#I’ve never in my life felt more seen by a single piece of media and this isn’t even the intended interpretation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

worldofroma · 2 years ago

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March 21 2023, Tuesday - 9:43

I don’t normally write journals. I hate having to keep up with my life in another form of simply living it. But now that I’ve started my co-op with the paper, I have nothing else to do than this or anaylising every single thing around me for the 40th time this hour. I want to be a writer of some sort when I’m older, I need to be.

I don’t like to be that person who self diagnosis themself to be a manipulative-sociopathic-150 IQ-bad ass who came straight out of an A24 film, but I know theres something going on thats not quite normal.

I don’t have any hobbies. I don’t do shit after school. I don’t even have a job at the moment. All I do is write and write and write about the weirdest, stupidest, saddest, most terrible things I can think of. The one problem I have with writing is designing my own characters. Earlier I mentioned that something was wrong with me, something undefinable, but there is one thing I have that I can guarantee is true. Maladaptive day dreaming. I live in a constant state of fantasy I’ve built since I was just a small kid, picking and choosing characters and plot lines and settings and etc from every piece of media I’ve ever seen. So when it comes to writing, I’m basically just writing fan fiction with my own plot and maybe a few of my own characters, but not many. I find it too much of a hassle to create them on my own, it’s like making your own children right form scratch. Why would I ever want to do that?

Speaking of A24 films, yes this is completely out of order I don’t give a shit, there is one movie of theres thats an absolute master piece and I can understand the main character completely. Pearl. A deranged girl living on an isolated farm in the early 1900’s, fully expecting to become a star in the pictures she sees when she’s able to sneak off to town and see them. Now I’m not saying im a killer or ever will be, but in the sense of wanting to becoming a “star”, I am exactly like her.

Right now, I can’t say my family life is satisfying. As a kid, it was 10x worse than now. I still don’t know the full story between my mother and father nor do I think I ever will, but I have bits and pieces that can give me more than I need. My father is mentally ill with something serious, he’s never been diagnosed to my knowledge but there something wrong with him. He was delusional and constantly making himself into the victim even if he was the one throwing things at my mother or shoving the couch over to toss her off of it while I was right there. From time to time, my mother will ask me if I remember any of this as it happened when I was only 6 years old and younger, but I always say no. I don’t want her to worry about him and what he’s done anymore than she has to. But I remember it all. I remember taking my baby brother to my room everytime I could sense his anger because I knew it would break into a fight and I knew he shouldn’t have to see that. Not as a 1 year old. I remember staying home all day with him while my mother was at work and crying while he slept on the couch all day, and crying even more when he screamed at me for wanting to be with my grandmother instead of him. But I know she wouldn’t ever fall asleep while watching me. I remember sitting on the porch while they fought and watching him leave in a fit of anger, kicking my german shepard right in the face purly because he felt like it. I remember the day we left and how he tried taking her purse and the keys to the car just so he could keep us held in that hell hole he called a home, but we left anyway. That was the last time I saw him. 6 years old was the last time I saw my father, I’m 17 now. My mother fills me in on what he’s been doing. In and out of jail, off and on hard drugs, harrasing my mother just because he wants to. He’s been doing all of this just 7 minutes away from where I live now, and I haven’t seen him once. His family used to continue welcoming us for holidays, playdates with my cousins, and check ups to see how we’re doing. But as time went on, the visits became limited to once every few months, once a year, to none at all. It wasn;t until recently that I figured out how much his family hated my mother, thinking she was the reason he did what he did, but I know that’s not true. My grandmother the most, as she babied her devil of a son and bailed him out of jail with money they didn’t have knowing damn well he’d get himself in trouble only days later every time. Whatever he has when it comes to mental illness was defintelly from her and whatever that is passed down to me. I know it. I hold a grudge against him and his family for what they did to my mother and I, but everyone says I shouldn’t hate him. I shouldn’t hate the man who ruined my life? The man who selfishly filled my childhood with abuse and trauma just because he wanted to? The man who gave me some unknown illness that I surpress everyday in hopes I never end up like him? I’ll hate whoever the fuck I want.

Now I hate to admit what I’m about to say next, but not only do I have daddy issues, I have family issues. Mommy issues, daddy issues, brother issues, the whole package deal.

After we moved away to start a new life without my father, my mother understandably struggled for quite some time to get back on her feet and continue on with her life. We lived in a total of 4 different apartments in the span of 5 years before finally moving into a real house, the same one I live in as I write this. The house I’ve never hated more in my life. Nobody takes care of their spaces, nobody owns up for anything they’ve done or caused, nobody gives a shit about anyone but themselves. It’s a constan disaster in the house whether it’s a pile of clothing sitting on the couch waiting to be folded (it’s been sitting there for 2 weeks), or cans and bottles scattered across the counter along with trash and an endless amount of dishes piling up after a single day I forget to do the dishes. Because of all this, I’ve developed a terrible habit of becoming as careless as everyone else. If I have to do my own laundry, why the hell should I do theirs? If they’re gonna trash the house while I’m away at a friends after leaving it spotless, why the hell should I clean it up? Because of this, it’s somehow rubbed off on my two cats and encouraged them to do the same. I’m the only one who feeds them, gives them water, switch out the litter boxes. So they’re constantly residing in my room and becoming fearful when my mother or brother even glance at them. Wow, the circle of life, eh?

Although I feel bad for my mother and what she’s gone through as well as what she continues to deal with everyday as a single mother, I can’t help but despise the way she raised me. After what happened with my father, something changed within her that I’ll never be able to define due to the fact that I was too young and naive to notice until it was too late. I don’t know if my mother ever wanted to be a mother. But she loves the idea of having a best friend. The only time she’s civil with me is when she’s acting like she’s my age, taking on the persona of a “cool mom”, a cool mom who opens a beer the second she gets home and lounges on the couch until, oh it’s bed time, put the kids to bed to resume my nap in my bed. She gossips with me, but she doesn’t listen to my real problems. She goes shopping with me, but I’ve been paying for my own clothes since I was 11. I never got to truly experience what it’s like to have a mother who loves you unconditionally without being yelled at or shunned or ridiculed. I can’t remember a time she’s ever held me while I cried, I was banished from sleeping next to her after a nightmare when I was 7, and there wasnt a single year that went by she wouldnt say: “You’re 10 years old, you should know how to do this!” “You’re 11 years old, you’re capable of doing it on your own!” “You’re 12 years old!” “You’re 13!” “Your 14!” “15! “16!” “17!”. All I ever wanted was to have support from someone, but that wasn’t made available to me and I was forced to grow up when I was still a child.

My brother and I have never gotten along either. We’re 5 years apart and polar opposites. For his sake, I’ll refer to myself as an emo in this situation because apparently that’s all I am to him. I’ll admit I went through an edgy phase just as every other teenager does at some point in their life, but I never knew that it would define me for the rest of my life, especially knowing it was 4 years ago now. I’m an emo, and he’s an ultimate hick. Greasy, untamed mullet, plaid shirts and jeans for days, cowboy boots that are 3 sizes too big, the whole 9 yards. You may be thinking that our appearances don’t define us and shouldn’t be what keeps us apart, but I can promise you that we live up to the name of our titles. And that means, we don’t get along one bit. The funny part is that I’ve given up fighting and defending myself against him long ago, but that doesn’t matter because since I’m the older sibling, I automatically did something wrong. He’s called me every name in the book, used every embarrassing thing I dwell on everynight before bed against me, makes fun of how I look and act, to the point that to him I’m nothing but insecurity. My mother gave up mothering him long ago when it comes to taking care of him, but continues taking his side on everything he needs her to. Because of how often I reside in my room for obvious reasons, I fail to recognize what the plans are of people in the house and what’s going on with them. Theres been countless times I’ve left for a drink or something to eat just to find my 12 year old brother alone on the couch with his phone in his hand, facing the cushions and becoming one with his social media. I feel awful for him. I’m supposed to be there for him when my mothers not, but communication doesn’t exist in my house which leaves my brother to be on his own much too often. The only problem is how much I hate him. I’ve done everything I can to get along with him during these small spans of time we have to spend time alone together while we wait for my mother to take my place, but it’s insufferable. I can’t go 5 minutes with him without being told I’m stupid, ugly, emo, or simply being told to shut up after I’ve said nothing but “hey”. I’ve told my mother about this before, but she doesn’t intervene. She doesn’t care. I don’t have any other choice but to hate him. He’s never done anything for me thats relatively memorable unless it’s to hurt me in someway and I can’t say I’m a saint because obviously I don’t let everything slide, but I can promise I’d be much kinder to him if he’d show the same respect for me.

I think the real problem is something I can’t put my finger on or give a name to. You know, the funny thing is that I looked just like my mother. I’m practically a younger version of her. But whatever my father passed down to me ruined it all and bled into the rest of my personality, giving me the ability to look at her the same way he did. I’ll never forgive him for that. However, my brother looks just like my dad, indisinguishable, if he doesn’t wear his glasses. My father had the audacity to spread the rumour that my brother wasnt his child when he was born. Anyways. He looks just like my father and has a bit of his rotten personality too, but my mother doesnt care. She only sees the sweetness in him that she saw in my father before he ruined her life. Living in my house is like being apart of a girl trio, theres always a pair of best friends and the others always left out without them even realizing.

Now before you come to any wild conclusions, no I’m not depressed. Yes, I lounge around in my room for majority of the day and isolate myself from others any possible time I can, but I’m an introvert. I don’t wallow around when I’m on my own or lay in a pool of my own tears or wish I was back in my bed when I’m with my friends, I just hate to socialize when I don’t need to. My family life may be unsatisfying, but it’s not depressing. It’s annoying and frustrating and maddening, but not depressing. On another note, I do have anxiety. I have terrible anxiety. If I could read peoples minds, I swear all my problems would be solved. Every second of the day I worry about what I look like, what I’m saying, what I’m doing, how I’m presenting myself, why someone gave me a weird look, how I’m eating my food, was my laugh embarrassing? Does this shirt make me look washed out? Is my face lopsided? Is my hair too short? Does my smile look too big or cartoonish? Did I crack my knuckles too loud? Is my mascara smearing? Why did my throat make that noise? Did anyone notice? They’re definitely thinking about that coffee order I messed up 4 months ago. Ha, that was something that bothered me WAY too much. I was a newly hired barista and working on my own when two girls came in with an order of 5 different drinks, all of which I had no clue how to make yet. I scrambled to make them as good as I could without looking at my phone to seem unprofessional and ended up messing them all up. The cherry on top, though, was how they mentioned these drinks were going to a bride and her bridesmaids as they got ready for their wedding that was taking place that afternoon. Worst of all, when they pointed to the one for the bride, it was the one most terribly made. An iced coffee, coffee that I put a few ice cubes in. I hope that the girls ' wedding went fantastic.

Back on the topic of anxiety, you can see now that my entire life has been overtaken by my thoughts and apperance that no matter how hard I try, I simply can’t berid these awful thoughts. Just another thing to add to the list is how I was diagnosed with scoliosis last year. Now not only am I too skinny, but my curves are uneven and I look like I jumped out of one of those fun house mirrors. Fun.

While I was growing up, I had a friend group of 4 girls. I won’t include their names but we’ll call them Kaily, Hannah, and Kyra. Kyra was my best friend since grade 2, we were inseperable for years. We were so alike my mother often asked how we even got along because of it, but we managed to push our way through elementary school by each others side. Now Kyra and Kaily had known each other much longer than any of us, their mothers were good friends and basically raised their kids together. Eventually, I became friends with Kaily too, but never too close until grade 4 or 5. It was us 3 for a few years and we were still young enough to survive a trio without any of us being left out or feeling like shit around each other, so it went fine. Anyhow, I’m not sure how we became friends but Hannah and I eventually began hanging out all the time and became good friends. And I’m sure the three of them would disagree entirely on this next part but I swear to god I’m the one who bought the group together. I knew all three of them, I always put in the effort to have us together for a weekend or sleepover, and I simply don’t remember it being any other way. But for legal reasons, I could be wrong. The 4 of us were friends all through elementary after that, a good 4 years at least. Kyra and Kaily were a year younger than Hannah and I, but that didn’t matter. Until we got to high school. I’ll admit that as a tween, I had issues figuring out who I wanted to be, how I wanted to act, or what my style was, and I assumed everyone else went through that awkward stage. But as high school approached, it became obvious to me that they thought differently of me. It was almost as if I was an inside joke for them, but I just couldn’t tell. Grade 9 rolled around and I began making new friends, making new groups, reconnecting with the kids I knew from my first school, and finally beginning to feel comfortable with myself. But high school treats kids like me terribly. I said earlier that I was an introvert, but I wasn’t always like that. I used to be the girl everyone wanted to be friends with until I moved. I was creative and funny and always made the best games to play at recess. I found it difficult to find that part of myself again after being bullied, but eventually did in grade 6 or 7. But then COVID hit and gave me no choice but to isolate myself just as puberty was kicking in. Could the timing have been any worse? I tried to become who I was again, but the kids in my classes began to tell me how loud and annoying I was, that I just needed to settle down stop being so “cringe”. That was what ruined me. Quarantine was on and off from there and completely destroyed my ability to interact with others and I basically shut down afterwards. I’ll never be the same person I was then. And of course, that altered the way I was looked at within my friend group of 4. They began to take note of the way I was finally discovering my sense of style and my new personality and they didn’t like it. In my town, if you’re not a walking ad for Lululemon, you’re not cool. So no matter how much effort I put into the 4 of us hanging out together or going out for lunch or having a sleepover, I’d always catch them hanging out without me purposely and “forgetting to invite me”. It made me feel awful about myself and at that point, I had totally forgot how to make new friends. Nobody wanted to be my friend anyways because I was different. I wasn’t a copy and paste of all the other girls around. That is, until I became friends with a girl in my geography of grade 9. To this day, I think we can both agree that we’re the same person in two different bodies. At one point, I had ruined it with my pettiness and naive personality that caused us to fall out for around a year, but we eventually became friends again and we are to this day. And for Hannah, Kyra, and Kaily, well they’re all still friends and I guess we talk time to time but you can tell there’s an unspoken grudge between us that couldn’t be spoken out loud because there would be nothing to say. It’s just there.

There was an instance though that made me lose all respect I had for them in a split second, but still somehow managed to put up with them for a year afterward. It was new years of 2022 and I was finally able to go out and party with them. It was us 4 and another girl, lets call her Myia, and thank the gods Myia was there. She’s a saint, we don’t talk much anymore but I like to think we’re on good terms. I hope so. Anyways, new years 2022, we go to a party 20 minutes from home with a taxi set up to take us there and back. We’d stay a little over an hour past midnight and head back to my house for the night. It would be great, right? Wrong, so wrong. I’ve never had a night go so horribly so fast. We had all bought our own drinks, smirnoff coolers and lots of sour puss, typical teenager drinks, as well as a weed pen. Weed is legal in Canada by the way, legal. SO we get there and realize the party is in the middle of a field. A field. In Ontario. In the midst of the winter. Greaaaat. I did my best to enjoy it and for the most part I did, until I realized that my converse had turned into cinderblocks from the mud encapsulating them and freezing up everytime I went to the bush to pee. It was around 11:30 when I was already on the edge of a black out. I was crossed, cold, and tired out. And at the brink of the night, I dropped my phone on the cement and broke it. A black line covered a fourth of the screen and I knew damn well I wouldn’t be getting a new phone for at least a year until my plan was up. It didn’t take very long for the drinks to go from Linsday Lohan partying and laughing to Lana Del Rey sobbing over everything going wrong. Myia and I sat on the porch of this random guy's house while we tried to find a way home, but it was new years, nobody could drive. So there I was, sobbing my eyes out, drunk, high, cold, with a broken phone in hand and at a house I didn’t even recognize. I thought the second the rest of my group found us, they’d figure out a way to contact the taxi to pick us up and we could head home early. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. As soon as they found us, the first thing I heard was, “Oh my god, I knew this was gonna happen.” I will forever remember those words as I had then realized I had just ruined their New Years and they’ll probably stay mad at me forever. For those of you who’ve seen Euphoria, if you can recall the scene where Cassie threw up all over the hot tub and immediately rambled out a series of apologies while crying her eyes out, then you can perfectly picture what I had become after hearing that. I cried and cried and cried for an hour until the taxi finally came to pick us up and take us home. And if you can believe it, the worst part hadn’t even occurred yet.

The taxi we took was a van, Myia and I sat in the two middle seats while Kyra, Hannah, and Kaily sat in the back row. Hannah will forever deny this but she was notoriously known for throwing up while being drunk. For the entirety of the 20 minute drive, Hannah was in the back seat throwing up into one of the two backpacks we brought to the party. I despise hearing, seeing, smelling, or throwing up myself, so the car ride was absolute hell. Not only that, but I too was known for getting carsick, so for the duration of the trip, I spent it by keeping my head between my legs to avoid looking out the window with my hands over my ears to prevent the sound of Hannah vomiting only a foot or two behind me reminding me of what was going on. 15 minutes pass and we’re finally approaching town. My stomach was not happy with me and I knew the second I got home I’d be glued to that toilet for the next hour throwing up my guts, all I had to do was wait until I got home. I didn’t even have to be inside, I just had to be out of the taxi. The entrance the taxi driver took into town was the worst way he could’ve gone, a twisty downhill drive going at LEAST 120 km. At that point, I had accepted my fate and held my hands over my mouth because at any point this van would become a scene from the exorcist. Thankfully, my house was only a minute or two away from the bottom of the hill and I was so glad to look out the window and see that we were approaching my street. But I swear something possessed me as the taxi driver had said something I couldn’t believe he’d even say.

“I hope nobody’s throwing up back there, this is my bosses vehicle.” All hell broke loose. I actually have no clue how I was even capable of throwing up so much, I’m positive I exploded when I heard him speak. One second, everything was calm and he had finally parked the car, and the next second, an endless amount of liquor and all the food I ate within the last week poured through the cracks of my hands, across my lap, covering the back of the drivers seat, my seat, the ground around me. Absolutely everywhere. All while being parked in my fucking driveway. Best part is, I have a distinct memory of reaching for the other bag to throw up the rest in, but the next morning all I found in the bag was empty cans. There was vomit completely covering the front of the bag, but not a drop inside. That was the last time I ever got drunk and got in a car.

#journaling #literature #aspiring writer

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ahdriking · 2 years ago

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So, Blue Blood is finished. And,,,, I have a lot of feelings about it.

Let me tell you a story! Six months ago, I decided to open up and engage with tumblr for the first time in almost three years. It was a random evening, I was bored and had nothing to do, so I decided to see what was going on in the world that had once consumed my life, but which had been absent from it for quite some time. Almost immediately (a testament to how well past me curated my blog) I came across a gifset from Kinnporsche. Can’t remember what it was of, but it appealed to me enough that I hunted the show down on a whim and put it on.

And then my entire life changed.

I’m not being dramatic, I’m genuinely serious. I used to waste my days playing phone games and watching TV because I had gotten out of using my computer and accessing fandom, but after I watched Kinnporsche, I literally put down my phone and forgot about it so hard I literally broke it accidentally and have gone without one for five months. I reactivated my tumblr from its longtime slumber, I created a twitter for the first time ever, I logged into ao3 for the first time in almost two years, and I stepped into fandom with the burning passion of a woman who’s entire life had been consumed. Because this show made me feel more than any show I have ever watched has made me feel, more than any other piece of media has ever made me feel. I have never been so emotionally enraptured by a fictional relationship, one which was enriched by the most sensual and stimulating sex scenes I’ve ever seen captured on film, one which played into all of my interests like it had been tailor made for me. I have never been so intrigued by the potential of a plot or world. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible. I could never ever in a million years have prepared myself for it; to hope for something even close to a pale shade of what we got would have felt unreasonable before. And yet, Kinnporsche exists. Despite all reason, logic and odds, Kinn and Porsche exist. And I found it, while it was still airing at that, and got to participate in one of the most exciting and enrapturing tv show experiences I’ll probably ever have in my life.

Maybe it was in part due to the euphoria of the impossible happening, or maybe it was simply the novelty of experiencing passion for a creative IP for the first time in years, or maybe it was the enthusiasm of the community I found and the ability to connect with people again, but something fundamentally shifted in me because of this show, and not just in what I did in my spare time. A creative spirit I had not felt in years came roaring to life in me with an unholy vengeance the likes of which I have truly never experienced before. My generally poor mental health, which had numbed me for so long, was drowned out for days at a time by the most intense and compelling feelings of excitement and anticipation and adoration and obsession and fixation I’ve felt probably ever felt, a literally perfect cocktail of emotions that reactivated something long dormant in my mind. It left me inspired, more than I have ever been in my life– my ao3 can serve as proof! My greatest achievement before had been writing 50,000 words in a single year. I wrote that much within the first month and a half of watching the show. I went from averaging 12,000 words over 3 years to 200,000 in 6 months.

My point is, Kinnporsche was entirely unprecedented in my life, and it changed me down to my marrow. It made me capable of writing in a way I have never, ever been able to before. And that was why I found myself in the position of entertaining the idea of a longfic for the first time in *years*.

Some important context: I have never finished anything. I’ve been writing creatively since I was old enough to hold a pencil, dreaming about the stories I would one day tell, but the idea of ever being able to actually finish one? That sort of achievement felt out of reach all of my life. I just wasn’t good enough, and I was certain that I never would be. So thinking about writing a longfic so soon after taking up writing again really felt like a risky, no good idea. I promised myself I wouldn’t, not unless the idea was so good it just HAD to be attempted. Something genuinely exceptional.

It was a series of cascading coincidences that led me to Blue Blood. First, a particular photo of Apo with eyeliner. Then, a series of meta posts investigating the potential darkness of Kinn’s character. Finally, joining a discord server of people who were excited by and receptive of the initial ideas that intrigued me: fighter!porsche and dark mafia!Kinn. It was a perfect storm. And fuck me if it didn’t make me feel really, really excited by it. So I did the improbable: I started to plan.

One of my problems has always been that I start something without knowing how to finish it. I set off before I have the destination in mind, hoping to somehow figure it out along the way, but inevitably run out of steam and, without an ending in sight, the process feels hopeless. But I was determined not to do this for Blue Blood. So I comprehensively planned out the entire arc of the fic, and gave myself as much structure as I could (as I’ve told a few people, Blue Blood boils down to a 5+1 fic in structure. It’s 5 fights plus the final boss showdown(altho I only had to write 5 total cos I did a cheeky). And I really, really fucking liked it. It felt really fucking tangible. Writing the first chapter, after that, was the easiest thing in the world. Genuinely, chapter one was one of the most fun writing experiences I’ve ever had, it just fucking poured out of me. And the reception to it was amazing; the number of people who took a chance on the first chapter of a WIP, on a dark fic one at that, truly thrilled and excited me. So we were off to a good start.

But Blue Blood wouldn’t remain mine alone.

I picked up @kissporsche sometime after the first chapter, but before the second. We had exchanged a few random messages on tumblr, and they seemed like a really cool person, so when I wanted someone to take a look at my work I thought of them. All I wanted, initially, was someone to beta what I’d written and maybe give me a few encouraging comments. I sent her the doc, and waited to hear back. And what I got blew me the fuck away. I’ve had beta’s before, but never one who so comprehensively attacked the editing process, in such a way that I genuinely felt was perfectly targeted to identifying my weaknesses and expanding on my strengths. And not just that, but she was excited to just *talk* to me about it, she was excited for me to bounce ideas off of her and explore difficulties with her and just generally bitch about whatever with her. And she was more than open to the idea of working on the next chapter. And maybe the one after that.

Before I knew it my usually solitary and isolated experience writing fic was just a thing of the past. I suddenly had someone who would not only listen to my every random thought or concern I had, but who would genuinely encourage them and do the same right back at me. It was fucking INCREDIBLE. As a person who lives for feedback, I found myself writing things just to be able to send them to kissporsche for her edits and reactions. I found myself driven, almost supernaturally, to produce content just so we could pour over it together and explore it. It changed everything. It *was* everything.

Kissporsche is responsible for so many, many parts of this fic. From being instrumental in determining key plot factors, to being the reason for the switching POV’s, to being the saving grace of Porsche’s characterisation, to instigating and perpetuating the presence of Vegaspete, to fixing up my many grammatical errors and word repetitions, to encouraging me through hard times, to cheering for me through easy times, to being a voice of reason during the dark times. For being a friend when I needed one, a voice of love and support, one that cut through and silenced the worst of my insecurities. For being someone I could turn to for whatever I needed, for being someone who made me feel competent and capable, for being someone who I could rely on. For being someone who opened up to me and let me in and gave me nothing but love and acceptance and validation in return. There aren’t many people out there in the world like you, and I want you to know that I appreciate that fact. I know how lucky I am.

There were times when it was fucking hard and I struggled, and I thought very bleakly about the future of this fic. But never once, not even for a second, did I truly feel that I was going to abandon it. I couldn’t. I had someone waiting for me, with genuine and loud excitement, to carry on. And so I did. I carried on and I carried on and I carried on and then, all of a sudden, it was almost over. And I had nearly done it. *We* had nearly done it.

These last few weeks have been truly fucking insane. We’ve spent a lot of time losing our shit over the fact that it’s getting closer and closer to it being over. To it being finished. And now we’re finally here, we’re actually fucking finally here, at the final page. At the end. And it just feels surreal! It feels like a dream. It’s finished.

Blue Blood is finished.

I’m proud of us! I’m proud of myself. I’m damn fucking proud of myself for writing this fic. I’m proud of the plot, I’m proud of the characters, I’m proud of the world, and I’m fucking proud of finishing it. I’ve proven to myself that it’s possible, that I’m capable, and it feels like an entire world of possibility has opened up as a result. Who knows what I might write next?

I know this was a lot, but it feels important to me to mark this event with such an introspective post, because I want to remember everything about this. I want to come back years from now and re-read this and remember exactly what it was like, exactly how it felt. And I want all of you to know what it meant. This fic has changed my life, as dramatic as that sounds. It has fundamentally changed me in more ways than I can really express. It will always be my first.

But not my last 😏

#blue blood #hoo boy this is quite a lot #but every damn word comes from my soul motherfuckers #its the end of an era #and i had to say goodbye properly

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endlessame · 2 years ago

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I think I will NEVER get past how Endless 8 was adapted. I can understand why some people would dislike watching it or something, but for me, a person who has watched this arc four times as of now, I can say that it’s one of the best arcs I’ve ever seen in any piece of fiction ever.

Just the overall concept of it seems normal enough. A time loop arc doesn’t sound strange in a story like Haruhi’s. In the novels we only see the last loop of the Endless 8, and yeah they tell us “oh how much have we suffered after 16000 loops” but it’s the same with every time loop in media. You can only imagine the suffering that the characters have gone through, specially the ones who remember each and every single loop. But here, that’s not the case.

Endless 8 makes us part of that suffering, by having us watch the same episode for more or less 3 hours approximately. And every time while watching it, when I felt bored, a thought ALWAYS crosses my mind:

Imagine how Yuki must be feeling if you’re already tired.

I love the anime adaptation of this arc because we get to see Yuki’s reaction to this whole situation. Like she’s not the most expressive creature in the world, but you can see how she’s clearly having a really bad time to say the least. Whenever the music cuts and we get to see her just looking completely broken inside it’s heartbreaking. And I love those scenes with all my heart.

And then when you hit the Disappearance, it’s so much easier to understand Yuki. It was already easy, but after the Endless 8 you can totally understand why she would rewrite reality and give her a normal life without having to worry about Haruhi, data, or anything of those things. It always was funny to me to see how she basically is the opposite of Haruhi. Haruhi was essentially a normal girl who wanted to not live a normal life. Yuki was the exact opposite of that.

Haruhi Suzumiya is so good istg

#haruhi suzumiya #tmohs #yuki nagato #endless 8 #endless 8 was peak #im crying rn #yuki nagato my beloved

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unwrittenlibrary · 3 years ago

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i don’t wanna do this (i don’t wanna lose this)

eighteen plus blog minors dni

summary -> it’s all fake, every piece of it scripted and perfected for the camera, even the upcoming break-up you pretend doesn’t break your heart.

words -> 2.5k

warnings -> fake relationship, use of name (bucky calls the reader by her character’s name, lucia, once) nickname uses (baby, sweetheart) co-workers/friends to lovers, no smut, not beta’d

notes -> this is for the lovely maera’s ( @ambrosiase ) hotel indigo writing challenge i absolutely love this idea mae and am so appreciative that you created this challenge, it really pushed me out of my comfort zone and i got to explore an entirely new au.

room & service -> business meets pleasure with celebrity bucky barnes -> bucky and reader are co-stars in a fake relationship in a hotel for their final comic-con together.

— ➶ —

Bucky has been doing interviews with Sam all day today.

You’ve been working together for six seasons and have both been to too many comic-cons to count. Every single one of them you and Bucky had been paired up to do interviews and photo-ops together.

A scripted piece of a scripted relationship. Agreed upon when your characters romance began to pick up popularity and designed to look perfect until the end.

Tomorrow an article with be released ‘leaking’ the details of your perfect break-up too. A source close to the both of you will comment that wrapping of the show and being forced to go long distance just wasn’t working for you two. The writer will supply photos of today, the two of you avoiding sitting near one another and not speaking. They’ll write that their source confirmed this convention is actually the first time you’ve seen each other in months.

Even more articles have already been planted periodically questioning whether the two of you were still together, generating buzz around the show and what happens between your characters. It’s a brilliant job, honestly.

Except, you and Bucky had been in a fake relationship for so long, it had begun to feel real. This distance between you two felt purposeful in a way that hurt you more than it ever should have.

Your assistant is supposed to go through your instagram soon and begin archiving posts and pieces of your fake life with Bucky. He’s been glaringly absent from your social media recently and it makes your heart ache at the idea of him being nonexistent.

Your fans have noticed too. You read comment after comment all asking the same thing; What happened to you and Bucky?

“Oh, Lucia! My dear, Lucia.” You bite down a grin at the sound of Bucky’s voice through your door. His words were filtered by the wall between you and a little slurred from the drinks he had no doubt consumed at the hotel bar. “Open the door, please.”

You lock your phone and lay it on the bed beside you. “I’m busy, Bucky! Go bother Sam.” You call back despite already walking towards the door.

“Bother Sam? On our last night together?” You can see Bucky smile teasingly though the peephole. Despite his joking tone the words hurt. “Four years together and this is how things end? Through a hotel room door?”

His fist comes up to bang against the door and a hand comes up to his heart. He’s putting on a show for you, fully away of your eye watching carefully through the peephole. “How much have you had to drink, Bucky Barnes?” You ask as the door remains closed.

Bucky holds his fingers up in a pinch too small to be true. “Not much.” When his hand falls back to his side he smiles up at the peephole. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

You melt, becoming putty in his hand as you quickly move to unlatch the door. “I’ve missed you too.” You admit to him, face to face, as you lean against the door jam.

A smirk replaces Bucky’s sweet smile as his hands reach out to grip your hips. “This break-up is tough on me, baby.” He pushes you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. “One more night. One last time. You and me.”

“Shut up!” You force his hands off of you and turn towards the mini bar in your room. “You’re such a dweeb. I’m glad we’re breaking up.” You pull out the miniature bottle of wine and twist the top off.

Bucky’s hand slams across his chest as he falls against the wall in dramatic fashion. “You’re… Glad? My frail heart can’t take it,” he falls to his knees, “Please. Tell my mother, I loved her.”

You watch, unamused, as Bucky falls to the floor in front of you. “You’re obnoxious.” A beaming smile breaks out onto Bucky’s face that makes you grin.

“I was serious, about missing you.” Bucky moves to sit up with his back against the edge of your bed. You move to sit beside him on the floor. “These junkets and photos just aren’t the same without you by my side, cracking jokes in my ear.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “Me too. I love Wanda, but it’s just not the same.” You admit quietly.

There’s so much that you want to say to him. What if this wasn’t fake? What if we didn’t go through with the break-up plan? “Did they send you our social media plan?” Bucky asks quietly.

“Yeah,” You swallow thickly, “I have my assistant going through my account for me soon. We’re supposed to start untagging and deleting photos of each other this week.”

Bucky snorts. “How fucking sweet. Four years together and they have us untag each other to confirm a break up.” His fingers tap against his thigh as the two of you sit on the carpeted floor together.

“Has it really been four years?” You ask quietly. It’s more of a question to yourself, but Bucky answers it with a nod anyways.

“My longest relationship ever and it was fake.” Bucky’s awkward laugh makes the air tense as he stares down at his hands. “I’ve wasted so much of my life. So many chances gone.”

You know the words aren’t said with ill intent, but that doesn’t stop the crack from forming in your heart. You can’t fathom the idea of all your time together, fake or not, being a waste.

Your eyes cut away from him in embarrassment. “Was it really all a waste?” You ask quietly. The words are unintentional, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re out in the air.

“What?” You can feel his eyes settle on you in an attempt to read your face or body language, but a career in acting comes in handy. Your back is ramrod straight and your face turned away perfectly to hide the emotions in your eyes. “It was fake when we could have had something real with people we actually cared about.”

It’s a knife to your broken heart. “People we actually care about?”

“You know, like, other girls and guys who we wanted to pursue but couldn’t because of the contract.” Bucky reaches out to wrap a hand around yours, but you pull away. “I don’t understand what’s wrong here.”

You shake your head, the regret of your words settling over you. “Nothing. I’m just… It’s been a long day.” You use the edge of the bed to help you stand while Bucky remains on the floor, watching you in confusion. “I’m tired, you should go.”

“Woah. What’s this one-eighty?” Bucky stands too and follows you as you move around to gather your toothbrush and skincare. “Two seconds ago we were joking about a fake break-up and now you’re all quiet and weird? You expect me to just leave?”

“Please.” You plead. The last thing you want to do is dump all your feelings out to Bucky, on the last day you two were officially contracted to each other, and make him feel guilty for feeling free. “I just need to be alone, Buck.”

You move to push past him towards your bathroom, but Bucky’s hand wraps around your wrist. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t do this closing yourself off thing.”

“I’m not.” You say stubbornly. “I’m tired.” You try again to move past him, but his grip only tightens as he forces you to actually face him. “Buck-“

“You can tell me, you know?” He says quietly as his grip slackens. Your eyes meet his, pools of blue staring back at you with something akin to hurt. “You can trust me. We’re best friends, right? You’re my-“

“You don’t have to lie to me, Bucky. Pretend to care. You can go back to the bar and…” You pull your hand from him and cross your arms over your chest. “And tomorrow we can start being with people we actually care about.”

Bucky’s eyes squeeze shut as his own words are repeated back and left out in the open between you two. “That’s not what I…”

“What did you mean then?” You cut him off. You want to sound angry, but your tone is sad and tired. “Enlighten me, please.”

“I just meant… I meant we could date who we wanted to date, I didn’t mean for it to sound so awful.” He answers quietly. “I care about you a lot. We’ve been friends for over half a decade, of course I care about you.”

You swallow thickly. “What if I don’t want to date anyone else?” You force yourself to ask. If not now, then when? Ten years from now at a reunion of your show? You couldn’t live with this what if.

“What?” Bucky’s hand falls from your wrist as he takes a step back like your words have burned him.

You push through the thundering of your heart and ringing in your ears to ask, “haven’t you ever thought about it? I mean, four years of just us, all those dates and premieres, was it really all just work for you?”

“I don’t know… I mean…” Bucky rubs a hand over his jaw as you stare at him expectantly. “Have you?”

“I asked the question I think that would imply…” You trail off as his answer weighs down on your mind. It feels like a no. No. No. No. It’s on repeat in your mind as you move to sit down on your bed. “After a while the dates and photos and sappy posts didn’t feel all that forced anymore.” You admit quietly.

Bucky paces silently in front of you. You’re unsure of what’s going through his mind as he does it and it’s all you can do to not tap anxiously as you watch.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He finally asks when he finally pauses in front of you. You look up at him unsure of what to say. “I mean… When did you start…” He trails off like he doesn’t want the answer.

You look down at your hands in your lap. Despite your worries in telling Bucky you guess you had never truly thought of this conversation ending up this way. All these questions felt like Bucky preparing for a gentle rejection.

“I don’t know. After our second anniversary?” You keep your answer to him vague despite you being fully aware of when you started seeing Bucky differently. “That post you wrote for me that day. All the ones after. All of those words were fake?”

Your mind drifts to his words that day. The sweet and short caption had made butterflies erupt as you scrolled through the photos he had posted with it. Despite you both being required to post something, the photos he had chosen had been entirely genuine.

Pictures the two of you had taken together on set, selfies during your fake dates, and even a sweet set of photo booth pictures from your first premiere together.

You had stared at the post far too long as emotions rushed through you. Your heart raced at the idea of Bucky taking his time to pick photos that meant something to the both of you.

“I think that..” You shake your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the painful reminders. “I think you should go.” You stand up suddenly, your hands pushing gently at his chest.

Bucky’s eyes widen as his hands come up grip your arms in an attempt to stop you. “Woah. Let’s talk about this. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

“Figure it out? What is there to figure out, Bucky?” You cry out, shoving harder. “If you don’t know how you feel then you should figure it out on your own.” You move past him to open the door.

Bucky follows after you hastily. “Sweetheart, wait, please. I just need a moment.” You grip his forearms tightly using Bucky’s own momentum against him as you guide him to the hallway outside your room. “I wasn’t expecting this. We have articles and photos and interviews planned about a break-up tomorrow.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, Bucky.” The two of you are back where your night began. Opposite sides of the door as you stare, unsure of what to say. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay? The article will be published and we’ll confirm it and life will move on.”

The door slams shut in his face without warning, not giving him a chance to say anything else. You stare blankly at the ugly, green shade its painted in silence as you remind yourself; It was all fake. A script you had been given and followed to a tee. One you had gotten too caught up in.

You’re feelings don’t change the ending.

There’s a slow knock on your door. You suck in a breath as you move to open it an apology on the tip of your tongue.

“Bucky.” You’re cut off as his hands come up to rest on your cheeks and he pulls you towards him. Anything you had to say dissipates as his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss.

Your hands come up to grip his t-shirt tightly as you kiss him back your tongue slipping into his mouth while he pulls you flush against his body.

An arm wraps around your waist and Bucky pushes you back into your room, his foot kicking your door closed harshly.

The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed and you finally pull away to look at Bucky, but he speaks before you can say anything.

“Of course I’ve thought about it.” He breathes out. His eyes are wide with nerves and his cheeks flushed red. The sight of it mixed with his kiss makes your heart pound. “I’ve thought about kissing you for real, not in a room filled with crew and cameras. About what it would be like to be on a date where paparazzi hasn’t been tipped off. Baby,” his hands rest on your cheeks again as he forces your eyes to meet his, “I’ve thought about it all. What it would be like to be with you, to really be with you in every way. Sometimes it’s all I think about when we’re together.”

You take pause, your eyes widening and hands freezing in place as you listen to what he’s saying. “Why didn’t you say anything then? Why’d you just pace and ask me all those questions?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” He smiles brightly when you giggle. “Because I couldn’t believe you actually felt the same way. I was in shock.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You smile up at him softly. “What do we do about the article tomorrow?” You whisper your question.

You feel giddy with excitement as Bucky’s hands land on your hips to hold you in place, flush against him. “We deny it.”

“What about our managers?” Your smile doesn’t fade even as stress over the situation arises. “And…And our separate interviews tomorrow?”

“What are they gonna do? Fire us?” Bucky smiles. “We’ll tell them all about how in love we still are. That the source in the article was a dud and we’ve just been private recently as the show wraps.”

“We will?” You ask quietly. Your heart racing at his words. “You want to say all that?”

Bucky nods his head. “I do.”

You don’t say anything else he leans in for another kiss, you could worry tomorrow.

Bonus -> The Next Day

liked by buckybarnes, samwilson and 134,759 others

yourinstagram the final season of our show premieres this weekend and we’re so excited for you all to see how it ends. the first photo is from tonight and the second from our first season! the past six years has brought me so much joy and i’m so grateful for everything this show has given me. most importantly though, i’m thankful for you, bucky barnes. my adrian to my lucia. my best friend. my lover. thanks for making this show so fun.

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samwilson we made a great show. love you guys.

buckyfan thought y’all were a pr stunt lmao

yourinstagram apparently you’re not supposed to really fall in love for those to work…

buckybarnes i am most grateful for you. you made work worth it every god damn day.

yourfan my favorite couple on and off the screen.

— ➶ —

notes -> this is my first ever time joining a writing challenge, it really pushed me to work through block and focus on this instead of letting is die out like i have with other projects despite liking them so much!

(hoping you guys don’t hate the extra instagram idea, i just felt it fit in!)

hopefully you enjoyed and if you did, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#the hotel indigo writing challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

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Oblivious

A/N | This is just a little sweet fluff with Buckaroo. It’s also a late little happy birthday for @falcor-thee-luck-dragon! I hope you (and everyone else) enjoys!

Summary | You’d think Bucky wouldn’t be so oblivious but...he was.

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.9k

Warnings | language

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

James Buchanan Barnes aka Bucky Barnes was a man of many talents and had a vast knowledge of a variety of things. Sometimes, however, things were so obvious and clear that they went right over his head. You could hit him in the face with a 2x4 and he wouldn’t know what happened oblivious. Like the fact that you, his girlfriend of almost a year, had the strange and peculiar ability to communicate with animals. You’d never hid it, nor explicitly told him about it, thinking it would be funny to see how long it would take him to catch on. 330 days (and counting) in and he hadn’t.

Bucky grabbed his phone, scrolling through his social media feeds quickly before pulling up Spotify and turning to his secret indulgence playlist - classical Italian Opera. Yeah. It was just a thing he had happened to really like for no particular reason. The only other living souls in his apartment with him were Archie, your black and white speckled mutt and Alpine, Bucky’s snow white cat. You were currently out of town for work and had asked Bucky if he minded watching Archie, to which he had of course said yes. It was no secret that Archie loved Bucky almost as much as you and vice versa - he was the goodest boy as Bucky had proclaimed. Plus, the cat and dog got along like they were old best friends.

Trailing into the bathroom, he stripped off his t-shirt and pajama pants as Archie laid on the bed and offered him a dismissal look. Alpine was tucked into his side as she slept soundly, paying no attention to her owner.

As he turned on the shower and let the water warm up, he finished stripping off his clothes before deciding to sing along with his music as best as he could. Bucky didn’t speak Italian. It showed. But he was passionate about giving it all as he got ready to take on the day. Archie groaned as Bucky hit a particularly high note, burying his face under the soft duvet.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You ever gonna ask her the question?” Sam raised an eyebrow at Bucky as the two men walked alongside the creek. Bucky had decided that ice cream and a walk for Archie were called for, so he’d taken advantage of the nice weather and gone outside. Missing your company, despite you only having been gone for a few days, he’d called up Sam and convinced him to meet up. Not that it took much convincing; the men were as thick as thieves, no matter how much they denied it. Co-workers, partners - best friends.

“Umm,” Bucky’s eyes widened as he almost choked on his ice cream, awkwardly coughing to cover up his nerves. Sam just snickered in response as he realized he already had his answer. After a moment he slowly nodded, “I have the ring...it’s been sitting in the sock drawer.”

“Sock drawer,” Sam snorted and shook his head as a flush of red colored Bucky’s neck and ears, “classic. When are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighed as he broke off a piece of waffle cone and handed it to Archie, who had been listening in very intently, “I want to...but what if it’s too soon. We technically don’t even live together yet-”

“Doesn’t she like to spend her time at yours? She’s practically moved in...most of the stuff at your place is hers anyway,” Sam reminded him as Bucky made a small, noncommittal sound. It was true - when you’d first met Bucky his place had been minimal and bare. Now, with your time and touch, it felt like a home; a home you had lovingly built with him. Sam bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his, “just get it all done in one swoop. She’ll say yes.”

Archie made a small sound, agreeing with Sam as he rubbed his snout against Bucky’s thigh. He visibly relaxed as he nodded, hoping that this would be enough to psych him up, “I’ll think about it-”

“No thinking about it,” Sam tutted gently, “you’re going to do it. You’ve been a fool - a straight up head over heels in love fool - since you’ve met her. You’re going to ask.”

“Sam…”

“How long have you had the ring?”

“Sam.”

“Bucky.”

“A few weeks after we started dating,” Bucky cast his glance at the ground as warmth flushed up in his cheeks. He’d expected Sam to burst out in laughter, but luckily the other man said nothing, but a smile stretched across his features, “it seems so silly but you know..I just felt like I knew.”

“Sometimes you do,” Sam agreed, putting his arm around his shoulder and pulling him for a quick hug, “you just gotta do it, Buck. She won’t say no.”

Archie barked in response, looking between the two men, wagging his tail excitedly. Sam offered him a few pets before nodding in response.

“She comes home in a few days,” he couldn’t wait to pick you up from the airport and have you jump into his arms while he finally got to hold you again, “I’ve got until then to pluck up the courage.”

“Just don’t lay it on her right away…” Sam snorted as he picked Bucky running up to you immediately pouring his heart out to you. Not a good idea, “give her a moment to be calm and breath.”

“Shut up,” Bucky huffed as he finished the rest of his ice cream, “I’ve got this!”

“We’re all counting on that!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky set the empty popcorn bowl back on the coffee table as he tried not to sniffle too loudly. His eyes were misty and burning with unshed tears as he watched whatever cheesy romance he had randomly selected. He pulled the soft blanket he was curled up in higher, savoring the fact that it still managed to have a faint bit of your smell on it. Alpine was curled up on the back of the couch, snoozing away while Archie was laying next to him, his head resting on Bucky’s thigh. He was on and off sleeping, but had peeped open an eye when he first heard Bucky sniffle.

“They’re in love,” he whispered gently, unsure if he was speaking to himself or talking to his furry companions. He was scratching Archie’s ears as he watched the scenes play out on the screen, “but they can’t be together. Their families would never allow it.”

Archie huffed lightly as he burrowed further into Bucky’s touch. It was the first time he’d seen the man get so emotional over the movie. Bucky had feelings, plenty of them, of course, but there was something about the movie he’d picked, combined with how much he was missing you that caused him to just lose it. It was like the dam had burst and his emotions were out of control.

He sat back and watched the rest of the movie in silence, a few tears running down his cheeks as he watched the love story play out. By the end of the movie, Archie was fully in his lap and Alpine was resting on his chest, “he left everything behind for her, so they could start a new life together far away. They really were next to meant to be together. It’s beautiful.”

The furry little ones were absolutely going to tell you about this.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Archie yawned and slowly stretched before hopping down from the couch and heading towards Bucky’s bedroom. He tried to nose the door open as he learned to do, but was stopped when he found that it was closed all the way. His head tilted in curiosity and whined softly as he tried to see if Bucky was awake so he would let him in.

As soon as he did, the dog regretted it. All he could hear coming from inside was the soft sounds coming from Bucky. Soft moans and sounds and gentle whispers of your name. His eyes widened as the dog took off down the hall and ran back into the living room, flopping down on his dog bed and cuddling up to Alpine as he tried to empty his mind. All the poor dog had wanted to do was to sleep in the big soft bed - not be scarred for life.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Bucky!” as soon as you’d gotten cleared and walked through arrivals and gotten your single bag, you’d kept your eyes peeled for Bucky. It didn’t take long to find him, standing near the back, blue eyes scanning the arrivals with a hopeful little smile on his face. You almost dropped your bag as you ran over to him. As soon as you were in arm’s reach, you dropped everything to the ground, and Bucky effortlessly scooped you up in his arms. You threw your arms around his neck as he held you in a tight embrace, “James. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he sighed in content, happy to have you in his arms once again. Everything about you set his soul on fire, as he held onto you as tightly as possible. After a moment, he slowly set you back down, but not before peppering your face in gentle kisses, “you’re so beautiful.”

“Bucky,” you reached up and gently touched his cheek, “you’re too much. I’m so glad to be home.”

“Not quite yet.”

“Sure I am,” you insisted quietly, “I’m here with you. You’re my home, Bucky.”

The small velvet box was practically burning a hole in his pocket as you looked at him like he was everything - your whole world (he was). Unable to form a proper sentence, he grabbed your face and pulled you close to him, crashing his lips onto yours, kissing you like you weren’t in the middle of a crowded airport. He could feel you smiling against his lips, reluctantly breaking apart from you only once you were both breathless.

“What was that for?” you asked shyly, feeling your face flush with warmth as he picked up your bags for you. You were watching him with pure adoration as he reached for your hand and laced your fingers together.

“Nothing,” he shrugged softly, “jus’ missed you is all, pretty girl.”

“I missed you too, Bucky,” you promised, “I love you.”

“I love you more than all the moon and stars, pretty girl.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What?” you asked as Archie came into the kitchen and sat down, watching you intently as you finished up the cookies you had been working. Bucky was busy with Sam that afternoon, so you’d decided to make a little sweet treat for both of you. You’d been home for a few days and fallen into an easy routine, having opted to stay with Bucky for the time being rather than going back to your own place, “you’ve got something to say, I can tell.”

Just missed you. I like when you’re home, you and Bucky. And Alpine.

“I missed you too, buddy,” you promised, leaning over to his head a gentle pet, “did you have fun while I was gone?”

Yes. Bucky takes good care of me. I like Alpine too. She’s nice.

“I happen to like them a lot too,” you grinned at your friend, “I’m glad you do too. I think...I really love him, Archie. I think, no, I know - he’s the one.”

He thinks so too. He told Sam you’re the one - and us too.

“Really?” you almost dropped the cookies you were plating up in surprise as you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from squealing in excitement, “you’re not messing with me, are you?”

It’s true. He’s got...well, you’ll see. He likes romance movies apparently. And singing opera.

“Oh?”

He was watching a movie. He ate two bowls of popcorn and cried. He let me and Alpine sit on him though so it was okay. He sings opera when he showers in the morning. He’s not good but he tries.

“Archie! Don’t be a meanie,” you chuckled as you tried to picture the scene. It would have been hilarious to see. You’d always known Bucky had a soft side, you just didn’t know how soft, “but I will remember that and use it to my advantage when I want to watch a cheesy movie.”

Please do. He gives good pets when he’s in that mood. He always gives good pets.

“He’s a good man,” you grinned as you reached over the counter for a good treat that you easily tossed to him, “I really love him.”

He really loves you. One night I...never mind.

“No, no,” you shook your head as you waggled another treat at him, “out with it! Or I’ll hide all of your treats!”

Fine. But you didn’t hear it from me - I wanted to sleep in the big bed one night and the door was closed and I heard him. He was...saying your name.

Your brows narrowed in confusion for a moment as you pulled another treat out and twirled it in your fingers for a moment. Then you hit you, what he had meant, “oh. Oh. That is...good to know, I suppose.”

Not for me. I just wanted to sleep, not...hear that.

“Sorry buddy,” you snorted as you handed him another treat, “that will stay between us. Besides...he still doesn’t know we can communicate. I wonder if he’ll ever put two and two together?”

You could just tell him.

“But where’s the fun in that?” you teased as the door opened and Bucky walked in, a giant grin on his face. You looked at Archie and shot him a wink before turning to Bucky, “hello, my love. You’re just in time! Cookies are done and cooled!”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Bucky came over and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before petting Archie, “I love you. Is someone here? I could have sworn you were talking to someone…”

“Nope,” you (half) lied, covering up with a brilliant smile, “just me and the dog and cat.”

“Oh,” he shrugged, thinking it was just his imagination, “what’s all this? Cookies - whatever for?”

“Just because I love you,” you grinned as Archie groaned and laid down, “both of you!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You stopped for a moment to catch your breath as you reached one of the peaks of the small mountain you and Bucky were hiking. It was a glorious day so you’d decided there was no better plan than to get out and enjoy nature. He had no problem at any point, even offering to piggy back you when you’d grown tired; you’d just defiantly stuck your tongue out at the super soldier and carried on.

“This view is absolutely breathtaking,” you looked over the small cliff, admiring the tranquil expanse of the woods in front of you. Bucky was at your side, his eyes on you the entire time.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a grin, “it’s pretty amazin’.”

“Bucky,” you turned around and rolled your eyes at him as he pulled you in for a kiss, causing you to break into a fit of giggles, “I’m all gross and sweaty!”

“Don’t care,” he insisted as his hands found purchase on your waist and pulled you closer against him, his lips already ghosting over yours, “jus’ want you, baby.”

“Bucky,” his name was soft on your lips, but before anything else could happen, you were stopped by a small, almost nervous little voice from up above.

Umm, hi! I don’t want to interrupt but…

You pulled back from Bucky for a moment before looking at the tree, where you found a small squirrel sitting on a branch and watching you both. Bucky was surprised for a moment but calmed when you gave his shoulder a squeeze and gently moved past him and towards your new friend.

“Hi,” you smiled at her and offered a smile, picking up an acorn and handing it over to her, “is everything alright?”

Oh yes. I just wanted to let you know there’s a big group of people coming. If you want some privacy you should go somewhere more secluded! They’re pretty loud, I don’t like big groups.

“Oh!” you giggled as you could only imagine the awkward scenario if you’d been caught, “thanks for the heads up! We’ll definitely get out of here. I’m sorry you have to deal with all the noise.”

It’s okay. I’m going back to my nest now! If you go down the hill, there’s a more private path that leads back down the mountain. There’s signs if you need them.

“Why thank you,” you grinned as you reached up and she let you pet her, “you’ve been very helpful. Maybe one day we’ll see each other again.“

No problem. I hope so too! Thank you for the acorn!

“Anytime,” you promised as she scurried away with her new treasure. You shook your head in amusement as you turned back around to Bucky, to find him watching you with wide eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, almost wondering if he was hallucinating. Had you just gone mad and tried to speak to a squirrel? You laughed lightly at the shocked look on his features, “oh.”

“What was...what was that?” he asked as you rejoined him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His eyes were still scanning the branch the small squirrel had just occupied.

“She was just warning us that there’s a group of hikers coming our way and we should find someplace more private,” you said as if it was no big deal. It didn’t help Bucky in the slightest.

“She? A warning...how….That was a squirrel!”

“I was wondering if you’d ever put two and two together,” you laughed, almost doubling over in laughter, “I...Bucky, I don’t know how or why but I can communicate with animals.”

“You can….how long?!”

“Ever since I’ve been a child?” you held up your hands in earnest, “its something I’ve always been able to do. I don’t advertise it, obviously because people generally think I’m crazy, but I would think you of all people understand. It’s just been...fun to wait and see if you’d ever figure it out.”

“All those times…” he ran a hand over his face in exasperation and disbelief as you watched him in amusement. He was a brilliant, smart man but sometimes he was so oblivious. You couldn’t love him anymore if you tried, “it wasn’t just...a one sided conversation. It all makes sense now. Wow, that’s amazing! What a wonderful thing to possess.”

“I’ve always liked it,” you agreed, “it’s different, you know? But special in its own way.”

“Wait…” he mused for a moment, “so all those times...oh. H-how much have Archie and Alpine told you? Have they always talked to you?”

“Yup,” you crossed your arms over your chest, as you watched his neck and ears turn red, “those two in particular are very animated and over the top. They’re the worst little gossip duo. Almost like you and Sammy.”

“Of course they are,” he groaned as you reached for his hand and pulled him towards. He gave you a sheepish grin as you pressed a light kiss to his knuckles, “they told you about the movie, huh?”

“Archie,” you confirmed, “but he did say you gave him the best pets.”

“Did he tell about...oh no,” this time his whole face was a brilliant crimson, “I-I…”

“Oh stop,” you teased, “I’m flattered and honored. It’s not like I don’t do the same when I’m not with you.”

“Really?” he perked up with pride as you just nodded in amusement, “well then. Wait - did he tell you about Sam?”

“He said you went on a walk with him but that was it,” you shrugged, “nothing really. I do know that he loves you and Alpine very much. And so do I, obviously.”

“Okay,” he relaxed slightly as you took his hand and started to lead him towards the more secluded path your little squirrel had told you about. The box in his pocket was once again burning a hole, “good.”

“Everything okay, Bub?” you asked as he just nodded, lips pursed as he fell into step behind you. Something was definitely off, but you weren’t going to push him on it. If anything, you knew he’d come around and speak his mind about what was going on. He usually always did.

A silence, one neither tense nor uncomfortable, fell over the two of you as you walked down the quiet trail. It was beautiful - lush greenery and newly bloomed plants everywhere. At one point you stopped and pulled out your phone to take a few pictures of the natural beauty. Bucky had been so lost in his own thoughts, his heart practically pounding in his chest and consuming every part of him that he almost bowled into you and knocked you over.

“James!” it was somewhere between a groan and laugh as he caught you in his arms in order to keep you from tumbling into a bunch of bushes. You were face to face with Bucky, looking at him intently as he steadied you, “alright, something’s up. Come on - out with it. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I umm...marry me?” all the speeches he had gone over and planned wet out the window as he just stared at you with nervous eyes. You’d been so taken aback by his sudden question that you took a step back and gave him a curious expression. Bucky’s stomach was in absolute knots as he wondered if he’d just fucked everything up.

“W-what?” your voice was a small squeak, as you tried to see if he was just pulling your leg. But his gaze never wavered, “what did you just ask me?”

“I…” he stopped over a moment before reaching into his pocket with trembling hands and pulling out a small box. Your eyes widened in response as you realized that was not joking at all, further evidenced when he popped it open and showed you the ring inside. Your mouth dropped open when it all came together, “I thought the whole proposal would go a lot differently than this but umm...yeah. Will you marry me? That’s what I’m trying to ask...I’m glad Archie hadn’t spoiled that for you.”

“No,” you shook your head as you already felt tears pricking at your eyes, “he definitely didn’t. I thought he might have been holding something back, but I...I had no idea.”

“I know it hasn’t even been a year yet, but I feel like when you know someone 's the one..you know,” he admitted softly, “and I know you’re the one. The one I want to spend the rest of my life with, the one I want to call my wife...my everything.”

“James,” you looked between him and the ring a few more times before swallowing the lump in your throat, “gods, I am so in love with you. There was never a doubt in my mind that it was meant to be you. Yes, of course yes.”

“Really?!”

“Of course,” you beamed at him, “I love you, Bucky. You’re my forever.”

“Forever,” he breathed softly, “I like the sound of that.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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v-hope · 4 years ago

Text

Brat, 8:47PM — Belong

Taehyung’s eyes travelled from the phone in his hand to the door the second he heard it being unlocked by you. Nevertheless, it remained closed — your rather fast steps being heard as he supposed you made it to the other side of the bedroom.

Standing there, he stared at the door for a few seconds. Although he had been very demanding only seconds ago when it came to you letting him in so he could properly check up on you, now that the lock was no longer stopping him from getting to you, he couldn’t help but hesitate. After all, what was he supposed to do now? Go in, of course, but then what? He didn’t know what to say to begin with. He had just acted out of instinct. Your parents were raising their voices at you, you were crying… the obvious thing to do was for him to rush over to you and tell them off, right?

It had all happened so fast. One second he was in his studio talking to Jimin over text messages, and the next one he was next to you telling your parents to leave his place, for they were not welcome if they were there to mistreat you. They had told him off as well, of course, and maybe he should be scared or at least a little bit worried over his career now that one of the most powerful families in Korea was against him, but, for some reason, he did not care. He was just glad they were gone and you no longer had to listen to their judgemental remarks and harsh voices.

Biting down on his bottom lip as he realised he could do nothing but go inside the room now, he decided to do just that for once and for all. The sight in front of him only increasing his concern.

You rushed from one place of the room to another — open luggage on your bed as you rushedly tried to fold your clothes, yet ended up just messily throwing them inside, as your hands were visibly shaking and you couldn’t manage to properly hold anything in them. That wasn’t what had worried him the most, though, but the way your eyes were welled up with tears and seemed lost, in a way he had never seen before.

“Let me help you” Taehyung managed to blurt out as you struggled with yet another blouse to fold.

You said nothing. Didn’t even look at him. It was as if you were too deep inside your own thoughts to even hear him — only realising he had indeed opened the door and was already in the room with you once he rushed towards you and tried to grab the piece of clothing from your trembling hands.

“I got this” you shook your head, hugging the light fabric to your chest.

“Let me help” he repeated what you had apparently not heard before, tightening his hold onto the blouse.

Nevertheless, you shook your head no again, pulling it tighter against your body.

“I’ve got this” you reassured him.

“You don’t, Y/N…” he replied softly, almost as if trying to soothe you with his voice alone.

The way he looked at you right then, with those chocolate eyes of him visibly softening at the sight of you… you hated it. He stared at you with an expression you had never seen on him before, not while looking at you. And you didn’t know whether it was pity or concern, but you could tell he truly cared. Just like he had admitted over text messages and you had not believed him, for some weird reason, he cared.

And that simple realisation made you finally break down in front of him.

No longer being able to look him in the eye, you let go of the blouse he was holding as well and lowered your head, finally letting the tears that you had managed to control only one minute ago fall all over again — the ones you’ve had so much trouble trying to conceal ever since your parents had started pointing out every single aspect of your life they considered to be a complete failure.

Taehyung was right. You did not have it under control. None of it. Not the packing, not your life. Especially not your life.

Everything was a mess. Your life was a complete fiasco. You were doing it all wrong. And the funniest part was that everything your parents had judged about what they were seeing in Tae’s apartment —which was way too small, among other things, according to them— was not even real anymore. If they knew you had moved out to Hobi’s a few weeks ago now, and that his place was even smaller than Taehyung’s, they would’ve taken you right back home with them like they had just tried to do only minutes ago.

You weren’t doing well enough for them to let you live away from them and their rules, and you didn’t know if you ever would be able to live up to their expectations, whether it was back home with them or trying to make a living on your own.

You weren’t earning enough money to live the life you were used to. You weren’t keeping up with your public image the way you were supposed to. You were hardly ever spending time with Sungjin to make everyone believe you guys were together. And so, you could no longer stay strong like you had tried to for so long, for in that moment, in that very moment, you truly believed your parents were right.

Covering your face with both your hands, you sat down on the edge of the bed as you let the first sob come out of your mouth. After that, there was no stopping — sob after sob being heard through the room, each of them louder and more heartbroken than the first.

Taehyung stood there almost frozen, not knowing what to do at all. He had never been good when it came to comforting people, and the fact that it was you the one breaking down right in front of him only made it so much worse. Did you want space? Did you want words of encouragement? A hug, maybe? God, he had no idea how to deal with you and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to make it better, to stop you from hurting, yet he had no idea how to, or why he even cared so much to begin with.

He awkwardly cleared his throat — your blouse long forgotten as he let it fall into the bag and sat beside you.

“Hey,” he quietly tried to call your attention, which only caused you to shake your head no as you buried your face deeper against your palms, with that simple act of yours letting him know you weren’t ready to look at him just yet. “I know we’re not exactly friends, but… you can trust me, really. Whatever you’re going through right now, you can tell me”.

You choked on a sob, considering whether opening up to him was a good idea or not, for opening up to just anyone was not something you could do. As a heiress and with the eyes of the Korean media on your entire family, you could truly not. And a month ago, you would not have said a word about it to Kim Taehyung. However, he had been there for you in moments you would have not expected him to, and so now, you did trust him. Not entirely yet, but just enough to let him know a piece of what was troubling you right then.

“They want to take me back home” you managed to croak out, bottom lip trembling as you spoke.

Taehyung froze. Something about that idea not feeling right at all. “What?”

You took in a shaky breath, only to let another sob out as you lowered your head, somehow trying to hide from him more than you already were. “They don’t like it here. They say it’s no p-place for a heiress, and I would... love to say they’re wrong because I… I like it here. I like it at Hobi’s and I like my job and my friends, but t-they’re right. I can barely manage by myself, I-I’m a mess… I’m a complete mess an—”

“Yah…” he tried to call you out on it without sounding like he was scolding you. Moving closer to you, he hesitated for a second before he wrapped one of his arms around you, feeling at ease when you didn’t pull away from him and instead had seemed to accept his somewhat awkward show of affection. “You’re just getting the hang of it. You’ll get there eventually”.

You took in a shaky breath, leaning closer to him and finally letting go of your face, only to hide it on his chest so he still couldn’t look at you. “I thought I had finally found my place, but…” you sighed. “They’re right”.

“They’re not” he was quick to deny.

“Yes, they are!” you cried, voice muffled as you remained stuck to his sweater. “Like, am I going to be a barista for the rest of my life? Am I going to be looking for roommates all the time? I can barely afford that, and I can’t go on like that until the day I die” your voice broke. “I enjoy the luxurious life. I also enjoy my current job and my friends. But those two lives don’t go together and somehow I feel like I don’t belong anywhere…”

“Stop that,” Taehyung sighed heavily. “You belong anywhere you want to”.

You shook your head no, tugging at the fabric of this sweater as you tried to hold back another cry.

“You do” he reassured you before you could even open your mouth to deny it.

Once you silently shook your head no for what felt like the millionth time, not trusting your voice at all anymore, he sighed again, deciding to say nothing and pulling you closer to him instead, this time wrapping both arms around you and resting his chin on your head. You didn’t wait to hug him back, burying your face deeper in his chest and letting the rest of your tears roll down your cheeks as your sobs finally started to calm down after a good couple of seconds.

Somehow, being held by him made you feel better.

“It will be alright” he quietly tried to cheer you up.

That’s when you decided to finally stare up at him — pity no longer displaying in his eyes, but what seemed like hope, determination. He couldn’t help but smile sweetly at the current sight of you, your gloomy eyes and puffy face making you seem adorable for some reason. It was a side of you he had never seen before, and, oddly enough, he liked it. You seemed genuine, no longer being that unreachable heiress who so badly tried to keep that perfect image for the world to see. It was just you. You and those innocent eyes he had found a liking to right then.

At the way he was ever so intently staring at you, you didn’t wait to hide your face once again.

“Yah,” he laughed breathily, pulling your hands away from your face so he could look at you. “Why are you hiding?”

“I look hideous” you sheepishly admitted, staring down to your lap once you gave up on trying to cover up from him.

“Is the Kim Y/N really doubting her looks right now?” he couldn’t help but tease, feeling a smile curving up his lips at the sight of the shy one that had shown up on yours.

“I’m an ugly crier” you shrugged, still not daring to look at him.

Taehyung chuckled, cupping your face in his hands and leaving you with no choice but to lock eyes with him as his thumbs gently wiped your tears. “If you call this an ugly crier, then let me tell you you’ve got the wrong concept of the word ugly, princess”.

You couldn’t help but let out a light laugh that had his heart skipping a beat, just like yours had done at his words. “Are you calling me attractive now?”

“More like cute,” he corrected. “But whatever floats your boat”.

“Same thing” you teased him. “Thought you hated me too much to fall for my charms”.

Taehyung rolled his eyes at the way you had playfully batted your eyelashes right then. “First, I don’t hate you. You get on my nerves and are definitely not my favourite person, but hating you would take way too much effort” his words managed to get a roll of eyes from you this time. “And second, I’m not blind, Y/N”.

You smiled, deciding to reply nothing to the compliment he had oh-so-casually given you and just locking eyes with him instead. And you just stayed like that for a while, staring at each other in utter silence as words were suddenly no longer needed.

It was only when your faces had somehow gotten slightly closer and your eyes began to travel from each other’s eyes to your mouths, that Taehyung pulled away, awkwardly clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes as he stood up and nervously ran a hand through his hair.

“You can, um... you can stay the night” he informed.

“You don’t have to worry about me, really” you smiled, deciding to avoid as well the moment the two of you had just shared, and letting him know you appreciated his offering instead. “I’m almost done packing”.

“It’s already dark outside, though” he pointed out. “And, I mean, I can go drop you off if you want, but honestly, don’t feel like you need to leave when you’re not feeling your best”.

“Thank you” you smiled sweetly, standing up as well so you could close your luggage and take it off the bed, later slumping down on it and making yourself comfortable on the mattress you had once grown so used to. “I will leave first thing in the morning”.

“Okay” he smiled as well.

Although it was not late at all —at least not if he considered the time you used to go to bed when you lived with him—, he took your action of lying down on the bed as a sign of you wanting to go to sleep right away. So, taking that as his cue to leave, he turned around without another word to finally give you the space he thought you wanted.

Before he could even reach for the door, though, your rather shy voice caught his attention.

“Taehyung?”

“Mhm?” his eyes fixed on you.

“Can you…” you nervously bit down on your bottom lip, resting on your side as you faced him. “Would you stay here with me for a little longer?”

Taehyung stood by the door for a few seconds, not being able to stop himself from finding you adorable as hell right then. It was a bit ironic, how not long ago he found it annoying when you tried to spend time with him, yet now here you were asking for the same once again and he was so easily falling for it. And so, it didn’t take him long to nod his head and make his way back over you.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he fixed his eyes on your attentive ones, not being able to conceal his confused expression when you moved further away on the bed — only realising you had made some space for him to lie down on after you had patted the empty spot next to you.

Although a bit reluctant, he complied. Lying down next to you, he rested on his side as his cheek fell on the pillow so you would be face to face — once again falling into complete silence as your eyes met during way longer than what would be considered normal. Neither of you knowing when it was that silence between the two of you had stopped being awkward, tiring even, and became comfortable instead.

“You’re feeling better?” he asked in what felt more like a whisper, not being able to stop himself from removing a strand of hair that had fallen over one of your eyes after you nodded.

Smiling fondly at such a simple yet loving act of his, it was now you the one who couldn’t help herself — your hand going up to grab his as it was about to leave your face, and gently holding it in yours so you could give it a gentle squeeze as a sign of gratefulness. Taehyung took in a shaky breath at the unexpected contact, yet he did nothing to break it. If anything, he squeezed your hand right back, letting you know that, despite your many differences, he was there both with and for you.

“Sorry for bothering you again” you couldn’t help but apologize, for you had not forgotten you had once told him you would never again ask him to spend time with you.

Funnily enough, right then, to him, it felt far from annoying — lowkey wishing you had forgotten about that to begin with. It was a bit odd being like this with you, that was for sure, but this time he hadn’t minded at all having you ask him to spend a little more time with you. If anything, it felt nice. Being with you the way he was in that precise moment, felt really nice.

“My brother used to stay with me when I was feeling down and…”

Taehyung smiled softly. Who would’ve thought you could be this sweet without even trying. “It’s okay, you don’t need to give me explanations”.

Smiling at him, you unconsciously moved closer as you made yourself more comfortable in bed — his hand still in yours until you let go of it and mindlessly started tracing his fingers with yours, as you had suddenly become too nervous in his presence to keep holding eye contact.

“Thank you” you sincerely said after silence had taken over for a few seconds.

“What for?” he wondered.

“For everything” you explained. “For being here with me, for helping me out today, for letting me stay here with you even when you couldn’t stand me…” a light laugh escaped your mouth at your last mention. “For standing up for me earlier…”

“It was nothing” he reassured you.

“It was a lot to me” you smiled weakly. “Can I ask you something, though?”

“Sure”.

You bit down your bottom lip. “How much of it did you hear?”

Taehyung pouted in confusion, not being able to hide his rather taken aback expression. He should’ve known going out of his studio would throw him under the bus about having heard what was going on with you and your parents. Although any decent person would’ve gone to see what was going on after hearing people yelling in their living room, he thought.

Just a few keywords. That was all he had heard. However, they were all pretty compromising… at least the word ‘marriage’ particularly seemed like it, even more after Jimin had been brought up only minutes later in the conversation. And although he thought about mentioning it, for he wanted to know what the hell was going on for once and for all, he decided not to. You already seemed too exhausted that night; maybe some other time.

“Not much?” he bit his bottom lip. “Just your boyfriend being brought up every five seconds”.

“He’s not my boyfriend” you didn’t miss a beat to correct him, causing the corner of his lips to curve up in an amused smile.

“And something about Jimin and you…” he couldn’t help but add nevertheless.

The keyword ‘marriage’ had not been mentioned. Just your mutual friend. Yet it had made you take in a shaky breath and let out a heavy sigh.

Of course out of all the things your parents had said, he had heard that one particular part.

“You’re not telling me any of it, are you?” he lamented, your previous sigh and the way your body had tensed next to his being all he needed to reach said conclusion.

You sheepishly shook your head no. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now” your eyes focused on your hands, still playing with his long fingers. “And Jimin… if he hasn’t told you by now, then I believe you should ask him about it instead”.

“Ask him what?” his eyebrows knitted together.

You shrugged. “Whatever it is you’re trying to ask me”.

Taehyung sighed. He was dying to know everything you were keeping from him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go without knowing the whole story. The annoying part was, that you and Jimin were the same — he wouldn’t give away information regarding you, and you wouldn’t give away information regarding him. It was as if you were each other’s partners in crime, and he had no idea if any of you would ever reach a common ground and give one another the green light to talk about it to him, or he would just have to wait until one of you slipped up.

“You will tell me everything at some point, right?” he tried to push it.

“We’ll see if you deserve it” you kept your answer on the mysterious side.

“I literally just stood up for you in front of your parents” he reminded you.

“Aren’t they lovely, by the way?” you joked.

Although he had laughed along with you at the way they were not lovely at all, a sigh was quick to abandon his mouth right after. “You’re such a brat”.

“That I am” you chuckled.

Taehyung couldn’t deny, though, that he now got where you and Jimin were coming from all along. It didn’t change the fact that, in his eyes, having a family was better than not having one. Nevertheless, yours was truly something else — a little over an hour having them at his, plus belittling him and his place when he had told them to calm down and leave, had been all he needed to find out why you didn’t want to meet up with them in the first place.

“You should embrace it then, princess”.

That made your head snap up, letting him know with your furrowed eyebrows that you did not get what he was talking about.

“Being a brat” he explained, being now him the one to mindlessly play with your fingers as he spoke.

“What?” you laughed lightly.

“I mean, brats get what they want, don’t they?” his words earned an immediate nod from you. “Then just… be that” he shrugged, drawing his eyes back up to yours. “Be an absolute brat and show your parents you can do with your life whatever you want, no matter what they say”.

Smiling at both his words and the way his eyes seemed so genuine right then, you were quick to nod as a small giggle escaped your mouth — not really giving it a second thought when you moved close enough to him to lightly press your head against his chest, and letting out a contented sigh when his thumb began to draw small circles on the back of your hand, giving you the last bit of reassurance for you to decide to go by his words.

Who would’ve thought the one to bring hope back to your life would be the very one who used to point out what a mess you were. Whatever it was that made him change his mind, you liked where you were at in whatever kind of relationship the two of you had right now.

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becomingbts · 4 years ago

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Time heals (sometimes) - 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the burning spotlights and the applause and the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

Ask or comment to be tagged!

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Warnings: The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: So hello everyone, welcome to Time Heals (sometimes). Thank you so, so much for the warm welcoming, it has been my first time getting so many asks, I was honestly overjoyed. I still don’t really know what to call this part; is it a teaser? A note? A full chapter? I believe we’ll get some snapshot of memories like this one throughout the series because there is going to be a lot to unpack on both sides. I think it will be a chapter nevertheless because I have to establish some kind of order as to which parts should be read first, and I think this one is extremely important.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

Profiles #2 - here - part 2

Her scream pierced through the air while cries broke in the frenzied arena while a single blond-haired man froze, emptily staring at the stage. It felt like his senses heightened; his skin was shuddering, his eyes were frantically searching for one specific figure while his voice was lost in his throat. The screams resonating in the stadium would have been too loud for his voice to be heard anyway.

Jimin knew he shouldn’t be there.

Namjoon had told them more than once that none of them should try to go to one of (Y/N)’s events. It could be dangerous and they could be overwhelmed; anything could happen to them and they would still remain a nobody who fainted in the howling crowd. Would they want to take this risk? No.

So, Jimin would have had to admit that going to her very first concert in Seoul since the pandemic sounded like a very, very, very bad idea. And to be honest, it still didn’t seem to be a bright idea now that he was actually there.

But he still went because he needed to see her for himself; to see how she was. He had so many things he dreamed about asking her. Are you okay? Are you sleeping well? Did you eat before coming to the arena? Are you nervous? Do you... remember me?

Maybe he was torturing himself. He kept on watching her lives, following her on all social media, always made sure to leave a sweet comment, and never miss any of her new updates... Maybe he even had a folder of pictures of her on his phone but he’d never admit it to any of his mates. Taehyung would probably take his phone away from him and delete everything and Jimin couldn’t let that happen.

He felt like it was cheating. Don’t take him wrong though. When he thought that, he was not really thinking about the boys. They did collectively agree not to follow her activities as an artist but it was getting harder and harder with how popular she got anyway. Moon was everywhere. In commercials, on the radio, her songs were on the TV… Even if she was known for refusing most of the promotional contracts that were offered to her, her image was still constantly in the media despite her avoidance of it. Ironic, but the media were trying their best to find anything about her, be it positive or negative. One day she was seen on her bike, the next, she was in a coffee shop, and it kept on going on, overstepping on her privacy as if it was just a meaningless word.

The lockdown had admittedly played a major part in Jimin’s obsession. Being in their apartment meant quickly running out of activities, and his job as a dance teacher was not really filling his free time (a lot of his classes were also canceled). It was also during that time that (Y/N) truly blew up as an independent artist. Advertisement on YouTube started being around her channel and her music, the recommendations he kept on seeing were about also her… Jimin’s resolve honestly broke easily. It was hard not to be curious about his lost soulmate even though he didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurting.

Anyway, to come back to his main point, if Jimin felt like he was cheating; it was mostly for her. After all, (Y/N) had no means of letting the curiosity get the best of her, to know what they were doing; to simply see or contact them. He had, at first, not really thought about that. Watching her content seemed a very innocent thing to do in his opinion; billions of people were watching her content, why should he prevent himself from doing so? Yet, Jimin could still remember one of her live she did soon after that interview she had given on this damned radio show where she had revealed who her title track ‘TIME’ was about… She had gone live the next day-Jimin had jumped on his phone because of the notification-and one fan had asked her what would she do if she knew that her ‘ex-soulmates’ (and those words left a very sour taste in Jimin’s mind) were watching her. The question had silenced a previously restless Jimin, replacing his initial excitation with dread while a lump formed itself in his throat. He had not even noticed it; he was so focused on her live and her upcoming answer that Jimin had completely missed the sound of a glass breaking in the apartment. Jimin had been home alone, so even if had indeed heard it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to check what had happened, thinking that the wind knocked it over or something. Jimin had been so absorbed by what he had been watching that he even got surprised a few hours later when Seokjin came home and yelled at him for breaking something when he had been clearly innocent, engrossed in (Y/N)’s live (not that he could tell his soulmates about that part, but yeah). (Y/N)’s live would always be more important than some random glass breaking again in their apartment. Every object was doomed with Namjoon living here anyway.

On her side of the screen though, (Y/N) had seemed taken aback as she had read the question and had gritted her teeth gently. She had seemed to be pondering about her answer even though a lot of people in her chat were telling her to forget about the question if it made her uncomfortable (a lot were even scolding the person who asked). Yet, sighing softly, she had looked up at the screen:

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from asking questions on this topic. It’s not taboo but I’d rather not remember everything that comes with it. However, to answer this-hopefully-last question about it, I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. It would only be fair after all. I’ve been denied access to their lives six years ago, why would they get a free pass into mine now?” She had not smiled nor had she seemed hurt by her own comment, yet Jimin’s heart had shattered in pieces, unable to press the cancel button.

Her voice had slowly faded into background noise while her words had been stuck in his head.

I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content.

How could Jimin ever do that? He realized that he truly should. Namjoon would even agree with you, as ironic as it sounded for Jimin. Namjoon had been one of the most adamant ones about rejecting your bond, after all. Jimin was shaking with bitterness while ‘Moon’ continued her stream peacefully with music. Jimin could only try to gulp his anger down as he remembered her crumbling features on that fateful day.

“You’re not our soulmates. This name on our arms means nothing to us. You are nothing to us if not a hindrance. Leave us alone.”

If Jimin could go back in time, he’d prevent Taehyung from spatting those words at her. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Playing the scene over and over in his mind wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change that she probably hated them. It wouldn’t change the song she made about them.

And worst of all, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jimin had let himself believe that their choice had been for the best, trying to console and reassure himself, even if he had already known that it was wrong. Tears were pooling up in his eyes even if none escaped as he finally caught a glimpse of her on the stage. Suddenly brought back to reality after his subconscious memory trip, Jimin finally connected back to the world, looking around while he was still frozen on his spot. People were still screaming around him and he wondered if he looked like an intruder. Because, after all, wasn’t that what he exactly was? She said it herself that she didn’t wish for them to watch her; so what was he doing here?

Jimin couldn’t help but stare; she looked ethereal, dressed like a queen in the middle of a sold-out arena. People were screaming her name as she yelled her infamous ‘hi people’. It was an opening sentence that Jimin heard way too many times in her vlogs and suddenly hearing it in real life seemed surreal.

Jimin could only watch in awe, entranced with her everything.

Screw the boys and what they would think once he’d be back from her concert.

He had been the one to find her six years ago anyway. He had been the one to bring her to their home six years ago, hoping for the boys to change their mind once they’d meet her.

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Uploaded : 09/04/2021

Taglist: @sweetmoonlight9, @mickmoon, @dreamer95, @loveyoongles, @spicetouched , @jikooksgirl19, @summerevelyn , @springjade , @clevercoley, @prooteus, @sehun096rainbow, @ainsle-e, @ifyouareme, @sunshinee0-0, @fangirl125reader, @sea-nevermind-enthusiast, @atlantis-atlas, @thequeen-kat, @naajix, @skyys-universe , @sichajeon , @yukiehyukie, @amxranthinesworld , @bunzom, @potate-oh, @mawwnsterr, @ celaenaelentiyavox, @dvoz-writes , @honeybaby-94 ,

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obviouslygenuinely · 4 years ago

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Babygate Analysis/Conclusions: A Non-Larry Perspective

(Image Credit: Hollywood Life)

I'm prefacing this post with a few disclaimers:

After some consideration, I chose to write this without factoring in Larry whatsoever. No Larry-related points, proof, or speculation in any way. This is solely analyzing babygate from an unbiased perspective.

I don't claim to know the entire truth. It is impossible for any of us to know. What I conclude is based on direct evidence, circumstantial evidence, research, and analysis.

I am willing to discuss opposing views. I’m happy to talk about the topic in a civil, kind, and mature matter. I will dismiss any discourse that is aggressive, immature, and so on.

I did not include every single opinion/conclusion/piece of evidence I found. I condensed my thoughts as much as possible (and this is still a novel-length post). There are so many more points I can think of. However, babygate masterposts cover all of that; I’ll link to some of those at the end.

The conclusion points aren't in a very specific order. I aimed to list related points one after another. Aside from that, it's not in order of "hardest to weakest" evidence.

Please read “Author’s Notes” for additional clarity/input. They interject thoughts/etc. that I feel are necessary to include.

Lastly, I included links to every source I cited in this post. However, I did not tag the Tumblr users. I’m not sure if they are comfortable with having Babygate questions/comments directed to their blogs. If you are a linked source and want to be tagged, please let me know!

My Initial Reaction To Babygate

In February of 2020, I received several messages on LateToLarry requesting that I analyze something called “babygate”. I had no idea what babygate meant at the time.

I learned what it meant, and prior to any research I felt the theory was so absurd. I also felt uncomfortable analyzing it because I believed I’d feel bias as a single mom. The idea of discussing a random child in depth initially bothered me, too. I declined to analyze it last year.

However, I did a LOT of research over time. My opinion has changed significantly. Below, I’ve shared my main conclusions and analysis about babygate. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy my post!

1. No Paternity Test Was Performed Prior To The Pregnancy Announcement

Louis was/is a prominent celebrity and has a current net worth of $70 million. From legal, financial, and practical standpoints, it makes no sense for him to choose not to get a test.

It’s unheard of in Hollywood and the entertainment industry. Any sensible team -lawyers, PR reps, managers, advisors, etc. - would not just go along with it. They are employed to protect his career and image.

The Opposing Views

A. “Briana/Louis didn’t want to risk miscarriage with prenatal testing.”

Non-invasive testing is completely safe for fetuses and pregnant women, so there’s no medical reason for the lack of testing.

B. “Louis chose not to get the test done because he wanted to be a father and was invested in the pregnancy/parenting.”

Time has shown that this is not true. Louis does not have custody; there was a brief custody case in 2016 that led nowhere. He does not have a consistent or prominent role in the child’s life.

Conclusion

There is no logical reason for the lack of paternity testing prior to the announcement unless Louis knew he was not the father and all parties knew this to be true.

2. There Was No Confirmation Of A Paternity Test After The Birth

I’ll keep this section fairly short. A quick Google search returns dozens of conflicting reports. Many of them state that Louis demanded a paternity test shortly after birth. Other reports state that he has never pursued a paternity test.

Here are a few examples:

“Louis Tomlinson not interested in paternity test” - Business Standard

“EXCLUSIVE: Louis Tomlinson Demanded a DNA Test “As Soon as the Baby Was Born”” - InTouch Weekly

“Louis Tomlinson: No DNA Test Needed ... Positive Freddie's His Son” -TMZ

“Louis Tomlinson & Briana Jungwirth: WhyHe Had DNA Test Done on His Newborn Son” - Hollywood Life

This Twitter thread discusses TMZ reports that - as of 2020 - no DNA test was done.

Conclusion

There is no reliable confirmation that Louis pursued a paternity test. The media cannot come to a general/factual consensus.

Again, there is no reasonable explanation for the lack of paternity testing unless Louis knows he is not the father of the child.

3. The Conception-To-Birth Timeline Is Inconsistent/Unreliable

Pregnancy and conception as a whole can be rather confusing; timelines from conception to birth are unique to each person. Having said that, Briana’s timeline is full of glaring inconsistencies that don’t add up.

I’ll begin with this timeline based on bulletprooflarry’s post and my own research. Dates I’ve added myself include linked sources:

May 5th, 2015 - Louis and Briana were first seen together in public.

May 6th to May 31st, 2015 - Briana and her mom followed baby-related social medial accounts.

May 12th, 2015 - Louis and Briana were pictured together in public.

July 3rd, 2015 - Louis is seen with Briana’s brother in Hollywood.

July 14th, 2015 - The first pregnancy report is published.

August 4th, 2015 - Louis confirms pregnancy on GMA.

January 21st, 2016 - The child is reportedly born.

Based on the dates above, these are the possible dates/milestones for her pregnancy:

Scenario A - If conception occurred on May 5th, Briana was 37 weeks and 2 days pregnant on January 21st, 2016. This is considered an early-term birth and about 26% of births occur at 37 weeks.

Scenario B - If conception occurred on May 12th, Briana was 36 weeks and 2 days pregnant on January 21st. This is considered a late-term or late premature birth and about 10% of births occur at 36 weeks.

These dates matter because Briana’s alleged hospital stay was not consistent with a premature or early-term birth. She was pictured in public - healthy and holding a baby carrier - within one week of giving birth.

(Image Credit: Daily Mail)

(Image Credit: larrysbbrbb28)

If she gave birth based on the dates above, it’s extremely unlikely that she or the baby would be out in public so soon.

Below are screenshots of an additional timeline from an archived Tumblr post. It provides excellent points about more timeline inconsistencies:

The main inconsistencies and red flags are bolded in the post. It supports the unreliable conception timeline, and it also mentions my next point - the official pregnancy announcement.

The post above mentions that the Jungwirth family followed baby-related accounts before Briana could possibly know she was pregnant. Here’s one screenshot from skepticallarrie proving it:

I’ve also seen several posts that show inconsistencies with the size of Briana’s baby bump. Unfortunately, the most reliable post no longer exists. You can view a web archive of Briana’s pregnancy photos, but most of the image links are broke.

The only post I have saved is a web archive of a long babygate post. The beginning of the post contains photos showing discrepancies in the size of Briana’s baby bump.

The Opposing Views

“Pregnancy looks different on everybody, everyone recovers differently, etc.”

Yes, this is true and a valid point! As a woman who has gone through multiple pregnancies and two live births, I truly understand this argument.

However, the sheer amount of inconsistencies are what make this a red flag. There are too many unreliable and contradicting points to brush this off. It goes beyond the point of “well, each person has a different experience”.

Conclusion

There are a few conclusions/scenarios I believe you can draw from the information above:

Briana was pregnant prior to meeting Louis.

Briana was never pregnant in the first place.

Both are valid to consider, but I personally believe she was never pregnant.

(Author’s note: My calculation for dates are based on the date of alleged conception. Most due date calculators, by default, use the date of a woman’s last mentrual period - LMP - to provide estimations.

I also used Date Duration Calendar for my calculations. Accessible due date calculators only allowed me to input dates from 2019/2020. Depending on the tools and dates you use, your mileage may vary.)

4. The Announcement Itself Was Highly Unusual

This point ties into the first and third points. I don’t consider it a major piece of evidence, but it’s noteworthy due to the other points.

So, there are a few reasons why the Good Morning America announcement stands out.

A. If Briana got pregnant on May 5th, then she was approximately 10 weeks pregnant when the first pregnancy report was published. This also means she was approximately 13 weeks pregnant at the time of the GMA announcement.

If Briana got pregnant on May 12th, she was approximately nine weeks pregnant at the time of the first report and approximately 12 weeks pregnant at the time of the GMA announcement.

B. The public announcement on Good Morning America raises a lot of questions. I’ve had multiple issues embedding the video; the bolded link takes you to the GMA announcement on YouTube.

Anyways, these questions/thoughts - disregarding any Larry theories - come to mind when watching the video:

This is a segment for promoting/discussing their album/music.

The baby announcement is the sole non-album/music related topic that is mentioned during the segment.

The announcement is not organically worked into the segment as a natural talking point.

Louis’ reactions - such as bringing the microphone to his lips and not talking - is very unlike his standard interview demeanor.

The male interviewer and the band members have noticeable facial expressions and body language that suggest discomfort, stress, or awkwardness.

A post by skepticalarrie draws similar conclusions. Her post is much more detailed than mine, and I highly recommend reading/viewing it.

(Author’s Note: I’ve touched upon this on LateToLarry and will make a post here eventually, but body language and facial expressions are valid. They’re valid to the point that they are used in court cases.)

Conclusion

My conclusions here are twofold. One is that:

Announcing a pregnancy - especially a celebrity-related pregnancy - this early is extremely uncommon and unlikely.

The announcement itself seems out of place and very forced.

This particular point, to me, is not extremely strong evidence. I still think it’s worth keeping in mind and is relevant to other points here. So, I’ve included it either way.

5. Briana Posted Stolen Pregnancy/Baby Photos On Social Media

(EDIT: I wrote this piece before the recent release of Briana’s alleged ultrasound and don’t have time to add it. It’s pretty strong proof and can easily be found in recent babygate posts.)

Babygate posts often point out that Briana and the Jungwirth family used stolen/fake pregnancy and baby photos on social media. It’s a well-known topic that’s often discussed.

I’m condensing this section to a few examples. I encourage additional research if you’d like to see more.

A. This Tumblr post shows stolen baby bump photos that Briana’s cousin Ashley posted on Twitter:

B. This Tumblr post and Twitter post show a stolen baby photo that Briana posted on Instagram:

(Author’s Note: Since I was not active in the fandom at the time, I am relying on information from other blogs and social media posts. I vetted my sources pretty well, but any false information is my own mistake.)

Conclusions

The only word that sums this up is “suspicious”. Using stolen photos of a pregnant woman/baby is not necessary if you are legitimately pregnant. That’s really what it boils down to. It lends to the conclusion that Briana was never pregnant.

6. Photos And Videos Of The Child Are Heavily Altered And Manipulated

It is indisputable that many photos and videos of the child are heavily manipulated to alter his appearance. This goes beyond filters, lighting, and angles.

Several detailed posts show the manipulations; here are some examples:

A web archive of all Photoshop evidence from tellmethisisnotlove

An in-depth post from genuineconspiracy that includes detailed photo evidence.

A video post from freefreddiereign that shows Photoshop evidence based on photos the child.

There is no doubt that his facial features are frequently altered. This is easy to conclude using any free software that detects Photoshop. As a photographer myself, I can easily spot the manipulations.

(Author’s Note: I know that directly discussing the child is controversial. When I first heard of babygate, my initial reaction was discomfort about analyzing a child.

I quickly learned/concluded that his family members are responsible for heavily putting him in the public eye. All content I’ve used for research is based on the family’s posts.

Still, I have personally chosen not post pictures of the child, but the links I am sharing contain photos/videos of him.

Additionally, I used FotoForensics on photos of myself prior to writing this. It was important to me to feel absolutely certain about this point. I’m fine with sharing my own FotoForensics images if anyone is curious.)

The Opposing Views

A. “Freddie looks like Louis in pictures that aren’t Photoshopped.”

Parentage cannot be based on whether or not a child looks like his mother/father. I understand the viewpoint, but it’s simply not evidence. Additionally, thinking the child looks like Louis is a matter of opinion.

There’s also the fact that appearance means nothing overall. Science backs up this statement very well. Examples and references:

“How can children from the same parents look so different?” by HowStuffWorks

“My Baby Looks Nothing Like Me: A Genetic Explanation” by FamilyEducation

Additionally, here is a personal anecdote. I have two sons close to Freddie’s age. One of them looks exactly like his father and nothing like me. The other looks exactly like me and nothing like his father. Despite how they look, they are both of them are our biological children.

Conclusion

There is no reasonable explanation for altering the child’s appearance - particularly to make him look more similar to Louis.

I cannot think of a single argument as to why the Jungwirth family would do this unless they need/want the child to look a specific way.

7. Johannah Deakin’s Official Obituary Does Not Mention The Child

When looking into babygate, I read the argument that the child is legitimately Louis’ son because he is listed as her grandchild in Internet-based obituaries and announcements.

I also read the counter-argument that Louis’ mother’s official newspaper/print obituary does not mention the child. I recall seeing proof, but I did not save it at the time. I did some research and this appears to be true.

The Doncaster Free Press is a local weekly newspaper in Doncaster, and it published an article about the funeral. The article is NOT an obituary itself, but it does list her obituary details. The publication does not list the child among the surviving family members.

If a mistake is made regarding these details, it’s typical for newspapers to post a correction addressing a misprint. Upon further research, the Doncaster Free Press did not issue a correction at any time.

(Author’s Note: I lost my own mother and am personally familiar with how local obituaries are written. Immediate family members - i.e. spouses and adult children - provide information regarding surviving family members.)

Conclusion

The conclusion here is straightforward. Louis and his family chose not to include the child in his mother’s official obituary. This strongly suggests that he is not legitimately related to Louis.

My Opinion-Based Conclusions

Update: After some consideration, I am saving my opinion-based conclusions for a separate post. I originally intended to include them here; transparency is important to me.

Unfortunately, the section became rather long and took away from the main post points. So, I’ll be working on a post that’s just my opinion-based conclusions. In the meantime, feel free to message me with any questions.

Final Thoughts

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my post! I appreciate the interest expressed for it, and I hope it lives up to expectations.

Again, I want to reiterate this is:

Not an all-inclusive post; I narrowed down my findings to seven points.

Not a masterpost on babygate.

Purposely omitting any potential Larry-related points to remove bias.

I’ve reread this quite a few times, and it’s as error-free as possible. If you spot any mistakes/errors, I’m completely open to making corrections. Just kindly let me know.

This list contains references/research about babygate that I consider the most reliable. It includes Larry and non-Larry related Babygate content.

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by Tumblr use genuineconspiracy.

A web archive of babygate posts by Tumblr user tellmethisisnotlove (her account was deactivated by staff).

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by darkrainbowlouis.

Tumblr posts tagged with babygate by skepticalarrie.

Lastly, if there’s interest in an opinion-related post or Larry-related post, I’ll consider writing them. Feel free to let me know as you all did with this post.

Thanks!

Amy (obviouslygenuinely/latetolarry)

#babygate #bg #louis tomlinson #briana jungwirth #freddie Tomlinson #baby tomlinson #end it #larry #larry stylinson #analysis

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

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that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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beepsparks · 2 years ago

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A post dedicated to how much I love Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared and the creators’ other projects (and as a kinda late celebration to me being 3 years in the fandom)

This post will be VERY VERY long so all of it is under the cut! It’s all me rambling about how amazing Dhmis is and how much love I have for it

Never in my life have I ever loved something so amazing so much, and that's an understatement for how much I love Dhmis, it’d literally be impossible to say how much I love this series. It’s truly a work of art with the most dedication I’ve ever seen.

From what I’ve heard, originally being a short film project intended to be a series but then getting dropped after completion going viral off of YouTube and inspiring the crew to pick up the idea again into making the original series we all know and love, now to an entire tv show is truly inspiring and should be looked up to as inspiration and motivation to make their ideas into reality by even the biggest of filmmakers. A simple, now decade old short film becoming something even more is just so inspiring and it’s so incredibly motivating.

Every piece of effort and dedication put into this series is something to behold, everything made of felt and different material that would surely take incredibly long just to make even the smallest of props is just so amazing to me. The detail, thought, and emotion you can get from every single scene in not even just this series, but the creators’ other works I simply adore to look at. They’ll make high effort props, costumes, puppets, and even more only to use them for a few moments and never again just to show the highest quality in every frame to craft everything to perfection is so nice, like they’re making all of this with the viewers in mind like it’s all just for you, I love it.

And the creators’ other works, I love them so much, from literal Trollis advertisements made with literal stop motion, which you just barely see anymore to barely known and yet high effort, interesting and thought-provoking, yet sometimes highly comedic short films and sometimes music videos is just art at it’s finest. Like Craig’s Big Day, the music video for Swim and Sleep (Like a Shark), and Baker Terry, voice actor of many Dhmis characters’ short film, “BIN”, is one of the most if not THE most disturbing short films I’ve ever seen and yet I LOVE IT. He did an absolutely wonderful job literally writing, directing, and even acting in it himself.

More on how much effort is put into things like Dhmis, all the different styles of art used throughout the series is so eye-catching and visually appealing to look at. The art trick used for music video Tame Impala, which the creators worked on, was used for the apple in Dhmis 2, and it goes very well. Claymation, stop motion, CGI, 2D animation and possibly even more than just the already high effort and wonderful puppets just keeps your attention constantly, it almost never gets boring to watch.

I’m a HUGE sucker for art and media that truly embraces the meaning of “weird” in the best way possible. None of that “be yourself (unless you don’t fit into the norm and actually aren’t like everyone else)” nonsense, Dhmis isn’t even about that and yet, to be honest, Dhmis has helped me appreciate myself more by letting me embrace the different, more unique parts of myself with it’s art. Dhmis is so strange, embracing creepy horror elements, dark and weird jokes, the art of puppetry, strange music, and that's my most favorite thing about it. Just how absurd, crazy, and of course, weird, it gets. Every moment is something packed with so much creativity behind it. We need more abstract, unique, and genuinely weird yet enjoyable and interesting art more than ever right now tbh, a lot of recent media, while good, just doesn’t feel weird enough sometimes. I’m not saying EVERYTHING has to be weird like Dhmis, but I really want to see more works truly creative and fun come out and show how amazing different styles of storytelling and art can be. It helps everyone express themselves, not just the basic norm.

Speaking of fun, silly shenanigans, behind the scenes photos and videos of Dhmis and sometimes other projects the creators have worked on always have a fun element behind them. I feel that's an amazing place and feeling to have while working on something, just embracing the fun of it and sometimes letting yourself be a bit silly while working on it. The Dhmis crew almost always looks like they’re having fun and smiling every moment they worked on the series. I love the energy and shenanigans that go on during Dhmis production. I’d totally love to see each puppet and costume character and how they work. In general I’d love to know more about how Dhmis was produced and made.

Now I’m not sure if this is on purpose or not, but I love when creators purposefully leave spaces in lore for fans to interpret their creation however they’d like. That's why there's so many theories with entirely different stories with Dhmis. People are interpreting the story in all sorts of different ways and it sparks the fans to be creative and find their own answers to the story. A story that clearly states every single part of it that if its true or not can get boring. Watching so many ideas strive fills me with joy watching people who share my similar interests talk about what they think of parts of characters and story. Which can even influence each others interpretations. For example, I have my own interpretation of Tony, and his design and personality is more based on the mean, villainous sides of him because Padlock slightly influenced how I might see Tony, and in general in my interpretation I usually saw him as a shady liar, a quick, sly snake. Which reflects on my humanoid design of him, giving him snake eyes and a scarf which covers his mouth, and of course, his dark coat and dark color palette.

Dhmis is just truly top quality art that deserves to be known more, and praised and loved for just how great it is. It might not be for everyone, but it’s still absolutely wonderful and even if you don’t like horror, it should have it’s effort and art appreciated. I might not be a full Dhmis veteran, only joining the fandom back in September 2019, but I’m so incredibly proud of how far this series and fandom has come. I hope to see more of it and works like it from the creators and crew in the future.

Thanks for reading my long DHMIS and it’s creators appreciation post :)

#dhmis #dont hug me im scared #appreciation post #love #dhmis tv show #long post #dhmis webseries

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redheadbigshoes · 3 years ago

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Is comphet real? I’ve seen loads of stuff online saying it’s not real and that the lesbian masterdoc is a load of rubbish

This is making me confused about my sexuality, I’m at the point where I really really don’t know what or who I am. I could say I’m unlabelled, but knowing who or what I am would be nice :(

- V

(just so you know it’s the same person sending these asks!! I’m the person who sent you the ask about “something bad happens and then I question my sexuality”)

It is. The lesbian masterdoc was not the first time the concept of comphet was brought up. Yes I have to agree the masterdoc is not really the best thing, there’s some things there that can confuse you even more if you’re questioning your sexuality. That’s why I never recommend the masterdoc to anyone who’s questioning if they’re lesbian.

I know there’s a lot of people invalidating lesbians and comphet, but trust me the concept is very much real and a lot of lesbians struggle with that, including me.

Women (and woman-presenting people) grow up in a society that centers men in our lives, which is not the same as how men grow up being influenced to like women (romantically and sexually). A huge part of womanhood is centered on being with a man.

I grew up hearing family members ask me since I was like 4/5 years old if I had any boyfriends. All movies and shows I watched in my childhood showed me women were supposed to find a man to settle down with. Look at all Disney movies for example, Cinderella, Snow White, Little Mermaid… They all get with a guy in the end, they all need to be saved by a man. Boys (the ones who didn’t really watch these kind of movies) didn’t have the same influence of needing to settle down with a woman like girls have.

And I’m not even talking about the lack of queer rep as something that made me take longer to realize I’m a lesbian. Almost every single piece of media showed to me as a child and as a teen women had to be with men, they usually never really showed women just being single as a positive thing.

So when girls around me started having crushes on boys (both celebrities and boys in real life) I felt like that was what was normal and what girls were supposed to like. Noticing their crushes I thought I had to have crushes on boys as well to not feel like I wasn’t normal or anything like that so I started choosing my crushes just based on their physical appearance, it was never because I genuinely liked them.

When people were starting to get their first kiss I had my first one as well just so I could fit in. And since then all boys I tried dating/kissed I’d only do that because that was what all girls around me were doing. And since kissing boys never repulsed me, I never questioned not feeling anything whenever I kissed them. And that’s the thing, kissing someone you like, being with someone you like it’s supposed to feel positive, it’s supposed to feel good. I didn’t feel anything at all.

I tried liking men all my life. The ones that would show interest in me I would immediately distance myself from them because the thought of a guy liking me always made me feel uncomfortable.

I’m trying to post some videos of that girl on Tik Tok I talked about, she talks a lot about comphet and her videos were much more useful to me than the masterdoc. There’s a few on my blog already if you search the tag #tik toks or #source: patronsaintoflesbians.

#stephanie answers #anon #comphet #my experiences #lesbianism #long post

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all-things-fic · 4 years ago

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Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things.

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it.

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe.

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’.

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place.

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude.

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care.

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him.

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years.

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness.

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch.

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning.

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy.

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch.

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over.

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety.

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt.

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is.

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes.

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you.

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music.

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch.

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark.

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try.

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat.

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap.

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours.

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging - one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in.

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it.

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring.

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain.

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night.

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction.

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is.

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper.

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry.

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different.

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him.

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted.

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.”

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction.

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first.

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he?

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap.

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed.

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage. You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.”

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.”

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown.

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however.

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.”

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them.

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before.

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry.

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.”

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore?

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact.

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped.

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined.

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in.

And neither did he.

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you.

Understanding was vital.

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete.

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore.

And for once you didn’t feel alone.

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became.

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here.

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t.

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.”

“We were both drunk, it happens.”

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?”

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes.

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug.

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door.

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting.

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers.

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question.

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in.

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished.

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar.

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar.

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of.

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately.

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double.

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.”

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment.

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning.

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment.

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him.

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity.

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?”

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them.

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape.

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile.

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him.

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him.

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found?

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated.

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.”

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly.

“Not if I have my way.”

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs.

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his.

“Different, but better.”

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away.

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged.

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh.

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his.

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck.

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you.

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved.

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back.

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too.

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show.

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him.

“You don’t have to-“

“No?”

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused.

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling.

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue.

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear.

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt.

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away.

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself.

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more.

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks.

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting.

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents.

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling.

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.”

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession.

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed.

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable.

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you.

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more.

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge.

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders.

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks.

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were.

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too.

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time.

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before.

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things.

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips.

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking.

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour.

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch.

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale.

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again.

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

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