#neither of which are true for machine knit socks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harryimaginedstories · 5 years

Text

the vanishing of us

This one is based (partly) on a true story. And on the song “inevitable” by Orla Gartland. Enjoy! Genre: angst. Words: 6K.

The house was eerie quiet. No floorboards creaked, no stairs groaned. With shaking hands Y/N lifted a cup filled with her favourite tea to her lips, hoping the warmth of the drink would help calm her. Yet as she swallowed the soothing liquid her tears wouldn’t cease. Instead she choked on a sob, coughed and spat most of the drink right back out. “Shit.”

Crying freely she wiped the spit off the counter. Accepting that calmness wouldn’t come to her anytime soon, she opened the dishwasher to put the mug away. It was then that she noticed that it was empty. In fact, even though it was close to seven pm, there were no dishes in the sink, no crumbs of food on the counter, and no forgotten glass left on the table. The house was so clean and tidy, it might as well had nobody living in it for weeks. Y/N realized sadly, that this might have been just the case. Everything looked untouched. With a heavy breath Y/N closed the machine. In the hallway she was met with her suitcase and heavy bag, luggage she had yet to bring herself to unpack. Y/N had struggled to get the heavy bags up the stairs to their home by herself. Even getting them out of the back of her cab had been a difficult. Y/N decided to spare herself and not carry them up to their bedroom. With tired steps she walked up the stairs and to her room. Here, too, everything looked lonely and untouched. The bed was made, the pillows arranged. More tears fell and she wiped them off her cheek forcefully. Why did it not look slept in at all? Climbing onto the cold mattress, curling up around a cold pillow and falling asleep by herself, was certainly not how she’d imagined spending her first night back home.

Where was Harry?

She had called him seven times. Had sent him ten messages. But nothing had come of it. Knowing him, it wasn’t unlikely that he’d turned off his phone. He liked doing that to keep his attention solely on his work, however why would he do that today? Out of all times? He must have done it for different reasons, meaning that he was most likely purposely ignoring her approaches. The only thing she couldn’t wrap her head around was why, especially not when she couldn’t have done anything to upset him. She’d been absent for three weeks, and during that time they’d had plenty of phone calls and messages proclaiming how much they were missing each other. It certainly hadn’t sounded like he wanted distance. Every night, he’d told her over and over how relieved he was that he wouldn’t have to sleep alone much longer. He’d sounded so happy and excited, it had made her feel so appreciated and loved. And on the day she was coming back, their home was empty and her lover gone.

Y/N pulled the sleeves of her shirt over her knuckles and cuddled herself into the material. A blanket rested on her body and two pillows shielder her form the cold coming from the window, and yet she shivered. The salty taste of crying gathered on her lips. She didn’t bother wiping the tears off anymore. Instead she shut her eyes and hoped for sleep to come and bring her the relief of unconsciousness. Wherever Harry was, Y/N hoped that he was sleeping okay.

. . .

She sat crossed legged on their grey couch, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. The name of Y/N’s friend Kelsea flashed over the screen as she set put the call on speaker.

“So he’s just not been home all day yesterday, and didn’t come home tonight either? He didn’t sleep at home with you?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Where the hell is he then?”

“That’s what I’m telling you, I have no idea,” Y/N replied, “At first I thought maybe the studio, but I called there and was told that they hadn’t seen him in a week. I’m staring to get really worried, Kels.”

A loud hiss came through Y/N’s speakerphone.

“Worry? Fuck that. He’s a dickhead for being MIA on the day you come home! And then throughout the night, too? He left you alone in a huge house! Over night!”

“Yep.”

“You can’t tell me you weren’t creeped out by that,” Kelsea hissed angrily, hitting the nail right on the head.

Y/N felt herself cringe at the mention of last night. Of course she’d been creeped out. Scared even. She had never liked sleeping on her own, once she had discovered what it was like to sleep in the same bed as the person she loved. And to sleep on your own, in a massive house and as a young woman... Well, Y/N doubted that would never not feel uncomfortable. As seldom as break-ins into the houses of a gated community happened, it wasn’t impossible. Had anything happened, she would’ve been alone. Had anyone come in or already been inside her property, she would’ve had to face them by herself. Y/N quickly tried to shake the uncomfortable thoughts. They had kept her awake for a good part of the night already.

“I thought maybe he’s with his friends but according to their Instagram-stories they were all busy individually, without him.”

“Okay, but even if. You, his girlfriend, were gone for three weeks! If he needed time to do shit with his mates he’s had plenty of that. Definitely not on the day you’re coming home.”

“Right? And he’s been saying how glad he was that I’d be back soon just two days ago.”

“And when you do, he has deserted.”

Kelsea hissed and Y/N bit back a smile at her friend’s reaction. It gave her some reassurance that the anger and sadness that still clouded her mood were both justified. Kelsea also helped shrink the little part of Y/N’s brain that was reserved for worrying about Harry.

“You don’t think that he’s in trouble, do you?”

“Harry? No. No, no, no. He’s acting like a dumbass, but he’s a smart guy. I can’t imagine him getting into any kind of trouble. Trust me, him being missing has a much simpler reason, which will probably lead to an epic argument between you two, once he shows up.”

“I thought I was being a bit dramatic for feeling so down about it,” Y/N admitted.

“Are you kidding? I’d be furious!”

“I’m more sad than angry, if I’m honest.”

Moving in with Harry, living together and sharing the same home was nice. But Y/N liked having the house to herself sometimes. It was nice to have some quiet and be on her own. If she arrived home before him, Y/N would put on the music he didn’t like too much or catch up on TV shows Harry didn’t watch. Neither of them were uncomfortable with being alone in their house, but of course it felt different when she had the house to herself because Harry had disappeared. It was uncomfortable to be alone without a deadline to it.

“I miss him,” Y/N murmured, “I’ve missed him like crazy for weeks and now that I’m surrounded by his things but he’s not here, it’s even worse. I wasn’t prepared to go another few days without him, Kels. I thought we’d be back to being practically attached by the hip again like we always are! Instead I can’t reach him, don’t know where he is and don’t know if I should send one angry text after the other or just cry my eyes out.”

“It won’t be another few days without him, sweetie,” Kelsea tried to promise, her voice softer than before, “The whole thing is out of character enough, Y/N. He wouldn’t disappear on you for days.”

The two women fell silent, neither of them quite buying into Kelsea’s words. Y/N tried to decide what she would do next, Kelsea desperately searched her brain for any advice.

“Do you want to come over? We can hang out. So you’re not alone.”

Y/N didn’t need to think about the offer twice. “Yes, please.”

. . .

Two glasses of wine later, Y/N reached forward to hand the cab driver his money, before stepping out and onto the pavement in front of her house. Her head was a little heavy and her feet slow, alcohol still travelling through her veins. She didn’t feel quite as miserable anymore as she had since the moment she’d arrived to an empty home, thanks to Kelsea letting her rant and then drink. Now, numbed by the distinct taste of liquor on her tongue, she felt almost good. However all tension returned when she noticed the light coming from the kitchen window, one she clearly remembered not having switched on that day.

Harry was home.

For a good five seconds, Y/N debated if she should run and go back to Kelsea, but she knew that a conversation with him was inevitable. Whatever it had been that had made him disappear on her, avoiding him would only pour fuel into the fire. So, hesitant and slow for a new reason, Y/N walked up to the door and opened it. As quietly as she could, she slipped off her jacket and shoes, hoping to not make him aware of her presence yet. No matter how much she prepared with Kelsea, Y/N couldn’t remember any of the speeches she had rehearsed. Harry sat on the couch, phone in hand and frown deeply written onto his face. He’d heard the door open and close quietly, noticed the uncertain steps of socked feet walking down the hallway. And in that moment he realized that he’d messed up. Upon coming home, he hadn’t noticed anything, still too far stuck in his own head. But once he heard her, Harry noticed all of her things back where they were supposed to be. Her charger was plugged in next to their lamp, her laptop was on the coffee table right in front of him and her freshly washed clothes were drying by the heater. Shit. Harry pulled out his phone, opened his emails and there they were. He only had to scroll past three other notifications before he found Y/N’s flight details and with them the proof that he’d let her down.

Y/N stood in the doorway, watching him. She noticed his deep frown, the gap between his lips as his mouth fell open. He looked calm and soft, dressed in a knitted jumper despite the warm weather. Not at all ready for the storm that was awaiting him, and briefly Y/N felt bad. That was until she noticed how tears were making her vision blur. She’d missed him. So badly. If only their situation were different, then she could give in to the pull tugging at her heart and allow her body to fall into his embrace. Their eyes met. Both of their breathing halted.

Harry smiled sadly and raised his phone, showing her the screen. “Got your flight information here.”

A little too late. Y/N nodded. “I sent them to you. Two days ago.”

"Three actually.” His gaze first fell to the date at the bottom of the email, then to the floor and his feet, before he reluctantly met her eyes again. Shame was written all over his face. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N crossed her arms and rested her back against the wall. It didn’t go unnoticed to him that she was keeping as much distance as possible without leaving the room. She didn’t want to be too close to the boy who held her heart, not after he had so selfishly toyed with it.

“You forgot I was coming home?”

“Yes.”

He saw no point in lying. What else could’ve possibly happened that would’ve explained him not picking her up? Or him not being home? Hell, the very least he should’ve and would’ve done is notifying her of his absence. The bitter taste of disappointment gathered in both of their mouths. Y/N felt tears fall from her eyes, the crushing weight of hurt coming to rest on her shoulders with all its force. He’d forgotten.

“How?” she whimpered.

Harry’s eyes mirrored her pain. She wore a look of pure disappointment and betrayal, which had his heart break into two. He threw the phone onto the pillows next to him where it landed with a soft thud. He raised to his feet, slowly and with every intention to reach her and apologize further, though he didn’t dare moving closer once he noticed her body tense.

“I... I don’t know how I forgot. I just... I just did.”

“You had me come home to an empty house. After three weeks I return to a home, that looks like it’s been deserted! But the proper shitty things is that I don’t know where you were, what for or why! I was disappointed for less than ten seconds, before I started to worry about you so much it made me crazy! You have been unreachable for over 24 hours, Harry! Do you have any idea what that did to me?” Y/N’s voice quivered and she hated how frantic her shaking hands made her appear, wiping away the salty drops landing on her cheeks.

Though she hadn’t intended to say exactly that, after talking to Kelsea she now knew where her true anger was coming from. He’d abandoned her. Had left her to worry about him, feel guilty and close to terrified.

“Okay! I get it,” Harry’s voice quivered, too, “I’m sorry.”

“I waited for you! I called you! Texted! And then when you stayed out all night and didn’t show I thought- I thought something had happened to you! You were so fucking inconsiderate!”

“I know that and I said I’m sorry! I messed up!”

Harry’s voice seldom raised when in an argument, whether if it was with her or with anyone else. Harry, who had a raspy and deep sounding voice as it was, knew that when raised it sounded far more intimidating than he intended. Consequently, Y/N had rarely heard him shout. In the few situation in which she had, she had flinched, making him stop and apologize to her immediately. However tonight she was too outraged to feel threatened.

Y/N raised her brows and gave a mocking chuckle. “You sure did. You messed up bad.”

Harry sighed, his chest and shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. Y/N wiped her eyes one last time before straightening up her posture. All of a sudden it seemed as though her anger had freed her head. Finally, she could see clearly.

“Look, I really don’t want to hear it tonight. Whatever it was that was so... important. This whole thing is big enough for me to not want to be near you right now.”

“Y/N, I swear you don’t-”

“What you did is so unfair, Harry. I understand that you will spend more than half of your life being incredibly busy. And sometimes too busy for the people around you. Accepting and accommodating to that is what I signed up for when I fell in love with you. I respect that you need distance sometimes, I support it when you have to leave. I even go on holiday without you, because I wouldn’t ever ask you to put aside work just because my schedule allows me to do so myself. But I won’t tolerate any of those things if it makes you forget that I exist.”

Harry’s beautiful green eyes, a safe haven for Y/N on any other occasion, were swimming in a pool of regret and guilt. Was this how she had been feeling? Had he really let their relationship become so much work on her part?

“I have been driving myself crazy, trying to figure out why you would avoid me or what reasons you could have to be angry enough to leave! I wondered if I’d forgotten some important even of yours. If I’d done something to upset you. You just... simply forgetting didn’t even cross my mind as a possibility!”

Y/N shook her head at her own disbelief. Never, ever would she forget her soulmate. How had he so easily?

“I thought you meant it when you told me over and over, every night, that you missed me! That you had been serious when you complained about not being able to join me on my vacation! And now... all this worry and insane guilt I have been battling with since coming home, was for nothing. That you simply forgot, I-” Y/N huffed, chest rising and sinking in a fast pace, “I can’t even find the words to express how sad I am by all of this.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, voice thin and strained, “I’ve missed you like crazy. You know that I meant that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. How would I? You have been all I could think about, Harry. Every day I was gone I thought of you and being with you! I craved you so much.”

“So did I, I swear-”

“Clearly you didn’t!” Y/N shouted, making her boyfriend flinch, for he, too, wasn’t used to hearing her voice raise, “That’s why you weren’t here, was it? Because you weren’t thinking of me at all! You didn’t care! Just... spare me for tonight, will you? I’ll be upstairs, and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t join me.”

. . .

It didn’t happen often that Harry didn’t know what to do. Admittedly, more often than not, he had somebody else giving him exact instructions. However most other times he didn’t struggle either. He had a strong sense of what was right, and trusted the feeling he got in his stomach whenever he was faced with making a decision. Tonight, that certainty let him down. His stomach fluttered and ached with guilt, while his head was so full of worries, he couldn’t grasp a proper thought.

How shitty of a boyfriend have I always been? Will she keep putting up with my absence? She’s going to leave me.

The last of the one of the three thoughts his brain tormented him with stood out most. It was where his true fear hid, where it cut deep. What would he possibly do, if Y/N decided to leave him for good?

Hesitant and afraid of the answer, Harry unlocked his phone. The first app he went to was their texts. He tried to ignore the burning pain in his heart when he scrolled past all her unanswered texts, begging him to tell her where he was, and up to their last conversation. She’d sent him a photo of a stray cat she’d seen on the unfamiliar streets abroad she’d explored without him. The cat looked thin and neglected, but with Y/N scratching it gently behind its ears, the animal purred. He’d joked about how she was too good of a person, and that she should bring the feline home with her. They’d ended the short exchange with their usual i love you x. His message had been sent seven minutes after hers, even though he hadn’t put his phone down once.

That couldn’t be their last conversation. Harry remembered giving her texts only half of his attention, since he’d been in the middle of a spontaneous meeting when she’d sent the photo. That couldn’t be it. Their last text conversation should be full of love and appreciation. Not a final attempt of Y/N to share some of her holidays with her boyfriend. After that, Harry went to look at his photos. They upset him further, for he noticed that he barely had any new pictures of her. In the last months, all he’d taken photos of was inspirations for songs, his friends at the studio or screenshots of important emails. If someone were to look at his folders, it would seem like he wasn’t in a relationship.

In his guilt, Harry began to wonder if he knew how to be a boyfriend at all. He wasn’t home when he needed to be, he didn’t text back when he should have, and he didn’t treasure his girlfriend by keeping their memories saved. He remembered doing all those things right in the beginning. In the first months of dating, he had made sure he was showing his adoration for Y/N every moment they were together. No text went unanswered, not a single missed call wasn’t returned. Why had he stopped? When had he decided that he was done cherishing her? How had he only been who she deserved him to be, before he’d officially asked her to be his girlfriend?

”I have been so unfair,” Harry whispered, choking when more tears fell from his sore eyes.

Maybe if she left him, at the very least Y/N would find someone who would do better. Someone who made her his priority. The thought nearly killed him, robbed Harry of his breath. Was her leaving him, that ultimate worst case scenario, as unrealistic now, as it had been two months ago? Harry highly doubted it.

. . .

Hearing Harry cry tore at Y/N’s heart. It came close to ripping apart with every choke and sob coming from his throat. Though she’d locked the bedroom door behind her, the walls were thin. They didn’t prevent her from hearing her lover’s despair. Truth was, Y/N didn’t know how she felt anymore. Looking into Harry’s eyes while throwing all of her accusations at his head, made her heart crack. But didn’t he deserve it? Wasn’t it necessary for both of them to understand where they were? Slowly but surely, Y/N could feel herself grow resentment towards their situation. She didn’t want to make him feel guilty for the demands of his work, she didn’t ever want to stand in his way. But did that mean she would forever be doomed to blindly accept what little time and attention he could spare her with? Would she always have to adapt, accept and be grateful? No. That was not a life she would live.

Though it was really hard not to, Y/N decided not to go back downstairs. She hated knowing she’d upset him so much, but if a night of sharing her pain was what he needed to understand, then she believed it to be fair. Like she had the night before, Y/N pulled her knees up to her chest, making her body smaller. It looked almost sad, compared to how large their mattress was. But sleeping yet another night without her Harry by her side, small and sad was exactly how she felt.

. . .

Y/N hadn’t had much expectations for the next morning. However waking up to the house being, yet again, completely empty, was not it. Briefly she panicked, but then she noticed a small note, one he had romantically left for her to find on the counter of their kitchen.

I love you with all that I am. I’ve gone to speak to Jeff, though by the time that you read this, I’ll be at the bakery in Notting Hill you like so much, then I’ll be on my way home. Please wait for me, one last time. I promise. I love you. So much. H.

The note crumbled lightly as Y/N reread it for the fourth time. She sighed bitterly and tried to ignore the unwilling clench and flutter her heart gave.

“I love that man more than what is good for me.”

She blinked away a fresh wave of tears and brewed herself some coffee. As she opened the fridge, she was surprised with a bowl of fruit and granola, topped with her favourite yoghurt and some honey. Now she had to fight against a smile. The first night she’d stayed over, right after having slept with him for the first time, Harry had gone down to the kitchen and made her a similar meal. What had then served as their midnight snack had become their usual breakfast. Something they took turns in making for the other in the morning, a lovely ritual for the beginning of their relationship. However now it had been months since she’d last had a breakfast that hadn’t been rushed and made with her own hands.

Just like Harry, Y/N hadn’t noticed how downhill their relationship had gone. Until now, she hadn’t counted the amount of evenings she had spent alone, only to briefly wake up to him climbing into bed beside her. It hadn’t occurred to her before, that she actually couldn’t remember the last time they had gone out together, simply because they had wanted to. Only now, looking at their old and missed tradition, all of the disappointments came to her attention. How could she have missed out on the vanishing of her own relationship?

A sickening feeling at the bottom of her tummy kept her from eating more than a couple spoonfuls. Y/N tried to make sense of her thoughts. She had said most of what she wanted to say last night. Harry had been the one forced to listen then, and Y/N knew that those roles would be reversed today. She wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for that. Though she finally did want to know what had kept him busy and unreachable for 24 hours, Y/N didn’t think she could tolerate another “got caught up writing”-excuse.

Y/N sat down at their kitchen table, and stayed seated there until the front door opened and Harry returned. She didn’t go up to greet him. She didn’t answer his hesitant shout of hello. Y/N waited for him to see her, and released a sigh when he entered the kitchen, too. Silently, Harry began to cook some water, filled two mugs and added their favourite tea. He didn’t ask and didn’t offer, but simply placed the mug in front of his girlfriend’s hands, before sitting down as well. Between them he placed a paper bag with the name of the bakery he’d mentioned. Neither opened it or paid it much attention, for their eyes had locked and refused to let go.

They studied each other, growing sadder when they noticed the marks their argument had left. Harry, as beautiful as he was, resembled a mess. His hair looked unwashed and tousled, his eyes were red and swollen. The shade of his bottom lip was darker, a sign of his teeth pulling it frequently. Y/N looked twice as tired as she felt. Her body was tense and smaller, as if the weight of her hurt had shrunk it.

“I’ve got some things to say.”

Harry’s voice was hoarse. He observed her closely, reading her reaction. After realizing what a letdown he had been, Harry now instinctively traded lighter. If he read any sign in her eyes, he’d sworn to himself to stop his explaining and resume to give her as much space as she needed.

“I’m listening.”

His hands knotted around his mug. When he spoke next, he did so slowly. His brows were pulled together, and Y/N could tell that he concentrated on finding the right words.

“I know that I have been a terrible boyfriend to you. I sent you out to do things on your own, left you and excluded you from my life. Not because I knew you’d be alright by yourself, but because I simply expected you to take what little I gave. I have let the both of us down when I started to be selfish, more often than not.”

He swallowed hard and coughed.

“You have been let down the moment I stopped being your partner. What you said last night, was true. I do expect distance and the freedom to follow my work. But that can’t mean that I do all of that at your expense. It shouldn’t mean that you come second.”

Harry wiped at his eyes. Y/N sniffled herself. Their hands itched to reach out and touch each other, but neither of them allowed it.

“You are the most important person in my life. I have never before c-cared as much about someone that I... And to know that,” he coughed again, this time on a sob, “to know that I failed you is breaking my heart.”

“Harry-”

“No. No, I don’t want your comfort. I don’t deserve it, yet. Not until I tell you that the night you came home, I was with my mom.”

Y/N’s breathing hitched. Harry nodded at her clear surprise.

“Yeah, I went home to her.. needed to talk. I honestly had the dates all mixed up and didn’t remember that you were coming home that weekend. I thought- I was just going mad, you know? So I went to mom for a couple days. Figured I’d kill the time there until you came back to me. But the fool I am I stayed longer and forgot the days and I’m so, so fucking sorry, Y/N. It was the last straw of a series of fuck ups that I’ve put you through.”

Y/N nodded slowly. Her head spun, but she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders at his honesty. Hearing that he hadn’t forgotten her over his work, but because he’d gone to visit his mother, was some relief. But one thing didn’t add up.

“You texted me that you were excited for me to come home, Harry,” Y/N murmured.

“Because I thought that today was your arrival date. Got it mixed up.”

She wiped her palms across her cheeks. Harry did the same, before hesitantly offering his hand to her. Y/N briefly didn’t know if she wanted to hold it or not, but finally interlaced their fingers together. Their hands felt damp from wiping away tears.

“Harry, you know that I love you. So much. But I just.. I thought about it and I... I f-fear that we’ve become two people that I don’t want us to b-be.”

“Me, too.”

“I don’t want to feel like I’m second best anymore, you know?” Y/N began to sob, the wall she’d built finally breaking, “I put you first all the time, and you don’t do the same! I don’t expect you to always have time for me but... yesterday it felt like I was finally confronted with a long existing truth I just hadn’t seen before.”

“That we’re not really in a relationship anymore?”

Y/N nodded. “Y-Yes.”

“I get that,” Harry tried to blink away his own tears but failed, “Somewhere along the lines I- I let us lose each other. Feels like we’ve been living beside each other, not with each other.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Which is so strange, given how enamoured we are. Reckon it happened shortly after moving in together. Which is why I went to talk to Jeff and he said-”

“I don’t want you to go live with him, Harry,” Y/N interrupted. Cold fear ran through her veins and more tears leaked. Did he want to move out? Leave her?

Harry managed a small smile. “S’not what I’m proposing. I went to tell him to lay off a little. Pushed the release date of my album back, cancelled some appearances, photo shootings and that interview I had planned with-”

“Harry!”

“We’re not going to continue shooting the music video until next month-”

“Harry, you-”

“Because I have been so fucking stressed and busy. All the damn time, I’m so fucking busy. I haven’t had a moment of peace for weeks, Y/N. It drove me to missing out on a vacation with my girlfriend. I had to go to my mom to have her comfort me like she did when I was a child! And I fucking forgot when my girlfriend came home, even though it’s all I’ve been waiting for since the moment she left! I may have known how to cope with so much stress when I was new to it, but right now I’m so.. overwhelmed. And the people I love most suffer with me. I make my loved ones hurt.”

A strong squeeze of his fingers let him fall silent. Y/N’s thumb drew over his knuckles, feeling their roughness.

“You’re the kindest man. My entire heart.”

Harry gave a grateful smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You set yourself up to be overwhelmed. You with your incapability of saying no,” Y/N laughed lightly, “I need to learn when to say no, myself. Until now I never told you how let down I felt.”

“But you shouldn’t have to. I should have some mind of myself... I won’t keep asking the world of you, I swear it. From now on, you will never feel second best, ever again. Because you never were, you were always the force that drove me to be the best person I can be... even when I’ve been a failure lately. But it ends right now and I’ll be better. You’re my heart, you’re my love. I want to show that to you, Y/N... that is, if you aren’t fed up with me yet.”

“Never,” Y/N whispered, the word holding all of the certainty she’d feared she’d lost, “I could never give up on you, Harry. You’re most important to me, you’ve always been.”

His fingers tightened around hers. Her words filled him with so much joy. Then guilt, for he hadn’t sat down to be the one who was comforted.

“Your generosity and love is more than I deserve,” he said lowly, “and I can’t put into words how grateful I am. Always have been, even when I’m shit at showing it... You are more than I ever hoped for myself to find in a person.”

More tears fell from his eyes. Hers, too. He hesitated, but the look on her face encouraged him and so het got up, walked around the table and wrapped his lover into his embrace. Y/N fisted his hair with one hand, the other held onto his shirt. Wet tears stained his neck.

“I will never let myself disappoint you again, Y/N,” Harry attempted to shush her sobs, “I love you. I’m so, so scared of ever losing you.”

“I’m a-afraid of that, too. Got pretty d-damn close, didn’t w-we?”

He nodded and pushed his face closer into her shoulder. “M’so stupid.”

Y/N breathed in his scent and basked in the feeling of his skin against hers. She’d missed him. She’d missed him while away, and far more during those dreadful past hours of uncertainty.

“If you promise,” she began, her voice quivering, “that this was the final and last time that you.. let me d-down...then-”

“It was.”

Y/N laughed weakly, “Then we’ll find a way to be okay. I’ll be alright.”

Harry cried harder and hoisted Y/N up to hold her tighter against his body. “Yeah? You can forgive m-me?”

“If you swear to me, that this was the last time that you left me feeling alone,” she said quietly against the shell of his ear, “If this never happens again. E-ever-”

“I swear it,” he cried, his smile pressing against her cheek, “I swear it on everything I have.”

“Then I can begin to forgive y-you, Harry.”

Y/N felt as relieved by her own words as he did. She hadn’t been sure if she could say and truly mean them. But she did. To her relief, promising him a second chance felt right. With a fluttering heart, she slung both arms around his neck and smiled when his lips searched her face. They brushed her cheek, her chin and finally found her own. Harry kissed them gently, hesitant and grateful, for he had feared he wouldn’t be allowed to kiss her, ever again. All night he had cried with dread and fear, as the thought of her leaving him had clouded his mind. He had believed them to be lost, not more than an hour ago. Now he had Y/N in his arms and her mouth kissing him back, with more certainty and love than he deserved. Upon pulling apart, Harry brushed the remaining tears off her cheeks. He leaned in and rubbed their noses together, delighted to hear her melodic giggle.

“Change starts r-right n-now,” he whispered, mouth meeting hers another time. Then he reached behind her and for the paper bag. Y/N’s eyes light up.

“We used to get each other little treats like these all the time,” he said, voice laced with sadness as he recalled how long ago that was, “and I thought it’s been a while.”

“Harry, oh love,” she sighed, stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

And when he kissed her again, before letting go to prepare a plate for the little cakes he’d bought, Y/N released a happy sigh. Her chest was so full, and she couldn’t help reach out and touch his back. Harry groaned, Y/N giggled again. Buying the tiny treats was a small gesture, but it reminded her of a better time. She felt silly and happy, because the small pastries gave her hope that those good times would return.

. . .

my stories

652 notes · View notes

hyu-ck · 6 years

Text

*you just really need some coffee.

Pairing: Jaehyun/Reader

Genre: Barely A Drabble // Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2k

note: this is really short and truly just light repertoire, nothing happens i just love jaehyun and coffee.

By the time you were standing outside his door you had fully convinced yourself that this was the neighbourly thing to do. Nevermind the fact that it was closing in on one in the morning, or that you were dressed in your pajamas with your hair sticking to your cheeks- your need was near desperation.

It had taken a four hour drive from the airport, roughly eight hours of unpacking, and twenty minutes of your eyes losing focus against an instruction pamphlet for you to realize that you had no coffee. It was practically criminal, ludicrous, a disgusting thought to have. This realization did not come without a sinking feeling of defeat, something you’d draw likening to being harpooned in the stomach as soon as you stepped foot on land after being lost at sea, and the boxes marked crudely in red marker as “kitchen” were effectively strewn across your wooden floors in the heat of your anguish. No luck.

You had reasoned that your pride had already vanquished from the five minutes spent close to tears while you sat in the middle of a circle of kitchen appliances as if you were about to summon Wolfgang Puck himself to brandish you a mug of caffeinated goodness, so it didn’t take much for you to pad out into the cold hallway, only soft gray socks to protect your feet and your plaid pajama bottoms dragging on the floor.

From the earlier crash and cursing (and suspicious barking) from around dinner time you were certain the apartment next door was occupied, so now your hope was more towards them neither being a killer nor void of coffee- which at this point, you weren’t sure which would be the worse outcome.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your arm to knock on the door, the oversized sleeve of your thermal shirt slipping from your shoulder ungracefully, but to your surprise to door swung open with your knuckles still inches away. In your state of fatigue the first thought you had was how disappointing it would really be if this very, very pretty boy was coffee-adverse, because to have that face and such a lack of correct thinking would be disservice to the world. The second thing you noticed was the large, happily tail-wagging puppy that sat behind him, black leash already attached and tongue too-big for its mouth.

The boy, in his own shock and surprise to find the new tenant standing sleepily outside his door, didn’t say anything and elected to rather stare blankly at you, velvet eyes wide and highlighted with dark bags almost purple enough to rival your own. He was preparing to go outside, a white knitted cap pulled over his head and pushing his bangs into his eyes, a large, navy puffer coat thrown over his own sleepwear, and his sweatpants stuffed into a pair of boots that were still untied. He cleared his throat, blinking once more, the sound finally waking you enough to drop your hand from its knocking position.

“Hello?” the boy asked slowly, furrowing his brow at you. You clicked your tongue to the roof of your mouth sheepishly, hand crawling up to your ear where you began to tug.

“Yeah- sorry,” you laughed awkwardly, “I didn’t really expect the door to open-”

“So were you planning to hover outside for the whole night, or…”

You scrunch your nose at his accusation. “No, because that would be both creepy and admittedly the worst stalking case in history.”

“There’s good cases of stalking?”

“Absolutely not, but there are better performed ones- this is besides the point.”

“Not really, I thought the point was why you were outside my door,” the boy cracked a short smiled at your disheveled appearance, and admittedly disheveled communication, watching at you tugged again at you ear lobe before dropping your hands together in a begging motion.

“I’ve come to you in a moment of great need,” you began, but he cut you off once more, dropping his shoulder tiredly into the doorframe.

“If you need dealer names go to apartment 5D, sweetheart, you’re knocking on the wrong door.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed in exasperation, dropping your hands, “What I need, is a cup of damn coffee. Please, please tell me you have something. I couldn’t care less what Mr. 5D is smoking.”

The boy choked on a laugh, looking into your wide, despaired eyes. “You should’ve just asked in the first place.”

“Okay, you’re the one who stilted that from happening- accusing me of stalking.”

“Poor stalking. Also you brought up stalkation first.”

“Stalkation isn’t a word and that’s purely semantics.”

“Do you want coffee or not?” The boy asked, pushing off the doorway finally, letting you peer past the intrigued pet and into the boy’s open floor plan. It was the mirrored opposition of your apartment, though yours much much less warm and orderly. Your kitchens were back to back through the wall they shared, bright white subway tiles breaking up the distance between the cabinets and slate countertops. A large, dark gray couch was in front of a t.v., practically hidden beneath blankets and pillows. Photos were strewn about the walls, a couple of painting that shared the same signature, and finally, in the corner of the room was a stack of books about five feet tall and three feet wide ranging from YA Literature and Anatomy textbooks.

Your eyes drifted back to the boy, to his sleepy countenance and his state of winter dress.

“Weren’t you about to go somewhere…?” you asked him, staring pointedly at the knee-height husky puppy before you, the one obediently sitting to the side.

“Oh!” he said, turning to the pup, “Here- you can wait inside while I run Tolkien out.”

“No, it’s fine I can just wait-”

“You’ll start to freeze in this hallway, really it’s okay. I’ll notice if you steal something anyway.”

“So first I’m a bad stalker now I’m a bad thief?” you playfully cry, slipping past his outstretched arm and into the much warmer space of his home. As you stepped further inside the scent of hot chocolate and fresh vanilla wrapped around you thickly, reminding you of a bakery in your hometown.

“You’re strangely adamant about your criminal ability,” he said, whistling under his breath to move Tolkien from his spot on the ground, the mound of white and gray fur bumbling forward after his owner’s strides.

“It keeps people on their toes.”

“Cute,” the boy muttered, hand on the doorknob, “My name’s Jaehyun, by the way, and there’s coffee in the farthest right cabinet, I hope you know how to take it from there.”

“I’m Y/N! You’re a lifesaver, Jaehyun!” you called after the closing door, quickly turning as it clicked shut to half sprint towards the aforementioned cabinet. You pulled it open and were awed by the array before you, multiple bags and canisters of anywhere from dark to light roasts, from cherry smoked and chocolate walnut. You breathed in deeply, practically feeling a burst of energy rush through your veins as your fingers flitted over the foiled packages. You picked a simple pecan roast, something you had had before and enjoyed thoroughly, sliding over towards the coffee maker.

Your fingers hovered over the fancy contraption, uncertain of how to operate anything past your classic at-home coffee pot, one with a brew button and not much else. Just as you stood, clasping the bag of coffee grounds to your chest and pouting at the blinking purple lights, the door reopened.

“Got it going?” Jaehyun calls to your turned back, and you could hear him unclipping Tolkien and hanging the leash, the loud scuttle of over-sized paws coming towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you pouted, facing Jaehyun and letting the puppy nudged and sniff your hand.

“I didn’t even chuckle.”

“Yet.”

“No trust, sweetheart, no trust,” he sighed, shaking his head and walking to you. He had hung his coat beside the dog leash, now just wearing an old basketball hoodie. He pulls the hat from his head and tosses it beside the coffee maker, ruffling his hands through his hair before leaning down to peer at the machine.

“See the large button in the middle? Yeah the one that says brew-”

“Let me reiterate: don’t laugh and don’t be a little shit.”

“What happened to being a ‘lifesaver’?”

“I have the coffee in hand now, and the doors only a few strides away,” you say seriously, hugging the bag tighter to your chest.

“Hey, I paid good money for that.”

“I know the brand, this is maybe five dollars.”

“Students loans,” Jaehyun counters, taking the coffee from you and prepping the maker, “There’s some mugs in the cabinet beside the one where the coffee was.”

You nod, sliding in your socks back towards the cabinets and scrutinizing your choices. There wasn’t any two mugs that looked alike, a quirk you were fairly familiar with considering the pyramid stack of mugs on your countertop right now. You settled on the two largest ones you could see, one pale yellow and striped across the middle in a brilliant red, the other taller and a sea green with a drawing of a seal on it. You set them beside the gurgling pot and rested your head on your palms, watching the dark liquid gather.

“You know,” Jaehyun smiled, “My mother always said you could tell true love by someone’s eyes, and before today, I’d never knew what she meant.”

You grin slowly. “What can I say? Coffee never fails to satisfy.”

“Well, I could think of another way- ow!”

“I liked your mouth better when it was calling me a criminal.”

Jaehyun shrugged, and you could tell he was only kidding, his hair still falling in his eyes. “I’m hurt.”

“That’s usually what an elbow to the stomach does, yeah.”

A loud beeping drew a happy squeal from your chest, and you watched in excitement as Jaehyun poured you a steaming cup. He hands it over to you, your hands cupping around the yellow mug.

“You’re going to burn your tongue- creamer?” he opened the refrigerator, pulling out what seemed to be a cinnamon flavored creamer, the packaging new.

“It’s a worthy sacrifice,” you spoke into the mug, trying to blow as much cool air over the surface of the drink, “And no thanks, right now I just want this in me.”

“If I’m not allowed to make jokes you aren’t allowed to set them up.”

Jaehyun shook his head as he poured creamer into his own mug with a heavy hand, the near black color slowly melting into a burnt cream.

“Maybe you should just get your head out of the gutter, Jaehyun.”

“Sorry, can’t,” he took a sip from his mug, leaning up against the sink, “One of the side effects of male puberty, I think it slowly wears off with age.”

You snort. “I’d argue it only gets worse.”

“You sound certain about that.”

“One of the downsides to having a predominantly male family, I suppose.”

“So not a boyfriend?”

You shake your head, finally risking a drink of your coffee. And holy fuck, was it hot.

“If so,” you comment, feeling a numb burn dance on the roof of your mouth, “He probably wouldn’t be much older than you.”

“You don’t know how old I am, Y/N.”

“You said ‘Student Loans’ not five minutes ago,” you laugh, setting your cup down to pull yourself onto Jaehyun’s countertop. Normally you wouldn’t be so laxadisal around a new person, but your sleep-clogged brain had little to know reason for social courtesy.

“Fine, if your so sure how old am I?”

“Twenty….two?”

“Twenty one.”

You roll your eyes. “Basically the same thing.”

“But they aren’t, and I’m going to guess...twenty.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him. “Just a few weeks ago, actually.”

“I’d never had guessed,” he smiled knowingly at you.

“You literally just did.”

“It’s an expression.”

You smile into your coffee, forgoing mouth care and diving back in, happy to find it only mildly-scalding now.

“I really do appreciate this, Jaehyun, I was certain I was going to go insane with a cup of coffee for another ten minutes.”

Jaehyun chuckled, nudging the now resting Tolkien with his foot. “Don’t thank me, thank Tolkien. You’re lucky I was awake.”

“Apparently planning on staying awake,” you nodded to his mug before dropping to the ground in front of Tolkien, rubbing softly behind his ears to say thank-you.

“I figured I could help a desperate neighbor in need.”

“Do you know how to put together bookshelves?”

FIN.

196 notes · View notes

oflaertes · 5 years

Note

kat & lawrence - pacific rim au

Lawrence Vernon hasn’t gone into the drift in over half a decade.

Back then, he’d been unstoppable. He and his sister had never been an expected pair, had never been the kind of siblings that people thought would be able to take on a Kaiju and win. It had been a shock to the entire nation when the Capulets and the Montagues, the notorious San Francisco mobs that basically ran the western half of the United States, had come together and formed a super powered Jaeger program. The Golden Gate bridge fell in 2013, and two weeks later the mobs came together to work with the US government to figure out a way to fight against future attacks. A year later the Jaeger program was born, and while Alvise Vernon wasn’t one of the first pilots to step foot in a Jaeger, he’s one of the first test subjects for the pons system that would power later Marks of the Jaegers.

The world holds its breath when Alvise Vernon first steps into the drift with Cosimo Capulet. They don’t breath again until Charlie Tango is launched and they watch as the Jaeger takes Ragnarok down with a sword through his abdomen.

But then 2016 comes, and both pilots are diagnosed with cancer.

Alvise Vernon died two weeks before they found a treatment, little black capsules that, if taken regularly, would hold the doors closed to Death.

And so he died.

Lawrence Venon had already been two years into his training at the Jaeger academy, twenty-one years old with a pension for strategy and tactics that no one was surprised by. Everyone foresaw the Vernon boy joining ranks. It was in his blood, written into the very marrow of his bones; from the day his father had joined the Jaeger program everyone knew that his son would follow suit.

No one saw Odessa Vernon coming, Lawrence least of all.

But then Alvise Vernon had died, and something in his little sister shifted. She’s seventeen when Alvise dies, and when she turns eighteen four weeks later, no one on the planet can stop her from joining the Jaeger academy. At first Lawrence was angry, with himself most of all for not being able to stop her, but then he started training with her, vowing that if she was going to be there then he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that she was ready, that she was the best. Then the unthinkable became obvious to the entire program: the Vernon siblings were drift compatible. Where he denied his heart at every turn, Odessa thrived on hers. They were opposites in so many ways, but complimented each other perfectly, and they brought the same kinds of weight into the drift with them, and when the Mark-3 Sierra Zulu gets launched with the pair of them inside, they’re unstoppable.

But then Reckoner comes through the breach, the first category three, and everything changes. Sierra Zulu shoves a nuclear first through Reckoner’s eye, and when she disappears below the waves moves to save the fishing boat nearby from being drowned in the tides. Reckoner’s signature never died, but coms were knocked out in the fight and when she surged up from the water, Sierra Zulu never saw her coming. She sunk her jaws into Sierra’s right, and Lawrence felt his sister die in the drift when she got ripped from the Jaeger. Lawrence piloted Sierra on his own after that, shoving another nuclear blast through Reckoner so strong a hole blasted through her neck, severing head from body.

They find Lawrence two days later, on the coast of Alaska, near dead, and he vows to never step foot in a Jaeger again. So Lawrence Vernon becomes a myth among pilots, a kind of legend.

But then Cosimo Capulet flies a helicopter into his work zone and stands before him in a peacoat, telling his former partner’s son that he needs him. With soot in his lungs and fire in his blood, Lawrence steps on the helicopter and can’t bring himself to look back.

And a legend becomes blood again.

What he doesn’t expect is Katarina du Pont. When he steps off the helicopter onto the military base on Russia’s Kamchatka Peninsula and sees her there, he feels his heart skip a beat, and when Cosimo introduces her and she says to Cosimo in fast Russian “Я ожидал чего-то лучшего.” I expected something better. It’s clear she expects he won’t be able to understand.

So Lawrence just grins for a moment, then says “Я полна сюрпризов.”

I’m full of surprises.

He likes it better when he realizes that’s true of her, too.

He thinks it must be a mistake when he hears that she’s not stepped foot in a Jaeger, when one of the few other pilots in the programs tells him that Capulet refuses to let her anywhere near one of the actual machines. She tells him that she’s had 76 kills for 76 drops in the simulations, and his grin is devilish at her arched eyebrow.

She’s daring him to question her.

And he’s always loved a challenge.

It’s why, when he fights against candidate after candidate of her choosing and won against each of them, he digs his nails into the top of his staff and stares up at her from the training mat and says “How about you and I give it a try.”

Her eyebrows rise up, and he can see her trying to cage her grin.

Cosimo moves to say something, but she beats him to it. “You couldn’t handle it if you tried, pretty boy.”

“I just beat all six of the candidates you chose,” he says with a laugh, shaking his head incredulously.

“And you could have beat them all three moves sooner.”

At that Lawrence’s own eyebrows raise. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Then show me,” he says, and is only mildly surprised when Cosimo immediately looks angry.

“No,” he says quickly, grasping his hands in front of his person and shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. “You’ll stick to the list we came up with, Ranger. Only candidates who showed drift compatibility can–”

“Which I have,” she says sharply, voice quiet but Lawrence can hear her all the same.

“What’s the matter, Capulet? Afraid I’ll beat her?”

Lawrence knows he’s beaten Cosimo the moment he issued the challenge. He and Alvise had always been the same that way–they could never handle their power being questioned, and Katarina is an extension of his.

“Go,” he says, his jaw tight, taking the tablet from her hands. He sees her whisper something else in her ear, but he can’t quite make it out. The set to Kat’s jaw when she steps down from their observation position though makes him wonder what it was.

But in the end it doesn’t matter, because his last opponent is hanging over his staff to the woman and she’s slipping her combat boots off her feet first, then her socks. He watches her slowly unbutton the blue shirt she’s wearing, and if this were any other moment Lawrence think’s he’d have liked to step up to her and help her with them, crash his lips against her own until neither could tell where the other ends, but this is about something more, something bigger than either of them, and when she slips it off her shoulders to reveal the black tank top beneath Lawrence has pushed any such thoughts already out of his mind. When they both step forwards, matching each other stride for stride and keeping eye contact, he finally speaks again.

“Remember it’s all about conversation,” he says, watching as she steps to his right shoulder and then they are stepping past each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he keeps his gaze always on her, trying to lock his mind into her own. “This isn’t a fight; the goal isn’t about winning or losing.” He turns then so that they’re fully facing one another again, this time from the opposite ends of the mat. “That said, I’m not going to hold back my moves, so keep up.”

He watches her tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear then, wonders what’s hiding behind her smile. “Worry about your own head, princess,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “I don’t need you holding anything back.”

And then they’re dancing, his brows knit in careful concentration. Sweat glistens on his brown skin, and he can feel it catching on the fabric of his own dark tank top. He twists his own staff in a fast circle over top his head, wrists twisting and he sees her smirk slightly, catching her own staff as it nearly cracks down towards his arm. It’s all instinct then, watching her as she moves lightening quick, spinning in a quick circle to try and catch him with the staff time and time again. He catches her almost every time, blocking her when she moves to strike at his left leg, then again when she nearly catches him at his side. She stops him when he ducks and rolls and almost comes up to catch her in the abdomen. It’s an excruciating minute before he finally finds his first opening, his staff hovering just in front of her face as she moves to twist the staff at her side.

“1-0,” he says, cocking his head to the side.

She gets him back quicker than the flash of a whip, striking her staff out from its position at her side to nearly catch him in his side. He stops her initially, but her anger and his now glowing pride work together to gain her a foothold. This time it is a mirror image, with his staff about to move to strike at her side while her’s sits neatly in the air, just between his eyes.

“1-1,” she says, and somewhere in his chest he thinks his pride has only grown, not shrunk.

When she pulls her staff perfectly parallel to the ground and takes a step back, giving them each half a second to breathe and find their footing, he’s still smiling.

He’s glad when he sees that she is too.

But then he drops his smile for a second, striking out just as quickly as she had the second go around and knocking his staff into her right side. “2-1,″ he voices, the expression in his eyes clear. Never trust your opponent. He takes his own step backwards, and speaks again. “Concentrate.”

Then he winks, and he thinks it almost makes her laugh.

If she’d been winning, he thinks it would have.

They move at the exact same moment this time, each of them throwing a blow at the same time as the other, striking out each other with viciousness and candor, neither holding anything back. They are both lightning fast, spinning around each other and their staffs, one stepping back while the other steps forwards, then back the other direction, matching each other blow for blow, move for move. No one is sure for a second when they stop moving who has gotten the point, then they see Kat’s staff in the space between Lawrence’s thighs, and they know she could have slit his femoral artery in a heartbeat if they’re been fighting with blades.

“2-2,” she says, finally almost laughing, a chuckle escaping her throat as she tilts her head slightly, a taunting grin making its way to her cheeks. “I thought you said you weren’t going to hold anything back?”

Lawrence’s doesn’t reply, just shifts back a step into another starting position, with his staff tight to his side while he watches her shift into one of her own. The staff is extended slightly in front of her, hands in the perfect spot for handling it near to her body, so when she strikes he does so from a distance, using a single hang to deliver his strikes, spinning around so that he can keep her at arms length and match her blows this way. It’s a different style to the one he’d been using for the first half of the fight; he’s intentionally trying to throw her off, to see if she will be able to read him the way he thinks he’s starting to be able to read her.

She rises to the occasion.

Lawrence may be fast, and he may be skilled, but he’s thrilled to see that Kat is too. She arches to strike again, this time slamming her weapon down with the strength of a girl twice her size, but it slows her down a hair’s breath and he’s able to catch her staff with his own, pulling it towards him with both hands until she’s forced to roll to the mat and come up on one knee––his staff to her neck.

“3-2,” he says, his eyes alight.

“Контроль,” he hears from over his shoulder, and sees the way the fire in her eyes dims a notch. Control, he’d said. Just a single word, barely a breath, but it changed her entire demeanor.

He allows her to rise to a stand, but is quickly forced to throw himself to the side when she doesn’t wait so long to throw the next blow, rolling over his shoulder on the mat himself this time, careful to use his staff to help him come to a standing position the way he hadn’t allowed her to when he flipped her. He’s got his back to her for a half-second when he rises, but he can already sense the blow coming and he arches backwards so that the staff flies over the top of him. He spins quickly around, trying to get another blow in, but he steps to her and she steps to him and where he has the tactical mind, she has him in speed.

“3-3,” she says, her staff between his eyes again.

Then they’re dancing again, staffs cracking against each other blow after blow, like thunder claps against a dark sky. He can’t hear the audience crowded around the mat anymore, and the entire world has narrowed to this–to him and Katarina du Pont as she rears back to strike again and again, thrusting her staff upwards to try and catch him in the neck, spinning it over her head and low to the ground, forcing him to jump. She catches him perfectly and nearly gets a strike in when she flips him over her back, but he’s learned her speed and he rolls away when she flips him to the ground. He hears her staff smack against the ground where he was only half a second ago, and he’s almost smiling when he rolls to a stand and strikes out at her. They trade blows, staffs cracking against each other, the noise ringing around them like some kind of song.

This, he thinks, is what magic tastes like.

Blood and sweat, and the knowledge that you’re understood.

The final move comes when he swings his staff out to catch her neck and she bends her knees and ducks, jutting her staff out between his legs again and swinging it around to meet her other hand. She pulls it back towards her and forces his right knee to bend while she slides to the floor between his legs, rolling until she is kneeling again on one knee––with him deadlocked on the ground.

“4-3,” she says, her chest heaving with exhaustion as much as Lawrence’s own.

“That’s enough,” Cosimo Capulet says from somewhere that feels very far away, and when Katarina releases him and then extends a hand towards him to help him stand again, he thinks his father’s former co-pilot has it just right.

She’s not just enough.

She’s everything.

#katarinadupont #katherine #meme answers.#THIS IS SIDNEYS FUCKING FAULT #SHE KNOWS PACIFIC RIM IS MY /BIGGEST WEAKNESS

4 notes · View notes

blackboard-monitor · 6 years

Text

11 questions tag

thanks for tagging me, @books-are-portals :)

1. First thing that comes to mind when you hear the word “waffles”? this

2. Have you ever knitted anything? What was it? i’ve knitted a number of scarves, including two 4th Doctor scarves that were six and four metres long, respectively. in middle school i knitted a bolero thing with a knitting machine, and a few years ago i knew how to make the heel of a sock for about three months, during which time i made a number of socks. pretty sure i’ve also knitted a couple of hats at some point

3. What’s been the weirdest book you’ve enjoyed? i mean, aren’t most discworld books pretty damn weird by most standards? :D Waters Rising by Sheri S. Tepper was also kind of weird as i recall

4. Pick a random book from your shelf and recommend a film based on that book. idk if you mean that the film is based on the specific book, or just that the recommendation is, but i’m gonna interpret it the first way and recommend the 2013 Great Gatsby movie cause it’s very pretty and i think pretty true to the book

5. Top 5 clothing items. that i own? uhh a sweater i got in ireland, a different sweater that’s a turtleneck, pants that are Extra™ af, my btvs tank top, and the robes i made for my lup cosplay obviously

6. Name the first song that comes to your mind based on your current read. Why that song? cheating and naming the last book i finished rather than what i’m reading right now. the book is An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green and the song is Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen and the reason is that the song plays a role in the book :D

7. Would you rather visit the Moon or Mars? is neither an option? i don’t think i’d fare particularly well in space, considering i get nauseous on a swing. but the moon, i guess, if i had to pick, since it’s a lot closer at least

8. What’s your favourite scent? lavender. also a particular way the air smells sometimes that reminds me of japan. and also the smell of this medicine stuff we use when massaging injuries in kung fu

9. What’s the last thing you ate? Was it good? salt and vinegar chips, and of course it was :D

10. Name 3 positive things you’re good at. i make good art most of the time, i’m a quick study when it comes to learning a new software, i can bullshit a good essay even when i have only a very vague

11. What’s the strangest word from your first language(s)? oh come on, finnish has so many weird words, i can’t do this :D lämpimämpi is pretty weird i guess

i’m not tagging anyone cause i don’t feel like thinking of new questions, sorry

#answered #me

2 notes · View notes

avengeultrons · 7 years

Text

Title: Soulmates (Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Bucky Barnes is the reader’s soulmate; they’ll make it out together. Even if it takes seventy years.

Word Count: 1466

Warnings: Angst, cursing, mentions of captivity

A/N: YAY THE POWER CAME BACK ON JUST AS I WAS TURNING IN FOR THE NIGHT! I just had to put this up. Ugh, my heart!! I hope you enjoy! :)

PART 2

There were people that came into your life that you believed were meant to be there. Soulmates is what you remembered they were called.

James Buchanan Barnes was your soulmate.

From walking the streets of Brooklyn with him and your best friend Steve, to being stuck with him on a HYDRA base practically going through Hell together. You were there for each other, in some odd way.

You were there for him when he was basically thrown into his cell next to you, gasping from the immense pain he was in. You'd scoot across the cold metal flooring of your own cell and curl up next to the wall closest to him. Trying your best to comfort him, you began talking. Talking about your future outside of HYDRA, telling him funny stories of ice cream and movies back home in Brooklyn. Anything to comfort him and take his mind off of what was going on.

You could hear his breathing slow while a light smile made its way to your face, and you would fall asleep that way; imagining that Bucky was still lying next to the wall in a light slumber, as close to you as he could possibly get with the cold wall in between the two of you.

Bucky was there for you, too.

The guards would yell profanities at you while they dragged you to and from your cell every day, but you would have to hold it together. At least until you stumbled into your sleeping quarters and could let the tears fall freely down your cheeks. You hurt; both physically and mentally. Overall; you were done. You wanted out.

“Hey,” Bucky must've heard the sobs you let escape your lips, for his quiet and soft voice filled your ears, “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” you mumbled from your curled up spot on the creaky bed, even if you totally weren't ‘fine’. He knew that, too. Neither of you were ever really ‘fine’ here.

“Look, I found a way to see you,” his voice suddenly sounded excited, followed by the sounds of metal clanking and moving.

You stepped off of your bed and crawled over to the hole suddenly made in your wall, light from Bucky’s cell flooding your room. Your hands suddenly began to sweat and your stomach knotted; you hadn't actually seen his face in so long.

Crouching down to be eye level with the mouse sized slit in the wall, your eyes welled with tears. There he was.

Somehow; a smile was on Bucky’s face. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he saw you, “You're okay,” he said. You nodded for your mouth was open but no words were coming out, “I can actually see you, you're okay.”

“Well, you look horrible,” you finally choked out a response, which made a laugh bubble up in Bucky’s chest. He hadn’t laughed in forever; but what you said, as terrible and true it was, was the comic relief he needed.

You smiled and, somehow, a laugh escaped your lips as well. As if it was second nature, you reached your hand out as far as you could to him, “Give me your hand.”

Bucky took your fingers and interlaced them with his as best as he could, “We will get through this, Y/N.”

You'd been through Hell and back but you knew you'd get through it, together. You still believed in it, even when you were moved to a new base and Bucky was left behind. Even when you woke up in a totally different century with someone next to you that you hadn't seen in ages, you still believed it.

“Y/N? Oh, God,” your old friend Steve Rogers crushed you in a hug, his arms tangling in the cords plugged into you and the countless beeping machines next to you. You gasped as you saw him; not only was he aging great, but he was alive.

“Bucky?” his name was the first thing you said, and it made the room’s energy drop immensely. Everyone shared nervous glances between each other while Steve squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“We’re out searching for him every day,” he said.

It felt like eons and eons of time had gone by before you got a call on a new piece of technology entitled a “cell phone” from Steve. Bucky was here at the Avengers facility.

You practically sprinted down the hall in your socks, slipping and sliding on the slick floor until you bumped into Steve who was still in the process of hanging up the phone.

“How long has he been here? Is he okay? When can I see him?” you gripped onto his forearms tightly, trying to hold yourself still from the sudden excitement bubbling up inside you.

“We brought him in a couple days ago, he's okay. The medics had to evaluate him, but you should be able to see him soon,” he laughed at your jitteriness, sliding his phone into his back pocket.

“A couple of days ago?” you scoffed at him, leaning back against the wall to wait for the signal that you could see him.

“Sorry, I couldn't tell you. They knew you'd want to see him immediately,” he shrugged, looking over his shoulder as the door suddenly opened behind him and Steve’s friend and accomplice Sam stepped out.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked Steve, looking between you and him with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“I'm sure!” you shouted, stepping in front of Steve before he could keep you from seeing Bucky any longer.

It had been so long. Apparently; longer than you had realized. Years and years. The only image you had of him was a hazy and pieced together with memories from your childhood and time together at the HYDRA Base. It was a dream Bucky; a blurry faced Bucky in your mind that you had remembered for all of those years.

“Let's go,” Steve urged, giving you the nudge forward that you didn't know you needed. You were extremely nervous all of a sudden; stepping into the doorway caused a wave of anxiety to rush through you. All of the what-ifs started to fill your head and make you feel queasy and lightheaded.

“He's right over here,” Sam gave an exasperated sigh and gestured for you and Steve to follow him.

“Y/N, there's something you need to know before just barging in on him-,” Steve said cautiously, almost as if he were tiptoeing around you to find the correct wording.

You cut him off by rolling your eyes and ran up to the makeshift hospital bed Bucky was sitting in, his legs folded under him as he scribbled away in a small journal.

Two things were different about him; One, he had grown his hair out quite a bit since you last saw him. It hung in front of his eyes, covering up a good portion of his face, and two, he had a damn metal arm.

How much time had passed since you had seen him last?

“Bucky? Buck, it's me,” you said with a wide smile, tears stinging the back of your eyes. The two of you had actually made it out, together. Even if it took seventy years.

He looked over at you in a puzzled manner, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Your heart was beating rapidly as he did so; maybe he just needed someone to jog his memory a bit.

“James, it's me. It’s Y/N,” you said breathlessly, reaching for his hand like you had done so many times before. His eyes were wide with confusion as you did so, pulling his hand out of your reach.

Tears spilled over now as you looked at him in disbelief. Steve sighed and gave you a sympathetic look from the corner he was observing from, “He doesn't remember much, Y/N. I'm sorry,” he said. You nodded curtly, twisting your hands together nervously.

“Am I supposed to know you?” when he spoke, his voice dripped with guilt and sorrow. It made your heart break over and over again. Your stomach dropped as he said those words; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Imagining what they did to him that made him completely forget everyone in his life made your head spin and tears spill over even more.

“I-I don't...Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping your cheeks with the heel of your hand. Steve wrapped an arm around you tightly, he was practically holding you up at this point. Your legs felt weak and jelly-like, you'd fall at any moment.

“He’ll remember, Y/N,” Steve said reassuringly. You nodded; you had to believe him. Having faith and hope was what got you through everything in the past and that's what you'd need now more than ever.

221 notes · View notes