#maybe i was too harsh on the overrated song thing :) i wanted to say something bad about jb but im over that phase

[babyleostuff]

THE NIGHT WE MET

・❥・ for the 2k followers event

summary: the one where you meet a handsome stranger in the art gallery who is as beautiful as the paintings

[ pairing: idol!minghao x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2k

warnings: a couple of swear words ]

song recommendation: the night we met by lord huron

Your steps echoed through the empty hall, as you entered the last room of the building. It was too early for anyone to be rummaging through the art gallery, even for you. It seemed like the universe wanted you to be here, though. At least that's what you were telling yourself. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that school had been putting you in an emotional spiral for some time now and you wanted to be anywhere but there. 

So, as usual, you ran away to the place you always knew would cheer you up. 

Looking around the room filled with paintings all covered in beautiful pastel colours, depicting people who looked like they didn't have a single care in their lives, you stopped at your favourite, the biggest out of the collection. Every time you looked at it you felt a sense of peace and... carefree? You weren't sure why, but the girl on the swing looked so free, like she could do anything. Like she was truly happy. 

You’d do anything to feel like she did for just a moment.

"Don't you think The Swing is a bit overrated?" You were so lost in thought that you didn't hear someone approaching you. You huffed, shaking your head. If he was going to insult the painting, why did he say anything at all? Jerk.

“I wouldn't say that,” you stated, not looking at the stranger. You could tell it was a guy and he sounded like he was around the same age as you, maybe a little older. But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin, so you continued to stare at the painting.

He chuckled lightly, as if he sensed that you were annoyed, which made you dislike him even more. Why did he have to speak at all, couldn't he look at the painting and just walk away like any other normal person?

"What do you like so much about it, then?"

"And what about it bothers you so much?" You muttered. A moment of silence passed and you started to wonder if you weren't being too harsh. "I'm sorry if, um... I offended you in any way. That wasn't my intention, really," he said, and you could tell from his voice that he meant it. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. If this continued, your social interactions would drop to zero.

"I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to be so rude. I'm just not in the mood," you said and turned to the stranger. You were going to smile so you wouldn't look like a total bitch, but instead of doing that, your lips twisted into an 'o' shape.

This stranger, or rather the most beautiful guy you've ever seen, was looking at you with a curious expression.

"I-I'm tired lately and it turns out I'm not very nice to other people either," you wanted to hit yourself because that was literally the stupidest thing you could have said. "And it turns out I'm not very nice to other people either"? Well done. 

However, the stranger didn't look like he cared too much about what you said, he just nodded as if he totally understood what you meant. "I feel the same way sometimes," he admitted, turning his gaze towards the painting. "That's why I'm here now," he added.

You had trouble taking your eyes off his profile without looking like a total creep, but you honestly didn't think guys like that even existed. He looked perfect in every way. And it wasn't like you fell in love with every handsome guy you saw - love at first sight was overrated, but there was something about him that made you unable to take your eyes off him. 

"I'm guessing you're not from around here?" You asked. For a second, surprise crossed his face and his eyebrows furrowed, and you began to wonder if maybe you shouldn't have asked. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have,” you said, and with every second he didn't say anything, you became more and more convinced that he was the one pissed now. 

"No no. It’s okay" he said and looked back at you. His dark eyes, hidden behind glasses that you were sure were fake, landed on you. "It's just not often that I meet people who don't know who I am," he smiled and adjusted the sleeve of his white cardigan that had slipped off his shoulder. You gulped as your eyes landed on his sculpted arm, his white sleeveless shirt doing nothing to cover it. 

"Should I know who you are then?" You asked, taking a quick breath to calm yourself down. You were sure you had never seen him in your life, though, not even on the internet. Was he some sort of influencer? Maybe a YouTuber?

He chuckled, ruffling his black hair as if you had said something funny. "God, that sounded so pretentious. No, of course you don't need to know who I am."

But now you wanted, no - needed to know who this handsome stranger was, the one who decided to talk to you, a random person in the art gallery. Although it wasn't like he had much of a choice considering you were completely alone here. 

"Let's say I'm an artist."

"That doesn't tell me much. What type of artist?" You asked curiously. He looked at you, amused. "I create art on stage."

"Can't you just tell me who you are?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Now you were the one who couldn't stop from laughing. You guessed you wouldn't get more than that from him. "But it's not like Magic Mike, with you getting naked on stage and all?" Where the fuck did you get that from?

Great, it was your official self-embarrassment day. “Not that there's anything wrong with that,” you cleared your throat sheepishly.

You expected him to give you some sort of sarcastic remark, but instead his cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he looked just as embarrassed as you were. "No, but I dance too."

“Ah, that's where the painted nails and earrings come from,” you pointed to his ears and he touched them as if to make sure his gold jewellery was still there. “Yeah.” 

For the first time, a comfortable silence fell between you and you honestly didn't want it to end. You no longer cared whether he liked the painting or not, but you didn't want him to leave. You felt a certain comfort in his presence that you couldn't quite explain.

"I like this painting because when I look at it I feel calm. Like I don't have any worries and the world is covered in nothing but pink colours, making everything more beautiful," you said, getting lost in your thoughts again. "I wish life was sometimes just about swinging on a swing.” You felt his eyes on you, but he didn't say anything, as if he was thinking about what you just said.

"I never looked at it that way," he said, tilting his head. 

“Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective,” you smiled. For some reason you couldn't stop it when he was next to you.

“I'm Xu Minghao,” he extended his hand towards you, which you shook lightly. It was a miracle that you even managed to say your name without fainting, his hand still in yours. "So assuming you're not from here, how long will you be staying in town?” You asked, finally letting go of his hand, no matter how much you wanted to keep holding it.

But then… Why did he seem to hesitate when he let go of yours, too? Your stomach seemed to do somersaults and your heart was beating twice as fast.

"I’m leaving tomorrow," he admitted, though you couldn't tell from his voice whether he was happy or sad about it. Looking at him, his thoughtful face that didn't look as content as yours when you looked at The Swing, you had a sudden urge to hug him.

He had a comforting presence, but for some reason you felt that he himself needed some comfort. 

“Um, would you like to maybe,” you held out one of your headphones towards him. "We can listen to something,” you proposed. He nodded, so you walked up to him, heart beating like crazy, with the headphone still in your hand. “Do you have a specific request, Minghao?” You asked.

“Let’s listen to the last song you listened to.” 

Your hands touched again as you handed him the earbud, and you could have sworn Minghao let out a nervous breath then. It turned out the wire was too short for you to keep a big distance, so you stood side by side, shoulders brushing. You unlocked your phone and played your most recent song, rewinding it to the beginning. 

The night we met.

“How ironic,” you muttered, as the first rays of rising sun poured through the gallery windows. Minghao smiled gently, looking down at you, with the softest gaze anyone has ever looked at you.

You felt like the whole world stopped at that moment - it was just you, Minghao, and the paintings, which for the first time weren't the most beautiful thing in the room. 

I had all and then most of you,

Some and now none of you,

Take me back to the night we met.

You wondered how long it would take you to forget Minghao and he would become just a memory of the handsome stranger, like a ghost that wouldn’t stop haunting you. 

I don't know what I'm supposed to do,

Haunted by the ghost of you.

“You have no idea how glad I am that I came here,” he said so quietly you thought you misheard him. "Actually, no one knows I'm here," he snorted. "My friends will kill me when I come back," Minghao shook his head. You felt like you had crossed every line of being a stranger, so you laid your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

When the night was full of terrors,

And your eyes were filled with tears,

When you had not touched me yet,

Oh, take me back to the night we met.

“I'm sure they'll understand,” you said, just as quietly as he did. “Everyone needs to get away for a while now and then.”

You stood like that for the next three minutes, your head on Minghao’s shoulder, his hand dangerously close to yours, connected by the cable of your headphones, staring at the painting that meant two different things to the both of you. You dragged out the moment when the song had to end, you wanted to stop this moment forever. "When do you have to go back?" 

"I still have one," he looked at his watch. "two hours. Then I have to leave.” You nodded. No matter how much his words hurt you, you decided it was better to use the time you had left. "I know this may be a bit lame, but would you like to go for some tea?" You asked.

His face immediately lit up and his eyes sparkled as if you just gave a new toy to a child.

"You're reading in my mind. Of course I'd like to go," he beamed as he said it. Now he was even more handsome, if that was possible. "Let me guess," you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “You're a green tea type.” He chuckled, causing your shoulders to brush again.

"You are amazing." For a moment, there was no air in your lungs and no words in your mouth. How were you supposed to respond to something like that? 

“Let's go then, Mr. Xu,” he smiled and extended his hand to you and you gladly took it. 

This time, however, you didn't let it go.

Take me back to the night we met.

[...]

You opened Twitter because you knew that if you wanted to find someone, it was there. You clicked on the first video that appeared to you. "I don't understand but I love you" fancam. Interesting.

You sat up more comfortably on the bed, as the first tunes of the song started playing. So he was a singer, right? What did he mean by saying he did dancing too, though? 

But with every second that the video was playing, your eyes were getting bigger and bigger.

"What the fuck?"

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings

#2kfollowersevent #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen kpop #seventeen #minghao #xu minghao #fanfic #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt scenarios #seventeen reactions #minghao imagines #minghao x you #minghao x reader #kpop au #minghao fluff #svt reactions #minghao fanfic #xu minghao fluff #minghao x y/n #the8 imagines #the8 scenarios #the8 seventeen #seventeen the8 #the8 x you #svt the8 #seventeen reaction

[my-cat-keeps-eating-my-hair]

Santa's reindeer are honestly so shallow. I mean really? It only took Santa, the big boy, the head honcho, the guy all the reindeer want for some reason, to say, "Hey, Rudolph! I'm putting you at the front because you've got a built-in headlight, and I'm too lazy to strap the lights on the other reindeers' heads this year. I mean, look at this belly. I've got to maintain my figure. Get on up." And then suddenly the reindeer were like, "Santa loves Rudolph! Ah crap! Well, just so he can't tell Santa what terrible reindeer we are, let's start being nice to him. I don't want to get in trouble. And hey, maybe he can put in a good word to Santa for me this year, and I'll get bumped up!"

The other reindeer still don't like Rudolph. They only start being nice to him because he now has something that they want: Santa's attention. As soon as Santa decides, "Y'know what? This reindeer is overrated. I'm getting the strap-on headlights out again." it's over. Rudolph will go back to being a nobody, and he'll be hit with the harsh reality that his friends never liked him and were just using him.

The song "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer" is not a story about a reindeer who's different finding acceptance after finding out what makes him different makes him special. No, it's about the harsh reality that people may not like you, but if you have something they want, they will fake being nice to you for that thing.

TL;DR People are shallow guys. And Santa's reindeer are a prime example.

#rudolph the red nosed reindeer #shallow #get some true friends #you don't deserve to be used by people #christmas songs #christmas

[innerspeaker]

8 songs, 8 people

TAGGED BY: @alexcabotgf, thank u so much xénia, darling!! ♥️♥️ RULES: answer the 8 song prompts, then tag 8 people

1. favorite song at the moment

“trouble’s coming” by royal blood

2. a song you associate with your favorite ship

i had to stop and think about this properly cause im terrible at these stuff but if i had to pick one i’d say “something stupid” by frank sinatra for the superior couple mcwexler and like i didnt even associate it to them, the creators of the show did lmao, but anyway it’s absolutely fitting for them and its their™️ song in my head now, basically

3. a song that could be about you

there are definitely many songs but i’ll go with the first one that came to mind, which is “leif erikson” by interpol  

4. a song you think is overrated

i have too many unpopular and dangerous opinions when it comes to music and i never voice them cause i dont wanna be too brutal but since we’re here anything by gr*ta v*n fl*et is o v e r r a t e d and it’s frankly embarrassing they even got a grammy for being an ugly copy of something that’s already been made 50 years ago and wayyy better than they do and i suggest them to change their career if falling into oblivion isnt an option, respectfully :)

5. a song that reminds you of a good memory

all the songs i’ve heard at concerts i’ve attended, the ones i’ve heard live and  the ones used on warm-up playlists, because they’ve been the best days of my life and i dont have better memories than the show related ones; also “los ageless” by st vincent because it reminds me of a specific period of time and of some of my dearest friends

6. the last song you listened to

“personal jesus” covered by jazzystics ft. karen souza

7. a song that makes you laugh

i have to say “mad world” by gary jules because of an inside joke and my terrible sense of humor 

8. a song you want your mutuals to listen to

i really dont have a specific song to recommend at the moment (i feel like all the songs i might recommend are somehow well known, so yeah), so keep streaming punisher (2020) or start streaming punisher (2020) if u havent already besties!!

TAGGING: @jackharkness, @1918, @antaris and whoever wants to do this !!

#tag games #alexcabotgf #xénia #thank u so much for tagging me darling!!! <3 #as for the third question i kind of want to make a tag game like the tv/film characters but with songs 👀 #maybe i was too harsh on the overrated song thing :) i wanted to say something bad about jb but im over that phase #hes already into oblivion as far as im concerned; these guys on the other hand #anyway im not even that upset about them cause ive listened to only a handful of songs by them but #the way they just copy stuff is just...dont do that???

[railingsofsorrow]

Ruptures Of A High End

[spencer reid x reader]

[moordboard by @moonzlighx ]

summary: based on the prompt “if tomorrow didn't come, what would you do today?”

pairing: spencer reid × fem!bau!reader

word count: 2K

warnings/content: discussion about having kids; break up; there's a wedding; angst.

song recommendation: gravity by coldplay

A/N: the lovers to exes trope s2; tell me if y'all want a part 2 cause I'm open to suggestions. i edited this three times but I still don't think it was enough?

➶ ➷

They tried to make it work. They really did.

But, divergent lands create more ruptures than they keep a solid ground. So, it was hard.

For Y/N, it was heart wrecking.

“I can't keep doing this if I'm always gonna think your mindset will change any time, Spencer.”

Y/N was tired. It had been an awful night after a harsh case with kids that the team had went through. The case triggered something in her and she thought it over on their way home; she thought a lot. Maybe, she should've stayed quiet and kept it to herself. Nevertheless, this subject would come to bite their asses later on in the future. It was better to do it now and have this over with.

“If you think I'm going to change my mind,” Spencer begin, resting his satchel on the dinner table quietly. He had his back to her. “Couldn't this happen with you, too?”

“What?”

“Couldn't you change your mind?” He repeated as if she hadn't hear it in the first place. “I mean, the concept of getting married and having kids that is out there is overrated.” Spencer slowly turned to her, watching her reaction closely. When he detected no danger, he carried on.

That was probably the worst mistake he had ever made.

“We could be different...” He reasons, stepping towards Y/N, “We won't be our parents, Y/N.”

When he tried to reach for her hand, she yanked it back. Face scrunching up in indignation.

“Do you hear yourself right now?”

Spencer sighed, taking two steps forward as she takes three steps back, shaking her head.

“Y/N—”

“No, Spencer. You're not getting the whole point of this conversation. I won't and I don't want to have kids.” She clarified, staring right into his eyes. Watching his shoulders drop in disappointment didn't make her stop. “You think our job and the things we see everyday are a problem? They're the least of my concerns!”

The silence that followed was taunting, and yet, decisive.

For Spencer, that was pure torture for he knew what was about to come.

“We're too different. Our plans don't match. Even if we thought that this wouldn't be a problem on the beginning... It's here now.”

“Don't—”

“We don't work, Spencer—”

“Stop!” He exclaimed, “This isn't true. What about all these years, huh? Did it mean anything to you?”

Y/N felt her stomach turn with the look in his eyes. How could he say that? How could he doubt her love? If anything, it was precisely because she loved him that she was doing this. Setting him free.

“It means everything to me,” She croaked out. “I love you more than anything else in this world, but I can't and I won't wait for you to blame me for my choices later on. This just wouldn't be fair to any of us.”

Once he left her apartment that night—a place they used to call home—something pinched her chest; perhaps her heart begging to be pulled back together. It was in pieces. Still, she knew she had made the right choice.

After the breakup, Spencer and Y/N had to be professional enough. They did work in the same place after all. Otherwise, things would be a bit nerve-wracking. In the beginning, it was hard to adjust. They didn't share fond glances nor did they knowledge each other at all. Derek noticed it first, then, Emily.

“What do you think happened?” Emily pretended to be immersed on adding sugar on her coffee so nobody would stare with curiosity in their conversation.

“I have no idea, Em.” Derek shrugs.

Then, they went back to their seats while analysing Y/N and Spencer for the rest of the plane ride.

It was a Wednesday when JJ approached Y/N after seeing her zoning-out during a meeting. She had been unfocused all day.

“Do you want to talk?” The blonde touches her shoulder softly.

Y/N waits for the file that Gancia sent over to print before shaking her head in denial.

“Do you need to talk?”

Y/N sighs, grabbing the pages. She ignores the question and leaves the room with no other interchange. JJ doesn't press the subject again.

When the case is done and they are back at the headquarters, Y/N offers JJ her car keys and tells her to take them to a bar so she could vent off because yes, she needed to talk. Jennifer smiles in response and snatches the keys.

“I miss him, Jayge. I miss him more than... I don't know. I don't even know! I've nothing to compare to because there's nothing I've missed more than Spencer these past few days.”

“I hate myself for breaking his heart, but I wouldn't do it otherwise or- or he would resent me.” More than he already does, she thinks. But doesn't say.

“You followed your heart and that's what matters, Y/N. You two will get better after a while. Believe me.” That was her advice. Y/N loved her friend wholeheartedly so she hugged JJ and slept in her arms that night. It was the first night of sleep she had had in days.

But one question kept wondering around her head as she fell asleep: Did she followed her heart truly?

For Spencer, it wasn't that much easier. Just that instead of the usual self-destructive actions that Y/N did, he opted for drowning in work until he felt tired. And then, he would trade a few hours of sleep to work again.

Five years later and you could say that Spencer and Y/N achieved a level of acquaintances.

“You've come a long away from stepping on people's feet.”

Spencer snickered. He was the one keeping her on her feet as she swayed on her feet in the middle of the improvised dancefloor.

“I'm not that awkward anymore, Y/N.”

She gave him a full displayed smile, eyes fluttering shut slowly. Until her head ended up on his shoulder and she sighed. “I think I drank too much,”

“You think?”

Alright, they were more like friends, now.

An upbeat song started playing. Spencer stopped, but before he could step away, she wrapped her arms around his neck, making him shiver. But she didn't realize that. Not even he realised it until later that night.

“Why did you stop?” Her head was tilted to the side and her face scrunched up as she looked up at him. Spencer's eyes traveled through her expression quietly, before a smile broke the corner of his lips and he looked away, shaking his head. “What is so funny—”

“The slow song stopped.” He clarified as if she hadn't noticed.

“So?” Y/N shrugs. Tapping his shoulder twice, she adjust her position again, lifting her chin. “It's still playing a slow song in my head.”

That's the kind of thing Y/N should never say, because that's the kind of thing Spencer missed about her all the time.

They kept on dancing until they feet melted and until everyone else had left the dance floor. The same song playing on their minds, except, they didn't knew that. They never knew a lot of things these past few years. Which was both good and bad.

“If tomorrow didn't come, what would you do today?” Y/N played with some piano chords as the words left her mouth. Spencer quit staring at a painting in Rossi's living room and turned to her with a crease in his forehead.

“What?”

She repeated the question patiently, never moving her attention away from the instrument. It truly spiked her admiration, the piano. Something so delicate yet it could be so powerful.

Spencer watched her fingers move distractedly while playing no specific music.

“I'd visit my mom,” He begin, sitting by her side when she mentioned for him to. “... read her a book... Then, I would probably spend the rest of the day at the beach, watching the sea come and go.”

She smiled softly, “You haven't always been too fond of the sea.”

“Not before you, I wasn't.” They shared accomplices smiles.

“Yet, it's too deep and too unknown. We never know what's right bellow our feet when we're swimming, have you realise that?” Her hands moved away from the piano to rest on her lap, “The reflection of the water clouds our vision.”

“That is true. But that's the beauty of it: we don't have to know everything.”

Y/N felt that on a deeper level. She had always been the one planning everything and in desperate need to know every detail about every little thing; in their relationship, that had been a problem. After they broke up, that had been a problem for her. As she let go of control, her body and mind became acquainted and a little bit free. Yes, Spencer. We don't need to know everything.

“What would you do if there was no tomorrow?” He threw the question back at her, making her smirk.

“I would kick some butts and tell the truth in people's faces.” Spencer cracked a laugh and she laughed too “What? I was gonna die anyway! Might as well enjoy the time left.”

“That's all?”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Then...?”

Y/N poked his cheek, which gifted a bewildered look from Spencer, “You don't wanna know.”

After he recovered and cleaned his throat, he asked, “Why? Would you kill someone?”

Her laugh echoed throughout the room. The corner of his lips lifted at that. “No, Spencer. Not that.”

His heart squirmed with the way she pronounced his name; it sounded like honey.

“I do wanna know. You're making me curious.”

“Oh, but that is the whole point.”

Spencer scoffed in disbelief. Y/N only gave him a smug grin.

“You really want to know, Reid?” He didn't like when she called him Reid. It sounded too professional and it tasted bitter in his ears. He preferred sweet tastes. He only hummed in agreement, studying her features thoughtfully. When she glanced up at him, her eyes carried something he couldn't grasp. And he used to grasp every unsaid word inside those orbs, but that didn't happen now. Not after five years. “I'd kiss you.”

Maybe, there was still a lot of alcohol in her system.

“I'd kiss you and I'd tell you a lot of things I should've told you when tomorrow was still a fact. Because then, I could die happy with no regrets.”

He stared at her blankly as she smiled sadly and looked down at her hands. “Told you wouldn't want to know.” She let out in a whisper.

“Wh-what would you tell me?”

Y/N looked up, eyes widened.

“Tomorrow is happening, isn't it?” Spencer searches for something in her eyes, “What would you tell me, Y/N?”

Her next step was to take his hands and caress it with her thumbs. While Spencer watched her in expectation, she watched their hands. “Believe me. If I tell you, that is how everything turns to dust.”

Spencer quickly search for her hand and took it, not letting her walk away. But as soon as their eyes met, Luke entered the living room and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. “Finally found you two. It's like you vanished out of nowhere, guys!”

Y/N retracted her hand quickly, before Luke could grasp what was happening. Given his swaying person he wouldn't notice a thing. Spencer gave her a pleading look. One she ignored.

“Well, here we are. And now it's just Reid cause I need to find a restroom. I definitely drank too much.” Y/N skitters away, leaving Spencer with a drunk Luke to his care.

“You've got pretty curls tonight, Doc.” Luke lets out faintly, playing with one strand. Spencer frowns, wiggling away from Luke's hold.

“Thanks.”

He left the room annoyed and with an uneasy feeling on his chest. Something unfinished. There was something unfinished.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #angst #a bit of fluff if you squint really hard

[dropsofletters]

how to lose someone in seven steps? | xiaojun

— summary: fencing his way through life, dejun knows too much about the sport but not enough about love. his sweet tongue conquers the romanticism of this century and puts it to shame—in love with everyone and everything. though, maybe that’s one thing to take to her advantage when trying to break his heart. making him fall for her shouldn’t be that difficult.

— title: how to lose someone in seven steps? — pairing: xiao dejun x reader — genre: fencer!au ; bet!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; love experiment!au — type: angst ; fluff ; romance ; humor ; drama — word count: 10,584 — playlist: just friends – keshi ; i’m low on gas and you need a jacket – pierce the veil ; that xx – g dragon ; wi ing wi ing – hyuk oh ; lightweight – demi lovato ; better man – 5 seconds of summer ; love u – monsta x ; lucky strike – troye sivan — note: you should read the prologue before reading this route.

One day with a headache is usual; it comes with the stress of the heat of summer, the rambling of people around oneself, and with the overall activities of a busy schedule. The second day, she really starts pondering if the medicine she is taking for her headache is even doing any good—she reads the contents of the box filled with medicine, thinking of the doses, pondering on why it has worked on other occasions but it just doesn’t work now.

The third day she wakes up with a headache, she truly thinks she’s going to snap at the world. How dare they wake her up to the thumping inside her head? Words mingling together in thoughts that she can’t even comprehend.

But the reason of her headache goes past her room—it’s not the bright colors of her rented apartment that take her off guard, neither is it the scent of vanilla that she sprays on her bathroom every night and somehow makes its way into the bedroom, it’s because someone is calling her incessantly before the alarm even goes off. The perks of being an unemployed singer, however, fall on the fact that she doesn’t really have a schedule to start with.

Pushing her tiger blanket off her body, her fingertips reach for her phone. Out of the many contacts, this one surprises her the most—Shishi is the type of woman to write a text with shortened greetings, a simplistic reply and then, she’s off to her own world of anime shows and cosplaying. Much to her delight (or to her lack of understanding, thereof), Shishi is calling at six in the motherfucking morning.

If it’s Shishi, it must be an emergency.

She flops back onto her bed, pulling the covers up her face when she replies, phone to ear, “Good morning, Shishi, what are you doing up?”

“I haven’t slept.” Shishi is quick to reply, her soft voice coming in short spurts, and by the sip she hears soon after, Shishi’s companion for this morning is coffee. “I, uh, I was playing videogames, you know, and I was just thinking about what you said about breaking my ex’s heart four days ago.”

Oh, maybe that’s why she has had a headache the past three days. Alcohol had been her form of speech at that moment, when her hand grabbed Shishi’s phone with a picture of her and her ex-boyfriend, something Xiao…all she can remember now is that he is the supposed ‘Fencer Asshole’.

“Ah, Shishi…I think it was just a joke.” The feeling of her covers softening the stress on her cheeks has her closing her eyes. Just a few more hours of sleep before she has to worry about the world outside her cheap apartment. “I was drunk, Shishi. I…I don’t want to date any of my friends’ exes, no matter how attractive they are or how much they hurt them—”

Shishi lets out a groan that comes from the depths of her frustration. “But—you don’t get it. You’ve never been heartbroken. It’s…it’s the worst thing in the world.”

Opening her eyes, she stares at the harsh yellow walls of her bedroom. “Reason as to why you shouldn’t want to cause that upon someone else. It doesn’t make you a better person—”

For a moment, silence fills the air, and she thinks the call must’ve come to an end, just when she is about to slip her phone off her ear to cut the call, Shishi speaks again. “He played games with me,” She says, voice softer than what she gets to hear when she’s playing videogames. Shishi somehow lives believing that the stories she sees in manga and anime will become her reality. They never do. “Spent three months of my life last year kissing me, making me feel unique, having me going to every single one of his events only to say we were just friends after. I can’t deal with that.”

“And I’m so sorry, Shishi, but that just happens—”

“Please, you promised!” For a second, she thinks back to the time Shishi was truly heartbroken by Xiao Dejun. Locked in her room without being able to get out, weeping so silently that no one noticed—no one but her group of friends, arriving with her favorite meals, tickets to her favorite shows, and none of them got them out. Only on her own had she been able to break through the ties that held her to Dejun. “I was miserable for months. Sometimes, when I really think about it, I still feel like I can hear his voice. Please, I just need him to get a taste of his own medicine.”

The day she dies, she wants to believe she was a good person—she helped her friends, was there for her family, and did what she thought was good. At this moment in time, she doesn’t know if it’s a good thing—heartbreak is overrated yet huge on its own, but it’s what her friend wants. Revenge tastes sweet, and she hasn’t had anything to eat yet.

“Okay, I will.” She sighs deeply, her vocal cords hurting by the words she just said. “But I need some background on this dude. All I remember is your snotty voice when you were crying for him.”

Almost like the shows she watches, Shishi squeals in delight, slurping some more of her drink before speaking up. “Xiao Dejun, born in Dongguan, a famous fencer that went to the Olympics when he was sixteen. Ah, he doesn’t really enjoy coffee, he prefers tea. Loves dogs, has one, too. Sucker for musicals, has the prettiest eyes…” When she recites him that way, she wonders how in fucking hell Shishi got her heart broken by someone who loves musicals. To be quite honest, if someone asks you to watch CATS on a first date and your heart ends up in shambles, that’s on you. “But he always flirted with one of his trainers.”

“What was her na—?”

“Chenhao.”

“Oh…right.”

“Chenhao. She’s like the anime enemy of my love story,” Somehow, she wonders if Shishi sees the world the same way she does. Either way, she closes her eyes tightly, hoping for the headache to go away. “Tall, has short hair, I think she had a rose tattoo on her shoulder but it’s rarely seen. Hot as all fuck.”

“She sounds super hot.” She replies, only to earn a scoff from Shishi. “Baby, I’m just being honest. You’re hot in your own way, too, but if you were never something official—”

“Ah, ah, don’t go there!” Shishi conquers. “I just need you to be the Chenhao in this situation. Crush his heart. Make him regret it.”

You know, with the lack of gigs coming directly to her—an artist in the rising that doesn’t get past a thousand plays on Soundcloud, this sounds like a good distraction. A fencer, perhaps, is one of the things she would’ve never imagined herself ever dating or looking for, but it is what she gets. The kind of person she has to capture to have Shishi feeling good about herself again.

“What I do for you, Shishi. What I do for you…”

“And I love you for it!”

###

The world rotates in ways we don’t understand—one day, we’re saying we won’t do one thing and some months later, we’re living exactly what we never wanted to go through. It’s the cycle of life; reason as to why fashion gets old and renews itself perfectly, or why the songs we used to listen to years ago can’t seem to get out of our hearts, doesn’t matter if we still know the lyrics or not. With that in mind, entering the local fencing tournament with a ticket in between her fingers and an unpolished denim jacket across her shoulders isn’t something she would have imagined herself doing a week ago. Alas, life works in marvelous ways.

Most of the people by the bleachers are parents, clear in the way they dress, in their cheers and pamphlets that read children’s names. Her heart warms at the whooping from some people, wondering where that side of her life had gone to. You see, life hasn’t been so innocent to her the past few months—lack of employment, songs that speak about her turmoil of thoughts, blending into the hatred she feels for her decisions. A singer on tables in local bars, but never quite making it through. Never quite making an impression.

Instead, she sits down, watching the group of children in fencing uniforms, white and perfectly polished, holding the sabre with expertise, perhaps learning from someone much more knowledgeable. Not a lot of adults are on the center of the tournament, but she catches sight of someone kneeling to fix the sleeves of a kid’s uniform, taking off his mask to showcase his messed-up brown hair and his twinkling, smiling eyes. Her throat dries in recognition, though, he looks much more different from what Shishi had described.

Xiao Dejun is a fallen star at that moment—in his eyes, a universe. His fingers quickly work on the elongated fabric of that kid’s uniform, speaking to him with certainty, grinning in a way that would make anyone comfortable. When he gets back on his feet, taut and slim body in full display under that white uniform (still, leaving something to the imagination), he takes his sabre in between his hands, speaking with certainty.

The sabre glides across the air like a dance, a samba of sorts that romanticizes such unrecognized art. Her vision is filled only with him—with the way he hits his sabre with the kid’s, pulling his mask on his face with quick motions before pushing himself forward. When the kid manages to pinch his stomach, bending the sabre in the process, he can’t help but cheer loudly—heard over the chatter of people, followed by a high five from the kid, perhaps on ten years old at most.

Oh, youth tournament. When Shishi had spoken about a tournament, she thought Dejun would be the one competing, but as he makes his way towards the bleachers, right at the bottom of it, she can’t help but hit herself mentally.

Youth.

He’s not going to participate.

He’s training children in this competition.

No one is seated by his side, so her legs slide away from her seat to move closer to him before anyone could take the space beside him. Her converses hit the bleachers with certainty, excusing herself between the masses of parents to plop herself down next to Xiao Dejun. From up close, with his mask off, she can see a thin layer of seat falling on his forehead and on the perfectly styled bridge of his nose. His thick eyebrows frown together when he is concentrated, a memory of the kind of man he is. Too given to his job, perhaps, too given to this sport.

Competitive.

Meant for winning.

But she’s going to win over him.

“I’m guessing you know a lot about this.” She starts, leaning back and placing her backpack over her legs. Dejun finally looks away from the masses of children preparing themselves for the first portion of the tournament, giving a smile that transforms into a cackle. Anyone is a sucker for humor, you see.

“Well, ah, yes, of course.” Dejun points at his uniform, before crossing his arms over his chest. “I am guessing you don’t know much.”

“There’s always time for learning.” She extends her hand then, introducing herself with certainty as he looks into his eyes. They turn into half-moons at that moment, smiling with delight as he shakes her hand in a greeting. Oddly charming.

“Xiao Dejun. I’m a trainer for the local team.” He introduces himself and, oh, of course he sounds like he has his life together. It wouldn’t surprise her if someone like him had spent the entirety of his youth simply giving himself to his sport. “If you don’t know a thing about fencing, I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“A friend told me the tournament was going to be entertaining…” Her voice trails at that moment, remembering that she shouldn’t say much about Shishi. “And I happened to have free time.”

Naturally, a blush appears across his honey skin. Strawberry meeting the dulcet honey-tea. “What do you do?”

“I’m a singer.” Though, it’s rare for her to ever say that these days. “…Or, I try to be. You see, it’s harder than you think to find someone to listen to your music when you don’t have an artist name.”

“I think your name is nice for an artist.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Dejun conquers, nodding in a way that has her chuckling. Okay, so not only oddly charming—entirely so. “I would listen to your albums.”

She scoffs at his words. “Liar.”

“Ah, not a liar—” But he doesn’t deny it. Sweet-tooth meeting a dulcet mouth, embarking her in a trip for falling. It’s not a wonder that Shishi had been caught in his trap. “But if you want to learn something else apart from singing, I give classes every once in a while. You just have to sign up and all that.”

Looking at Dejun as he bends his knees and pushes the sabre forward, his face hidden behind a mask, somehow doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. If anything, it’s a way to get closer. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Dejun stands up at that moment, running his hands over his thighs to clean them on the white fabric. “I have to leave now, though. I hope you enjoy the tournament.”

Her eyes rake over his figure, a big beam on her features. “Oh, I’ll make sure to do just that.”

If the parents are going crazy on the bleachers, Dejun is the equilibrium—the middle ground that gives everyone strength. Each kid seems to have him as an energizer, looking for his approval even though he’s not the oldest of the trainers. Dejun’s throat must hurt from how much he is cheering for them, clapping widely, taking the sport as an art, and it’s at this moment that she does see Xiao Dejun in a different light, somewhat an angel in between the bunch of shit he did to Shishi.

Yet, unlike hers, his world doesn’t stop. In hopes of talking to him after the tournament is over, she’s surprised to see the groups of parents clouding him with cameras and phones to take pictures of him with their children.

He doesn’t have time for her.

The heat of the summer afternoon pleads for her to take off her jacket, slipping it off and hanging it from her arm as she tries to call a cab. The holes of her graphic t-shirt (all out of style, of course) don’t do much to keep her fresh as she calls the usual number for her ride, only to remain waiting. None of the parents have gotten out to the tournament just yet, leaving her in solitude in the small street, only accompanied by the people in the Chinese restaurant in front of her, who are too occupied in working with their clients.

Though, something takes her off guard—the motorcycle that had passed by just mere minutes ago has passed by again, this time slower, checking out her spot in the sidewalk. She lowers the phone to look at the man with the dark glasses and horrendous, patchy hair. Something about him feels off, but before she could further intensify her discomfort, he rushes off in his motorcycle. But, he’s not too far away, she can still hear the roaring of the engine—

The door opens at that moment, welcoming the sight of Dejun in more comfortable clothing—his brown hair more brushed at this moment, sporting a white t-shirt and dark joggers, pressing his phone up to his ear. “Excuse me, I called a cab for you.” He tells her, grabbing her elbow and pulling her back the slightest. “Ah, I saw you leave on your own…but the neighborhood has been experiencing some robberies from a man in a motorcycle and I doubt you knew. Maybe, wait inside until the cab arrives, okay?”

When Dejun closes the glassed door in front of her, making sure to lock it, she spares one glance his way. He’s much too close, though he doesn’t notice it, his chest touching her shoulder by the time she says: “T—Thank you, I had no idea.”

“Today’s learning day for you, then.” Dejun plays around, giving her one of her infamous smiles, though, his eyes are the most impressive. Somehow, she can’t look away from them. “Ah…I still have to attend the parents. Are you okay with staying here alone?”

She’d rather stay a few minutes more with him, hear that deep tone in his voice that lingers with a smile most of the time. “It’s okay. Go with your fanbase.”

“It’s not a fanbase.” Dejun defends with an eye-roll, before walking backwards. “I hope to see you in my fencing classes one day.”

She shrugs her shoulders, knowing exactly how to keep him at the edge of his seat. “I’ll have to see. Maybe, maybe not.”

Someone calls Dejun’s name at that moment and the sunshine in his eyes stops looking at her, leaving her in darkness.

###

From: Elena Wang.

I still think this is the worst idea you’ve had to date.

Or that we, as a group, have collectively decided upon.

Literally.

Her shoes patter against the sidewalk, moving over to the same place in which the tournament had taken place in two weeks ago. Out of all the texts she expected to get at four in the afternoon on a Monday, Elena talking about how bad it is that they had bet to break someone’s heart wasn’t it. Her manager, however, should be texting her about the demos she had sent out over a month ago…and yet, she receives no response about that.

The air is turning fresher this time of the year, enough to move her flannel as she walks with lack of precision, turning her gaze to the group-chat she shares with her friends.

From: Shishi.

It’s not a bad idea at all.

I was heartbroken because of Dejun.

From: Elena Wang.

And what if she falls in love with Dejun?

He��s handsome.

And she hasn’t gotten laid in well over a year.

I’m sure she could see an average guy from afar and she would be interested.

From: Yifei.

Did Elena just call you a hoe absentmindedly?

Free pussy for everyone including Dejun.

To: Group-Chat.

I won’t fall for Dejun.

Come on.

I’m fine.

From: Yifei.

How did that song go?

I hypnotize you with this pussy…

Now you feel like you can fly.

Fly.

From: Shishi.

She won’t sleep with him.

It’s off the charts.

To: Group-Chat.

Right.

Off the charts.

From: Shishi.

Is that sarcasm in the form of a text?

Opening the door to the fencing area, she hears the swoosh of air that follows when it closes. The warmth is nicely welcomed, though the groups of people gathering by the middle make her nervous. Some around their age, some definitely younger—perhaps teens, if she’s exact—and all more interested in fencing than she is. One person stands out, however, in the middle as he gives instructions out as well as smiles. Those that she can’t get over and done with.

Dejun is quite a fit for the person she would’ve imagined would break her dating drought, but Shishi would absolutely kill her if she decided to get overly intimate with him. Well, that’s what her texts indicate when she checks her phone one last time before putting her bag down on the bleachers.

From: Shishi.

Right?

You won’t sleep with him.

It’s forbidden.

Even I didn’t sleep with him.

From: Yifei.

Let her get some!

God bless the day Jhené Aiko decided to say:

That dick make my soul smile.

That dick make me so proud.

From: Shishi.

She.

Can’t.

See.

His.

Dick.

To: Group-Chat.

Girls, what kind of woman do you take me for?

I’m not that easy to sleep with.

Besides, if Shishi says it’s off the charts, it’s off the charts.

From: Yifei.

No pussy fairy, then?

To: Group-Chat.

The pussy fairy died last year. Now, I can’t even kiss someone.

Or I could, if you just let me do my own damn thing and talk to Dejun.

With that, she locks her phone and puts it inside one of the pockets of her bag.

Dejun awakens a sunset inside of her when he smiles at her, perhaps, thrown to the world and she takes it in between her fingertips as hers. Though, someone else starts talking to her, short dark hair masking enigmatic features on their wake. The rose tattoo on her shoulder is barely covered by the sleeves of her uniform, walking over to her with another fencing outfit.

“You should get changed,” The seductive tone of her voice lingers with the scent of cigarettes, and it is at this moment that she meets Shishi’s biggest enemy: Chenhao. “I don’t know if this is your size or anything, but it’s the best I could find. The class has already started and you don’t want to miss Dejun’s first class.”

Chenhao quirks one of her thin eyebrows when she doesn’t take the uniform firsthand, but after some pondering, she takes it in between her hands. Damn, she’s actually as hot as Shishi described, if not more. Is it possible that she is the one dating Dejun? “I understand.” She says, already slipping into the uniform while talking to Chenhao. “You have high regards of him.”

“I do.” Chenhao complies, nodding at her words.

“Why?”

“He’s a nice fencer.” She starts, looking down at a folder in between her hands before clicking on her pen. “What is your name again?”

After saying it, her hands come behind her back to zip herself up. “…Is he a nice guy apart from a good fencer?”

“Too much of a nice guy.” Chenhao says. “You don’t know how many women we have had to talk to because he was just too nice to them. Some think he’s just flirty, I just think he doesn’t realize that not all people are going to want to be his friend.”

“I mean, he’s an adult, he probably notices—”

“He doesn’t.” Chenhao conquers, already pushing her towards the group of people. “But I can notice that you’re also one of those women that come here to get Dejun’s attention, but I’ll just turn my blind eye on it.”

“I’m not—”

“Hey, long time no see!”

When Dejun speaks and she smiles gleefully, all her excuses fall down as pure and futile lies.

“Dejun!” It’s ridiculous how her knees seem to give in, words filled with roses as she expects his mere attention to fall on her. Those two orbs—penetrating, piercing, become one with her. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was talking to my manager.”

Looking for a sabre, he places it in between her hands, his fingers coming in contact with hers with the softest touch. They’re calloused, if anything, come to learn most athletes don’t have the softest hands. “How did that go?”

“Well, horrible, you see.” She replies, well aware of the fact that— “My manager did not actually talk, but ignore my calls altogether. Texted me saying he hasn’t gotten any news.”

Dejun hisses at that, placing one hand on top of her shoulder as he leads her to the group of people. “Mhm, fencing can always help letting the steam off.”

“You know how to sell your business really well, you know?”

“…I’ve come to learn a thing or two.” Dejun, who grabs his sabre with more of a stronger grasp, though somewhat elegant in his approach, leans one leg forward. “I need you to take positions.” And she does, for something about the way he loves fencing just shows through. The love that knows no lies, no bleeding memories of a past that awes someone not to trust—he loves the sport so carelessly that he’d die for it. Would give his life out just for one moment with the sabre. “Always take into consideration, though, that fencing is about balance, elegance—it’s not about fighting, it’s about portraying art with your body.” Putting the sabre down, he clears his throat. “I’m Xiao Dejun, your instructor for today, and I will start going over the basic things about fencing. What it is, a part of its history, and then, we can move onto the actual sport on itself.”

When she was a student, there was always this one kid that prepared a little too magnificently, and while most people rotted in envy and rolled their eyes at said person’s presentation, she always found them to be…enchanting. To love something—not someone—enough for it to drive you to limits of yourself only to deliver something greater than what you have been taught shows strength. Perseverance is attractive at that moment when Dejun takes his time to instruct everyone how to properly stand when fencing, when putting on his mask and gliding the sabre as if it was part of his body.

But, she’s not that good at it.

At first, she doesn’t notice it—how to notice it when she’s working with people equally as bad as her? But when Dejun stands in front of her, sabre in hand, ready to take over the world, her breath gets caught in her throat, hard to swallow when he comes forward and forward, practically cornering her before the sabre bends onto her stomach.

“Don’t panic,” Dejun indicates. “That’s the first step. If you panic, you don’t act—and if you don’t act, you’re going to lose.”

She takes off her mask, then, a sigh ripping from the depths of her throat when she says: “Not everyone is born with talent like you, Dejun.”

Dejun chuckles at that, taking off his mask as well when he gives an answer. “I wasn’t born with talent for fencing. I just happened to make a mistake when I tried to get in the soccer team. Ended up signing myself up for fencing classes.”

Well, that’s surprising. “No way!”

“I did.” Dejun conquers. “You can’t imagine just how confused I was when I was given a sabre instead of a ball. But I made do.”

“Things happen for a reason.”

“They do.” Though, his eyes glide over her face, looking down at her lips momentarily before sweet laughter creeps up on him. Mhm, maybe he does think that destiny put her there.

Destiny is called Shishi Hong.

And it’s Dejun’s…ex…friend…

Ex friend with benefits?

Ex…friend that he liked?

Ex something.

“What are you doing on Friday?” She asks, lips coming together to wet themselves, and Dejun chuckles.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Dinner sounds nice.”

“Then, dinner it is.” Though, his sweetener ways come back when he quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just come here to ask me out on a date?”

If only he knew that she came here to shatter his heart. Instead to tell him just that, she smiles. “Maybe, maybe not. What’s the fun in telling you?”

Dejun puts his mask down, waving the sabre around her and making her stay on guard. “I have to get the answers out of you?”

“Not with a sabre.” She replies, a squeal on her voice when the sabre bends by her abdomen—again. Expected, honestly.

“How?”

A giggle rips from her throat then, shaking her head at his antics. “You’ll have to figure it out on our date, Dejun.”

“Damn it.” Dejun feigns anger, a pout on his lips when he adds: “Gotta give me your number after this, you know?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Though, she can feel a pair of piercing eyes on hers, different from Dejun’s—they freeze her in place when she realizes Chenhao is looking at her, somehow inspecting her situation. Perhaps, she knows her real intentions, those she has with the man that is being called over again, leaving with an apology as he helps another group of people.

Is she really doing this? Breaking someone’s heart just because of her friend?

###

Leonardo DiCaprio in The Great Gatsby would be proud of her look right now.

The night has never looked better, but with a satin dress clinging to her curves—coming directly from Elena’s wardrobe—and a striped long coat over it, she feels enigmatic. Little does Dejun know when he picks her up in his car, neither too expensive not too new, that she’s laid out to be a seductress. Not to sleep with him, Shishi would have her head if that was the case, but to bathe in confidence and let him seek for more.

Jay, Bingbing’s husband, hides most of his tattoos underneath the burlesque suit he has to wear. Red, fitted to his body, with a bowtie that conceals the lines of tattoos that scatter from his chest. His curly black hair is moved away from his face thanks to a lot of gel, making the strands glisten under the harsh lights of the casino-themed restaurant. It’s a beautiful place, not to be misunderstood, with spacious tables that represent those of poker in Las Vegas, plates themed in ways that would be misunderstood by the public had not they placed food on top of them. People dress up to the nines, and Dejun, sadly, didn’t seem to get the memo.

Shit, she had forgotten to tell him to just dress elegantly.

Though, her eyes can’t help but go over to him—the simplicity of such a man with a gray sweater half-tucked inside a pair of black jeans, who takes her breath away when he pushes his brown hair away from his face with his hand and asks for a table for two. These days, men like him are hard to find. Neruda poems made person, with an ode to love.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a date today.” Jay says from his spot, tapping his finger against the screen to showcase the width of available tables. Not that many, but the one near the window calls out for her name, so she points at it.

“Well, it’s not usual for me to bring a date whatsoever.” She replies, somehow widening her eyes at Jay. She only hopes Bingbing had not told him about their little bet—

“Touché.” Jay jots something down on the notebook before clearing his throat. “Please, let me take your coats while you’re inside. You can come directly to me to grab them once you plan to leave.”

Something about Dejun makes her heart swirl. It shouldn’t, but it does. When a summer day arrives and she has her precious iced tea, the ice always stays at the bottom, and she looks for them, moves them, lets them be the circle of her life for one second or two, maybe a few minutes. It’s nothing interesting, but it’s necessary. Just like him when he lifts his lips in one of those smiles that make his eyes look even more beautiful, placing both hands on top of her shoulders.

“May I?” And really, Shishi would kill her if she read her thoughts. For one, his rosy lips look inviting, eyes asking her if she’d rather imagine him as a sinning angel or a pure devil. Off the charts, she tells herself, shaking her head in the process before recomposing herself.

“Of course,” Though, she almost forgets that she’s dressed to kill—better dressed than she has ever been on any date. Whatever. It’s not like she’s actually seducing him with a back-less dress, but when the fabric of her coat glides across her shoulders, down her arms, she spares one look at him. “I’ll be cold, though.”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He says, though he laughs loudly at his own antics, rubbing his hands against her arms. Resided deep in her heart, it hits her like a train-wreck—she loves the jittery feeling of being there with him. When her cheeks can’t stop blaring heat and her lips are constantly being moistened simply because she wants to talk to him. Is this, perhaps, her way of betraying Shishi?

Her heels click against the tiles as she walks behind Jay, Dejun right by her side, eager to maintain the conversation going. “I didn’t take you as a flirt.”

Dejun’s eyes welcome the light perfectly. Maybe, solar energy was created because of him. Inspired on him. “Some people say I am,” He drags her seat for her to take, making sure not to flash the entirety of the restaurant when sitting down. She crosses one leg over the other as she hears him speak, the man moving over to the seat across from her. “But I actually think I’m just too nice. I don’t mean to flirt.”

Her fingertips trail over the menu, looking at the prices and silently praying for them to gain a coupon or something. The things she does to go out with Dejun.

Wait, wait, wait.

Hold that thought.

It’s the things she does for Shishi, not for Dejun.

Oh, my fucking God—

“I happen to be the least flirty person I know.” She says, going back and forth on their conversation, only to hear Dejun scoff.

“You are flirty.”

If only he knew her group of friends, he wouldn’t say such thing. “I’m not!” Oh wait, he does know someone in her group of things—

Shishi.

When is the last time she replied to one of her texts?

Had she been too busy talking to Dejun to actually embark in a conversation with her friend?

“I know someone you flirt with that is very aware of your flirting.” Dejun replies, thanking the waitress that comes with a glass of water before lifting the menu up in the air. “I’m feeling lobster, what about you?”

She laughs at his antics. Dejun, though not the most well-paid person, happened to embark in a lot of expensive tastes when he was travelling around the world for fencing competitions. At the time, his sponsors would pay everything—but now, the blows go directly to his bank account. “You feel like losing all your money in just one meal?”

“My grandma used to say to eat as if it was the last time you were doing so.” Dejun instructs, the nostalgia in his voice lingering in depths that she doesn’t want to think about. “And I happen to like lobster a lot.”

“I’m having carbonara.” She says, looking over to the waitress when she gives her the menu back.

The woman places the menu against her hip, jotting it out the slightest. “Anything else?”

“I have to drive so cola for me.” Dejun initiates, pointing at her with his chin. “What do you want?”

If she’s wrecking the night, she better do it like a star. “Wine for me. Red.”

“Alright. I’ll have your meals out in a minute.” The waitress says, bowing deeply before moving over to the kitchen. She loses sight of her when she leans her weight back against the leather of the seat she has taken up on.

“So…”

“So…”

“When are you singing something for me?” Dejun asks, placing his elbows over the table and looking at her directly in the eye. Though she’s on the verge of bankruptcy, she still lifts her shoulders in a shrug.

“When you give me some inspiration, Dejun.”

“Me?” He asks in between a chuckle, using his thumb to point at himself.

“Do I know other Dejun?” She asks, biting on her nail softly as she leans forward as well, capturing his lips in one of her tracing gazes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why does she want to kiss him?

That wasn’t part of the deal—

But…to break his heart…she kind of has to have something with him.

Or is she just being selfish?

“You better not.”

Dejun is a feather that happened to fall in the ocean, and she’s the sailor that came across such thing, grasped it in her hands and now can’t get the fabric away from her fingertips. It clings to her in ways that she isn’t used to, but doesn’t hate at all. His words, the way he laughs, how he embarks in conversation without ever judging her—they meet in their differences, grow in their jokes, build something from the ground up respecting each other. It feels like talking to him goes by too quickly, the food disappearing even though she’s not that hungry. It’s that feeling of fitting with someone that she had heard about but had never lived through, and she absolutely hates it.

…To hide that she actually loves it.

A movie plays inside her head—not with the picture of kids and a house, but with the feeling of needing him to hold her. Everything he says connects him like a puzzle. Xiao Dejun started fencing when he was a child by accident, then it became the light of his eyes. His favorite person is his dad. He doesn’t prefer either tea or coffee, but if he has to choose, he loves tea. He wants to face all his fears even once in his life. He’s easily breakable. Though, he keeps it hidden, a secret that remains in between the two.

She keeps drinking and lets loose a little bit as well. Her dream of being a singer that started when she was twelve years old, watching one of those R&B singers on TV and then, needing to do something of the like. She learned how to play guitar and she does it averagely well, but nothing out of the ordinary. She’s careful—she doesn’t want to live regretting the things she has done, and when he asks if she’s ever regretted anything in her life, she shakes her head.

Never.

But now, she thinks she’s going to regret something—

Breaking his heart.

When the wine meets her head with a thump, she’s already out of the casino, dangling from Dejun’s shoulder as he holds her waist closely. His hand is warm, nice enough to leave her no choice but to daydream of that same hand roaming the entirety of her body. Perhaps, she has lit herself up in fire by drinking while he didn’t, but who cares about that?

No words come up to her mouth when Dejun leans her against the car to be able to open the passenger door, but she takes this time to inspect him. His messy hair, thick eyebrows, deep eyes—those lips, two sins asking for a taste. She needs a taste. Instead, she lets her hands wander, hovering over his waist before tugging at it, bringing him closer to look directly into his eyes.

He chuckles, playing with the strands of her hair to push them away from her face. “What’s up?”

“I want to do something…” She trails her voice, biting down on her bottom lip as she lets her utmost desire speak. She’s careful, of course, love is not what she wants—but somehow, she wants to relish on the feeling of him, having him underneath her to press kisses on his neck, make his world shake in the way that would settle her as a confident woman. It’s a promise to herself: sex. “Only if you want, though.”

Dejun must have caught up on what she said, his smile falling as he widens his eyes. “Something like w—what?”

“Like doing me.” She replies, heat catching up with her face, making Dejun chuckle as he shakes his head.

“I won’t do that. You’re drunk, first.” He instructs. “And secondly, I don’t have sex with people on the first date. Sorry.”

She tries to push herself away at that moment, embarrassment making a home out of her, but her back comes in contact with the door of the car. “O—Oh, shit, sorry, forget I even said that. I’m so stupid—”

Dejun shakes his head rapidly. “N—Not that I don’t want you! I just…I have a weird view of love, I guess. And sex, altogether.” Dejun takes the spot beside her, looking up at the sign that reads the name of the restaurant. “God, you’re so hot. I…I don’t know how I am capable to deny you, but I am doing it.”

Something ignites in her heart, nodding at what he says. “It’s okay.” She whispers. “What’s that view you have of love and sex?”

“That sex has erased love. Now love is the taboo.”

She chuckles at what he says, humming along. “You’re right.”

“I’m a romanticist, I guess.” Dejun instructs. “I’ve…I’ve grown with the idea of just…just having that foundation of feeling something before I get in the sheets with someone. Not that I don’t think it’s stupid sometimes—”

“It isn’t.” She cuts him short, opening the passenger’s door in the process. “Sex is overrated.”

“It is.”

“And I’m sorry for asking.”

“No, no—!” What he doesn’t know, however, is that she shouldn’t have even thought about it. Shishi comes up to her brain right at that moment. “Maybe, uh, maybe we can talk about our expectations on the subject on the second date?”

Before she could get inside the car, she quirks an eyebrow. “Second date?”

“Only if you want to…”

With a big smile on her face, she says: “Why wouldn’t I want to? It’s you we’re talking about, Dejun.”

###

Mondays have become the designated fencing day for the past month. Not that she has gotten any better—but it’s an excuse to see Dejun.

Just as she’s walking through the neighborhood, phone in hand (and she can hear Dejun cursing at her for doing this), she reads through the group-chat. Lately, she hasn’t been checking up much with her friends. Her manager has had her auditioning for a bunch of shows in hopes of getting in, to no avail, and along with that, she has tried to balance out her romantic life to spend more time with Dejun. Since…breaking his heart…could be easier if she gets to know him better.

Or it’s just one big excuse to get to know him.

From: Bingbing.

[Picture Attached]

Jay just sent me this because he had forgotten he had taken this picture.

Here we have Xiao Dejun using his pretty eyes on our designated heartbreaker.

The picture showcases her date from nearly three weeks ago. Dejun is seated across from her, cheek held up by his palm as he looks directly at her. Her lips are parted, speaking about something with wide hand movements, and she can’t help but laugh. His eyes settle on her with a twinkle she likes.

From: Shishi.

Hold up.

Why did you dress up hot?

Were you trying to get inside his pants?

Well…uh, how does one tell one of her best friends that she tried to when drunk, but that he gently denied because he just wasn’t ready?

To: Group-Chat.

Oh my God, Shishi, no.

From: Shishi.

Why did you dress up hot, then?

To: Group-Chat.

Because it’s a date…

If you were going to be all jealous over Dejun, why did you ask me to break his heart?

From: Shishi.

He looks very fucking happy right there.

Why did you offer to break Dejun’s heart?

Did you just think he was handsome and that you wanted to fuck him?

To: Group-Chat.

Calm down, Shishi.

You’re talking to me as if I’m some whore.

From: Shishi.

You have more of a body count than I do.

To: Group-Chat.

How do you even know that?

Stop making up bullshit.

Her ears blare up with heat at that, pushing her phone into the depths of her pocket before lifting her gaze. Shishi has some fucking nerve to talk to her that way. As if it wasn’t one of her grand ideas, even though she denied, to have her meeting up with Dejun. Whatever.

The air bites at her skin, going through her white t-shirt as she nears the fencing place. Instead, she’s welcomed by the sight of two people already outside. Not one of the students, but two of the instructors instead. Chenhao is leaning against the wall, cigarette in between her fingertips as Dejun talks closely to her. Chenhao is a bit taller than Dejun, one leg crossed over the other as he smirks down at her. His eyes inspect her features, taking the cigarette from her hand before stepping on it. Chenhao doesn’t seem phased, instead crossing her arms over her chest as if challenging.

Something creeps up inside her when Dejun talks to her softly, like a flower in the middle of a garden that he wants to see grow.

“Dejun! Chenhao!” She calls out at that moment, moving over to them to see Chenhao lifting her gaze and Dejun smiling as if he had not been caught strangely close to Chenhao. The woman in question breathes out her name before grinning.

“You still come to class; I see.” Chenhao spares one look at Dejun before shrugging. “Let’s see how much this lasts.” Before she could further question her sentence, Chenhao opens the door of the salon before entering, leaving a trail of smoke behind her.

“…What the hell does that mean?” She asks in a mere whisper, watching Dejun who shakes his head.

“I have no idea.” He replies, but she can call bullshit on that.

“I think you have a good idea of what she means.” She says, looking at the cigarette that lays lifelessly on the gray concrete. “What is it? Are Chenhao and you a thing or…?”

Dejun chuckles at her words, blowing a raspberry at the end. “Oh no,” He denies quickly. “She used to train with me for the Olympics, but she has been fucking it all up with her addiction to cigarettes. I need her to get back in the game.”

For a moment, she thinks about all the times she had helped her friends—and how they had helped her, too. Maybe, that is why she is here with him on the first place. “That’s good, but it’s her life. The only person that can change her is herself.”

Dejun stares off into the street, that restaurant in front of them one that they had never visited. The city fits him just as well as nature. Something about him is just universal. “Yeah, but I’ll try to change her until she goes back to the person she used to be. I believe in her.”

Now, she realizes that her heart is beating too rapidly—both in jealousy and in happiness, somehow. “So, that’s why a bunch of women fall in love for you, huh?”

“What?”

“That dreamy look…those eyes…” She whispers, a rasp in her tone. “That’s the tactic.”

“I have flirty eyes, I guess.” He answers, running his hand over her arm before catching her fingers with hers. “But, as of now, I only use them on one person.”

“And that would be…?”

“You.”

###

Once you see someone’s apartment, it’s over. That’s either for a hook-up, you’re on the friendzone, or simply because they’re comfortable enough with you to show you the place in which they are their truest selves.

Dejun’s place is different from hers. Where do they meet? They’re both a bit disorganized. Dejun scatters uniforms across his living room, the white walls contrasting what she normally sees him in—that bone colored fencing uniform that she has managed to learn how to love. By the right, a small kitchen remains almost spotless, if she doesn’t count the random snacks she sees around. She thinks she just saw crackers next to noodles, and if he’s having them together, she may sue him.

“Don’t tell me you eat crackers with noodles.”

Dejun closes the door behind him, putting down the packages of chips they had just bought for their movie night. “Noodles with crackers, with saltines, with chips. I once had them with chocolate cookies…but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Ew, Dejun!” She complains, swatting his arm softly as she takes a seat on the couch, pushing the uniform he had draped on the arm’s rest to the side, folding it carefully in the process. “I don’t know what’s more of a disaster, this living room or your stomach.”

“My mom didn’t raise a guy who is scared of eating.” Dejun implies, already opening a bag of extra spicy chips before lending it over to her. “You know what the fun thing about this snack is?”

“What?” Her voice lingers with happiness, something that always comes when being around Dejun.

“That we don’t know which ones are spicy and which ones are, well, not spicy.” He plops himself down to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder that she can’t help but take. Why is it that the air feels far more favorable when by his side? “And I’m betting you’re going to end up biting all the spicy ones.”

“Ha!” She replies, already looking for the remote to search for a movie. Something comedy, perhaps, she’s feeling like watching something of the like of dark comedy—maybe Horrible Bosses? “I’m betting I’m not. I’ve got wits, baby.”

“And looks, too.” She hears him say, soon after pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’ll eat the spicy ones for you.”

“You’ll like them. That’s not fair.”

“And?”

“…Asshole.” She replies, well aware of the nickname Shishi always calls him—fencer asshole.

That couldn’t be more far from the truth.

It’s the comfort of being half on his body, laying her head on his chest and feeling his heart thump to the beat of a trap song, as if the bass is boosted and he goes from slow to quick. His lips wrap on big smiles, laughing like a maniac at the portions she loves the most, fingers raking over her hair, going through the portions that he knows she likes the most. She could fall asleep like this, with one of his hands resting on her hip, rubbing soothing circles over her jeans. This is not the type of imagery she’d show to her friends.

But who cares about her friends right at this moment?

What can she do when she says she’s cold, and Dejun drapes his jacket on top of the two of them, taking the arms to bring her closer by tightening them around his waist? The fabric tugs at the two of them uncomfortably, and she can’t stop laughing as they are face to face, looking into his precious eyes that create a rich brown mirror for her to look at herself into. It’s at this moment that she knows she wants Xiao Dejun, not only as a heartbreak, but as someone else—she wants to be able to be like this for as long as this romance is supposed to last.

She doesn’t want to break his heart.

“I thought you weren’t a flirt.” She tells him, her breath ghosting on top of his face, and his eyes trail down to look at her moving lips. It’s the kind of memory that will forever live in her brain—when she feels the most lightweight.

“I get by.” Dejun replies, leaning forward to peck her lips softly, delicately, as if he has all the time of the world, licking his lips before leaning forward again, reputing her in an adventure that she shouldn’t have taken place in, but she does. Her fingers thread through his locks, moving her body up until her legs rest in between his, chest pressed to his, body molding to his as if they were meant to be united. The sound that fills the air connects their lips in rhythmic motions, ones that she can’t get out of her head, breathing heavily against his lips.

Shishi said not to kiss him, not to let his hands roam as he touches her waist, her hips, her thighs, becomes one with the knowledge of what she likes and what she doesn’t. Shishi said not do this, to break his heart.

But at this very moment, it would be easier for Dejun to break her heart instead.

###  

Though her manager, Hao, had been clear about her mini appearance at a café, she doesn’t feel less nervous. For once, she can say that cafés are the worst thing to ever be created—vintage, nostalgic, filled with teenagers who want to have as many Americanos as possible and adults that think the beige walls and white tables are their aesthetic. Croissants, coffee and cream, someone with tea that she can’t quite recognize, and a guitar that weights heavily on her lap.

The seat she is on is uncomfortable, trying to tune her guitar before she starts singing. Her manager sits along with Bingbing and Shishi, both having brought themselves here even when it clashed with their work hours—they needed to bring support, but all they did was stare at her as her hands shook. It’s been a while since she has truly sung in front of people, full sets, and live above all.

She needs to gain some confidence, but she doesn’t. The guitar strums uncomfortably and she hears someone coughing when she leans into the microphone. She closes her eyes tightly, trying to remember the love songs she has written for the past two months. Memories of Dejun, of the sand in between her fingers, the songs they have shared together, of the smell of cigarettes that never comes from him but from Chenhao instead. Things she dreams about with him, for him, all drowning her away from the nervousness that keeps her on surface.

And she lets go.

“Welcome, I’m going to be singing for the next two hours—” She says, instructing her name into the microphone before sending a smile towards her manager. “You can ask for some songs later on, if I know it, I will sing it. Whatever it is…I’m here for you.”

She thinks she has it together—this is only part of her dream. Someday, she will get discovered, she tries to convince herself, but the moment her song starts in a major tune, E, then C, she loses it all. Her fingers continue playing, but when she parts her lips, the note comes out flat, as if her vibratos hadn’t been practiced…or if she didn’t know how to hold her tone at all.

The song goes on for another two minutes, far from what she wanted but somehow, not bad for those listening. Only when she hears the door of the café opening, she opens her eyes, welcoming the stance of the man that enters the café. Cladded in a striped shirt and light jeans, Dejun crosses his arms over his chest to wave his hand softly, smiling at her before leaning against the wall next to the entrance door.

And with all those creamy colors and the smile on his face—the smile of his eyes that she has never managed to understand, she finally gets to sing again.

It’s weird how he brings all these emotions up on her, how he has become such a comfortable feeling for her, far enough for her to concentrate only on him for the first hour, only stopping to take a drink of her tea and warm up her vocal cords. It’s at that moment that she sees two people nearing her, and she expects one of them to be Dejun, but when she feels a pair of skinny arms wrap around her, the smell of bleach coming from someone’s hair, she knows it’s Shishi.

Her beloved Shishi.

And her beloved Dejun.

What a shame she can’t have both.

Jewels shine in his eyes when she pulls away, recognition overtaking him when Shishi says: “Oh fuck, I’m so proud of you!” And the excitement of her voice is welcomed by a shy smile from her, capturing Dejun’s glance as he lifts his eyebrows, mouthing a ‘we’ll talk later’ to her.

“Shishi—”

“We have to go work right now,” Bingbing says, fixing the bag on her shoulder. “But you’re killing it, babe. For real.”

“Thanks…”

Though, she can’t say much as they slip away from the café, Dejun taking careful steps forward, as if pondering to get near her, not even cutting the situation short when he reaches her, frowning deeply when he asks: “You know Shishi? You’re friends with her?”

“Ah…” She rubs the back of her neck, taking another sip from her Styrofoam cup. She could say the truth—or a distorted version of it, but instead, she opts to look him straight in the eyes. She doesn’t want to miss any of them. Shishi once said he was egotistical, that he played with a bunch of women all at once; games that she would never understand, but she’d rather play this game than not play it at all. “I—I know Bingbing, I don’t exactly—I don’t consider myself close to Shishi.”

“We…uh, she had a crush on me for the longest time and was a bit obsessive about it.”

Now, she knows. Now, she finally sees that they were just friends…and maybe, she misunderstood everything. “I had no idea.”

“You sure?”

With the straightest face, she fixes the strap of her guitar, strumming a chord before nodding. “Of course, baby, why would I lie to you?”

But she does it straight to his face, singing all those songs that mean the truth but knowing one thing—

She has to lose one. Either Shishi or Dejun.

###

Dejun shakes her autumn does to its leaves, softly, making her fall more and more for him in the days they meet and finally, in the first night they shared. It takes Dejun almost three months for him to feel fully comfortable—for the romantic in him to clad him away from the clothing that covers him, for his breaths to mingle with hers as they become one, hands placed on top of her head, lips wanting nothing more than to connect with hers. It is as though every sound that leaves him is music for her, and maybe, they’re the inspiration for the album she will once have.

When she goes to sleep, she goes with a visual in mind—Dejun, laying on her bed, with one hand behind his head, the other resting on his bare chest, the taut muscles from his days and nights of training leaving nothing to the imagination. Her lips connect to the mole on his forehead, speaking softly against his skin about the beauty of him. She doesn’t think she will ever forget it.

But the night clashes into sleep, awakening her only when she hears the loud rustle of the sheets, accompanied by the harsh sound of someone mumbling to themselves. Cuss after cuss after cuss. When she opens her eyes, groggily at first, she realizes that half of the covers have draped away from her, leaving her bare to the world, but the man in front of her doesn’t care, holding her phone in her hand as he puts on his pair of jeans.

She doesn’t know why her heart skips a beat—she doesn’t talk to other men romantically, but somehow, she knows there are secrets on that phone that she doesn’t want Dejun to see. How in the world did he manage to figure out her password?

“What are you doing with my phone?” She asks, barely audible as she pulls the covers farther up her chest, covering herself up as Dejun finally looks at her. “Dejun, why were you looking through my phone?”

“I saw your password the first time we met, accidentally. I figured it was the same.” Though, he throws the phone on the bed, close enough for her to grab and unlock it. What he was looking at hits her like a train—he was reading through her group-chat, months and months worth of information displayed in front of her eyes. “And I wasn’t going to do it, but Shishi kept calling you this morning and I answered, yeah, sorry, I answered your fucking phone but Shishi was even more surprised to hear I was staying the night at your place.”

Fuck. Shishi must be fucking devastated. “Dejun—”

“So, Shishi said—” He puts his shirt on before sighing. “Shishi fucking said that she didn’t know we were still seeing each other, considering that you told her that you had broken things with me…and for someone who said she wasn’t that close to Shishi, that sounded awfully like friendship.”

“Dejun…” Her voice breaks, even worse than when she’s nervous and she’s about to sing. “It’s not what you think—”

“No, it wasn’t what I thought. I thought that you actually liked me, that I was finally having a good thing for once—”

“But I do like you!”

Dejun, out of anger, grabs one of the cushions they had dropped on the floor last night and tosses it to the wall behind her, thumping loudly until it falls, making her lamp almost fall for the floor had she not grabbed it. “Stop fucking lying! Shishi said that you were supposed to break my heart. She didn’t know how, and supposedly, you told her you had done it already, so I looked through your phone and much to my surprise, all I see are details about our dates, about how in love you have me—”

All an act, she thought it was. She wanted to keep both her friendship, her pride and her relationship with Dejun. It backfired, heavily, enough to take her breath away. “Dejun, baby, I’m so sorry. Just—When I started doing this, I thought you were an asshole. Shishi said you broke her heart to pieces and I wanted to do it for my friend—”

“Then, why didn’t you fucking tell me?” Dejun asks, shaking his head after, pinching the bridge of his nose in the process. “No. How fucking immature do you have to be make a bet like that? Love isn’t a fucking game.”

“W—Well, I was told it was for you.”

“I’m just nice to people, sorry. I never played with Shishi. That’s called being selective—talking to people and seeing if they’re your fit or not. I’m not obligated to shit.” His voice is venom when she looks through the masses of messages, how she aspired to make everyone believe she didn’t like him, but—

“Dejun, I’m so into you. Please, please, just believe me in this one.” Tears stream down her face at that moment, standing up with her blanket tightened across her body. “Dejun, I’m so sorry.”

“Congratulations.” Dejun whispers, opening the door to her room and having her follow closely. She almost trips a bunch of times, the blankets becoming one with her feet as she moves. “You broke someone’s heart. You were fucking right. It was that easy.”

“Dejun!”

When the entrance door closes right at her face, her fist comes in contact with the surface. In reality, she had to lose someone…

What a shame it was the person she loved.

To: Group-Chat.

I broke someone’s heart.

Mine.

#xiaojun scenarios #xiaojun #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #how to lose someone in seven steps?

[white-eyed-girl]

Thoughts of the day after  half a week after - Sanremo 2021

I still haven't said anything and it's getting weird lol maybe because I have already expressed many of my thoughts already, nevertheless I do have some more things to say

First of all, and this is something I end up saying every year and I love it lol, we keep our tradition of sending something different every time! Yay to that! I realized I haven't talked about Måneskin at all during last week, which is a bit strange, and part of the reason is that I actually expected something completely different from them so I spent the whole week trying to understand if I actually liked their song or not :" And the answer is, mostly yes! Admittedly it wasn't among my absolute favourites, maybe because I found the lyrics a bit repetitive in some points, and also because deep down I do fear Finland and us will eat votes off each other, but still, it has grown on me, the instrumental is LIT and they are such good performers, they owned that stage like I 100 % knew they would! I don't know what they'll do in ESC, I never do, but daydreaming about winning Eurovision in the 30th anniversary of ESC 1991 feels quite sweet, ngl :”

Francesca and Fedez got themselves a respectable second place, which I am VERY much happy about I still think they had the best song and it made me kinda sad to see them being snobbed all week because they knew the potential televote power they had :" And of course Fedez has been accused of his uberfamous wife Chiara Ferragni promoting him like absolutely any other normal wife would, but I thought that polemic was so dumb F&F did well because they had a great song, and in the end Måneskin did beat them at the televote in the last round Besides, our voting system is specifically built to not let stuff like that get out of control We are not Norway 👀

Anoher couple of observations: - I want to make a mental apology because I have been so harsh to Ermal this week asdfghjdfgh like I still love him, I just really didn't want that song to win because we all know and have tangible proof that he can do so much better! - I thought that Annalisa's song, as per usual, was overrated into space, BUT she did absolutely well to stop associating with those journalists, because journalists can absolutely suck here and they showed it more than once, in Sanremo specifically, so yeah, power to her on that - Just a random shoutout to the ladies of this edition, Noemi, Arisa, Madame, the lady from La Rappresentante di Lista (whose song grew on me so much and I’m actually in love now), Annalisa too...they were all stellar in some way or another

- I’m usually not good at it but I made very good predictions with this Sanremo, I had predicted both that F&F would be in top 3 and that Måneskin were to be payed attention to asfgdfghjk now let’s see what happens in ESC!

#sanremo 2021 #eurovision 2021 #eurovision song contest #esc italy #maneskin #personal thoughts

[purplesurveys]

952

I can see the sunshine in your eyes Survey by xflirtykaosx

What does your Town's name begin with? A.

What number how do you live at? It’s a number between 1-1000.

Are you a seafood fan? Yes. Runs in my veins. If humans are on average 60% water, I’m pretty sure the rest of my 40% is just seafood.

Do you prefer dark, brown or white chocolate? White chocolate doesn’t count as chocolate but it’s still my favorite kind. I find that milk chocolate can sometimes be too irritatingly sweet, and I don’t usually enjoy bitter foods so I don’t do well with dark chocolate either.

Give me a random word in another language. Tell me what it means. I’m pretty sure I’ve filled this out before because I remember answering this exact question...anyway, more Filipino lessons! My laptop is currently sitting on top of a kwaderno, which just means notebook.

Can you cook Thai food? I just can’t cook. But Thai cuisine is something I really want to learn to master.

Do you get easter eggs at easter? Some years. I have relatives who will sometimes hold Easter egg hunt parties, and the older kids’ crew like some of my cousins and I are still allowed to join so that we don’t miss out on the fun, heh.

How long does it roughly take you to do the weekly or bi weekly shopping? My parents usually take an hour. Though back when we were still under an enhanced lockdown and stores kept a strict control of how many people were allowed inside, my dad used to take six hours :( He’d leave around 7 AM to start lining up, but there were always people who arrived way earlier so he usually had to queue for a few hours.

Who taught you the most valuable lesson in life and what was that lesson? I’ve touched on this before but the first death I was directly affected by, my grandfather’s, taught me the world will never slow down for your problems and in the end you’ll have to learn how to simply suck certain things up. I remember having to write an excuse letter to my teacher saying I’ll have to be absent for one day to attend to my grandpa’s wake, and all she did was stamp on it and say my absence would be excused. Didn’t even check up on me. It was in the middle of an exam week and a week before the UPCAT. It was such a jarring experience and toughened me the fuck up overnight.

Which city would you like to visit- Rome, Tunis, London, Madrid or Paris? Tunis just because I feel like it would have the least amount of tourists, and I’m also all about going to less-familiar places. Madrid would be nice too.

Would you rather visit Australia, Germany, Croatia or Jamaica? Croatia.

Have you got perfect vision? Far from. My vision is pretty much useless without my glasses, and I like to tell people that without them I can only make out colors haha. Which is obviously kind of an exaggeration but I’m also not 100% lying when I say it, so. 

What colour bedspread or blanket is on your bed now? It’s a multi-colored geometric design so there’s magenta, pink, lime green, orange, gray, and white, among a few other colors.

What colour is the door to your house? Brown.

Would you prefer a pet rat, mouse, snake, lizard or spider? I’d rather these animals are out in the wild, but if it was a situation where I had to save one I’d pick the snake.

What song(s) do you put on repeat often? I don’t tend to listen to music when I’m sad/depressed so I haven’t any songs on for quite a while now. The last one I discovered and really got into is a song called Lose, by Niki.

How many letters long is your last name? Six.

Can you play the violin? If not, would you like to? I can’t, but yeah it’s one of the instruments I’ve always wanted to learn to.

Can you keep a pokerface and not show your emotions easily? Passively, if that makes sense? I have no problem pretending to be happy or looking unbothered like, over dinner or if I’m with friends. But if someone had suddenly told me something upsetting or harsh to my face, I usually immediately show my hurt or anger or disappointment or displeasure or whatever negative emotion I would instantly feel in that moment. My eyebrows and eyes always give everything away.

Are you a good liar (tell the truth this time)? Maybe not around the people who know me best. I wear my heart on my sleeve with the people I’m most comfortable with.

Are you wearing shoes, just socks or nothing on your feet? Nothing. I might wear socks tonight, we’ll see.

What word or phrase is disgusting in your opinion and you hate hearing it? I hate having to hear or use the word ‘gunk.’ I think of dirty fingernails every time and it just makes me wince.

Do you like the smell of a barbecue or bonfire? It’s alright, but I don’t live for it. It certainly gives a comforting sensation though.

Do you prefer to write etc, ecetera or something else? Etc, and it highkey makes my blood boil whenever I read ect hahaha.

Do you think rainbows are pretty or overrated? I think rainbow prints and/or designs are overrated themselves, but seeing real-life rainbows tend to make me feel happy.

Are your lips chapped? Nope.

Have you ever fallen into a hole or crevice whilst hiking? I don’t think so. I’d be able to remember it if I have.

Ever been quadbiking? Was it any good? Nah but close, I guess? My family once did this thing where we rode on the trunk of a 4x4 while a professional drove through sand dunes in Ilocos. It was a lot of fun but I couldn’t entirely enjoy my time knowing I was in the land of the Marcoses lol

What is different about you than others you hang out with? I have a lot of unpopular opinions when it comes to Filipino food hah, like I hate well-loved dishes like sinigang and bulalo.

Are you more skeptical or gullible? I’m honestly really just both, depending on the context. Like how I’m skeptical when it comes to religion, ghosts, the afterlife, etc, but I’m equally gullible in a way that I’m terrible at recognizing sarcasm sometimes.

How often do you drink sodas or fizzy drinks? Once a year and it’s always simply to try it out and see if I’ve changed my opinion about it. I have not been converted in the last 22 years.

How many cups of tea or coffee do you have a day? Just one cup of coffee. I’m scared to have multiple ones haha, I’m scared of the palpitations or long-term effects it might give me.

Has anyone ever called you apathetic or unemotional? No. I’m the most un-unemotional person I know.

Favourite crisp/chip flavour? Just good ol’ plain. Nothing beats a simple potato flavor with a bit of salt.

Do you put salt and vinegar on your fries? Salt yeah, vinegar no.

What accent is the sexiest? Whatever accent Florence Pugh and Carey Mulligan have; they sound lovely.

Do you currently live in the same country you were born in? Yep.

What's your current mood? A little sad but I’m honestly glad my workplace gave me SO MUCH work to do over the weekend because it can keep my busy tonight. 

Do you struggle to articulate your thoughts and feelings? Not really. I like describing my emotions and sharing my thought processes.

A romantic meal, a trip to a theme park or go to a concert? Probs the romantic meal. I like the atmosphere and it’s always nice to have food involved hehe

Prefer being in control in a team enviroment, helping out or taking orders? I like being a mix of all these. I never want to be 100% a leader giving orders or 100% a subordinate waiting for tasks.

Do you like carrot cake? Not really.

Don't you hate it when people say 'I don't mean to be rude but...'? Especially considering 98% of the time they ARE trying to be rude? It will always depend on how they say what follows. Like how it will always be irritating to hear “I don’t mean to be rude but your work sucks,” but I can stomach it better and even be motivated to do better if it was said as “I don’t mean to be rude but there are areas you can tweak more to make the work better.”

Would you say yes from a drink of a friend of a friend? Only if I already know them well enough. Otherwise, no.

How good is your memory? Pretty sharp, a little too sharp for my liking. I’m able to store too many memories, some of them I don’t even want to remember anymore.

On a scale of 1-10 how was this survey? Did you enjoy it? 10! It was a delight to answer.

#survey #surveys

[onstarsandiron]

Might As Well Face It, You’re Addicted To Love: Chapter 5

Ooooooh we’re almost there!! First, though, meet the gang. 

AO3 link here

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 [here] / ?

Jax

Jax sighed in satisfaction as he finally finished drying his hair. The upkeep was obnoxious, but you couldn’t argue with the results; few others could lay claim to a meter of silver hair. It felt nice to be showered, dried, and in fresh clothes. He could finally find some peace.

“Jax! Hurry up!” Ana called, banging on his door. Jax sighed again. Oh well, peace was overrated anyway.

“I’m coming!” He yelled back. Easy for her to rush him with a puppy following her around and helping her get ready. Jax tied his hair into a quick ponytail and grabbed the duffel of show-prep stuff he’d pre-packed.

He opened his door to find Di hurrying down the hallway saying, “Ana, you did not let me finish!” Maybe calling Di a puppy was harsh, but he wouldn’t if he didn’t look at Ana with those big old eyes of his.

Jax followed them down the hall and a set of stairs into the kitchen. Ana stood still for once in her life – as still as she could, anyway, a toe tapping away to some unheard song – as Di finished her braid. Ana wore her black hair in a long braid down the middle of her head, the rest of it shaved. She said it was because it was punk, but Jax knew it was for convenience’s sake. She had golden-brown eyes set into a heart-shaped face and warm bronze skin. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, which was typically a sign of either a show or trouble. Sometimes both.

Di stood behind her being the physical embodiment of all the patience Ana lacked as he carefully finished off her braid. He was pale and tall, recently grown from being gangly to actually fitting his height. His blood-red hair was currently tied in a knot, but it typically had a mind of its own, falling down around his sharp face. Paired with his dark brows and dark eyes he had a very serious look to him, but Jax had seen him cry over a video of a small robot being, “too cute,” so his reputation in that area was ruined already.

Riggs and Wick were playing a game of cards at the kitchen table. They were on the older side and rarely came to gigs – Wick’s hearing was bad enough anyway, and if Wick wasn’t going neither was Riggs – but they both always saw them off and welcomed them home. Riggs was gruff and permanently skinny with scratchy gray stubble decorating his chin. He had lost his family and his leg in a bad accident a long time ago. Once or twice he’d shown Jax a picture of his family he kept on a locket, two happy looking kids, a beautiful wife, and him. Jax didn’t know nearly as much history about Wick, dark brown skin saggy in that way old men got with gray dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail behind him, but he had all sorts of tall tales to tell and was the one to teach him guitar, so really what other history could matter?

Talle, short with black, pixie cut hair, was cleaning up some pots and pans at the sink. She wasn’t as old as Riggs and Wick, but she did have the start of crows’ feet and smile lines etched into her face.  “Hey, Jax!” she called, then pointed to a stack of plastic Tupperware in bags that held their dinners for the evening, “Can you take these out to the van?”

“Sure thing,” Jax answered, securing his duffel on his shoulder so he could hold the bags in his hands.

He was about to consider how to juggle the bags and the approaching door when the door opened itself, or rather Lenda opened it from the other side. She was a couple years older than him and squarely built with old scars from time spent in fighting rings adorning her arms like trophies well-won. Her brownish-blonde hair hung around shoulder length and framed her narrow brown eyes, and her skin was tawny with rose undertones.

“Oh, hey, let me take one of those for you,” she offered, and Jax handed her one of the bags in his hands. Before heading back out she called into the kitchen, “Hey, Ana! Siege says that if you want your drum kit, you better come and put it in the van yourself!”

“Coming!” Ana said, and the three of them walked through to the open garage and the van parked outside it currently being loaded up.

“There you are, Sparkles!” Elara greeted. She was short and curvy with short-cropped silver hair in a style that on anyone else Jax would refer to as “soccer mom” but on her simply made her black-eyeliner-and-lipstick look more dramatic. Her wide eyes were violet, and her skin was apricot compared to Jax’s too-often-mistaken-as-a-ghost white. She was helping Xu, her partner, pack up some of the equipment. Xu was tall with high cheekbones, dark eyes, and tanned skin. They kept their black hair long and didn’t typically style it except when Elara would take it upon herself to braid it this way and that. They were a quiet person for the most part, which was good since Elara talked enough for the two of them.

“’Bout time you two beauty queens got yourselves down here,” Siege said. Siege wasn’t particularly tall, but she stood in a way that made you think she was. She filled a room and commanded respect wherever she went. Her eyes were a sharp stone-green and she wore her black curly hair large and filled with pieces wrapped in golden thread.

Siege’s job was not a topic to be discussed, but if it were to be discussed it may err a bit on the, as some might put it, illegitimate side of odd jobs. The house was largely a boarding house for her crew, a group that waxed and waned as needed. Riggs and Wick had been with her and Talle for forever, Lenda and Barger were newer additions, and there were plenty of people who had stayed for as little as a night and as long as years before moving on.

It was an interesting place to grow up, especially compared to Jax’s previous living arrangements, but he thought he, Ana, and Di came out no worse for it. After all, they’re all well fed, educated – Di was studying to be a doctor for goddess’ sake – and Siege and Talle have always been there when they needed them. Like when Ana decided she wanted to start a band; Siege may have sighed about it and certainly set some ground rules, but she never missed a show, let Ana use the van, and was the one to even get her the drum set in the first place.

“Sorry, Captain,” Jax said, getting his duffel and the food into the van and then going to help the others, “But you know my good looks are he only thing keeping the fans coming.”

“Ah, yes,” Di said dryly, having followed Ana out (definitely a puppy), “The throngs of fans shouting your name. Plus, all 13 of our Instagram followers.”

“53,” Xu corrected, being the one that actually did most of the managing of the account.

“Wow, is it actually that many?” Ana asked.

“Yes,” Xu answered, “With an average of 16.3 likes and 1.8 comments per post.”

That wasn’t very much. The band they were opening for had something like 20,000 followers and, you know, enough to fans to be able to justify holding their own concert with an opener. Ana didn’t believe in small milestones, though. Anything that was forward movement counted as victory in her book. That kind of aggressively positive outlook was a big part of what made this all work. If Jax was honest, had anyone else asked him to join a band he would have simply said no. When Ana asked, though, he couldn’t imagine letting someone else play guitar in his best friend’s band. He was certainly glad for it now; it was one of the only things he looks forward to anymore.

As he helped pack, Jax went through a mental checklist of everything. Once this was all done, Siege, Talle, Di, and Ana would take the van and he would drive Lenda, Elara, Xu, and Barger in a separate vehicle – turns out a drum set and audio equipment take up passenger space, go figure.

“Has anyone figured out where the fuck Barger is?” Jax asked. He’d almost forgotten about the irritable and irritating man.

“When’s the last time you saw the old fart?” Elara asked.

“I have not seen him in three days and 20-some hours, since practice on Monday,” Di answered, always so precise.

“Me neither,” Ana chipped in.

“I think I saw him like 2 AM Tuesday?” Lenda said, “I was just up for a glass of water, don’t remember it much.” Barger technically lived with them, but he kept odd hours and went out often, so it wasn’t unusual to not see him for a few days.

“Hasn’t been responsive to Talle or I,” Siege said, the look on her face serious, “I’ve called around. With any hope he’ll show up at the venue.”

Not answering when the captain called? Jax would not like to be in Barger’s shoes. The man better be dead, else he’ll be wishing he were soon.

At this point, it was a bit late to worry about Barger showing. They were lucky to get booked as an opener and would be stupid to give up this opportunity, even if their songs would sound off without a bass. Maybe Di could save their asses with his synths or something.

Whatever happened, though, Jax was determined to have a good time. He was going to go on stage, play with his friends, get some applause – even if it was simply polite applause – and this awful day and that awful boy and his awful boss would be behind him, completely forgotten.

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 [here] / ?

#hoi #heart of iron #soul of stars #sos #mywriting #fanfiction #might as well face it youre addicted to love #mawfiyatl #robbert valerio #jaxander taizu #robb/jax #robbert valerio/jaxander taizu #rock band au #chapter 5

[eltanin-malfoy]

From the Dining Table

based on the song by Harry Styles

pairing: draco/ginny

word count: 2.5k

warning(s): heavy sexual themes/sex mention/non-graphic smut, angst, alcohol, cursing

requested: not

a/n: yet another depressing ass songfic! am i even surprised? not even a little bit. also, drinny >>> ALSO, v importantly, i’m gonna dedicate this to the lovely drawlfoy bc it was her 18th birthday on the 17th :) happy late birthday!!!!!!!!!! (also evi watch out, i’m working on a (v :/) late bday present my writer’s block has only just gone down recently :3)

taglist: @acciodracoo @drawlfoy @war-sword

also available on ffn, ao3 and fia

It was warm and it was satisfying. But then it was over and it wasn’t anymore. 

It was incredibly pathetic.

Draco lifted the sheets and brought his hand nearer to his face, turning it over. The skin of his palm was red where he’d held himself tight and was speckled with the evidence of the climax he’d brought himself to. The haze, the heat, he’d found himself in had practically vanished into thin air. He stared at it with disgust, then reached for his wand, placed precariously at the edge of his nightstand. 

He could almost imagine what she’d do if she was here. Poke his nose and giggle. Maybe even peck him on the cheek while she chided him for being silly. Ginny was always overly cheery after it was over, sometimes even uncharacteristically so. 

But Draco wasn’t. Especially not now. 

Memories of her pulsed through his mind. The sore stiffness on his front threatened to stir once more and Draco quickly flicked his wand towards his nethers and cast a cleaning charm under his breath. The sheets would be fine now. Not a soul would know what had transpired there that morning. But he… he felt tears dripping down his cheeks before he realised that the swirling in his stomach wasn’t just the aftermath of his orgasm. It was that awful, awful mixture of regret and anxiety. He was supposed to get used to it, he knew. But it felt just as painful as it had the moment it had all ended. 

There were a million ways to get over exes and he’d attempted and succeeded with them before. It’s just that this time around, he wasn’t trying. Maybe, he just didn’t want to. His heart was shattered, and instead of looking to mend it and try over again, for some reason he felt it was simpler to just mull over what had been. Or long for it, rather. 

A  few minutes had elapsed, and while his sniffing had ended, his eyelids were beginning to grow heavy. His wet cheeks felt oddly bloated and he knew his fantasy had long since ended. He’d attempted to imagine morning sex, pretending the hand he didn’t use often was hers. Why? Who knew. Who knew. He wondered when even something as primal as stroking himself would return to normalcy and he wouldn’t have to imagine it had anything to do with what used to be. This train of thought, however, was much too complex for the moment. He blinked slowly, letting the lids of his eyes droop and shield his pupils from the soft sunshine. He felt himself falling back into the void of sleep, succumbing to some odd sense of calm. The dark dreamlessness of his slumber was more comforting than anything else. 

But it wasn’t long before he felt the harsh rays of the early afternoon sun beating down on him, the glare from the french windows on the side of his room enveloping him in the heat. It was time to get up. But his feet suddenly felt too large and too heavy for the rest of his body. He could barely even fit two and two together before he walked over to the desk in the front of his room and picked up the receiver of the intercom and dialled for room service. 

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I've never felt less cool

The harsh scent of whiskey could be smelt off his person. He knew it. Earthy, ethanolic, evocative. He’d ordered the most expensive bottle of whiskey they had and now he knew it’d been worth it. It tasted richer than that usual phenolic taste he’d become used to. You could even call it slightly leathery, with those soft notes of chocolate and smoke that Gin had taught him to look out for. Fucking hell. 

He’d poured himself just half a glass at first, mostly in an attempt to lie to himself. He wanted to limit his consumption of alcohol in the daytime, but it had been no good. The ice in his drink was still mostly solid after he’d finished his first glass, and it still was as he poured himself another. 

He’d relished the fervid feeling down his throat, the burning sensation that he hoped was numbing the pain in his chest. He stared at the half-empty bottle with nothing but remorse. He was laying back on the bed now, thoughts flitting through his mind while brain felt oddly fleshy in his skull. Every part of his body felt so heavy now he could barely lift a muscle. He’d always been deplorably lightweight. And now that he’d drunk so much all within thirty minutes, well, he was doing miserably. He could already feel his impending hangover, even the blood pumping through the veins on his head was cacophonic.

Now, now, he wished Ginny was here to take care of him. He knew this thread of thought was so very pitiful, but it was sensible. She was scarily good at handling her liquor, she always had been. Somehow. He supposed the only girl among a few brothers could certainly turn out just as, if not more, tough than the rest of them. It was something he admired, he’d told her. She could protect him when they’d be drinking. (She was a little more protective over him than he was towards her anyway.) 

His plan to distance himself from everyone and everything in an effort to get over his ex-girlfriend - ex-fiancée-to-be, ex-future-wife, whatever you wanted to call her - now seemed doltish, futile, even. Every single thing he did only reminded him of her. His original intent for his stay at this hotel had long since been lost. He’d stopped trying long since. There was no point.  

The day everything had gone to dust, it didn’t feel like it would be permanent. They’d had plenty of rifts between the two of them, which was to be expected really, what with them being as competitive and quarrelsome as they were and Ginny being a Quidditch player (  god, what a dream that was), they had their fair share of conflicts. But that time, he didn’t know that that evening, when she stepped out of his apartment, that they’d never speak again.

We haven't spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won't you ever say what you want to say?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

It had been a jealousy thing, he’d thought. Why she’d got so annoyed at him for spending time with Daphne. He didn’t say a word when she went out with her friends, regardless of their gender. Sure, she was very pretty, he’d admit that. But it wasn’t fair that she got annoyed at him for it. There’d only been two times when he’d had to blow off plans with her to spend time with Daph. He hadn’t meant anything by it. He hadn’t meant to forget that they were going to have dinner with her parents.

He’d told her so many times. But she hadn’t accepted his excuse. Not at all. 

“You’re a grown man, Draco. You were supposed to remember this. It was-” “Come on, Gin, I told you! I didn’t mean to forget.” “ Of course you didn’t! You didn’t mean to make my parents disapprove of you even more. You didn’t mean to make Ron hate you!”

“Gin, come on, I-” “No, don’t you ‘Gin’ me. You fucked up. Seriously. And I cannot believe you blew me off to spend time with her.”

“Her? What do you mean ‘her’? You can’t even say her name, do you despise her that much? I don’t say anything when you’re out with-with Luna or...  Potter.”

“You know there’s nothing going on between me and any of them. And there never will be. You know that. And you’ve met Luna enough times.. you don’t have to keep being snooty about her.”

“What? How was I being snooty?”

“You-you made that face. The one you make when you’re disgusted. It’s awful, you know? She’s one of my dearest friends and-” “Oh, and Daphne’s one of mine but I’m cheating with her, right?”

“I’ve told you, I trust you, it’s just that she’s so goddamn touchy and all of that. And she makes you-” 

“God, I shouldn’t even bother trying to make you like her, should I? You’re so fucking clingy.”

“Draco, goddammit, I-”

Her freckled cheeks had gone from slightly flushed to a deep crimson through the length of their conversation. With how mad she was at him, he knew she was fury in person. But now, there was something in those brown eyes of her that made him weak at the knees. Not in desperation, but more so in regret. The tears beginning to well up in the corners of her eyes made him feel like ripping his hair out in tufts. He wanted to make it all okay again. He wanted to lean down and kiss her and hug her and do anything and everything he could to make her stop looking so sad. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Draco.” “G-ginny, I didn’t mean any of it. I was mad and-” “It doesn’t matter. Y-you said it. And if you said it, you must have felt it, at least a little bit.” “No, but… I.. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do anything, I swear.” She kept looking up at him so solemnly, so softly, with little tears streaking down her face while her dainty lips began to quiver. “It doesn’t matter.” “Ginny, I.. I’ll make it up to your parents. I’ll make them all dinner all by myself. I’ll-I’ll help.. your brothers. I’ll pay for anything. I swear. I’ve fucked up, I know. Please-” “Draco. Stop.”

She took a deep breath and looked to the side as she used the sleeve of that cute blue jumper to wipe away the mess on her face. He could hardly muster up the courage to look at her face, knowing it was him that had made her feel all that. It was enough to make his stomach drop low into his abdomen and the little food he’d had out with Daphne threaten to exit through his mouth.

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too

He moved out of his parents’ estate and into muggle London for her, but he wasn’t even sure if she knew that. His father had never liked it at all. Him and the Weasley girl, he remembered the sour way it had dripped out of his mouth. But for once, he couldn’t take it anymore. The bloody Gryffindor he’d fallen in love with had made him feel brave enough to stand up to his father, somehow. His parents seemed okay with it. His mother did ask him to get himself his own place, however. He couldn’t even imagine what would have gone down had he fallen in love with a muggle-born, or worse, a muggle.

But here he was, making love to one, staying in a hotel in a part of London he’d never frequented before. And why? Because he thought it as revenge. It was a girl who looked similar enough to her when he squinted. Long, red hair and shapely legs. Not as freckled though, and not nearly as gorgeous. He tried not to look at her face much, because he knew the only way he could even get it up any more was by imagining it was Ginny with him. 

And it wasn’t even like he loved one night stands or something. He hadn’t even stepped out of his room much the whole time he’d stayed here. And yet, seeing him had sparked this rage, this uncontrollable hunger within him, that he just had to do something about it. 

Seeing that son of a bitch out that morning hadn’t stirred much in him at first. He’d thought now they finally had one thing in common. They were both Ginevra Molly Weasley’s exes. But of course, that was no longer true.

Ginevra Molly Weasley was seeing the other again. Or at least sleeping with him.

And how did he know this? The usual browned skin on his neck was adorned with hickeys and ceremonial bitemarks, much in Ginny’s fashion. His face was dazed and even his short, dark hair looked the slightest bit mussed. But oh, oh no. The shirt he had on.. was one of Draco’s own. Or at least it used to belong to him.

That once elegant navy button-up seemed hideous to him in that instant. Even thinking about Ginny having given it to him made his blood boil and swelter. And.. and imagining the context...

It made him want to get on his knees and wail in front of Ginny like a child. To beg for her back. Oh, how much he hated Dean bloody Thomas.

And that was how he justified his going out on the town and getting drunk that night. How he justified charming and shamelessly flirting with a girl he wouldn’t’ve even have treated with an ounce of respect even ten years earlier. It wasn’t his fault he could be so seductive when he tried to be. And he knew she was nothing but a piece of meat to her. A piece of meat that looked just enough like his lovely. Just enough for him to pretend that he loved her that night. 

He thought it would help a little bit, skin slapping against skin. He thought it would help ease that pain he felt deep inside of him. That perhaps holding someone the way he used to hold her would help him. But he knew it was no good. Because even while he tried his best to get her out of his head, she was there again. 

She was in between his fingers when they walked in a park. She was lying across his lap when he gave her the punishment she’d begged him for. She was in between his sheets while he fixed them breakfast. She was everywhere he looked, and yet she wasn’t.

She was in the teardrops that dripped down his face as he realised the girl he’d snuggled up to all night wasn’t even her. And she was still there, heavy in his heart as he quietly made his way out of the girl’s house.  God, he didn’t even remember her name, did he?

But Ginny, Ginny, Ginny’s name was all over him. Blazing red burned into his skin forever and ever still. No matter how hopeless he knew it was. No matter how much he knew there was nothing to come, no positive emotions from her to come into fruition ever, but the way she’d looked at him, so piercingly, so angry yet so calm, when he stepped out of her apartment that night, that was all he could see.

But you, you never do.

#harry styles songfic #draco malfoy #draco #ginny weasley #ginny #draco/ginny #drinny #fire and ice #draco smut #ginny smut #drinny fic #draco fic #ginny fic #smut fic #angst #angst fanfic #post break up #draco x ginny

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #256

song lyrics here.

Would you date someone who still lived with their parents? Well considering I still live with my mother, I'd be quite the hypocrite if otherwise. Are you a generous person? I personally think so. Do you have a close relationship with your family? With my mom, extremely. Do you think there is life on other planets? Well, define "life," I suppose. Bacteria, stuff like that that science defines as life, yes. Complex life, I don't know. Would you enjoy a night of playing video games? Fuck yeah. Are you sexually attracted to any inanimate objects? ???? No. Would you watch a porno with your partner? UH NO I'm personally not at all interested in porn, and I feel it'd be awkward anyway? Have you ever stolen from your work? No. How much does intelligence turn you on? I guess like your average person that finds intelligence attractive. Do you ask someone out or wait for them to ask you? History shows it varies. Do you own any sex toys? No. Do you talk about your sex life with either of your parents? Well I don't have one now, but historically, I very timidly have with my mom about something. Generally though, I don't. I keep that very private. Do you search someone on the Internet before a first date? No. How often do you use Facebook at work? I'm unemployed. Do you enjoy television or movies better? That's hard, but maybe movies. I don't really watch either, but movies, when they have a good plot, are usually more enjoyable. Would you consider donating your body to science after you die? Sure thing. I personally want to donate my organs and have the rest cremated, though. Are you a romantic person? Yeah. Would you be okay with your partner hanging with their ex as friends? It would seriously depend on the depth of their relationship, where they're hanging out, how long... that kind of stuff. I am very serious about letting your partner have friends, including w/ the gender they're interested in, so I try to be open-minded here. Are you careful with your money? It's hard to even say with how seldom I have any. Do you like to be friends with someone before dating them? Absolutely. Do you like soccer? No. Is it more fun to go out just with your date or on a group date? Depends. I'd say I USUALLY prefer uhhh... single dates? How often do you go dancing/clubbing? Never. Is marriage a necessity for two people who love each other? Uh, no. Do you meditate? No. Have you ever been fired from a job? No. Is there anything you think science will never be able to explain? The soul. Do you cook fancy meals for dates? I don't cook. You don't want me to. Is intoxication ever an acceptable excuse for acting stupid? Fuck no. Do you believe in an afterlife? Probably. Do you litter? NO. Would you have sex with someone hot who you hated? nO????????????? Do you have a career plan? Kinda, but who knows when the fuck that's coming true. Do you mostly cook your own meals? Well, I mostly microwave stuff. I never use the stove or oven. Could you live with someone who was really messy? To a certain degree, no. Do you believe in fate or destiny? No. Have you ever had sex with someone you worked with? No. Would you date someone just for the sex? Nope. Have you ever had a one night stand? No. Have you ever lied about the number of sexual partners you’ve had? No. Are sex and intimacy the same thing? "Sex is just one example of intimacy. There’s other ways to be intimate, including ones that don’t involve being sexual at all." <<<< Exactly this. Have you ever played strip poker? No. How often do you get angry? "I’m someone who gets irritated, moody, upset, and frustrated often, but not angry." <<<< Also this. Do you consider yourself an emotional person? VERY MUCH SO. Is work important to you? Considering how harshly I shit on myself for not having a job, most certainly. Have you had cosmetic surgery? No. On a first date do you pay or do they? In every experience but with Sara, they did. I only paid on Sara's and my first date out of trickery lmao. Do you only date people who have jobs or are full-time students? No. Could you date someone who does drugs? Nope. Medical marijuana is fine, though. Have you ever been to a sex shop? No. Have you ever had a threesome? Nah. Do you enjoy discussing politics? Noooo. Would you do a striptease for your partner? WHOA I would feel WAY too awkward gd. Would you date someone who doesn’t have a car? Yeah. Is it wrong to watch porn if you’re in a relationship? That depends on the people in it. Some mind, some don't. Idk how I'd feel it if was my partner. Do you think men should pay for everything on dates? Hi, it's 2020. Women don't need to be "taken care of." Would you tie up a partner if they asked you to do so? Yeah. Have you ever had sex in a public place? No. Would you date someone twice your age? No. Should a child caught masturbating be punished? It'd be weird at a certain age, but no. It's normal to explore sexuality and what you like, and perhaps even more importantly, it's way better for you to let your sexual urges out privately versus... you know. Being forceful on others. Do you tell your friends you love them? Of course!! Maybe it's just how I was brought up, but I've always gotten kinda confused when (particularly good) friends don't. Love is platonic just as much as it is romantic, and you should let people know! Do you like playing tic-tac-toe? I mean, I guess? What about hangman? It's more fun than the former. Did you play hopscotch when you were younger? Yeah. Did your older sibling ever tell you freaky stories that you believed? I remember at least one. Do you have a yahoo account? It exists, but I haven't touched it in an eternity. I don't even remember the password. Are you a violent person? Definitely not. Do your siblings dye their hair? Not really. They occasionally get highlights, though. Do you still have any of your exes’ stuff? Besides gifted stuff, no. I think. Who can you best relate to in the last book you read? That I finished, Clay. Because he's dumb and hungry. Are you indecisive? Unbelievably. Do you collect anything? What? Meerkat and Silent Hill stuff. What are you listening to? An Emzotic video. I'm like,,, hooked on her stuff. I've been on a MASSIVE animals video binge lately, and she's a FUCKING MOOD. What was the last compliment someone gave you? Idr. What are your pets’ names? Roman and Venus. Gah, I need more bbz. What did your first best friend look like? Last I've seen a picture of her, she was a somewhat bigger person with long, curly brown hair, and she's always been very tan. Did you have a role model growing up? Steve Irwin. If you could learn how to play one instrument, what would it be? Guitar. Is your best friend dating anyone? Do you like them? No. Do you want to move? Very badly, and we probably are soon. Do you have a big family? My extended family is giant. Do you want more or less siblings? I'm happy with what I have. What is your idea of perfect happiness? Great contentment in all I do. Surrounded by love, changing the world in even tiny ways, etc. What is the trait you most deplore (dislike) in yourself? I realized it semi-recently and honestly don't want to share it. Only my old therapist knows, I think. Besides that one, the fact I'm very impulsive with words when I'm upset, probably. What is your greatest extravagance? I'm really creative and passionate. What do you consider the most overrated virtue? Probably the glorification of virginity. I would know. It was a MASSIVE DEAL for most of my teenage years. On what occasion do you lie? When it's a thing where I feel it's just better to not be honest. Now I honor honesty a lot, so I avoid it as much as possible, but no, I don't believe it's always the best policy. What do you most dislike about your appearance? My weight. Which living person do you most despise? I don't know about one specific person. The traumatized part of me says Jason's friend that encouraged him to break up with me, but I know I rightfully shouldn't even dislike him, save for the fact he was pretty arrogant. What or who is the greatest love of your life? I don't know. When and where were you the happiest? Well, it depends. If you mean in a specific moment of most intense happiness, lots of times with Jason. An extended period of happiness, early into recovery when I lived with Colleen. What do you consider your greatest achievement? Recovering from the breakup. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be? A house cat. Seems like a pretty good life. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? At least from my experiences, harsh rejection when you try your best to please that person. What do you value most in your friends? As far as a sweeping characteristic they all share, the will to listen and just be there for me in times I really need companionship. Who are your favorite writers? I don't really have favorites. Who is your hero of fiction? Hm, I dunno. Which historical figure do you most identify with? Uhhhh I also don't really know. I'm not enough of a history buff for this. Who are your heroes in real life? I answer this enough. What are your favorite names? Alessandra and Severin. Do you like watching reruns? No. What do you think is worth waiting for? Deep relationships. Should parenting classes be mandatory for new parents? No. What is the number one thing people are always asking you for help with? English/writing. What movie did you love the original but hated the sequel to? I remember the Ghost Rider sequel was nothing compared to the original. It was okay, but. Are you more talk and less action or vice versa? More talk. Have you ever given someone a handmade present? Yeah, especially as a kid. What type of person angers you the most? Probably those who can't put their pride aside for anything. What do you think should be a wonder of the world that currently isn’t? I don't even know what they all are to get a proper grasp on the question. What comforts you on bad days? My mom and Sara, sleep, YouTube, sometimes regrettably food, etc. Do you treat yourself and your body with respect? Not very well. Something you eat that other people would find gross. *shrugs* Nothing that's too weird. Have you ever broken the law and didn’t get caught, if so how? Yeah, and obviously by not screaming it to the world, but also because none are massive. Something you fear might change you. The aftermath of heartbreak. It still affects me today and makes me see less hope in love. What personality trait in people raises a red flag with you? Volatility. Have you ever resented someone, if so what for? "Stealing" Jason, and the other person for accusing me something of so fucking selfish and vile I don't even like saying it, especially when she was my damn therapist that I loved and trusted. How old do you think is too old to have a baby? "Old enough that getting pregnant would cause significant harm to you or the baby." <<<< How have you changed over the last five years? I've definitely become wiser and more open-minded. Have you ever painted a house? Nope. Have you ever had a surprise party (that was an actual surprise)? No. What makes you feel miserable? Eating badly (particularly too much sugar makes me feel shitty), doing nothing/extended boredom. What’s the best costume you’ve ever worn? Don't have a clue. What’s been the hardest loss you’ve had to take? Jason. A loss without actual death is, wow, awful. I mean death is too, but holy shit it hurts when that person chooses to leave you. Do you like sunny days or rainy days more? Depends on the temperature and my mood. Who is your favorite movie director and what’s your favorite movie from them? Tim Burton, of course. Alice In Wonderland. What is the furthest you’ve ever got a paper airplane to fly? Not very far. Nothing impressive. Do you like the person you are becoming? It depends on the context. Honestly, by this point, not really. What’s the highest you’ve ever jumped into the water from? Not high at all. What inspires your ideas? More than anything, music. Just a single lyric, sometimes one word, spawns a sometimes very complex concept. Have you ever assembled furniture by yourself? No. Have you ever bolstered your resume to get a job you really wanted? No. I have a really, really hard time lying for a job. Have you ever had an internship, if not what would be your dream intern job? No. Do you prefer chicken, beef, or seafood? Chicken. Have you ever had a health scare? Yes. What do or did you hate the most about dating or the dating process? Opening up again. What do you frown upon when it comes to raising kids? Spanking. Have you ever been professionally photographed? Yeah. Do you influence people more than they influence you? I very much doubt that. If you could ask one person, alive or dead, only one question, what would you ask? If he regrets me. Do you buy anything organic, if so, what is it? I don't think so? What was the name of the first album you ever bought and who was it by? I believe it was You're Awful, I Love You by Ludo. Do you have any prejudices you’ve admitted to yourself? No. Who is the very first friend you ever remember making and how old were you? Brianna; I was two. What makes you lose sleep? Stress. Anxiety. PTSD. Do you floss or use a toothpick when food gets stuck in your teeth? I floss. Have you ever made out in a bathroom? Pretty sure that's a negative. Ever physically fought with member of the opposite sex? YIKES no. Well, besides playfighting. Ever walked in on your friends having sex? No. Ever kissed a friend’s crush? No. Has anyone ever called cops on you? No. Do you swallow gum when you’re finished? Noooo that's so uncomf. Ever tackled someone to the ground? Not in a way that was a harsh fall. More like a crumbling to the floor. Where was the last place you fell asleep other than your bed? Hm. Maybe in the school library, but I doubt that, really. I don't think I ever actually fell asleep. Did the last person you kiss have piercings? No. Did your parents spoil you as a child? No. Have you ever had alcohol poisoning? No. Ever thrown up in public? Yes. Has anyone laid on your bed besides you? Yes. What bothers you more, when people lie or when people complain? Depends on the severity. I think lying is more hurtful, though. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? Three. Who took your profile picture on Facebook? Me. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed? More towards the left. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Would you ever date anyone your parents disapproved of? Yeah. I'd consider their reasonings, of course, but it's my decision.

#survey #quiz #questions

[lonelygahwd]

dear you

Nobody goes on my tumblr except for you so I know you’ll see this if you want to. There’s a bit of politeness in this way of communication no? I could message you but then there would be an obligation to respond and a bit of tension as to who would end it and then we would be back at square one again. In this way, if I’m still on your mind, you can come here to peruse at your pleasure. But if you’ve moved forward, you won’t need to anymore.

We first bonded over our shared use of Tumblr and yet here we are again, almost 5 years later. How magical our first date was. 

I’ve done a lot of dirt over the years. Unintentionally causing hurt and sadness but causing hurt and sadness nonetheless. This year especially, I spewed a lot of filth at a lot of people. I was just a bull in a china shop, I didn’t care who was in my way I just lashed out at whoever came near me. Actually, I was more like a leech. I latched onto whoever foolish enough to come through the shallows my way and would suck them dry. And once they would collapse, a former shell of themselves, I would swim away in search for my next victim - my own shape black and formless. (An analogy and simile, no metaphor ;) ) 

From watching After Life, I saw myself. A man who loses his wife and turns to drugs, alcohol, and toxicity to mask the festering wound inside of him. It was only after confronting his sadness does he start to realize the kindness and beauty of the world around him. Watching After Life reminded me of my capacity to cry. I had avoided confronting my sadness for so very long now...and the last two days... well... let’s just say it was my second time crying in the shower since the last time we met for coffee.  

I keep asking myself if this is normal. I keep asking the people around me if this is normal. I am only reassured that nobody knows anything. They can only tell you for certain how they have lived their life and how it has turned out for them and even then...Point is, my head is spinning because I have surrendered. I don’t know anything. Is this what it’s like to live on the bleeding edge? To have constant vertigo, trapped in a cube tumbling through the void? That’s what it felt like yesterday. Confronting the truth is scary and nauseating. The truth is scary because it is messy - it’s up to you to clean it up afterwards. 

You are so wise now: cautious and measured. It’s funny how we both turned out. I guess it’s kind of funny how everything came to be. Sort of leaves you with a bit of optimism as to what else we will be able to laugh at in the future hey? Last year, I definitely could not have fathomed talking to you about whether or not you got along with his family. Maybe this is our version of “Cool” after all. I think if there’s any song I avoid, it’s that one. Is that a truth I am too afraid to confront? Yasser tells me to stop these mind games, it is tiring...are they mind games? Or is this just how we communicate? We just get each other? Is that toxic? I’ve refreshed your VSCO page about 10x now and have seen the captions edited and deleted and edited again. Are you somehow aware that I’ve been on it? Or is it just because you’ve been doing the same on my page? Fuck me. I know your friends and family hate me and I’m not going to lie, my friends and family are not the biggest fan of you either - probably because of the unhappiness that has been bred because of all of...this. Can this continue on? I don’t want to know. I had the impulse to control the outcome so bad, even if that meant lying to you... but I know that in doing so, that would only hurt both of us even more. I guess we’re both a little wiser now. 

Honesty is nauseating but it’s sort of liberating. There is nothing more to say, there is nothing more that I can do. There isn’t any sort of scheme or persona I need to assume to prevent anyone from finding out the truth because the truth is out now. I feel resolved? Well I guess there’s the anxiety of what will happen in the future now that my grubby hands are out of the game. Perhaps living honestly and genuinely is overrated? Overall, I’m so grateful for the fact that we were able to reach an amicable conclusion yesterday, although I’m not sure if I prefer amicability over anger. At least anger is definitive. I’m never going to talk to her again. I’m never going to think about her again. I’m never going to want her again. Now, it’s more like, I’m never going to talk to her again? I’m never going to think about her again? I’m never going to want her again? 

I guess there are so many questions up in the air for me and maybe you want to be with someone who has more answers, and that’s fine if that’s what you want...then...I guess I have to work on being more at peace with that. I think the agony from my end comes from this feeling inside that you are on the same page as me with the same number of questions and the same approach to life but lying to yourself in search of stability...but that is presumptous of me. I don’t know you anymore - things have changed. You want stability, you want what you have right now with him and with everything you have in your life. That much is apparent from what you told me and I have to trust that. What I offer is perhaps an echo of what you wanted before, and only beckons at the version of you that has not entirely been shed yet. And... I guess the same thing could be said for me as well. I like what I have here and in a sense, the instability of my life. Well, at least I like it enough to not drop out, pack my bags, and head home (even home isn’t something that I’m not even sure about anymore as well haha) and perhaps the agony on your end comes from a hunch that you know I don’t want all of this and that deep down inside I’m just the same Calgary boy. But I think we both have to keep on trying our new lives out. Is this what being at peace is like? And yet, I still feel so anxious about the future - ironic isn’t it? I guess with this in mind, we can start living life more fully and pursue the versions of ourselves that we arrived at yesterday with greater confidence. I mean, that’s what it felt like when we were dating. We were unabashedly confident in what we wanted and never looked back.  I think that’s what made it felt so magical. But then again, one’s definition of love is constantly shifting. Is a magical relationship something we need now at 23? Does every relationship have to be magical in order to be a valid? Maybe there is a darker side to magic as well... perhaps it is too fantastical for the harsh realities of life. 

I think we are both dreamers and that’s the pull we feel towards each other that is irresistable and as you said, a slippery slope. At heart, we are able to both say fok it and just go barreling down. And maybe we both need someone to ground us. I was always criticized that you and I were always in our little bubble, blissfully ignorant of the world around us. Maybe we were too invested in the idea that the love between us was all that was needed to sustain us through this life. Hopeless romantics in a way? I mean there is a certain strain to that. Admittedly, I personally felt a bit suffocated when we were together because I had nobody else but you. And so, maybe soulmates are not meant to be together? Their pull being too strong, it obscures the world and anyone else around them? But we’ve changed haven’t we? Maybe we could make it work with our newfound wisdom? Our sense of balance and our new perspectives on life to try and compensate for whatever was lacking before? Chalk up the fact that I broke up with you and attribute it to me having an identity crisis, is that valid? Chalk up all our difficulties to us being young and insecure and call it a day? Is that valid? I don’t know, I don’t know. And I’m sorry I don’t know. I have surrendered to trying to answer the questions that I don’t have the answers for. Only time will tell where this will go and I have to trust that we will make the decisions that will make us happy, if not happier than we ever were when we were together. I think our decision yesterday is the first step towards that.

:) 

[yeehaw-harry]

From the Dining Table Part 2

Part 1

“Okay, I’m not going to do this with you, Harry. We both know what we need to talk about and we’re avoiding it.”

“I know, but I don’t know how to do this.”

“Well, we start with what went wrong.”

or

Harry gets a text from y/n. She wants to talk. 

(Part 2 to From the Dining Table)

“Silence is overrated. I’d really like to talk to you, if that’s okay. Lunch?” 14 words. 14 words had haunted Harry for the past two days. Y/n had heard his song about her. She had listened to his album. The thought alone made him want to throw up. It put a pit in his stomach to think of her listening to his album. She had always been the one who he wanted to hear it first. She had been the most important thing in his life when he started his album. From the very beginning, it had all been for her. Everything was for her, but after that night, he had lost her. 

Harry hadn’t seen her since that night, so the thought of having lunch with her was something entirely foreign to him. He hadn’t spoken to her in over a year. Will it still be the same as it was? Harry wondered. No, of course it won’t, you idiot. You pushed her away. Why would she ever want things to be the same as they were before? Harry had been asking himself these questions over and over again these past two days. Scenarios of how the lunch would go down played over and over again in his head. All of this over 14 words. 

After Harry had gotten the text from y/n, he responded as fast as he could process the information. Y/n had told him that she could meet today, so they were meeting today for lunch. Harry could puke. He kept telling himself that it was all going to be fine, but he just wasn’t entirely sure about how truthful he was being to himself. Harry had finally decided on an outfit to wear to this lunch outing with y/n. He wanted to be casual, but not too casual. Harry knew that it was a bit silly to worried over his outfit, but at this point in time, everything mattered. Nothing could go unnoticed. He had finally decided that he was going to wear some wide legged pants and a simple white t-shirt, tucked in. 

Satisfied with himself, Harry started out the door of his and y/n’s once-shared home and headed to go to lunch. 

On the way there, Harry was reassuring himself that he had nothing to worry about. After this, it’ll all be fine. Y/n and I will make up, and I’ll never have to live another day without her. 

But in the back of Harry’s mind, he knew he shouldn’t be so hopeful. After all, why should y/n ever want him back after what happened?

Harry got to the restaurant before y/n had, so he went ahead and got a table for them both. Around five minutes later, Harry looked up to find y/n making her way over to him.

God, she’s beautiful. Harry thought to himself. Her hair flowed in all the right ways, and her walk was effortless. Harry came to the sudden realization that he couldn’t handle it if she broke his heart again. He wanted to lead to spare himself from the pain of another rejection from y/n. But what if it works out? The hopeless romantic in Harry was coming out again and clouding all of his good judgement. He tended to side with his hopeless romantic side, and this time was no different. You can’t leave now, she’s already seen you. Harry was trying to justify his self sacrifice when y/n had approached the table. He figured he should pull her chair out for her like a gentleman. Harry made to get up out of his chair, but he got caught up in the fact that y/n was looking at him, and he banged his knee on the underneath of the table. 

Y/n let out a giggle that he thought he would never hear again in his life. “I can get in my chair by myself, Harry, but thank you anyway.” She was joking with him, Harry realized. 

“Lost my touch, I believe.” Harry suddenly realized that he actually sounded relaxed when he said that. She always did calm me down, shouldn’t be any different a year later, right? 

“So, how have you been?” Y/n had a soft stare that Harry found quite pleasant. 

“I’ve been okay, I guess. You?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m alright, too, I suppose.”

“Good.” Harry looked off into the restaurant full of people. Anything to avoid y/n’s eye contact. God, this is awkward. 

The two sat in silence until the waitress came to talk their orders. They had both gotten the same salad, which they found a little conversation out of, but definitely not enough to sustain the entire lunch. 

“Okay, I’m not going to do this with you, Harry. We both know what we need to talk about and we’re avoiding it.”

“I know, but I don’t know how to do this.”

“Well, we start with what went wrong.”

“Okay…”

Y/n began with a strong hit, “You neglected me for your work. You told me that I didn’t matter as much as your album. That really hurt me, Harry.”

Harry was shocked by the starkness of her words. They were the truth, but that didn’t make them any less shocking to hear. Harry didn’t really know what to say. As he was thinking of his answer, he was saved by the waitress bringing out their salads. The waitress provided a nice breather from the harsh stare of y/n’s. She was pissed at him, and rightly so. 

After they got their food and the waitress had left, y/n’s piercing eyes resumed their position of shooting daggers into Harry, waiting for his reply. 

“I don’t really know what to say, y/n. I’m really sorry for what I did.”

“That’s all? That’s really all you have to say to me? ‘I’m sorry?’ That is not enough, Harry, and you know that.” Y/n had begun to raise her voice, which made Harry take a quick glance to make sure no one was around that was taking a video or a picture. 

“Could we just wait until we can be in a less public place to talk about this, please?” Harry was worried that tomorrow’s news story would be their light spat at lunch. He could see it now, “Harry Styles and ex-girlfriend exchange harsh words over lunch.” He couldn’t afford to get in an argument with y/n in public, as much as he deserved it. 

“Fine, Harry, but don’t expect me to make small talk with you.”

“That’s fine.” Harry had to admit that he was hurt because y/n didn’t want to talk to him about anything, not even the salad.

In the car on the way to his house, Harry knew that this wasn’t going to be like how he imagined. After they had gotten their food, y/n and Harry hadn’t talked. They just sat there in silence until they were both done with their food. It hurt Harry to sit in silence with someone that he had once told everything to. The person that he used to be the closest to and now become so distant that it broke his heart. Thinking of all of this on top of the fact that he knew this wasn’t going to have a happy ending for him caused a sob to course through his body. As soon as Harry could get ahold of himself, he was only about a minute from his house. Used to be our house, Harry thought. 

Going inside, Harry could tell that it was hurting y/n too. She hadn’t been in this house since the day after they broke up, when she woke up to find Harry not even there. She took in the emptiness of the half-abandoned house. Harry hadn’t put up any decorations, all the walls were plain. 

“Shall we sit, then?” Harry asked timidly after he started to see y/n’s eyes well up with what looked to be tears.

The question seemed to shake y/n out of her trance. “Uh-yeah, sure.”

As soon as they sat down, y/n turned toward Harry and started to speak, but found herself at a loss for words. They both stared at each other for a few minutes, silently waiting for the other to come up with something to say first. 

Finally, Harry croaked something out that was followed with a heart-shattering sob.

“I’m sorry, what was that, Harry?”

“I said- I said that I’m so, so sorry.” Harry’s sobs continued, and with each passing one, y/n felt her anger wash away. She had a very pressing instinct to comfort him, but didn’t want him to think that what he had done to her—what he had said to her—was okay. It wasn’t okay. But those cries coming from Harry’s shaking figure were enough to bring back an overwhelming sense of needing to at least give him a hug. When Harry was sad, it made y/n sad. 

Y/n reached over and touched his shoulder. “Harry, it’s going to be okay.”

At y/n’s words, Harry turned to look at her. His red, puffy eyes were enough to finally make y/n reach over to him, and engulf Harry in a hug. 

“I don’t want you to cry, Harry. What you did wasn’t okay, but I know that you’re sorry, you don’t need to cry.”

“But I just don’t want to lose you again and I’m afraid that’s what is about to happen. I’ve lived over a year pushing my feelings about losing you away, and now they’re back to the surface again because this has given me a sense of hope that we might be able to work things out between us and go back how it used to be.” Y/n was at a complete loss of words. She had no idea that he felt that way. She just figured that when she saw pictures of him doing things after their breakup, he was fine. 

“I had no idea that you felt that way, Harry. Do you really want to work things out between us?”

“Of course I do. My life revolves around you, even now.”

Y/n sat in silence for what felt like an eternity to Harry. Then, all of sudden, she got up from her place adjacent to Harry on the couch. 

“Just give me an hour or so, I have things that I need to do to make this work out between us. I want this too, Harry, but we’re going to start over. We won’t be getting back into old habits, okay?”

Harry was stunned. 

“O-okay. I promise it won’t be the way it was, y/n. I won’t do anything that could make me lose you ever again.”

“That’s good, Harry. Let me go take care of few things, and then we can go on second-first date.” Y/n said that with a laugh that made Harry want to fall onto his knees and rejoice. He was getting a second chance, and he wasn’t going to screw it up.

Just as she was about to leave, Harry got a thought. “Y/n, where are you going? Maybe I could go with you.”

Y/n turned back to look at him. She lightly chuckled, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m about to break things off with this guy I’ve been taking to recently.”

Harry’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. “Ohhhhhh, okay. Right, see you later then.”

“See you later, Harry.”

Flash forward 3 months

Harry and y/n had had a great second-first date. Everything was perfect. Right now, they were celebrating the fall season with a little bit of ‘goodhearted’ pumpkin carving. Except, Harry was a pest. He had taken the notion that he needed to throw some pumpkin guts at y/n, which she didn’t like very much.

After about fifteen minutes of pumpkin gut war, y/n and Harry found themselves on their back porch, covered in the insides of a pumpkin.

They were leaned up against each other, just enjoying the outdoors when Harry broke the silence.

“You know, this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, y/n. Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

Y/n just smiled back at him and muttered a simple, “Me too, Harry. Me too.”

#harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #from the dining table #yeehaw-harry writing #yeehaw-harry #writing