad.”

“yeah?” she snickers, an idea stirring in her mind.

a moment later, her thrusts slow, finger circling your clit with enough pressure to get you twitching, but light enough that any orgasm drawn from it would be so far from satisfying.

“beg,” she murmurs, pinching your nipple hard.

your entire body writhes, head falling against her shoulder as you cry out. “but, but, it’s embarrassing–”

“I don’t care,” lee cuts in, stiff as she tries to keep her voice calm and removed from the trembles and heavy breathing that results from her arousal. “if you beg, I’ll make you feel good. otherwise, you can get yourself off.”

“lee!” you moan in protest. “that’s so mean–mmph!”

she shuts you up with a hard kiss, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. “I don’t care. do it.”

“I–I…” your words falter, before a quiet string of them fall from your lips. “please, lee, I need it so bad.”

“you can do better than that,” she whispers. there’s something about dominating like this that’s also relieving in its own right. she gets to focus solely on guiding and directing you through a series of steps – something she’s good. in addition to that, she can’t help but feel her mind go a bit slack at just how eager you are to follow directions, just how much of a control she has over you. 

despite all the progress she made since the start of university, it still makes her feel a bit guilty, to thrive off of that. but, she tries not to pay it mind in this moment, when your moans and cries are clear indicators that you’re enjoying this too.

“fine, I– please, please, please, lee! I need it so bad, need to come so bad, I’m aching for it, and I promise I’ll be good, and–” your words break off into a stifled noise as she starts working her way into you again, hips slamming vigorously. 

you come just like that, body squirming, lips hovering against hers as you softly wail into the small space of her bedroom. your hips flinch all the way through it, and lee needs to press her arms into you to keep you still. lee hearing and witnessing the evidence of your pleasure has her taut with tension and arousal. you look perfect like this – sweaty, exhausted, and thoroughly taken care of.

post-cuddles, when lee tosses the strap onto the towel on the floor, she immediately flushes at the downright evil giggle you release at seeing her grey boxers soaked through. 

“now, what do we have here?” you drawl, fingers slipping down the waistband and drawing them down. when you spread her thighs out, eyes immediately flicking to the spot between them, lee feels heat run up her neck from the way you smile, eyes crinkling in sheer satisfaction. “such a mess, baby.”

she swallows hard. “I– it’s not my fault.”

“oh, I know, I know,” you gently soothe, shifting down her bed to get your head lower. “you poor thing, you just couldn’t help it, could you?”

your tone, so sweet, so patronizing, has her hips shifting, a mix of embarrassment and arousal whirling through her.

when you keep staring at her, clearly awaiting an answer, she rolls her eyes, though her hips stutter. “no, I couldn’t.”

“you know, I’d usually make you wait longer for this kind of attitude.” you bat your lashes at her, and lee feels her clit throb when you flatten your tongue along her inner thigh and stroke along it slowly. “but, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

lee’s bucking into your face a few moments later, her entire pussy aching with the way you devour her, starting off with slow, open-mouth kisses along her folds and lips, pausing to draw different spots into your mouth and tug on them until she hisses in protest. you lave your tongue all over her, tracing and slipping, as though you’re starving and eager to drink up everything she has to offer. the thought itself is enough to make lee squirm. 

when you get to her clit, you keep the point of your tongue stroking along the hood, not directly on the bud just yet but toying at the sides. lee’s fingers tighten onto the sheets, her patience waning. 

“please, I need more,” she gasps out, her long-awaiting arousal snatching her of any reservations.

“awe, but you sound so cute like this.” your words are punctuated with a delicate kiss to her clit, and lee releases a choked out gasp. 

after a few more small, wet kisses peppered over the length of her, you finally round your lips around her clit, sucking it in with fluid motions. everytime your lips tighten around her, the ache in her clit deepens, and lee’s head falls against her pillow, mouth hanging open as a velvety, warm surges through her. 

with two fingers buried in her deep, your mouth is relentless in your attempt to draw out pleasure from her, moving from slow, patient sucks and kisses to your tongue flattening and running up and down her clit. the firm, steady rolls of your tongue have her teetering on the edge of climax, . it only worsens when you lift your thumb up, and start flicking the bottom of her clit, your tongue moving in quick, hard motions against the rest.

without meaning to, her hands fly up, gripping onto your head and keeping you in place as her hips mindlessly thrust into your face, her entire back arching as an embarrassingly high-pitched noise wrings from her throat. her orgasm hits her so hard that it almost feels like something is internally shattering, releasing a damn of hot, overwhelming relief through her body, almost painful in how intense it is.

when the last of her aftershocks wear off, shakily lowering her body back to the mattress, she sucks in a deep breath. “I– thanks. for that.”

you giggle, crawling up her body. “I should thank you.” laying on top of her, you kiss her slowly, tenderly, and lee basks under the attention. there’s something painfully vulnerable, and limitlessly freeing, when she’s surrounded in such unabashed intimacy with you. a part of herself, the one containing the desires and wants, that’s usually kept wedged shut, is totally open to you and all your care. it’s frightening, it’s fragile, but it feels so nice when you receive her with nothing but understanding kisses and words, assuring her of everything she wants with you.

when you break the kiss, you mutter, “giving me the strap just two days before you leave. that’s evil, you know?”

despite herself, a lazy grin curls on her lips, the weight of you on top of her possibly one of the most comforting things she’s ever felt. especially when you stroke her hair and rub her arm. she feels so desired under your gaze, yeah, and she’s not used to it, and feels a bit awkward by it. but, it also makes her feel like she’s being seen in a way only you can behold in your gaze. that makes it special. and to know you want her, maybe as much as she wants you – as surreal and intimidating as it is, it makes her stomach flip.“maybe it was part of some ploy to ensure you stay waiting for me.”

“trust me, you need no ploy.”

lee bites her lip. you’re so sure of her, so certain about your choice in her. she doesn’t know how to handle that. 

but, she will, at least now, let herself indulge in it, her head curling into your neck.

✩

–

“can I please get these?” 

you immediately recognize the voice, like the soundwaves of it are imprinted on your heart. head jolting up, your cheeks ache at the sight of lee timidly sliding over some candy and a bouquet of flowers. 

“sure, miss,” you drawl out, hands shaking a bit as you scan and check out her items. she’s picked you up after your shifts before, sure, but she’s never actually seen you in action. it puts a silly sort of pressure on you, and you try to be smooth and efficient in packing her things up in a paper bag. “what are the flowers for?” you add, batting your eyes exaggeratedly at her.

“for amaya.”

“oh.” your bottom lip juts out, and you meekly slide her groceries to the edge of the counter. it makes sense, considering amaya’s small get-together is tonight and lee will be wishing her off. but, still, ugh, how embarrassing.

after taking in the sight of you for a few moments, lee says, “I can get you some too.”

“no, but now, it’s only happening because I asked for it!” you whine, feeling rather petulant. 

“but, isn’t that how anything is acquired? you ask for it before?”

your teeth clench at her logic. “but, with flowers, that should be a given!”

“how, though? I didn’t know if you liked them or not, so I didn’t get them.”

“yes, but you could’ve figured it out by getting me some.” your tone is embarrassingly high-pitched now, raising in exasperation.

her eyebrows furrow. “but, if you didn’t like them, then it’d be a waste of money.”

“I’d automatically like them because they’re from you!”

she blinks at you, her mouth curling in thought. after a moment, she says, “okay, I’ll remember that.”

you give her a pointed look, yanked out of the conversation when an old man begins placing his groceries on the belt. at least it didn’t end on a bad note, considering she seems to get your perspective. and as stubborn as you feel, you understand hers, too – it’s one crafted by pure logic and a bit of lax regarding social norms. which encapsulates your girlfriend perfectly. 

when you’re done cashing up the man’s groceries, there’s a moment of quiet before any new customers come, and you use it to breathe in the quiet buzz of the day, thankful for the store soon closing. lee takes advantage of it, moving closer and dragging her finger through your belt loop. “are you upset?”

you’re unable to resist the smile that prods at your mouth. “no. I get what you mean. I’m sorry.” you blow out a deep breath. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“yeah, I’m sure that’s all there is to it,” she whispers, the sweet little lines near her mouth dipping as she grins. “don’t forget, we leave at nine.”

“yes, mom,” you shoot, gently pushing her at the hip as she walks away.

at maria and amaya’s party, you watch in admiration as lee bounces between your side and her friends’. you try to give her that space, wanting her to have time with them as just a trio before amaya leaves. whenever lee catches your gaze from across the room, you give her a subtle thumbs up, smiling softly at the sight of her, laughing and relaxed with her friends. she always nods at your reassurance, though it’s usually followed by her visiting your little corner, tucked away with some random people you don’t know. she checks on you, diligently, without break.

and you check on her in your own private ways too. fiddling with her bangs when she comes over to you, quietly asking if she needs a moment alone. the first time she nods, a response you had anticipated from her stiff stance and flickering eyes, you hold her hand and ask maria if the two of you could head to her bedroom for a second. she seems to understand immediately and sends the two of you off.  

but, you can tell the party does lee some good. even though she continues to slink off to maria’s bedroom throughout the night, she’s attached to her friends for most of it, welcoming their touches and leaning on them as they talk, gaze intent. and her eyes glimmer with a sort of pride when amaya eagerly takes the flowers, arms tossing around lee and yanking her down for a hug. 

the party, surprisingly, does you some good, too. when you join the three of them deeper into the night, lee’s hand resting on your back, amaya says, “lee told us you’re still kind of undecided on what to do, right?”

you wish the earth would swallow you whole, a pinch of irritation piercing your stomach at lee’s revelation. wincing slightly, you hesitantly say, “yeah, I don’t really know what I want to do.”

you brace yourself for some judgement, an awkward silence or a round of laughter. or some confusion as to how you’ve been in university for four years and still haven’t managed to figure it out.

but, instead, maria shrugs and says, “listen, I’ve known I’ve wanted to go into law since I was in middle school, but I don’t think that’s the only way to do it. my sister changed her major during her fourth year, switching from engineering to music. and such a last minute change probably wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t rushed her decision and just picked something my parents wanted. so, really, you’re probably gonna waste a lot less time figuring things out, and then looking for a job, as opposed to rushing, working in a field you don’t like for years, then having to start all over.” 

your mouth twitches as her shoulders lift into a delicate shrug, taking a sip from her drink and then sneering at the contents of the cup. god, she’s so much like lee. pure, unadulterated, hard logic.

whereas amaya seems to be the sweet, calm sort of balm, adding, “plus, even for your own peace of mind – it’s better to make a choice you’re sure about.” she offers you a nod, eyes soft. “it’s not a race, you know. take your time, and you’ll be okay.”

their words have you nearly driven to tears from the relief it settles upon you. for weeks, you’ve been feeling a range of emotions, from insecurity to fear, about your lack of plans and surety as to what you want to do post-grad. and while lee has been such a comfort, part of you has worried that her comforting comes from a place of her not wanting to hurt you. which doesn’t make sense, considering her natural bluntness, but still, your anxieties make it all too easy to minimize that aspect of being. so, to hear two people who owe you nothing telling you it’s okay, handling the situation with a kindness that’s both pragmatic and centered on time, as well as gentle and reassuring, takes a weight off your shoulders. it doesn’t completely ease your worries, but it certainly helps.

you go before lee, wanting to give her some time alone with her friends so they can properly exchange their goodbyes. before you go, you take out your camera and snap a picture of the three of them, amaya making a silly expression, maria smiling widely, and lee, after some convincing from amaya, meekly poking out her tongue. 

when they hug you goodbye, and you get to maria, she whispers, “thank you for looking after her.”

the small show of gratitude warms you for the rest of your way home. to think that you’ve secured the approval of her friend in that way, as well as recognition for the ways in which you try to support her. it makes you feel like you’re doing something right. 

when lee returns home, her eyes are tired, sad, and she immediately dives into your bed, nuzzling sweetly into your chest. you know that discomfort and a faint sense of mourning must be keeping her company. her friend will be gone when she returns from her mother’s, a friend who’s been webbed into her life for four years now. you can’t even begin to imagine the amount of pain lee is in – she probably won’t tell you, that much is certain, but you can feel it in the way her breaths shudder against your skin, her body sagged and pliant. 

“it’ll be okay,” you murmur into her chestnut hair, dotting kisses into the smooth locks of it. “you guys can try to work in, like, weekly phone calls.”

“it’s not the same,” she whispers. 

there’s no denying it, so all you can do is whisper, “I know, baby,” and hold her close. 

minutes later, you shiver upon feeling the kiss she presses on your neck, her hot breath ghosting along your skin as she mutters, “it won’t be the same without you either.”

your arm tightens at the reminder of tomorrow’s departure. you’ve been trying not to think too much about it, simply wanting to deal with it when it happens and not have to carry the weight of premature longing and devastation. but, now, when there’s less than twenty four hours lingering between this moment and when lee will leave, you can’t help but cling onto her. in another week, you yourself will be heading home for two weeks, but still, it’s not the same without the steady, formidable rock of your girlfriend, with those dark embers that make you feel alive, and those fleeting smiles that make her face glow like the moon. the gentle touches that protectively skim along your waist, the way she’s so careful and kind, her thoughtfulness laced into every word. how will you do without those things? how will you manage without being there to give her comfort and love when she needs it? you want to be there to hold her, assure her, take care of her. staying away is just as heartbreaking for the things you can’t give her as it is for the things you can’t receive.

“call me when you reach, okay?”

“I will. and call me if you need anything.”

“that comes with the risk of you potentially leaving early and driving to rescue me,” you giggle, getting lost in the motion of twirling her dark hair around your fingers.

“what’s wrong with that?” she mumbles, dipping her nose into your neck. 

you lightly smack her back with a chortle. “lee! you need to stay with your mom.”

“I know, so I’d just drive back to oregon once the problem is resolved.”

god, what did you do to deserve her? you want to sprinkle her face in thousands of kisses, body seized with a deep squeeze of gratitude for her. “that’s sweet. but, only do something like that for emergencies, yeah?” your voice trickles to a gentler tone at the end, not wanting to make her feel scolded.

“if it’s you, it always feels like an emergency.”

your eyebrows scrunch together. “is this meant to be a dig about me being clumsy?”

“no, it’s meant to be a fact about how much I– how much I worry.” her voice lowers towards the end, and you squeeze, wondering if she’s thinking of her mother.

you rub her back, hoping the motion will help relax her. “nothing will happen, baby.”

she hums, raising her head up. “I’ll, um… I’ll miss you.” she dips her head down, planting a kiss to the point of your chin. “a lot.”

everytime she speaks a sentiment like that, it feels like a flower in you is blooming anew, all of them collected in your chest – a garden just for you to look back on and tend to when you want to remember her. with each kiss, she waters it, and with each tender word, she plants something new. you know how hard it’s been for her, to get more accustomed to being so open, but she’s trying, you know she is. and though her words may stumble with awkwardness, and pause with careful consideration, they carry a world of intention. and what’s more romantic than that?

“I’ll miss you, too. sweet angel.”

she stills at that. “you say things like that so easily.”

“because it’s the truth.”

“I don’t know if it is.”

“that’s okay. I’ll know it for you.”

you feel an amused huff hit your neck and can’t help but smile in pride over having made her laugh. “so, I have no choice but to agree to these terms and conditions?”

“none at all.”

“so, I probably shouldn’t try to convince you otherwise, then?” the words are mixed in with open-mouthed kisses to your neck, her hand rubbing at your tummy, the cool touch making you arch up. 

“I can’t make any promises, but you can try,” you laugh, tugging on her ponytail so she can kiss you.

you two make love several times that night, bodies melding and conjoining in a blur of sweat, kisses and soft words, with breaks in between consisting of lying in bed, talking, or falling asleep before one of you starts yearning for touch again. 

you can’t find it in your heart to rank these short, warm moments, but your favourite amongst them has to be the last. it’s four in the morning, the world outside is still dark, the stars staring upon you with twinkling eyes. the windows have been tossed open, noises of drunken students and dragonflies bringing your apartment to life. lee is at the stove, flipping two grilled cheese sandwiches on a pan smeared with bubbling butter, the smell of the toast wafting from the kitchen to the bathroom, where you sit on the toilet, washing your sore center, the door unabashedly open so that you can hear the music. 

at the sound of an all-too-familiar strum of the guitar, you race out after washing your hands, nearly tripping over your discarded bra on the floor. 

“I love this song,” you squeal, dashing to the radio and turning on one knob until the noise of it is loud and clear. 

just as always, lee asks, “what is it?”

“you don’t know it?” you gasp. “we were kids when it came out, it’s the smiths!” you used to get giddy whenever a friend’s parent put it on in the car when driving you all somewhere. especially during summertime, with the windows wound down and the breeze flying through your hair. it felt freeing, like you were getting a taste of independence, head sticking out the window and that deep, husky voice surrounding you, thrusting you into a flurry of dreams and hopes.

lee pauses, eyebrows drawing in as she listens. after a few moments, she shakes her head. “no, I don’t.”

“it’s dangerously underrated.” you turn it up a bit more, leaning on the counter to stare at her. there’s something special about the moment with the way the warm, orange light dimly coats lee’s body, how her lithe, strong fingers work on the sandwich, the aroma of it wrapping around the apartment. how the melancholic song, heavy and moist like a spring wind near the water, plays in the background of this quiet, private night that feels reserved for just the two of you. anyone else existing in it is far from this small kitchen, playing on the streets, dancing under the streetlights, maybe even relishing in the flow of music through your open windows. 

lee must feel your eyes on her, for she raises hers to yours slowly, mouth parting then shutting before asking, “what is it?”

“do you wanna dance?”

you don’t know why, but something about this night feels like it’s set apart from the rest, lingering in this space where nothing can go wrong, where all the rules and realities are bent. the girl you love is leaving tomorrow, you both are up at an obscene time when she should probably be asleep, and also spent hours upon hours rolling around in the bed that a year ago, you never thought she’d occupy. and so, you want to do something with her you two have never done together, something she’d usually say no to.

“um, not really.”

you skip over to her spot at the stove. she’s never seen you dance, so part of you is just as embarrassed, your stomach coiling with nervousness. but, her own hesitation pushes you forward, hoping your own false courage rubs off on her. “c’mon, please, please. please, just this once.” you hold her wrist, lightly tugging.

she gives you a narrowed look, but doesn’t pull out of your grip. “I–I don’t dance.”

“I don’t do it much either! but, c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

she flatly watches you. “will it really?”

honestly, knowing lee, it feels a bit of a lie to confirm the truth of the notion. “I don’t know, let’s see.” 

you tug again, and with a sigh, she switches off the stove, letting you guide her. you guys end up in the small space between the kitchen and living room, and you awkwardly swing your arms together, not really knowing what to do. lee stares at the ground, clearly just as uncomfortable as you. you use that to urge yourself on, grabbing her other hand and beginning to push and pull between the two of you to the beat. 

when lee keeps her body stiff, arms flailing lifelessly from your encouragement, you whine, “okay, give me something!”

“I don’t even know what qualifies as ‘something’ when it comes to dancing.”

“just any movement, c’mon, you can do it!” you coax, intensifying your movements by bouncing on the balls of your feet. it feels slightly humiliating to devote more of your body to dancing when lee is still as frozen as ice, but you push yourself through for the sake of making her more comfortable. besides, the longer you two stay together, the more likely she’ll bear witness to even more weird shit from you, so might as well peel one layer off now.

you do a small twirl under her arm, but lee’s death grip makes you struggle to do it smoothly, so you wind up stumbling in a circle under your raised arms. it ignites a chuckle from lee, and you use that as an opportunity to pull her in closer, jumping a bit higher. 

“come on, come on, pretend it’s exercise,” you laugh, pressing a shaky kiss to her lips. in the middle of it, lee hesitantly waddles her shoulders side to side, the rest of her body honed in on one position, simply standing upright.

you’re more than encouraged by the minimal movements, tightly gripping her hands and continuing to jump and twirl around her until she seems a tad looser, letting you yank and spin her body around. you two dance around the apartment for a while like that, your warm interlocked fingers giving you just enough leverage to pull her around the apartment, dragging her into head-dizzying swivels and pushes and pulls that send your arms pained with the exertion, cheeks aching with sheer, childlike delight.

you even pull out a few laughs of lee, who later into it, seems to actually enjoy herself, beaming and moving faintly with you. and you feel like you could float.

please keep me in mind.

a sentiment that wraps around your body when you dance, as well as in the morning after, when you lie next to lee in the morning. she’s still asleep, sweet thing, her torso bare from the night having gotten too hot from her. she looks perfect like this, your floral sheets wrapped around the slope of her waist, her freckled back the dip you get to press your lips against.

when the time gets close to 10:00AM, which she had set her alarm to, you give into your finger’s urges, laying them upon her freckled skin. you trace mindless patterns and swirling shapes, smiling at the way her body slightly squirms under your ministrations. you continue like that, using her back as your sheet of paper to draw anything you’d like.

you pause, thinking of a particular note you’d like to leave her if you did have some paper. a note you’d like to write all over her if you could, until it sinks into her just how real the sentiment is. 

maybe you’ll write it now – something temporary to convey to her, something that feels a bit easier with the absence of permanency. maybe once she returns, you’ll have built up the courage to really tell her it.

I LOVE YOU.

you sign it with a kiss, pulling back when she groans, rubbing her eyes, panic momentarily bursting through your stomach.

she rolls back to you, eyes filled with goop in the inner corners. you raise your thumb to smear some of it away, pecking her nose. she doesn’t say anything, and seems to be right in the first moments of awakening, which eases some of your anxieties. 

she raises her arm, brown underarm hair tickling against your cheek, smelling of her deodorant. long fingers brush through your hair, and you swallow hard at the feeling of her dark eyes resting intently upon you. they flick along every feature painting your face, and the sharp focus of it has your face warming.

“what is it?”

“you’re beautiful.” 

there’s no hesitation in the words, and the surety of them have you laughing shyly, flicking her chest lightly and mumbling, “no, you are.”

her lip quirks up. “is this gonna turn into a competition?”

“yeah, but you have to head onto a train soon, so I’ll probably be the one to have the last word.”

she snorts. “good to know that winning by default isn’t below you.”

“hey, it’s still winning,” you cackle, though secretly, you know it won’t feel like winning at all when lee steps onto that train. 

the evidence of that fact comes to you too quickly, the next few hours of breakfast and taking the subway to the station lee’s train is departing from happening all too fast. it all flashes by so fast that by the time the line is moving and lee needs to head down the escalator, duffel bag clutched tightly, you feel a rush of emotions surge into you at the sight of her so close to leaving – pride for what you now know she’s going back for, heartache for the struggle it’ll be, loneliness at the thought of her absence, and another ache, one that can only truly be described with one word.

lee’s eyes flick to behind her, where people are heading down the escalator in a messy, jumbled file. “I should go.” 

you’d maybe grow insecure about whether leaving is difficult for her if it weren’t for how when she turns back to you, her eyes are wide, blinking hard, hesitation clearly present in the way they remain pinned on your face, unmoving, even though she ought to be leaving. her empty hand is rolled into a tight fist, stretching out to rasp against her thigh before she mutters, “can I hug you?”

you immediately lunge at her, throwing your arms around her neck. you feel the fabric of her duffle bag brush your leg as she drops it, her strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding your body flush to hers. she buries her nose into your neck, and you nearly croak at the way she breathes you in. you know how much she likes that spot in your neck, how often she lays her head in it when cuddling. you wonder if she’ll miss it. if she does, you can’t imagine how it’d be even half as much as you’ll miss her steady, grounding arms around you.

you dig your nails into her shoulders, trying to relish in this last moment of her being around you, totally surrounding your every sense. she smells of her neutral soap, accompanied by a faint whiff of cologne and the familiarity of your laundry detergent, coating an old t-shirt of yours that she threw on this morning. the sight had made you soften in all the right places, wanting to bury your face in her chest and scream at the sight of her wearing something belonging to you. it produced such a possessive bolt through you – she’s yours, yours and yours. yours, completely. your lee, comfortable enough to borrow your clothes, intimate enough with you to wear them as her own and let the fabric that’s rested on your skin for years slide against yours. it makes you feel moulded into her, as though deep in the stitches there had always existed a patient wait for lee to one day wear this as her own. 

when you two part, faces close enough that your breaths to intermingle, you wait for her to push away and go, wanting to soak up the sight of her as much as possible before she leaves.

instead, she raises a trembling hand to your cheek and cups it, rough fingertips stroking the small bumps dotting your skin. a moment later, she leans into you and plants a short-lived kiss on your lips, firm and filled with an acute sense of intention and determination. you can feel the concentration and strength it takes for her to do that, her breaths shaky and heaving against you when she separates. but, she’s trying. for you, for herself, for what you two have. it makes you want to drag her back in for another, but her eyes are skittering nervously to the escalator, and you know she’s feeling too anxious to be running more late.

you gently push at her wrist. “go, go, baby. call me when you get there, okay?”

“I will.” she slips her wrist from your grip, sliding her fingers between yours and gently squeezing. “page me when you reach the apartment.”

the unspoken meaning hangs between you both.

when she starts going down the escalator, her head swivels back to her. trying to not worry her with the heartache that’s already settling in, pained and filled with the weight of dread, you blow her a kiss.

you recover momentarily when she glances around before sending you one back, the gesture stiff, awkward, and oh-so lovely. 

as it turns out, you recover from the heartache in a sprinkle of different moments that day.

✩

it doesn’t fully go, but it eases in those seconds. like when you curl into lee’s bed and sleep in her scent. or when you get off to the memories of last night. or when you call one of your friends and make plans to develop your pictures tomorrow. 

✩

or when you’re drinking tea before bed and as you head to the tree to turn off the tree’s lights, you find a tape laying upon the mini-skirt of it.

body thrumming with excitement, you pick it up, a grin splitting on your face when you read the sticky note pressed to its side.

It’s a bit late in terms of when you wanted one, but I hope you’ll accept it now. Think of it as an overdue gift from someone who would’ve wanted to make you one back in high school if we had been just a bit closer to each other.

– Lee

just like last time this happened, your eyes water, emotions seizing at you from the thoughtfulness of her gift. she really was always listening, wasn’t she? picking up on clues and hints about her loved ones, almost like little love notes, and using them to thoroughly understand all of them. her care seems to have no bounds – always executed through her attentive listening, mental noting, and action. true action, where no promises are broken and no doubt could ever be tied to her earnestness.

you immediately pop it into your walkman, eagerly putting on your headphones and walking to the kitchen. as you make a sandwich in this place that cracks and bends with familiarity, Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy playing in your ears and making the tears leak out, plans to meet your friends hanging on your mind, you suddenly feel very at ease. you may not know all your answers, or be sure of everything you feel, or are even over everything you feel, like the occasional bouts of anxiety for the future. but, this is still a life. one that you breathe in everyday, that has little rituals you could never part from, and contains things you are sure of. 

and that’s enough.

–

when lee walks up the pathway to her small white home, the unmaintained grass and weeds scratching insistently at her shins (she makes a mental note to mow it down later into the week), she lets her eyes wander around, drinking in the sight. her preferred seasons are fall or winter, but she can’t ignore how beautiful oregon looks this time of year. in the heady month of august, her mother’s home is surrounded by lush trees that arch over the roof, the pine trees a dark contrast. maybe that’s why she’d like to live in a cottage. maybe it’d make her feel more tethered to her childhood home in a way that living in the city never could. she purses her lips as she steps onto the porch. she never thought of it that way.

she tentatively opens the door, the creak ringing through the house and making her cringe. her eyes immediately scan the staircase, feeling a pierce of discomfort at the two new boxes that seem to have been added since her last visit. the more she looks around, the more the sizzling anxiety in her stomach begins to burn. she draws in heavy, even breaths, trying to level herself. she can focus on this later. right now, she wants to see her mom.

her hand pushes the door to the living room open, her mother seated on a couch that is propped in the back with more blankets a person could ever need in the summer. trinkets and clutter turn the room into filth, hiding the floor and any inch of an empty surface. lee swallows hard and quietly says, “hi, mom,” approaching the woman in question.

her chin fits just right on her mother’s shoulder, silky grey hair rubbing against her cheek as they embrace for a long while. with anyone else, excluding her friends and you, she’d be on edge from such a lingering touch. but, with her mom, it’s an automatic, something she doesn’t even think twice about before giving her now. it’s become that embedded into their interactions, especially since lee moved away for university.

 when lee sits next to her, a hand immediately patting down the soaked-through back of her t-shirt, her mother asks, “how were exams?”

“good.” she hesitates before blurting out, “I upped the lease. I’m going to stay there for a while longer.”

her mother is silent for a long while, her hand freezing, and lee instinctively tenses, awaiting some verbal reprimanding. they never really spoke of what lee would do post-graduation, but lee can imagine part of her mom had hoped for her to return to oregon and work there.

“I’m sorry. I want to come back. maybe one day.” she intentionally keeps it vague – she really isn’t sure if she’ll return. 

the hand resumes its stroking. “I can’t blame you for that, babygirl. what would you do here?”

work. take care of you, probably. 

lee sighs. “I don’t know.”

“I wanted more at your age, too. to work, to be away from my family.”

that’s what hurts, too. all her mom has missed out on, all that’s been lost in the midst of that night and the results of it. her mom had once been a nurse – still paranoid, still religious, but lee likes to think she was at least content with her life. now, however? lee isn’t sure if her mom could even answer that. 

“do you feel you got that? more than what was expected of you, I mean.” lee rarely asks about her mom’s past. as a child, she always did, filled to the brim with curiosity over the kind of person her mother was before lee came into existence. now, lee never asked. not out of disinterest, she actually thought of her mom’s life a lot. but, it felt too close, too personal, to be asking those things, after years of avoidance.

“I mean, I had you. that gave me more.”

“in a bad way?”

“no.” her mom’s lips tilt up in a faint smile, and lee wishes she knew the meaning of it. “I mean, having you gave me more than I expected to have in this life.”

most daughters would be pleased to hear such a thing. but, all lee feels is a sense of embarrassment at the vulnerable words, as well as doubt. lee undoubtedly did give her mom more than she expected – but, was that really good? with lee’s birth, came the isolation, the thirteenth of january, and everything that occurred after. her mom did, indeed, get more than she bargained for, but lee couldn’t help but feel that more in this case meant unexpected horror. guilt churns in her stomach, and god, she wishes something had been done differently in the trajectory of her mom’s life. something that could’ve prevented all of this.

“maybe too much.”

lee shifts when she feels her mother’s gaze linger on her, and she suddenly regrets having said that. 

“you think I regret it?” lee’s mom’s voice is hushed, raspy at the ends with old age. “I’d do it again. and again, and again…”

as her words dissolve into murmurs, lee feels her stomach sink. her mom is slipping away from this moment, this conversation. lee lets it happen, mulling over her previous words. you think I regret it? how could she not regret it? lee doesn’t know if she likes the idea of her mother not regretting it any more than the idea of her mom regretting having had lee as a daughter. because if her mother doesn’t regret it, then that means part of her mother is okay with all that happened, and maybe even takes a sort of pride in it. all because she wanted lee to be here, no matter the expense. and lee doesn’t want her mother to find any sort of pleasure in this situation, especially because of her. 

“you shouldn’t,” lee whispers, the sound rough. “I wouldn’t want you to deal with all this again.”

her mother’s murmurs crawl into a silence, and she pauses, pursing her lips, before saying, “I would. so, that you could grow up. so, that I can see my little lee grow up.”

lee chews on the inside of her bottom lip silently. she never wanted her upbringing to be at the expense of her mother. but, she knows her mother is just as stubborn as she is. there’s no way of convincing her to regret lee or the situation. if her mom accepts it, if she’s glad of it, lee knows she can’t change that. who knows, maybe lee would feel the exact same way if her life choices also meant she got to live with and watch the life of someone she cared for progress. maybe she just doesn’t really understand the care of a mother just yet – the kind that surpasses anything, so long as your child gets to live and exist. 

her mom’s hand rests on her lower back. “I wanted to have you. it meant I got to watch you grow up.”

“yeah, but…” it meant I got to watch you fall apart. lee can’t bear to say that, though. she doesn’t have the courage to bring to the surface that much. “so much…” she wants to talk about everything, she really does. but, years of failure to do so, both because of her own anxiety and her mother’s refusal to talk, hold her back. is there even a point now? 

her mom speaks before she can decide. “it was okay. I don’t even remember it, I don’t– I don’t remember anything.”

lee swallows hard, her stomach stretching in frustration. she knows her mother remembers, she knows. she just doesn’t want to tell lee. lee wishes she could just drill into her mother’s head that she’s not a child anymore, she can handle the truth. well, the second part may be false. but, at least she’d be there, and they could struggle together. at least lee could know, and have the gap filled, and do something, anything. 

her mother’s head turns away, jaw tight. lee knows she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore – maybe she can’t. 

her hand, trembling lightly, raises, goes back down, then plants hesitantly on her mother’s knee. “you know, if you… ever want to talk about anything, or, I don’t know, what happened, you can talk to me. I’m ready to hear it.”

her mom grips onto lee’s hand like an anchor, and in the squeeze, lee hears the silent acknowledgement, the words her mom can’t, maybe ever, bear to say. 

“it was worth it,” is all her mother murmurs.

lee sighs, then awkwardly, without surety, dips her head onto her mother’s shoulder. she can’t remember the last time she initiated touch like this with her. it feels restrained and uncomfortable, completely foreign and out of place to lee’s body. but, it’s at least something she can offer. she no longer lives here, and can commit to the daily diligence of working and taking care of her mom, which is how she showed her care before. and she still knows nothing, so can offer no weak attempts of verbal comfort. but, maybe this touch, the kind her mother seems to always like and leans into, can be some kind of offering. 

it’s impossible that things can be fixed completely, at least anytime soon. but, she can at least show she’s there. sometimes, she doesn’t want to be, especially after having been there maybe too much in the past. but, when it comes down to it, she’d always be there, waiting for her mother. just as her mother is always here, waiting for her.

maybe one day, they’ll be able to talk about it and fill the gaps together. one day, lee knows she’ll tell her mother about you. she may not be ready now, she may never be ready to learn what her mom feels about it. but, she will speak on it – for her own sake, and yours. and maybe that’ll help her mother open up too, maybe it’ll help her learn that lee can have these conversations, that lee wouldn’t be timid or judgemental for anything that happened that night.

hours later, near to midnight, the television’s still playing in the background, and lee’s fingertips trace the receiver of the kitchen’s phone. she tries to weave together what she should say when you pick up, her thumb brushing the picture of you she secretly keeps in her wallet. 

when she felt your secret message drawn into her back, her eyes had squeezed shut, heartbeat pounding. it was so delicate, slowed by something – lee’s not sure what. hesitation, maybe. but, she hadn’t dared to inquire. she hadn’t dared to do anything, really, anxiety plaguing her and making her frozen in place, unsure of how to react. the last thing she had expected were those three words to be thrusted onto her, and in a panic of how to perceive them, let alone respond, she immediately dropped it. after all, did you even mean it? maybe there was a reason you wrote instead of said it, like not being ready to declare it, or knowing if you even want to declare it. 

and after the flurry of breakfast, last minute packing (a result of the late night of sweat and music, lee gathers), and the drop-off at the train station, lee finally had a moment to sit down, alone, and ask herself: did she love you?

the answer came as fast to her as only pure fact managed to: yes. 

she learned a long time ago that love cannot be quantifiable, measured or determined solely by facts. in other words, it existed in a space she usually wasn’t comfortable to stand in, where feelings were the most reliable evidence. but, she knew, in her gut, that like no longer covered whatever it was she felt for you. in fact, using a word as simple and amicable as like felt like an offense to what it is she felt for you, and tasted sour in her mouth. in what she felt, there was too much intensity, too much of an overflow to hear your conversation and be better for you, to lie in your arms and remain safe there forever, for like to apply.

to her, that was proof enough. it felt like nothing but love, so it must be love – it was that simple. after all, process of elimination seemed the most reliable way of making sense of this feeling. but, the longer the train rode on, the more her thoughts lingered on the topic, she became convinced that even if she had paid just a bit more attention to how she felt, she probably would’ve figured it out. even when she was upset with you, there was a constant underbelly of care and tenderness. when something went wrong, she wanted to tell you and bury her face in your neck. when you showed any sign of sadness lee could manage to detect, she longed to do anything possible to bring you happiness. even if it means breaking down some of her own rock-hard walls, and taking steps of courage she’d fear treading otherwise. with you, it wasn’t easy to be vulnerable, but it was something she wanted to try harder for. because she wanted this to last, and she wanted you happy and cared for. you understand her, she understands you – and she wanted you to understand her, which is a rarity. to her, that’s love.

she picks up the phone. your absence has her longing to hear hear your voice. she’ll make no mention of the three words. she won’t. 

“hello?”

she nearly breaks right then and there. “hey.” 

“hi, baby.” your voice is like a fire, and she rolls in the hearth of it. “how has it been?”

“fine. we spoke a bit. I told her what you mentioned, about, you know, being there when she’s ready to talk.”

she hears you sigh. “I’m so proud of you, lee. I’m sure she appreciated it.”

she twirls the spirals of the phone along her finger, feeling warmed by the words. “thank you. and you? what have you done today?”

“I listened to a certain tape, lover boy.”

your words end with a small bout of laughter and lee bites her lip, cheeks heating up. she had hoped you’d like it, feeling all too exposing and vulnerable in the process of making it. but, she had done her best to push through, knowing it would make you feel happy, even if a mixtape wasn’t something you still harboured much of a wish for. placing it under the tree while you used the bathroom before leaving had felt like laying her heart out on the line. or whatever that saying was. 

“you liked it?”

“I loved it,” you say, your tone sounding like something lee can only describe as melty, eased at the edges, your laughter dissolved. “it’s so lovely, lee. I’ve nearly broken my pencil with all the times I’ve re-wound it. I just– thank you. god, it’s such a nice gift, lee, it means so much to me.”

“it was– you had mentioned the mixtape. you know, from high school?”

“you remember that?” your voice raises a notch higher, sounding so touched that lee needs to clear her throat before answering. 

“yes.” 

“you remember everything, don’t you?”

lee smiles. “I wish I did.”

“me too.” after a pause, you ask, “do you really feel that way, like what’s described in the song? you always think of me? you, you know… yeah, do you feel those things?”

lee clutches onto the phone tighter. two words in the song ring loud and clear in her head, two that flow in just as the melody simmers to a slow. if she answers “yes,” will you realize just how much she means them? she inhales a sharp breath – she doesn’t want to lie to you, and now seems like an opportune moment to tell you what she’s been feeling. she hates being impulsive, yes, but, rare of an occurrence it is, she’s desirous to make her feelings known. maybe it’s to see if you meant what you traced on her back, but also because she just wants it to be known. she wants you to know that what she feels for you can no longer fall under any other word, and she wants you to at least exist with the knowledge that she loves you, even if you don’t return it. she wants to answer you honestly. 

“I, um… I feel…” why is it so hard to say? she has to keep reminding herself that no matter what happens, you and her can together handle any change this could spring upon the two of you. and even if change did come, logically, how bad could it be? she’s simply a person telling their girlfriend that they’re in love. 

“you feel what?” your tone is gentle, but prodding, clearly wanting an answer. maybe that means you really do want her to say it. she doesn’t think you’d be this urgent about her answer if part of you didn’t want to know it. 

that fact urges her on, and she sucks in a sharp breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “I feel–”

“lee, honey? I’m going to sleep.”

lee turns to her mom, who lingers by the entrance to the kitchen. “okay, mom. goodnight.” 

when the creaks along the staircase dim in noise, you say, “lee?”

she gulps down. it’s good timing, she reminds herself. you’re asking her with all the honesty and openness you expect from her in return. she can do it.

after two more heavy breaths, she spills it out. “I love you.��� it’s just a murmur, barely there, but she does it.

it feels almost relieving until several seconds pass, and you say absolutely nothing.

lee tries to stay patient, she really does, but the seconds morph into a minute that feels like eternity, and her patient snaps, stomach turning too fast for her to handle. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, why? I called after you. I thought you were still talking to your mom.”

“I-I was before,” she confirms, trailing off, eyebrows drawn in. “but, then, she went upstairs. did you not hear what I said?”

“‘I love you’? yeah, weren’t you… saying that to her?”

lee blinks at the phone, completely silent. she doesn’t want to lie, and even if she did, she’d most likely be terrible at it. and so, she stands there, completely still, hoping you understand her meaning without any coaxing on her end.

“oh,” you whisper. “oh. oh, my god.”

you haven’t returned the sentiment back to lee. that’s the one thing all her thoughts are honed in on, and before you can worry over not returning it, she adds, “you don’t have to say it back if you–”

“are you kidding me?” you guffaw. “not say it back? how can I not say it back? of course, of course I feel the same way.”

lee freezes, her jaw clenching. she feels struck into place, the realization of her returned feelings bolting at her so abruptly she nearly wants to hang up the phone and take a few seconds to process it. you feel the same way. you love her back. it feels unreal, too hopeful, too lucky. of all things lee had expected at the start of the year, finding someone who loves her back was the last of it. 

“oh, okay.” she huffs a sigh as soon as the words slip out. she’s not even close to an expert on romance, nor how one ought to conduct themselves in the throes of it, but she’s certain that that’s not the right response to someone heavily hinting that they love you. “I– sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you say, sounding rather out of breath. “nerves. I get it.”

“yeah.” she rasps her fingers on her thighs, suddenly antsy in this singular position within her kitchen. she wants to go outside and take a walk. but, if she does, she’ll have to hang up. and that seems like the most unwanted thing she could do in this situation.

after another beat of silence, she screws her eyes shut, the shock beginning to morph into a deep plummet of doubt at your lack of confession. “I– really, it’s okay if you don’t want to say it. I–”

“no, no!” you cut in, your voice so squeaky in protest that lee winces, moving her ear back. “no, I’m sorry, I-I was just surprised. I love you too, of course I do, lee.”

lee nearly splutters at the way the words burst from your mouth, so fast that it’s barely detached from the string of the rest of your words. “I– okay. wait, sorry, I– yeah. I love you too.” the words have her stomach turning, the feeling akin to anxiety, but a bit more pleasant, almost as though there’s something eagerly floating through her, sending each nerve tickling in a kind of happiness. 

happiness. that’s what she feels now that some of the confusion is cleared away, the clouds of it removed from the situation. it’s light and overwhelming, and floods her entire body in something sweet and intangible. you love her back. you actually love her. the concept feels like a revelation, some holy occasion beyond the bounds of reality, gifted upon her and only her. as though she’s been the one individual selected for this gift. the words themselves make her feel overwhelmed, too, as though they bear too heavy for someone as mortal as her. she leans her elbows on the plane of the counter, dipping her forehead against her palm. 

“I know, babe, you just said that,” you say, your voice beautiful with the way laughter wraps around the words. 

“I know,” she grunts, running her hand over her face. “well, I know now. I’m just– just shut up.”

“awe, is that a whine I hear?”

“no,” she snickers, embarrassment curling through her, hot and heavy. “you confused me before, alright?”

“hey, you’re the one who didn’t confirm her mom went upstairs!”

“well, because I thought the minute long silence was enough of an indicator that conversation with my mom had ended. most people are usually able to gauge that.”

“ugh!” you scoff. “is that how you talk to the person you’re in love with?”

jesus, how embarrassing – you’re surely going to spend weeks now holding that over her head. “if they’re not making sense, yes.”

“well, they don’t have to make sense, right? you should know – after all, love doesn’t make sense, but you just declared that you love me.”

your mocking words have her slightly humiliated, yes, but they also arouse a jolt of pride and possessiveness through her. you know she loves you, and she knows you love her. just another thing to share between yourselves, privately reserved for your exchanged words and touches. and while your satisfaction will most likely result in a ceaseless amount of jokes that she’s the center of, she can’t help but feel a warmth from the way you’re lavishing under the confession. she’s glad to have given you that ego stroke, that dose of love and surety. 

and so, she lets you go on with your jokes and when you ask, she says it again. “I love you.” 

and your voice gets soft, in that way that sends her stirring as though she’s been half-awake her entire life until that moment, and you say, “I love you too, sweet girl. you’re the sweetest, you know?”

and sure, it makes her hot in her face and shift on the stool she drags to the counter later on so that she can talk to you comfortably. but, it makes her smile to hear you giddily laugh and whine, and it makes her feel afloat when you return the words. shell-shocked, sometimes. but, most of all, adored, so adored that she nearly shies away from saying it again.

but, still, she says it. she wants you to know. she wants to tell you these things.

----

some notes about your guys' life together:

when lee returns and you show her the photos you've printed, the first thing she does is hang them up in her bedroom, filling the space of her blank walls (the gesture and sight makes you cry, and she holds you for the rest of the night)

lee introduces you to her mom at graduation, and you take pictures of them together that ruth takes back to oregon

months later, lee tells her mom about you two. it's fast, to-the-point, and blurted out the morning of her departure to come back home to you. her mom acknowledges it, quietly, then continues to eat. weeks pass of neither of them mentioning it until lee one day says on the phone, as firmly as she can muster, "this is someone in my life. I don't want you to ignore them, please." after that call, they don't speak until ruth calls her one day. when she asks, "and how is your... friend?" lee actually smiles. it takes two months for ruth to call you her girlfriend, and when she does, lee practically beams.

sometime in the future, lee does discover how much her mom did come to question her faith while still using it as a shield. but, ruth says, it was meant to protect them from others, not from each other

things go long-distance when lee attends the academy in virginia, and when she sees you and ruth in the crowd during her ceremony, she wells up

you guys do, in fact, move into a cottage together (one that lee ensures has lots of windows), and you keep the small christmas tree from the apartment up there year-long

out of habit, you guys still page, then eventually, text, each other your first apartment's number to signal you've arrived home

after some coaxing, you convince lee to adopt two kittens with you, who she grows immensely attached to (one light brown one that's always jumping on her and playfully scratching her awake, and a grey one, solitary and quiet, who silently sits on her desk while she works)

lee, one day, wraps her arms around from behind as you make coffee and mumbles, "thanks for moving in with me." you laugh at first, but the noise fades when she adds, "the apartment, I mean," which incites a wave of gratitude to roll through you, the two of you meeting for a soft kiss. she has no idea how glad you are of it, too

you guys continue to be curious about each other

regarding lee and ruth's backstory: i didn't really want to include the supernatural elements of Longlegs in this story, so instead, i leaned into the theories and maika's alluding of the film being a metaphor about trauma. so, just like in the film, a stranger visited ruth and lee's home the day before lee's ninth birthday, and the trauma of that day is what led to the changes in ruth, such as her hoarding habit. what exactly occurred on this day is vague and up to interpretation -- both because of the film's vagueness in what the harkers' trauma is meant to be if the film really is a metaphor, as well as lee's lack of memories for for that day. it's up to you to decide whether it was kobble or visited them, or someone else. and lee does not remember the night both due to ruth's secrecy and her own suppressed memories, which is meant to tie into the elements of suppression and family secrets within the harkers' story in the film.

A/N: so, that is it for does it happen in a season? 😭 now, that it's done, I'd absolutely love to hear what you all thought of the final product, whether it be in the comments or through an ask. I always adore hearing what you guys think about this story, whether it be about a specific chap or the work in general, so I'd truly appreciate any thoughts now that's done, and would be so incredibly touched to hear about what it meant to anyone and everyone who read it :") i worked really hard on it, and hearing your guys' thoughts would feel like such a gift (it can be as long as you want I'm truly open to anything and want to know soooo bad) <33

ofc, I wanna thank all my mutuals and followers who always diligently liked, reblogged and commented -- like, it always made me feel so encouraged and uplifted, and really pushed me to continue in the best way possible, since I felt, like, "okay, there are people who look forward to this story and want to see more of it." like, you guys truly gave me so much comfort and confidence about writing this story, and whenever I posted, I was always so eager to hear your guys' thoughts and see you in my notifs. it just made this entire story feel so communal, if that makes sense? like, this story just felt like a work so seeped with community, support and friendship, both because of the encouragement of others, as well as the amount of people who helped me, like my girlfriend, @threenounname, and dear friends, @mignonettesauce and @sillysillyparty, when it came to making decisions about the plot or just needing reassurance about if certain things made sense. (like, my gf literally put SO much work into helping me with this story, he was constantly reading snippets and pieces of it and letting me drag him into long ass conversations about if this or that was accurate to the story or to lee). same with my other friends who aren't on tumblr, who were so supportive and advised me on how to approach certain things, as well as gave me so much encouragement and lovely words about the snippets I showed them, which boosted my motivation so much. so, yeah, this entire work felt so comforting and safe to return to, and was completely surrounded by such lovely people who gave me constant replenishments of motivation to continue, and I'm so grateful for all of you :") here's to all of us finding and having both people and places who makes us feel totally at home <3

[dearweirdme]

Do you ever get depressed thinking about how you’re dedicating your life to a relationship that probably doesn’t exist and that has nothing to do with you? Sometimes I get depressed like what am I doing with my life?

Hi anon!

I’m unsure how to approach your ask, because I am unsure of how you are actually feeling. In any case I think we might feel differently about some things. I’ll share a but of the way I feel and how I live my life though.

My life isn’t dedicated to Tae and Jk. My blog is, but that’s just a little part of how I spend my time. At this point of my life I focus the most on my kid. When he needs me, or wants to spend time with me.. everything else goes. There’s plenty of moments when something happens in fandom and you’ll find me playing Sackboy on the playstation with my kid 😂. My job gets a lot of my time, and I am also a big reader. I think there’s balance there.

I do spend quite some time in fandom though. And I have certainly spent a lot of time on Tae and Jk. I have never felt negatively about that though. I think it’s fine to waste away time at times. For me, doing something that makes me happy… that makes me feel passionate is wonderful. I will never feel negatively about something that gives me joy. Jk and Tae have given me a lot of joy (no matter if they are or aren’t together). Fandom has given me wonderful and valuable conversations. I have learned a lot about other people’s points of view by being here, and I will always see that as time well spent.

Are there days I dislike it here, or that things get too much? For sure, but I see those moments as temporary and I will duck out for a bit when I need to. I love to compare my fangirling to grown men and sports. Somehow that’s always seen as more socially acceptable, but to me it’s all just people being passionate about something they love.

To add to this. I think it’s pretty possible Tae and Jk are indeed together. I am not sure, but it’s likely imo. Even if they turn out to not be together, I wouldn’t have any regrets about the time I spent on them. I love them n an individual level just as much as I do as a couple. Ultimately, BTS’s music and performances brought me here. That won’t change.

I hope you are well anon. Embrace your passions and fill your life with beautiful things.

[starmaniamania]

just wondering, what's your honest opinion on the Starmania fandom ?

[This got long and I apologize, but also I'm not going to cut for once, because the main points are really at the end!]

Hi!

I've been thinking about this one, I think it arrived just before the last weekend of shows and I didn't really know how to answer it.

Firstly because I don't know how to define "fandom" here, as "Starmania fandom" seems so big and also so small at the same time.

There's thousands of people in France who'd probably define themselves as fans of Starmania, and I've met some of them in concert venues and my opinion of them is often not amazing 🤣 (Lots of people who are rude, impatient, entitled, who missed or forgot the message of the show and complain it is "too woke now," who try to treat the show as their personal nostalgic karaoke, who don't care about the artists on stage and only want to compare them to their 70s albums...) But to be fair it's probably true of most large groups of people who attend a show, and not specific to Starmania at all. I'm also annoyed at the people who believe that 1978 is SACRED and "No one will ever sing the SOS better than Balavoine or Monopolis better than France Gall" (who didn't even sing that w- that's a hot take for a DIFFERENT TIME🤣)

And need I mention the Mogador fanatics? 😅

But simultaneously, Starmania fandom as I've usually defined "fandom" (i.e., a community of fans who want to create, appreciate and discuss fanworks, whether that is meta, art, fic...) is TIIIINY. But it is a bunch of incredibly creative, talented, smart, funny people who I love a whole lot!

Honestly, my biggest "hot take" about Starmania fandom in the Tumblr/fanworks sense is the reason I've been going back and forth on how to answer this, because I don't want it to be taken the wrong way, but here goes... The truth is that I'm a little scared.

I see a lot of posts on wider Tumblr about how nowadays people move on from fandoms the second they end (usually talking about movies or tv shows.) The last episodes air, and a few weeks later the fandom suddenly dies because the critical mass of participants lose interest/find another new shiny object to focus on. This is usually paired with a comparison to "the olden days" when fandoms could survive for years after their canon was over, because enough fans kept producing enough new fanworks and having enough discussions to keep the thing alive even if a small-medium proportion of fans moved on.

And I worry that there's not enough of us to be able to do that, because we don't really have critical mass. For me personally, I worry that too many people are going to move on much sooner than I'm ready to let go (because I'm definitely not going anywhere for a while!), and that I'll go back to posting into the void.

I posted recently that this blog had reached its 100th follower but I consider a "hit" post to be around or over 8 notes. I think on AO3, we have 7 people who write semi-regularly, and the fics with the most kudos have 10. Those are starvation numbers in basically any other fandom, and they're our MOST POPULAR ones!! And it's not like we have, you know, that one author who just writes all day as a hobby and churns out 30k fics every other week, where everyone can just sit back and feel confident that new stuff is going to be coming no matter what.

(And that's why sometimes if I notice people discussing a fic in private, I'm like... I hope everyone involved in that discussion has let the author know they read the fic, because that could basically double the amount of feedback it got 😅😅)

So, yeah, basically, I just really hope that we collectively manage to support ourselves enough that it keeps feeling like a community, that it keeps living and maybe even growing. And that means everyone doing their share, me included, I'm definitely not saying I'm perfect here :p

And I know we all have busy lives and other things to do and fandom is a fun hobby and not a chore or homework. I'm not saying everyone needs to start making fanart (god knows I can't) or writing fic or posting essays or whatever, but let's make sure we interact with each other, with our fanworks, with discussion posts. Let's reply to each other!

And again, speaking personally (I hope this doesn't make it seem like I'm just using this post to whine haha) let's make sure to reblog, not just like posts. (FYI, it always takes me a little while to get to the posts I see, usually because I don't want to spam so I put things in the queue rather than rebloging them on sight, but they're going to come out eventually! Also feel free to send me things you think I missed!)

I'm not going to go into a(nother) rant about how "there is no algorithm on Tumblr" but you might not realize that every time someone reblogs one of the posts, I then see new usernames liking them! You guys have such an impact on spreading the Starmania lore/love -- I know I've gone into so many fandoms because I kept seeing a mutual post about them, and I would scroll past for weeks until one image hit me and I then *needed* to know where it was from, and sometimes that's how I found new fandoms!

So, yeah, I hope we can collectively bring in a few new people, and keep ourselves interested and happy for long enough that maybe we even bridge the "pause" and start getting new content again!!

So that's my answer. Congrats if you made it to the end, and tl;dr ILU ALL DON'T LEAVE OKAY? 😭

[lordestic]

Sometimes life can get a little difficult,and the world feels like it's crashing down on you,it's okay,it's okay to have bad days and it's okay to take time for yourself to recuperate,I'm proud of you for trying your best and I'm proud of you anyways,please remember to hydrate today and tell yourself you did your best today! Because you did (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。 Please have some wholesome memes for your day as well (also small disclaimer I found these images on Pinterest and personally picked out ones I thought would be the most helpful)

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HIHIHI ARI!!! MY LITTLE SWEET IRIS MY DEAR BELOVED!!!! DID U SLEEP WELL? how is the gojo fluff coming along? are the words working with you? (they better be smh!!!) anyway anyway i am here to thank u for ur words. sleepy sugu swims in my head and everytime he speaks it's just your words that are coming out idk u guys are kind of One in my head i think... YOUR WORDS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME I AM HOLDING THEM IN MY PALM N I AM NUZZLING AGAINST THEM OK!

btw i was thinking whether he'd say please in the end too or not... bc i think he wouldn't wanna come off as too bossy? but then i decided to not put it in bc i think his tone would already indicate that. a very very silent plea....

and hahshshahaha i'm glad u liked the silly little poetry lines too that made me feel so warm WAHHHHHHHHHH okeoke i'm giving u a big hug and a wet fucking smooch on ur forehead MWAHHHH thank u for existing my love<3333333333333 i hope ur day will go sunnily that is not a word but i am making it into one rn the sun will warm u always always always

- @catchuuu

MICKEYYYY MY ANGEL MY LITTLE SUNFLOWER SEED good morning to u too !!!! <333 i slept like a fucking log LMAO i had to drag myself out of bed.. almost fell asleep on my way out …….. i think i had a scary dream but it was fine i snoozed a bunch I HOPE YOUR SLEEP WAS JUST AS SOFT <333

and wahhh thank YOU sm for writing it 🥺🥺🥺 AND FOR THE TAG I ALMOST EXPLODED WHEN I SAW IT IN MY NOTIFS mickey!sugu is such a gift i love him sm :(((( pls kiss his little head for me.

“u guys are kind of One in my head i think” I’M SO HONOURED?????? it’s crazy that u say that too bc i 100% associate soft sleepy satoru with u 😭😭 i’m writing the fic rn and i’m just constantly going… ohhh mickey might like this line….. i wonder if i can make mickey cry if i make toru cute enough………. this part is very mickeycoded…………… PHDJSP u get what i mean. the duo is duoing <3333

AND AND AND!! that’s such a good question tbh….. i agree with u i think that under normal circumstances sugu would say please bc he is in fact a big ol people pleaser smh BUT…. when he’s so sleepy and unguarded i think it would just kinda slip out :((( it’s desperate in a way!! he just needs to feel u. he’d explode if u stopped. :((((

i think that when you get down to it sugu is a bit of a brat tbh.. he’s similar to satoru he just hides it better. but i think he’s such a sweet whiny little clingy brat when he truly trusts u <3333 when you guys have been dating for a while he’s flopping down on you like a big dog and asking so sweetly if u could play with his hair pls 🥺🥺…. if you tease him or decline he starts demanding it though PHDJDBD … “i do so much for this family and you can’t even spare a minute out of your day to appreciate me” IT WAS NEVER THAT SERIOUS SUGU ??? I WAS JUST JOKING ??????? he’s the silliest man alive… (the “family” in question is u + ur three cats btw <33 he’s a cat dad. it’s canon.)

[redflannelsheets]

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