#I really want an official one but they don’t print them anymore and they only have small left 😞

[are-we-really-doing-this]

Y’all motherfuckers was really gonna let our special guy’s birthday get away from me??? SHAME-

[bothoutsiders]

Bruce: You seem happy with Jason.

Tim: My husband is a better man then most would have him out to be.

Bruce: He's a dangerous man.

Tim: Bruce, you are a dangerous man. Superman, your best friend, is a dangerous man. As the late Ra's al Ghul will tell you, I am dangerous. Life is dangerous. Only death is free of risk. And I'm in no hurry to be safe.

hey, anon! thanks for the request and i apologize for taking so long. i was unsure of how to take this so i did something different and made it in third-person but bruce's pov. hope it's alright :)

--

It was true, all of them were indeed dangerous but that was not the point. Tim had done something he didn’t approve of. He dared to break the rules, to take control of his own life and make his own awful mistakes. He did something terrible, something that Bruce never planned out for him.

Perhaps it was all Bruce’s fault. He had failed as a mentor, as a role model but he had thought it was just a phase.

He had pretended he didn’t know what had been happening behind his back. That he didn’t notice when Tim didn’t come back home to sleep or that there was peace in the streets. No violent killings from Red Hood.

‘They might be getting along.’ A silly thought that crossed his mind a long time ago. ‘Tim might be good for Jason. Might convince him to stop killing.’ Or perhaps a way to have a leash on Jason.

One thing was to fix him, another one was to marry him. What was Tim even thinking?!

And the sole thought of it made his blood boil. The anger and frustration building up inside of him. His intention was to play nice, to not be so direct and harsh, but Tim wasn’t making things easy for him.

“He is still a criminal, Tim. He uses violence and he’s unstable. There is no bright future by his side.” His patience had run thin by now but it was very hard for Bruce to keep quiet. To not show how this bothered him.

“We all are criminals. We use violence and you in particular are very unstable. There’s no bright future for me here. I’m always under your rules, your opinions, your tricks. You’re always making decisions for me, even when I’m not looking. You placed people in my way for a purpose and you push away others if you don’t like them.” He shoved the last item inside his bag. “Once you couldn’t fix your relationship with Jason, once he stopped accepting your orders, you threw him away as if he meant nothing.”

No, no, no. Why couldn't he just accept things?! Why couldn't Tim just see things his way and stop trying to be something he was not?!

“That’s not true. You know I tried.”

“You never really tried. If you did, you would’ve done things differently. But you never did, Bruce.” He slung his backpack over one shoulder. “I’m done with you.”

Before Tim could walk out of his old bedroom at the mansion, Bruce hit the doorway with his fist, blocking the way. He was going mad and desperate. He might have wanted Tim to react, to get him angry and throw insults back at each other, to give Bruce a reason to hurt him, to make him feel bad. But nothing was going the way he wanted.

Tim wasn’t playing his game anymore. He was in control of his own feelings while Bruce wasn’t.

“You’re in my way.” His face was serious and even seemed to be already bored of this. Gritting his teeth, Bruce finally pulled away, letting Tim walk away.

He remembered the day that things got worse. Officially worse.

It was on the news, on the radio, printed on paper. It was everywhere and while Bruce wanted to ignore it, to pretend he knew nothing about it, it was simply impossible to run away from what the whole city was talking about.

It was not in his hands.

Bruce immediately left to the Watchtower, not wanting to hear or see more of it. He would rather focus on some international work than being reminded of what they have done.

When he arrived the first thing he saw was the huge screen on. Barry and Hal were already there, watching the news of Gotham city because of course they would use it for anything other than work.

“Care to turn that off?”

“I didn’t know little Tim got married, congrats!”

“Uhm… Hal– no–” Barry tried to interrupt while he turned the screen off immediately.

“I didn’t know he was marrying Jason though. Not judging, I’m just glad they are being a pain in the ass for you. I’ve heard about how Jason isn’t welcome at your place.” He sat down and rolled his chair toward Barry. “Not sure why he bans people who hate him though. Not like we are interested in going there.”

The thought of talking to Tim crossed his mind many times. He thought he still had time to nullify his marriage but his relationship with him wasn't that good anymore. Things happened and honestly Bruce never did much to fix what broke between them. He always thought Tim would see, eventually, that he meant good and he did care about him in his own way. He didn't know how to open up, how to be a proper mentor but he had good intentions and that should be more than enough.

Talking to Jason wasn’t in his options. He knew it wouldn't help at all. Jason was already broken and angry. While Bruce might see a glimpse in him of that small and good kid he used to be, Bruce knew it was impossible to make him understand. To convince him to make this right.

Jason was a lost case.

He could pay someone to invalidate the marriage, to make it disappear. He could do something and bring back Tim, to go back to the way things used to be. His mind was quick to make many different plans, to think about the outcome of every single one of them… But nothing seemed to have the ending he wanted.

Completely furious at this chain of events, Bruce took the clock on Tim’s bedside table and smashed it against the wall. While it had broken and there was no way of fixing it, it didn’t help. He didn’t feel any better. In a desperate need to take out his anger, he did the same with a book within reach. He threw it against the window and shattered the glass with it.

Nothing was going to change because of it, and he knew it, but he wanted to release his anger, show how upset it made him. How he wasn’t okay with what Tim and Jason had done. They had definitely done this to bother him.

He paused for a moment, mind going back to the options he had, because he wasn’t going to let this go that easy. Just then he heard the sound of some laughter and a bike.

Making sure no one from the outside would be able to see him, Bruce moved to the window, curious about what was going on downstairs. Just then, he saw them.

Both of them were there, smiling and laughing. Tim wrapped his arms around Jason, and once ready, they drove away.

The sight of them only left a bitter taste in his mouth.

[ofliterarynature]

AUGUST 2023 WRAP UP

[ loved liked okay no thanks DNF (reread) bookclub*]

Witch Week | A Perilous Undertaking | 2 AM At the Cat's Pajamas | The Last Sun | The Lives of Christopher Chant | The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo* | (The Angel of the Crows) | The Enchanted April | The Art of Prophecy | A Curious Beginning | Q's Legacy | The Grimoire of Grave Fates | Charmed Life | Ocean's Echo | (Band Sinister) | (Unfit to Print) | Camp Damascus | Wanted, A Gentleman | Translation State | The Mistress of Bhatia House

I’m late I’m late I’m late! Oops

It’s only a month late, right? ‘Only’ lol, work has been exhausting! Anyways:

At this point I wonder if Ann Leckie can ever do wrong, Translation State was good! I was completely enthralled, which is all I ask, even if I don’t get as passionate about it as the main trilogy.

I continued the KJ Charles reading, with these supposed stand alones that are also kind of related? Honestly it’s no less of a stretch than Society of Gentlemen to Lilywhite Boys, so I don’t know why she can’t officially list them together. Anyways, mostly fine, and Band Sinister is still a delight!

Camp Damascus…I’m thrilled for Chuck, really, and I think he’s a delight to follow, but this one wasn’t for me. Religious trauma is turning out to be a hard no.

Ocean’s Echo was good! In some ways I definitely thought it was better than Winter’s Orbit - miscommunication is the worst I’m sorry, this story was more consistently engaging! I just like the characters from WO a bit more.

Chrestomanci! I’ve been going by the suggested reading order on Goodreads, and while I wasn’t particularly enthused by Charmed Life, once I had a grasp on the world the other books have been fun! Im very sad this might be my last DWJ, as I seem to have exhausted my library’s collection of her audiobooks :(

Grimoire of Grave Fates had a really interesting premise that lured me in, despite my reservations - an anthology where all the stories work together to solve the mystery of a murder at a magic boarding school? I thought it worked fairly well (and could definitely spin itself out into a series of novels), but just ok for me. Maybe one day I’ll finally concede I can’t read YA or boarding school books anymore.

Q’s Legacy was the last (I think) of the 84 Charing Cross Road books, and honestly the worst. It had its interesting moments, but it lacked the cohesion of the other two, speed,-running the before and during of those stories, to then spend the second half on the adaptations. It was not at all what the descriptions led me to expect. Maybe worth a single read but not a revisit.

I will also be honest, I didn’t really like the first Veronica Speedwell! The plot felt a bit contrived, and Veronica was so blunt as to almost read as rude or mean. Also very unexpectedly…clinically horny? Does that make sense? I’m not quite sure what prompted me to continue, but I’m now several books in and enjoying it! To be blunt myself, the historic setting is just set dressing, the plots can feel contrived, the mysteries are mediocre, but the real draw is the Veronica and Stoker show once they get themselves settled in and comfortable with each other. It’s a hoot.

I’d heard good things about The Art of Prophecy, but I still didn’t know quite what to expect going in. It was wonderful. Maybe a little long, but if you’re looking for a fantastic fantasy with lots of fight sequences, no romance, and some fascinating characters, this is a great read. The sequel comes out soon and I can only hope it doesn’t take as long for my library to get the audiobook as it did for this one.

I don’t know where I first found An Enchanted April, but it’s been on my TBR for a little bit, and I thought it would be the perfect fit for my classics challenge I gave myself this year! It wasn’t what I expected at all - it’s entirely character driven and very focused on their flaws, and the entire first half I thought I was going to hate it. But the second half, there’s a twist, almost, born of some very  naïve optimism that nonetheless works out. Very improbably, but I was happy for them, you funky little weirdos. 

What can I say about The Angel of the Crows except that it is still very good! It’s maybe lost a little of the shine it held when I got obsessed with it for a few months last year, but it is definitely now one of my comfort books. I really ought to read more canon Holmes though lol.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo was, to be fair, one of my suggestions for book club. It was OK, but there were definitely parts that really did not work for me, the frame narrative in particular. The other members of the club really liked it but I don’t have any plans to read more of the authors work.

I’m almost tempted to put The Last Sun last just so I can yell more. I’d heard such good things about this series, but turns out my expectations were a bit skewed - it is not historical or secondary fantasy world, oops. So we got off to a bit of a rough start, not to mention all of the Capital Words. Not usually a good sign. And while I still wouldn’t say I love the worldbuilding necessarily, or that these are the next great work of fantasy, the action is really great, and the characters are flipping fantastic. You’ve got a pair of 30 year olds who are bad ass fighters, have a traumatic past, are immature assholes, can be so so kind, and accidentally adopt a posse of troubled teenagers? Sign me up, I love them, this reminds me so much of my days reading tons of Teen Wolf fanfic AUs.

My history with 2 AM At the Cat's Pajamas is that they cannot stop recommending this thing on the Book Riot podcasts. When I found a copy at Goodwill, I thought surely it’s meant to be! Well. It was not bad, but it was not great. I don’t know. It just wasn’t for me and I will not be keeping my copy. I probably should have DNF’d it, but I continued in hope.

Only one actual DNF this month though, The Mistress of Bhatia House - the newest Perveen Mistri book. I was actually fairly excited for it despite my reservations about the earlier books, but I hit a mental roadblock with this one. There was some contrived feeling tension with her sister-in-law, but really, I realized that one of my main problems with this series is that, despite being in a very precarious social position, Perveen is just incredibly reckless - usually in the name of doing good! - but it just hit all the wrong nerves at the moment. I’m hoping there will be a better time to read this, but not right now. 

[lacomandante]

         I’ve been working on a really big gift for Assumpta that I plan on giving her when I see her, and that’s a USB with almost all of her films and shows from the start of her career to 1995. I’ve spent the last six years hunting down and finding everything that I could of hers, and have probably spent hundreds of dollars collecting rare and out of print DVDs. (Rossini! Rossini! is my crown jewel; that alone was $80. The last copy I saw was from 3 years ago, and was listed at $400- you can’t find it anywhere now). Surprisingly, I’ve found a big chunk of her obscure works on a Russian video website. Not entirely sure why but I’m not complaining whatsoever.

        In general I just like her stuff. Initially it started because I was looking to make edits and take screenshots for icons to use for rping Teresa. And it was incredibly difficult to track down her works. It STILL is sometimes. Her stuff from 1979-1995 is notoriously hard to find, and it really comes down to her works being foreign films and in a time period where things weren’t preserved well. Some films or shows I still haven’t found and likely never will. I search every foreign version of websites like ebay and amazon, or use their countries equivalent. i’ve visited so many shady websites and had to use vpn’s to even look stuff up. I couldn’t believe it when I found Adelaide on Vimeo, as only VHS or Betamax (who tf has a betamax machine anymore?) copies existed, often for $100+. I sent it to her and she was SO excited- she hadn’t seen that film in 30 years, since the premiere in 1991. And I decided I had to find all her works that I could if only to let her watch her own stuff again.

       It made me sad to think so much of her works are inaccessible due to the time in which they were filmed and copies not being preserved that even SHE hasn’t seen many of them. Nowadays you can find quite a few on Amazon Spain (which ofc I can’t access) and some are even being made into Blurays! It’s great progress. But media preservation and access to stuff like this is important to me in general. I got to speak with John Tams, who played Hagman and was one of the co-composers of the Sharpe series, about the music in the films that weren’t included on the official CD. He told me that because of the technology at the time, going from analogue to digital meant that archiving was barely possible or desired because of the amount of space it would take. Those songs now only exist in the films- the rest are completely erased from history and quite frankly it’s devastating to think too hard about it.

        So out of my list, I’ve managed to find about 71 of about ~90 films and shows/episodes of hers. Some I don’t think I’ll ever find. I’m still figuring out the best way to download videos online but I’ve ripped almost all my DVD’s and Blurays of hers, but I still have a ways to go.

        This post was just supposed to be me bitching about how I managed to rip Company and Enemy, but not Rifles and Eagle lmfao. I got a little sidetracked. But yeah I’m worried bc the Sharpe Bluray’s were damn expensive and bc I watched those two films SO much the disc is...a little worn. But I don’t want to completely rebuy the collection so I’m gonna keep trying 😭😭😭

[whats-her-quirk]

e major

erwin smith x fem!reader 18+ mdni warnings: former college professor/student relationship, age gap, rich boy Erwin, desecration of a piano (do not do this at home), fingering, oral wc: 1k thanks to @thegetoufather and @ghost-party for enabling

♪

“You play piano?”

You’re standing over Erwin’s shoulder as he pulls out the wooden bench to sit at the old piano in your parents’ house.

“A little.” His fingers twitch a bit above the keys before he plays a few notes. It’s not at all in tune.

To your knowledge, nobody has ever played it. Your parents no longer live in the house you grew up in, and they got the piano as a condition of the sale of the new one. The old owners didn’t want to pay to move it, so your folks have been using the upright as a shelf to display picture frames on top of.

When Erwin lifts the cover off the keys, it throws a cloud of dust in the air.

“I took lessons when I was young, up until I was 14 or 15 maybe.” Erwin’s fingers dance up the keyboard, deftly crossing over each other as he works his way up and down a melody. “After college, I started taking lessons again to get my chops back.”

“How come I never knew that?” You slide in next to him on the bench until your shoulder brushes his.

Erwin pauses to catch your eye and smile. “I’ve never had the chance to show you.” As his hands move independently, the left playing a different part than his right, your parents wander into the dining room, curious about where the music is coming from.

It’s the first time he’s meeting them, officially, as your boyfriend. You were nervous, having only recently broken the news to them that not only are you in a relationship, but the man you’re with is your former professor and a decade older than you. You’re not in his classes anymore—you’re starting grad school, and he teaches history and mythology to undergrads. They’re taking it surprisingly well, keeping conversation light by discussing his current syllabus instead of prying into his intentions with their child.

By the time he finishes the song he’s playing, your charming boyfriend has won them over for sure.

“You really pulled out all the stops tonight,” you tease him on the car ride home.

“How so?” He doesn’t look away from the road, but you can see him smirking.

“You know, the after-dinner show?”

He’s quiet for a beat. “Should I not have done that?”

“No, it was fine. It was really nice, actually. Just unexpected.”

Erwin chuckles. “If I’m being honest, I was getting a little nervous. I needed something to do with my hands.”

You lean over the center console to rest your head against his arm. “Well, you can play for me any time you want.”

You discover that although Erwin doesn’t own a piano, he makes good use of his faculty ID to swipe himself into practice rooms in the music building. Now that you know his little secret, he invites you to come along and listen to him practice after his classes are done for the day. You sit side by side on the bench, and you flip the pages on the sheet music he printed out while he taps out a new song on a keyboard that’s actually in tune.

When Erwin invites you to spend the next holiday break with his family, you don’t hesitate to accept. You’ve heard wonderful things about his father, and you’re excited to finally meet him. After a couple hours in the car, you arrive at his family’s enormous home in the country.

“Dad is out of town for work, so it’ll be just the two of us here tonight,” Erwin explains as he gives you a tour of the house. 

“Oh, no. What will we do all by ourselves?” 

You do your best not to gawk, but it’s basically a mansion, and there’s just so much to look at, from the art on the walls to the plush furniture to—

“You have a grand piano?” Glass-inset french doors lead into a cozy room off the second living room, where the sleek, black instrument takes up the majority of the floor space.

“Actually, it’s only a parlor grand,” Erwin says, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, excuse my ignorance,” you tease before taking a seat on the bench. This one has a tufted cushion, which you take the liberty to bounce on.

Erwin crosses his arms proudly. “It’s a smaller model. A concert grand wouldn’t fit in the room.”

“Of course.” When you lift the cover, there is no dust cloud.

After a few minutes of letting you plink on the keys—they’re nicely weighted and feel great, even to your non-skilled hands—Erwin takes his usual spot on the bench next to you. He doesn’t make it far into the song he’s been practicing before abandoning it to pepper your neck in kisses.

His mouth finds yours while his body gently guides you to his liking. He closes the fallboard and coaxes you up onto it, lips hardly breaking from you.

“We shouldn’t…”

“It’ll be fine. I promise.”

Once you’re seated, Erwin opens your legs to stand between them, deft fingers pushing your skirt up and your panties to the side. He skims fingertips along your folds as he continues to kiss you, stroking you to produce an entirely different kind of music with your moans.

When he sits down on the bench, you think he might have had his fill, but you’re wrong. He delves between your thighs, nose brushing over your sex before he laps you up. His tongue is hot against you, your head thrown back with every slurp and groan he makes. You call out his name, toes curling where they’re braced against the edge of the bench, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs. After you break, he licks you clean, sending you right back to the edge again.

Together, you stumble to the sofa in the next room, where Erwin strips you down and sinks himself into your heat with one of your legs over his shoulder. He knows exactly how to play you until you both climax in tandem. As you lie together after, basking, you’ve never been more sure that another heartbeat falls perfectly in time with yours.

[thefanficmonster]

Bumpy Road

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Depression and Relationship struggles as well as Health Problems

Genre: Mild Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: On a live podcast discussing his rise to fame and how its affected his personal life, Corpse stumbles over the topic of his romantic relationships, more specifically his relationship with Y/N.

Requested by Anon. Hello dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and so sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be posted so long. However, here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it an if you do I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Right, ok we’re officially live!“ Exclaims Anthony as he waves to one of the cameras - the one turned to him - and leans closer to the mic placed on the table in front of him. “Hello everyone, thanks for tuning in today. I’m here with the internet sensation and mystery known as Corpse Husband.“ He turns away from the camera to look across the table at his guest, “Corpse, I hope you know how much effort is being put into editing that sticker over your face for the duration of this whole podcast.“

Corpse, whose face is hidden by a sticker of his avatar, chuckles, “So you’re insinuating that I should probably not move so much.”

“Exactly.“ Anthony laughs, “My guy would be very grateful for that curtesy. Yeah, I have an actual person who I assigned to move around the sticker so there goes an extra paycheck.“

“In that case I promise to give you worthy content. A lot of never previously heard scoop.“ Corpse says, mocking the very words he uses, laughing about them afterwards, “Ask away, man.“

Anthony briefly looks down at a printed sheet of paper before pushing it to the side with a slight furrow of his brows, “You know, these are all cookie-cutter questions you’ve probably been asked many times before. So, I think it’s for the best I ask you something no one has had you talk about. Or something I hope no one has had you talk about yet. If you feel uncomfortable with any question just say so and we’ll skip it right away.“

The sticker moves up and down to mask Corpse’s face as he nods, “Got it.”

“Ok um...“ Anthony falls in thought for a moment, thinking of a question, “The first thing off the top of my head, um, what part of the dark side of fame have you had the displeasure of experiencing?“

Corpse lets out a laugh dangerously close to a scoff, “Almost all if not totally all of it really. There’s such a big chunk of privacy being taken away from you on social media. I got to that point where I felt so naked and seen I felt I was losing myself as my fandom grew. I know it’s many YouTubers’ dream to blow up and have a ton of fans and followers but I never wanted that. Don’t get me wrong, I love each and every one of my fans, I just never expected to accumulate so many of them. I’m such a private person, it was so anxiety inducing in the beginning but I sort of learned how to cope with it, you know? Sometimes, in order to stop people from reaching into my real privacy, I created a fake one that I’d feed into and let them enjoy.”

Anthony’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “Wow, how do we know what’s real about you anymore, huh?” It was said more as a joke but he truly meant it. If a person can fake a whole reality for people not to touch into their real one, Lord knows what else they can do.

Corpse huffs, “I’ll give you a hint: If it seems pretty, pink, peach and perfect it’s fake.“ The sticker may be hiding his face from the viewers but it’s most definitely not doing anything to shield the change in expression that occurs on his face from Anthony who’s sitting right across from him and notices the shift right away but before he could question it, Corpse prods on, “Y/N, my partner, can tell you just as much. They know better than anyone what’s the difference between what people know and what the reality is. They know that our relationship isn’t the sunny skies we put on display for our fans. I have my mental and physical health issues, my trust issues and paranoia play a big role in the ‘rains’ in our day-to-day life but they understand it’s all a part of me and a part I can’t control. It actually controls me sometimes and it’s so fucking annoying. But they understand. And while we pretend it’s perfect even though it isn’t, we find our happiness wherever and whenever we can. When it rains so often, you might as well look for a little hint of sunlight. That sunlight can create a rainbow after all. Believe me when I say, that rainbow is the most beautiful thing, makes you forget about the storm that just took place or might even be still raging all around.“ He sighs, preparing to bring his outpour of honesty to a close, “It may be a bumpy road 98% of the time even though on social media we pretend it’s the complete opposite, but that 2% of honest happiness we get from the tiniest of things are more meaningful than I could describe to you with words.“

And he’s more than right, words are often not enough. But the ones he used to describe what he just did were perfectly enough to bring one particular viewer to tears. That particular viewer who knows exactly what he was talking about. Because they are his other half and they’re going through it the same as he is. They’ve gone down that bumpy road side by side with him, ignoring the pain and turmoil while focusing their gaze on the rainbow above. That analogy was theirs from the very start after all. They both knew Y/N is the better one at finding the deeper meaning in everything even when there was nothing to be found.

They always found something. And Corpse will always cherish that trait as one of their best - always finding something to keep them both afloat.

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[finelinevogue]

Okay this is probably something so sooooo different from other requests you have got.

Can you actually imagine if you were part of 1D. Like you are the only girl there and you and Harry are secretly dating?

Can you do one where the 1D are doing a interview and the intervier is keep on asking questions that is inappropriate to YN and she does not know what to say. And Harry and the boys com to the rescue.

Or

Can you do one where their in stage singing and YN and Harry is just playing around dancing all while singing

Or

Do you remember the BRIT Awards 2014 when Harry was late because he was having a ‘wee’ can you do that but like YN and Harry were just in the bathroom having a quick s3x.

You can which ever one you want but idk where this idea poped but yeah. I like the last one you don’t have to do it tho.

ok im going to try the last one but idk whether it’ll be any good :/

Being in the most successful band in the world was a title that you couldn’t quite understand still.

3 years since being formed on the X Factor you still struggled to wake up every day and remind yourself that this was your life. ‘This’ being the lead singer in One Direction. Alongside you was the other lead, male, singer; Harry. There was Niall who played lead guitar, Louis who played the piano, Liam who played the bass guitar and Zayn who played the drums. You were all a family, well except from you and Harry - that was something different.

It hadn’t taken long for you and Harry to ask you out and originally you’d said no. You thought he would’ve given up and it was his persistence that made you fall for him. You wanted stability in a relationship and Harry proved that he could provide you that.

You loved your relationship with Harry. He was perfect, at least to you. He knew exactly the ins and outs of you. He was able to detect when you were sad and would flourish you with chocolates and flowers to grow a smile back on your face. He knew all your favourite movie quotes and your favourite book characters. He wrote every song about you. You, about him. He made you laugh until your belly hurt and he made you experience unexplainable feelings.

He was a temple of love and it was all for you.

Just like now, as he thrusted into you from behind. He had you bent over the bathroom sink, making you watch him claim you his. His movements were primal and he wasn’t stopping for anyone or anything.

“Fuck you feel so good Y/N.” He grasped your hair and pulled your head back, groaning when he saw your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were shut tight and mouth hung open in breathlessness. “Open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at yourself.” You did as you were told, moaning at the sight.

He had your dress hitched up around your waist and panties pulled to the side. You were lucky your hair had been done down so that it wouldn’t be obvious what you were doing. Harry was in a gorgeous black suit with a heart printed shirt. You’d picked out his shirt because it matched your dress. It was your first appearance out as an official couple and you wanted to make a statement. The Brits was a good place to make that statement.

“Fuck H, you feel so good.”

“Yeah? Love you so much baby. You’re so beautiful.” Your phone started ringing on the side of the counter. “Ignore it, fuck. I’m nearly there. Y’gonna come for me? Yeah?”

All you could focus in was the way Harry struck into you. He was hard and fast, gripping your hips to help force you back and push him forwards. The sounds were sinful and the pleasure was pure. Nothing would ever feel as good as this. He was pounding you so raw and you knew that you’d have a mass of bruises tomorrow from his grip.

“Wanna come so badly, mhm.”

“Come for me then, baby. Come and then i’ll fill you up so good.” He whispered into your ear, the sounds of your phone still ringing long forgotten. You were both on a cloud so high that nothing else seemed important anymore.

You did as Harry told you, your whole body shaking. Harry had to grip your waist tighter, as your legs were failing to work for themselves and hold you up. As you came, he coated your walls white. Feeling so full had never felt so good. You were so fucked for him, literally.

“Keep all of me in there and i’ll lick it out of you tonight.” He demanded as he pulled out of you, now feeling empty.

He helped you stand up properly and fixed your hair and makeup with you. “So pretty.” He told you, kissing you on the lips once, twice, three times.

“As are you.”

You both walked out of the locked toilets and down the corridors of the O2 arena, where the Brits were being helped. Harry was laughing at something you said when a lady rushed up to you both.

“Where’ve you two been? You’ve won a bloomin’ award and the rest of your band are on stage now!” She seemed cross, but also mixed with a little bit of star struck nerves. You and Harry didn’t miss what she’d said though and took each others hands whilst running off down the corridor.

Harry was in front of you, you not being able to run as fast with your heels on. As you entered the main arena you heard Liam speak.

“I don’t know where you are Harry and Y/N..” Before he spotted you both running down the centre aisle. Harry ran off a bit, leaving you run on your own.

You were scared of breaking your ankle, however, so stopped to try and take them off. You forgot they were buckled though which made the process harder. Before you got the chance to properly undo them, you felt someones, Harry’s, arms tuck underneath your legs and around your back and hoisting you up to carry you bridal style the rest of the way.

“You and your bloody heels.” He rolled his eyes and you kissed his cheek confidently.

As you got to the stage, Harry put you down and took the microphone off of Liam. “Really sorry! We were having a wee.”

Although everyone knew otherwise.

[florencwrites]

ignoring is bliss 〚technoblade〛

in which [reader] struggles with her lover's inconsequent affection, and a good talk is unfortunately inevitable; the silent treatment has never worked well with techno.

"I don't know what you want me to say." His back had still been turned towards me at this point, the rake heavy in my hands as I tried using it to steady myself in the muddy stable. He kept loading dirty plucks of hay onto his pitchfork, the thinly lined buttoned shirt he was wearing easily letting his back muscles shine through.

I stood silently behind him, deliberating my words thoroughly. I hated when he acted like this, I absolutely despised him. He was one of the smartest men I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, however, the second things went sideways conversation-wise he always played it painfully personally. He would start correcting my grammar or suggest synonyms for otherwise satisfactory sentences. "I don't either."

"I guess that marks the end of this conversation." He turned around to dump his gathered muck in the makeshift wheelbarrow Phil had built us. His face was hard, his brows furrowed and his features lax. He seemed indifferent, his attitude scaring me to pieces.

"Tech, please." I tried, putting one of my hands up to gesture for him to stop walking. He was now barely lifting the barrow from the ground, ready to head off to the dump. He huffed, his eyes meeting the floor as he put the wagon down. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly.

He ducked to grip his hands around the handles again, lifting it from the ground. His knuckles were white where they held onto the leather-covered grips. "Speak up."

"I want to have a conversation with you, okay? Stop acting so fucking stuck up and talk to me." His shoulder brushed past mine as he exited the stables, my voice was high in emotions, definitely on the verge of breaking with desperation.

He snorted. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say when you've calmed down."

-

"He won't talk to me, Phil." I groaned almost obnoxiously loud, taking a sip of water to wash down both my dinner and my agitation. "You know how he gets."

"All pissy? Tell me about it." He chuckled softly, his forearm shielding his bowl from my sight. He shoveled another spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. Phil and I had never been extraordinarily close, he reckoned Techno and me to be undeserving of each other. A terrible pair. And perhaps we were, at times like this I couldn't help but doubt whether or not we truly were the destined lovers we often thought ourselves to be. "I'll bring him some food later."

I laughed at him, a father at heart. A father to anyone but his actual sons, really. A playful grin on my lips, "You're an enabler, Phil."

-

That night I crawled into an empty bed. One I hadn't even doubted would be just that; empty. He was weak like that, he'd do anything to avoid conflict. Whether that was because he was afraid of what his blinding rage fits would conjure, or whether he was just an impotent coward. Someone who didn't know how to act around uncertainty and immorality and thus resorted to blaming everything on his treacherous temper.

The sheets still smelled of him, I held them to my nose.

There was no reason for us to fight, I hadn't meant to start one. I simply wanted him to realize how different he acted towards me when surrounded by any crowd. He acted so distant it made me doubt not only us, but myself. My heart ached anytime he pulled his hand away from where I tried leaving him a subtle touch. My skin crawled when he no longer referred to me by the mild, but unmissably warm names he had for me.

However, nothing would ever hurt me as much as meeting his eyes in a room of our friends and seeing the love seep from his irises. Physically witnessing his affection turn into nothing short of mere acquaintance.

Everyone knew us. There was no reason for him to act so cold, so distant. Though, I also recognized that perhaps there was an underlying reason. One I simply hadn't thought of, or perhaps one that I couldn't ever imagine. One that he had retained from his troublesome past.

The thing is, it hurt me to think he didn't trust me enough with his reasoning. That he didn't want to tell me about his thoughts. I'd been extremely careful and meticulous with any information he'd granted me, I was sure to never let what he told me change my opinion of him. I vowed to never look at him any different.

So, why could he not promise me the same?

-

There was no point in pushing myself from my sheets the next morning. I knew how long his episodes usually lasted, I wouldn't even have to try talking to him for at least two more days. Normally, I'd try, though. I'd sit in the grass right next to where he was working outside, just talking to him about anything and everything I could think of. Back then I thought for his silence to mean confusion, I thought his swirling mind simply needed a break. That a distraction would do him good.

I sat in the barely-molten grass for hours, never getting a reply.

His smell was constricting my airways slowly, every inhale making it harder and harder to breathe. What if Phil was right, what if he truly didn't love me, or not anymore at least? What if it was all an act to have a warm body to fall asleep next to, to have an extra set of hands around the cottage.

I kicked at the sheets, desperate to get them away from me, to get them from clinging to my sweaty body. I only tangled my legs further into the mess. The bed creaked loudly against the wooden floor of the attic, a gust of wind running through a small gap in the roof.

I shot up, finally being able to rid my body of the sheets. I huffed a few times, the annoyance getting the better of me. I slung my legs over the side of the bed, now just sitting on the wooden frame, letting my eyes wander over the walls. The pictures of us that were tightly tacked to the planks, photos of our favorite pets and our best of friends. Photos of us with Phil and Tommy, and even a stray photo of me and Wilbur, back when we were kids.

My gaze found its way towards the singular window behind our bed, the only one of two walls that weren't entirely slanted. His red robe stood out like a sore thumb in the feeble blanket of slushy snow that had been slowly accumulating over the course of the night. Summer was officially over once again, and the cold would soon make it so we could no longer afford to sleep alone.

He rarely wore his robe outside of special occasions, he usually would simply opt for one of his brown ones. One was trimmed with a thick deer fur, the leather on it sure to keep all frost out. The other one was his summer one, the more dirty one of the two. It was always stained with blood, since it would also be the one he went hunting with. He disliked hunting in the winter, the harsh winds and easily discernible prints made it no fun, according to him. He stacked up during the summer, drying his meats to allow them to be kept safe for months, if not years.

But now he was wearing his red robe, lined with the finest of polar bear fur. The one that had the special compartments for his potions, and the one I had sown a totem into. For good luck. He rarely wore it for any occasion but war.

He pushed himself from the ground, turning around swiftly; the velocity making his cape whisk dramatically up in the wind. His eyes seemed fixated on the ground until they unwarrantedly shot up to the window I was sitting at. Any other day, I would've averted my gaze. Not now. He knew I was staring, and he was allowed to know so. I held my eyes on him until his feet carried him out of sight, into the house. I sighed softly, I felt entirely forlorn without him, without his caring hands and loving eyes. I let myself fall back into the bed, cuddling the sheets once again as I curled away from the entrance. I reckoned he would have to change out of his robe soon, and I didn't want to face him when he did.

-

I heard the front door slam, and as predicted the rungs of the many ladders soon creaked in his hold. The worn, practically ancient, trapdoor was pushed ajar behind me. I couldn't be bothered to turn to meet his eyes. However, instead of quietly changing out of his clothes, I felt the bed dip. He sat on the side of it, much alike to how I had found myself just minutes before.

"I don't like feeling weak." His voice was rougher than usual, it kept its usual monotone aura, but for some reason, it felt more emotional than ever before. He cleared his throat as if to try and mask it, to no avail, "I don't love you any less."

I shifted in the bed, though, he quickly stopped me, "Don't look at me, that just makes it harder."

I obliged. He let out a trembling sigh, taking his sweet time to deliberate his next words, "Sometimes we are outside together and I'm afraid that when they see how much I care about you, they will realize that you make me weak." I stared at the wall, still curled into the blankets. I wanted nothing more than to hold his face, look at him as he spoke. Instead, I had to make do with the pictures of his face plastered on the wood. His pointy, flappy ears and peaked nose. The two sharp-looking fangs set in the corners of his lips, ones that seemed to disappear when he smiled. He didn't like smiling for pictures, I didn't have a single one of the two of us together where he smiled. The only ones that showed his beautiful pearly whites were the ones that had me behind the camera, something I only then realized might've not been a coincidence.

"It scares me to think they could hurt you for loving me, that's why I don't like holding your hand in town." I shot a quick look over my shoulder, his back was slouched over, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He wasn't crying, he simply seemed lost."I never realized that what scares me even more is the idea of you not loving me at all."

I slowly crept from under the sheets as his words fell silent. I crawled over towards where he was sat, near the foot-end of the bed. I took one of his hands from where he had rested his face on it and pulled it out of the way.

I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling my body into his. I draped my legs over his lap as I held him. His built arms felt tender against my exposed back, however, he held me tight. He squeezed softly as another quivering breath escaped his lips. We sat in embrace for a while.

"That's all I asked for, Tech." I smiled into his neck. "I just wanted to talk, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Shut up." He playfully tried pushing me away from his torso, underestimating the power of my cling. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

[junko-and-riri-domain]

the right direction | pjs

↬ series: tatts & cupcakes | chapter 15 ↬ pairing: park jongseong / jay x reader ft. all members ↬ genre: enhypen single dad au | ceo!jay | single dad!jay | baker!reader | single mom!reader | fluff ↬ navi: beginning | previous chapter | series masterlist ↬ warnings: none ↬ word count: 1.8k ↬ a/n (1/2):

final chapter of tatts & cupcakes my loves !! 

Days turned to weeks which turned to months and ultimately a few years went by. In the past few years you officially became Jay’s girlfriend, Ni-ki learned that he had two dads, and Sunoo and Jungwon were more than happy to call you their mom. But despite this, there was always a lingering worry in the back of your head. What if one day, Jay decided that the trouble of loving you and Ni-ki was no longer worth it to him? What if Sunoo and Jungwon no longer wanted you as their mom or Ni-ki as their younger brother? But today those worries would be put to rest forever. As you looked at yourself in the mirror wearing the dress you had chosen for yourself while holding a bouquet of flowers, the sound of your name being called causes you to turn around to see Heeseung and Jake walking up to you with a grin on their faces.

“Jay’s gonna be a wreck when he sees you,” Heeseung said.

“Ten bucks says he’ll cry,” Jake adds in, nudging the older with his elbow. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the two and ask,

“Is everyone here already?”

“Yeah, they’re all sitting down. Sunghoon’s trying to calm Jay down though, I’ve never seen him this nervous before,” Jake replies. Dressed in their suits, Sunoo and Jungwon run up to you. While planning your wedding, you and Jay decided that Sunoo and Jungwon would walk you down the aisle while Ni-ki stood next to Jay. After Heeseung and Jake jokingly told you that there was still a way out if you wanted to leave, you stood behind the door with Sunoo and Jungwon holding your hand. When the doors opened and you took your first step, you the wedding march played. Despite all the people watching you, the nervousness was washed away and replaced with excitement. The only thing you could focus on was the sight of Jay and the feel of the two hands holding yours. You see Heeseung handing Jake what you can only assume to be a $10 bill, causing you to have to hold back a slight laugh. Step by step, you walked with Sunoo and Jungwon until you finally stood in front of the man who would be your husband. Sunoo and Jungwon head to your side while you see Ni-ki with the biggest smile on his face. You wipe away Jay’s tears, something that he’s done for you more times than you can count but today, the roles were switched.

“I love you.” You had said it in hopes of calming him down but it only seemed to have the opposite effect as he cried even harder. You felt lightheaded, palms sweaty, and the butterflies in your stomach felt as if they were doing cartwheels. Finally,

“You may now kiss the bride.” Not even a full second later you felt Jay pull you close and his lips on yours. He deepened the kiss slightly, but still mindful of the people in the audience watching you both. Jay’s arms settled around your waist while pressing a kiss to the top of your head,

“Thank you for giving us a chance,” you hear him whisper.

While you and Jay were unpacking boxes into the new house the five of you decided on, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki were in the living room. The house had more than enough rooms for the boys to have their own but they chose to share one. In the meantime, the other rooms were turned into guest rooms. While watching them chatting and playing amongst each other, Jay’s presence makes itself known to your body with the feel of him behind you and his embrace surrounding you,

“We’re home,” you say as you hold Jay’s hands. You feel him playing with the wedding ring on your left hand and despite not directly looking at him, you just know that he’s smiling. While resting his head on your shoulder,

“Anywhere is home with you and our boys.” You turn around to face him,

“Y’know… our boys have been talking about wanting a cat lately.” Cringe washes over Jay’s face at the thought of a cat in the house,

“I’m allergic to cats.”

“What about a dog instead?” you ask, voice sounding more excited than you meant it to. Jay raises his eyebrow in suspicion,

“Is this something they want or something you want?”

“I’d like to think that this is a family necessity.”

“Dogs are just agents of capitalism,” he replies with a roll of his eyes. 

“At least think about it first before saying no.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Jay’s “YAHHHH” in the morning (which the entire neighborhood probably heard) wakes you up and gets you out of bed. Still sleepy, you drag a blanket with you. When you walk to the living room, you’re met with the sight of Ni-ki clinging onto Jay’s leg, Sunoo watching everything while munching on some bread you baked just last night, and Jungwon carrying Maeumi, your recently adopted dog in his arms.

“Jungwon-ah, give me the dog,” Jay says sternly and gritting his teeth. When Jungwon sees you, he immediately runs behind you but on his face, you can see a mischievous smirk. Patting Jungwon’s head and looking at Jay,

“Babe, what happened?”

“The little agent of capitalism chewed on the cables in my office!” You can’t help but laugh, while now petting Maeumi’s head,

“It’s kinda your fault for leaving the door open, isn’t it?” Jay sighs, most likely thinking of ways to find inner peace,

“D-don’t tell me you’re taking the dog’s side right now?”

“Of course I am.”

“You really love the dog more than me?” With a teasing smile,

“Of course I do.”

“I never should’ve agreed to adopting the dog if it was just gonna become number one in your heart,” he muttered.

“Our boys and Maeumi are number one to me, you’re second,” you corrected.

Following the next few weeks, you noticed that Maeumi was closer and clinger to you than normal. Maeumi would settle by your stomach when you sat on the couch or lay on your lap and you couldn’t help but wonder why. But then, it hit you.

You had been slightly moodier.

You felt a little queasy in the mornings.

And you were late.

When you realized what the possibility was, you headed to the bathroom. The morning of the day K came back into your and Ni-ki’s life, you were sick and Jay took care of you. He bought a ton of medicine and somehow, a pregnancy test got added into the mix. You weren’t sure why, but you had kept it after all this time. While waiting for the results of the test, thousands of thoughts were running through your mind as nervousness coursed through your veins. Were you and Jay even ready for a baby? Well... you had three kids already but a newborn? Having another child was a conversation that hadn’t yet come up after getting married, moving into the new house, and adopting Maeumi. After all, Jay was running his company while you were running the bakery. But when the test was finally ready and the two lines set in tears of happiness began to pour from your eyes. That night when Jay came home and you were all eating dinner you wanted to tell them right then and there but decided that it’d be better to tell them after getting confirmation from the doctor. Which was exactly what you did the next day.

“Congratulations!” the doctor said to you as she showed you the screen of the ultrasound. She printed out a couple of pictures for you to keep and you bought some decorations to surprise Jay tonight. After closing the bakery early and picking up the boys from school,

“When we get home, do you guys wanna help Eomma decorate the living room?” you asked after heading into the house.

“Is today a special day?” Jungwon asked, eyes wide and curiously looking up at you. You nodded and took out the picture to show them,

“You guys are going to have a little brother or sister in a few months.”

“Really? I won’t be the maknae anymore?” Ni-ki asked, eyes full of hope.

“Yup, you’ll be an oppa or a hyung now!”

“Wahh, can I eat tteokbeokki with our new dongsaeng?” came from Sunoo.

“When they get older, of course you can! Now, let’s get to decorating so we can surprise Appa, ok?” You were met with a chorus of excited “yes, Eomma!” and with that, decorating and getting ready to surprise Jay when he got home began.

The house was dark when Jay got home, causing him to wonder where you and the boys were.

“Love?” he called out.

No answer.

“Sunoo-ah?”

Nothing.

“Jungwon-ah?”

Nada.

“Ni-ki-ah?”

He swore he could’ve heard crickets chirping. Desperate for any answer,

“Yah! Agent of capitalism, where are you?” That garnered an answer as the light tapping of Maeumi’s feet on the floor met his ears and Maeumi was now in front of him. He picked up Maeumi and walked further into the house. Turning on the light in the living room and suddenly being met with,

“SURPRISE!”  

“YAH, YOU SCARED ME!” he yelled as he stumbled back, and fell onto the floor. The boys instantly piled themselves on top of Jay in excitement but he looked at you with slight fear in his eyes,

“It’s not our anniversary, is it? Did I forget?” he asked. You shook your head,

“No, you didn’t forget anything. But we have a surprise for you.”

“And that is?” You handed Jay a small box in which you put a “dad of five kids” mug (Maeumi included even if Jay didn’t want to admit it), a picture of the ultrasound, and your pregnancy test. Jay looked at the cup in confusion but when he looked at the other contents of the box, it finally registered in his head. He held the ultrasound by its corner as if he were scared it’d turn to dust or get wrinkled.

“We’re having a baby?” His eyes were shining when he looked at you, you were unsure if it was because of the tears forming in his eyes or the happiness, maybe it was both.

“Mhm, we’re having a baby.”

“Wait isn’t this the test that I bought like, years ago?”

“I told you it’d come in handy one day.” All of a sudden, Jay was hugging you and practically sobbing in your shoulder,

“I love you. So, so, so much. I don’t think words can do my feelings justice. I just, I love you.” Returning Jay’s hug while rubbing his back,

“What do you want it to be?” you asked curiously. In Jay’s head flashed to the daydreams of a little girl running around a house, that little girl being half-you, half-him. But in this moment, he didn’t care if it was a girl, a boy, or whatever it’d choose to identify as in the future.

“Healthy, as long as it’s healthy I couldn’t care less.” You smiled at Jay’s response, hugging him tighter. You knew that being with Jay, trusting him, loving him, it truly was the right direction.

↬ final tatts & cupcakes a/n:

this is the end of tatts & cupcakes and wow has it been a rollercoaster !! i don’t know how to feel about this series ending since it was by first baby (is it weird to say that? idk but anyways) i'll be honest with yall, this series was a product of my procrastination... it was around 1 am and i just didn’t want to do any of my work so i just thought to myself, “let’s write a fic with jay as a single dad” because why not ?? initially, it was going to be a oneshot but then i realized writing it as a oneshot wasn’t the best option for me because one, i needed to get my work done at some point lmao and two, it’d just be way too long so i ended up writing the first chapter, read it over a bit, posted it, and tatts & cupcakes was born !! i didn’t think that the series would get this far with the storyline and there were a few times when i thought about discontinuing it due to things like school, thinking it wasn’t interesting enough, other responsibilities, etc., but then i started getting notifs related to the series and writing became the better parts of my weeks so thank you everyone !! for those who have read until this part and decided to give my writing a chance and for all the love that this series has received, thank you so much !! i hope that it’s been written well enough to be a series actually worth spending time on to read 🥺

even though this series is ending, i do have some happy news !! i’ve started a new one called cameras & caffeine the pairing for this series is cafe owner!jake x ceo!reader cameras & caffeine is similar to tatts & cupcakes in how reader is also a single mother there so if you’re interested check it out here :)

once again, thank you so so much for taking the time out of your day to read tatts & cupcakes and i hope you’ve enjoyed !!

~ riri 💞

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❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul​ ) | main blog masterlist | blog navi

[ghostlyheart]

I cannot stop thinking about @kityana's very insightful post about a potential subplot that involves conflict between Laszlo and Nadja. I'm really curious to see if it will actually happen or not and I wanted to add one more piece of evidence that might point towards it.

(Edit: everything is under the cut for scrolling ease and also because I was. Clearly very wrong about this so it's not even relevant anymore aksjsk)

I'm absolutely obsessed with the costumes in this show (in a very amateur way, not as someone who has experience studying fashion or costume design) and how they can be such a great way to tell us about the characters.

Laszlo and Nadja's costumes always always Always complement each other. They use similar silhouettes, patterns, etc. A lot of the time, the fabric of Nadja's skirt is the same exact fabric used for Laszlo's waistcoat. There are tons of little details that pull their outfits together (see below: matching neckwear, the gold lace on Nadja's cuffs matching the same lace on Laszlo's capes in their "going out" outfits, etc.) I imagine that their clothing was intentionally made in sets, literally cut from the same cloth.

Even when their outfits don't match exactly in terms of materials or accessories, they're still drawing from the same color palette that creates the general impression that their looks were purposefully coordinated.

This design choice is very intentional. Here's a quote from an interview with costume designer Amanda Neale:

"Laszlo always had to match Nadja in appearance. Nadja dictates their style and Laszlo follows. Their combined style is not a copycat situation but a nod to the fact they have been together for hundreds of years and that their style has fused together over time."

Neale makes it clear that Laszlo's looks are a reflection of Nadja. Their coordination is a symbol of their compatibility. Its a visual language unique to them refined over centuries of experience together. It's a clear indication that they're on the same page. Except...

I don’t think they’re matching at all in season 3 episode 2. This might be a bit of a stretch but bear with me. Nadja has this super structured, frilly, dramatic look going on. There’s tons of layers and textures. The shoulder pads specifically (plus her "working woman" comment from s3e1) remind me a lot of 80s power suits. I think this makes a lot of sense. All these layers and the wide shoulders of the dress means she takes up more space and is more imposing. This is her “I mean business” outfit. It’s her first day of official council duty and she’s out for blood.

Laszlo, on the other hand... structure is the exact opposite of what he’s going for. Disheveled is literally the only way I can think of to describe it. His silhouette scruffier and more relaxed than usual. I honestly think the jacket might be a bit oversized (but I’m not sure about that). He usually wears his neckwear pulled tighter, sometimes right below his chin, but this necktie-thingy is hanging really loosely.

Seeing them next to each other emphasizes the difference (I hope). Their silhouettes are completely different, I don't see any matching fabrics. It's hard to tell because of the lighting but I think his vest is embroidered and the white ornamental design she has is printed directly onto the fabric. Nadja might be rewearing the beaded skirt we can see in "The Trial" (though I'm not sure, again this show is really dark skjssh) which doesn't match the pattern on Laszlo's waistcoat either. Besides the obvious black in both their outfits, I don't see any color coordination. That burnt orange necktie actually really stands out in contrast to her all black and white ensemble and only serves and emphasize the difference between them (although it could be meant to correspond with the bronze-ish buttons her dress has).

Even if this isn't indicative of some larger conflict between them, I think it works really well as an extra layer of communication for what's going on with these characters. We know Nadja is super thrilled at the idea of holding power, while Laszlo actively dislikes it and goes out of his way to avoid having any responsibility. Nadja's outfit represents her passion and how seriously (well, as serious as she can be) she's taking on her new role, while Laszlo's perfectly reflects his "idgaf" attitude. Their outfits are clashing because for the first time in a while, they're out of sync.

Writing this also made me go back and look at episode 1. Lo and behold, they change outfits for the scene where they decide Guillermo's fate, AKA Right After the talking head segment where we see how differently they feel about joining the Council. That vest Laszlo is wearing has a specific matching dress for Nadja (we see them worn together in Brain Scramblies) and she's not wearing it!!

So yeah, I think this is on purpose (although I could be horribly wrong bc I'm the furthest thing from an expert) and I'm going to be keeping on eye out for it as the season progresses!!

[jerzwriter]

His Pampered Princess

Book: Open Heart (End of Book 2 – non-canon)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Rating: Teen

Category: Fluff

Summary: Tobias plans a day of pampering for his new girlfriend, Casey. Offering a little sample of how he plans on treating her.

Warnings: Some sexual innuendo

Words: Approx. 1200

A/N: Thank you again to the @the-pale-goddess for her incredible ask! It felt so good to revel in a little fluff. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this!

A/N 2: There are some references that tie back to The Fine Print. It may make some things here more significant, but it's not necessary to read it first.

A/N 2: Participating in @choicesfebruary2022challenge Day 26, Books and Romance

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

If you wish to be added or removed from tags, please let me know.

The sun was shining brightly as she strode down Tobias’s picturesque South End street. She’d have to text Sienna and let her know she would not be coming to the apartment after her overnight shift. Her friends teased it wasn’t her apartment anymore. She rarely made an appearance there since she and Tobias became official. And while she told them she’d be home today, he called, and… let’s face it, she was a goner.

Casey already had a key to his townhome, and he was as delighted to hear her sliding it in the lock as she was to be able to do so. The Tobias Carrick had given a woman, the only woman he ever truly wanted, a key to his home. This was monumental. His mother all but took out an ad in their hometown paper when she got word of it. The second Casey was in the door, she was reminded of why she could never turn him down when he asked her to be there.

“Hello, Gorgeous,” he smiled as she entered the kitchen. She reached around his waist and placed her head on his shoulder; he turned to kiss her.

“What are you making,” she asked, watching him sort ingredients on the counter.

“Nutella stuffed French toast with a banana and blueberry compote. I think you’ll love it.”

“You think?” She laughed, “I’m never going to need to go out to eat again!”

“Oh, yes, we will,” he smiled, trust me. “Hey, after breakfast, I want you to get a few hours of sleep.”

“Sleep?” she said, disappointed.

“Yes,” he smirked, “sleep. I have some special plans for us today.”

“Really? What kind of plans?”

“I’m not telling. It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, come on and tell me! I don’t like surprises.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Well, yeah, but only when it’s really a surprise. Once you tell me… well, it’s not a surprise anymore, and now I want to know!”

“Maybe, if you eat all of your breakfast like a good girl, I’ll give you a hint,” he winked.

“You’re incorrigible!”

“Hey, what did I tell you about using those high point words with me, MacTavish.”

“You graduated from Howard and Johns Hopkins, T. You know big words.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like ‘em in my house,” he said, placing her plate in front of her.

Casey eagerly finished her breakfast, mainly because it was delicious but also because she was dying to know more about his secretive plans.

“So, I was a good girl,” she said, wiping some of the compotes off of her lip.

“Not as good as you were the other night,” he purred.

“Do I have to use incorrigible again?” she laughed. “But, seriously. What do you have planned.”

“If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. Now, why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll wake you up in a few hours. You will come with me, right?”

“Fine! I’ll go. But this better not be to that kinky little sex motel you like to go to.”

“I… I like to go to it! I’m sorry, princess, but the times we’ve been there, you seem to like it quite a bit too.”

“Yeah,” she giggled, “I do.”

He practically crawled over the table to kiss her. “And that’s why I love you so much.”

“Oh! That’s the reason?”

“Well, it’s on the top one-hundred list,” he smiled. “Now, go! Sleep! Or no more kinky little sex motel for you!”

“Pfft. As if.”

“You know me too well, but for the record, that’s not where we are going today.”

“OK, I’m going to sleep, and this better be worth the suspense.”

When she woke up three hours later, he still wouldn’t confess his plans. She attempted to get him to fess up by complaining that she couldn’t possibly get dressed without knowing where she was going.

“Here,” he said, tossing her an old, soft sweatshirt of his. “Wear this with those new jeans you got.”

“So it’s casual?”

“Sort of. And it just really turns me to see you in my clothes. Don’t say it, I’m….”

“Incorrigible,” they said in unison.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he winked.

When they got to the street, Tobias gently tugged at her wrist to stop her.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he grinned, “you need to put this on.”

He pulled something out of his jean's pocket and handed her a soft, pale pink blindfold. Alarmed, she looked at him and found him smirking devilishly.

“What are you up to?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Fine! I’ll play along!” She answered exasperatedly, “Even if I am going to be mortified. How will I see where am I going?”

“Well, I’m driving, and when I’m not, I’ll take care of you.” The playful tone gone from his voice, he fixed his piercing blue eyes on hers, “You trust me, don’t you, Casey?”

“With all my heart," she answered without hesitation.

The tender, overjoyed smile that came to his lips made Casey want to yank him back into the house, no longer satisfied to share him with the rest of world today. But, her curiosity was piqued, and she needed to know his plans. So she stood silently in front of his home, her cheeks turning redder by the moment as he fastened the blindfold behind her head.

He froze momentarily when he looked up and saw his longtime neighbor, Al, had stopped sweeping to watch the spectacle unfolding.

“How you doing, Al,” Tobias quipped as Casey’s embarrassment intensified. “Yeah, normally I do this to her inside, but today, we thought we’d shake things up a bit.”

“Oh my God!” Casey yelled over Al’s laughter. “Al, he just surprising me! Nothing more!”

“Wow, you got one to trust you this much? You better hold on to her.”

“That’s the plan! The poor thing is stuck with me.”

“Casey, I'll have a sympathy card in the mailbox for you tomorrow morning” Al smiled as Tobias held her closely under his arm, leading her to his car.

"Not a bad idea, Al. She may need it."

“OK, it sounds like we’re in the lobby of a hotel,” Casey whispered, “but it sounds too nice to be that kinky sex motel of yours.”

Tobias snorted as several guests looked at her with horror. “What,” he said, looking at them, “as if you’ve never been to one before.”

He then turned her around to face him, giving her a quick hug before moving his hands to the back of her head.

“You’ve been patient long enough,” he said, untying the blindfold.

“We’re at?" she asked.

“The Mandarin Oriental. You, my dear, are going to get pampered at their spa today. Then, when you’re done, we’ll stop at the book store, I’ll buy you a book… for old time’s sake… and then dinner at the place of your choice.”

“T…” she whispered.

“You can thank me later," he replied impishly.

“Looking forward to it. Ooh! Can we get burgers at Andy’s Diner?”

“Oh, we’re really going for nostalgia! I like it,” he leaned down and kissed her forehead, “Of course. But right now, you need to get to the spa. They’re waiting to treat you like the princess you are.”

“And where will you be?”

“Sitting over there, with coffee and a book, waiting for you. And dreaming of you naked and getting a massage, but that’s a whole other thing.”

“I love you, T,” she giggled.

“Yeah, well, I love you.

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[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S6B Ep #103 (The Town)

A very normal-length episode recap with completely neutral & fair minded opinions.  Spoiler warning!   I will say, that if this whole bit with the superpowers and the Evil Englishman is somehow still connected to Bunker Rivervale Jughead Narration Creator, then he’s really confronting his unrequited yearning for Archie Andrews in this episode.

When Jughead Jones decides to do something, he always chooses the most difficult possible way of doing it.  When he became a gang leader he decided to be Moses and Jesus and also everyone’s underage father.    When he wanted to be a genre novelist he had the genre happen to him, becoming the dead body that the whodunit was trying to solve. He played dead on a gurney at the morgue and everything.  You can be a hipster writer in New York City without having a drug dealing girlfriend or the mob after you but what would be the fun in  that? So now that he’s decided to a journalist and newspaper runner for his small hometown, Jughead Jones decides he must publish the most incendiary, anti-Riverdale take down submission of all time, and anonymously, at that, taking on the burden of protecting this provocateur himself.  Because of course he does.

In the opening narration, where Tabitha is concerned to be reading this ‘submission’ that Jughead published, Jughead Jones is talking to a “you.” Has he done this before? Break the fourth wall while narrating?  He wants me (and me specifically) to know that he can read thoughts and is still hearing impaired.  Jughead is lying to everyone including his friends that his hearing has returned.  

The question asked is if he’s a bad person for lying to everyone. I say no. “I can read your mind” only makes him sound insane on top of being deaf, for one. People generally don’t react well to magic powers that are this invasive, even in fairytales. It’s not a great choice, sure, but it’s the Jughead Jones way of caring for people he loves - By resisting burdening them with his last possible strand of strength. 

One of the anachronisms I adore about Riverdale is that every person keeps reading a printed hard copy of the paper, obsessively, daily, like smartphones and twitter don’t exist.  Sweet Pea read Alice’s newspaper back in the day, and now Alice reads Jughead’s with … her boyfriend Uncle Fucking Frank. (Shout out to the tumblrina who pointed out that whenever Betty fucks a boy, Alice feels compelled to fuck the boy’s nearest blood relation) (also wondering if this is why Archie refused to date Betty when his dad was alive - he couldn’t do that to Fred).  Reggie and Veronica, and Fangs and Toni all read the paper during their different morning routines.  Veggie haven’t gone to bed yet, and Fangs & Toni are hoping the baby sleeps a bit longer.  Cheryl is very pleased, and the Keller men, because I guess they’re both too macho to cook, are breakfasting at the diner. 

The thing is, Percival is not wrong - there is no performing arts or culture is Riverdale, and when even when it wasn’t quite so blighted it needed to try to recruit teen gang members as deputies to try to clear out the Gargoyles and so forth.  But then the show does a pivot to talk about the “Homeless encampments around every corner.”  Percival is extremely pleased to see his writing in print, so he smiles as he tells Pop Tate he’s very pleased to have moved to Riverdale.  The funny thing is - the writer does not attack the dire stupidity and tokenist representation on the so called counsel, four unelected officials that apparently wield an immense amount of power in the town:  A crazy lady (Alice, you are crazy), a mercenary and petty criminal,  Minnie Mouse gang leader-bar tender who somehow is also given untrammeled access to children, and the girl who has only recently moved to Riverdale to work at her grandpa’s ailing business.   This is intentional, of course.  

The article does not actually mention Archie (He owns - apparently??- a functional business and not in a gang - anymore? - and his sins of violence are not known to Percival - I guess?) but in any case, Archie is pissed.

And that’s what it comes around to, in the end, no?  

Jughead aimed this take-down article at Archie in particular.  Jughead fully knew that its contents amounted to a “razor blade that cut to the very heart of Riverdale,” and published it anyway,  after YEARS of calling Archie Riverdale’s soul, spirit, heart, symbol etc etc. It landed fair and square.  “With no author named, who would take the brunt of blowback but…” is delivered in a long-suffering, irritated way but c’mon Jughead. You wanted to hear Archie think thoughts about you.  You also wanted to take a razor blade to cut into his heart the way he’s done to you since Ep 4.17.  Let’s be real here, ok?   This has to be the most convoluted way of pulling someone’s pigtails to show you ‘like’ them.  You published this article anonymously so that Archie would have NO CHOICE but to talk to YOU.

“Here we go,” Jughead sighs (faux unhappily = happily).   Archie thinks - BACKSTABBER! This constant worry about stabbing Archie in the back and being stabbed in turn is a constant in their relationship. Calling Riverdale the “worst town in America” is a bit harsh, so I give Archie that.  America has like, full on KKK /Nazi towns that POC point out on maps as places to avoid while driving from point A to B. 

Archie asks Jughead: “Why would you publish something like this??” at school (where they’re still coaching and teaching).  Jughead ends up just telling Archie (who doesn’t get it) his true emotional intentions behind publishing this article:  “Let me interview you, and I’ll publish it next week.”  Oh honey.  It’s so desperate, Jughead’s need for Archie’s attention, care and involvement.  Archie probably avoided ‘saying’ anything to Jughead after that initial conversation about his hearing loss, I reckon, because that’s how Archie has been to Jughead post time jump.  And Archie is just a brute - “No screw that!” is his simple concise answer.  Archie doesn’t want to do anything private with Jughead - he wants him to come to the town hall.

Meanwhile at Thornhill, Britta is visiting Grandmistress Rose in her prison. Britta is just such a resilient kiddo - survived homophobic parents, expulsion from her home,  witnessed a demon(?) possession, an exorcism (that Nana Rose called something else), the derangement/ possession of her only guardian, and the trauma of watching an old woman get tossed into a medieval dungeon in the house she lives in. The idea of Cheryl being not quite dissipated into nothing and instead imprisoned in a ‘mental jail’ is the thing that brings this feisty kiddo to some level of alarm.  Nana Rose is the catchall character for all whackadoo magical things.  Sleeping next to someone if they possessed you once is enough to let you inception yourself into their ‘dreamscape.’    The thing is, Britta belongs here because she hears this story and her immediate next reaction is  I COULD DRUG HER TEA. OK but which drugs are these?  Britta has dream-inception drugs that can be dissolved into a tea??  And like all good fairy stories the old witch sets an arbitrary deadline: Britta must ‘emerge’ from the dream faster than Abigail or there will be ‘wrath’(undefined) bear. 

We get a preview of the mental jail that Britta is going to have to brave, literally ‘through a looking glass.’  This next bit was AMAZING.  Riverdale is doing Mommy Dearest!!!.  Penelope Blossom is doing a nightmare parody of Faye Dunaway doing a parody of Joan Crawford as presented by an adopted daughter who absolutely hated her.  They gave the Penelope actress the extremely rigid eyebrows and the big shoulder outfits.  The Blossom twins all their mother, Dearest Mumsy, in unison. 

Jughead is at the town meeting, sitting in the corner, listening in on people’s thoughts.  “Who wrote the article? Probably Alice” is one thought that he hears.  The way this meeting devolves is very interesting.  Alice thinks there is much to ‘dispute’ about the article, but the thing she hates the most is Veronica and Reggie with their casino (but somehow not a gang?).  Veronica tries to makes a case for herself (she brings tourists and employs the locals). Alice says that the true beneficiaries of a casino are its owners. Alice is a moron - this is how capitalism works, babe, not just casinos.  Veronica is sitting right next to Archie but he acts like he doesn’t see her. He only wants to know who wrote the article. 

The writer of the article was Percival.   Toni says Percival’s great great grandfather (on his dad’s side) having led genocide against her ancestors would be a strike against Percival pointing out that Riverdale as a town sucks (and that the Serpents under Toni’s rule kind of suck as is having to deal with on-going gang warfare between weaksauce gangs also sucks).  

Archie ups the ante by daring Percival to come up with ‘real solutions.’   He wasn’t ready for  Percival actually having any, so he instead offers to punch his lights out.   Percival follows the fascist playbook down to the T - he attacks the people on the margins that everyone present has mixed feelings about:  homeless people in Sketch Alley.  Percival  wants to ‘bus-out’ the homeless. What does it mean to HUMANELY bus the homeless out? Bus them where?   Archie counters with a good statement - that you can’t just bus people out of your town - and with a lie “Riverdale takes care of its own.”  But it really doesn’t though.  That’s just not true. They let all those Southside Serpents live a tent village.  Alice Cooper is the prototypical Riverdale resident and she doesn’t even look after her own children.

The homeless are not present to speak for themselves, so the correct things that Archie says (the most destitute are still citizens of the place) rings kind of hollow.

And in any case, when put on the spot, Archie doesn’t have a direct answer for what he would propose instead, and Jughead gets immensely excited: And thus began the battle for Riverdale’s soul, he proclaims.  Which really means, I finally have a project I created for myself and Archie.

Because you know, when Archie creates projects, like his recent Saving Riverdale 1.0 - Avengers Assemble, he only really assigns a tertiary-at-best role for Jughead. Jughead doesn’t bring capital, like Veronica, nor muscle and firepower, like Betty.  If Jughead can control the project, by contrast, he’ll put Archie first, and himself second.   Even better, Betty is out of town while Veronica and Archie act like they’ve never met, so Jughead can really have Archie to himself.  Old habits die really hard.

Abigail comes home to Thornhill where Britta is wearing her long hair in braided devil’s horns. I KNEW THAT HER ELABORATE BRAIDS MEANT SOMETHING!  I love Britta signaling her devilish intentions through her hair. Britta offers to provide handmaid services to Abigail, who accepts them without question.  Britta (like the young Jughead and the young Cheryl) is in a situation that’s hair raisingly terrifying if you stop and think about it too much (her guardian is either demon possessed or completely insane, and the only other adult present has been locked into a dungeon and tells her to drug the guardian OH MY).

Jughead shows up at the Andrews house, where he’s now twice lived in (or attempted to) and twice got kicked (or rather BLOWN UP) out of. The first thing he says is, Don’t punch me in a sardonic, flat way. He tells Archie the obvious, that he himself had been homeless more than once (I mean, if he and Tabitha, god forbid, break up, doesn’t he go right back to being homeless??).    Then come the Riverdale the Show’s statement about the unhoused/homeless/destitute: All of them are without exception good people who deserve resources.   Archie points out that Jughead didn’t say anything at the meeting, but Archie still doesn’t get it.  Jughead needs this 1:1 discussion and buy-in from Archie about their joint project before he’s going to involve himself in this project.  Jughead gives Archie the idea of giving a micro home for everyone in Sketch Alley, and he thought of this in particular because Archie has a construction business.  Of course Archie says yes - this was tailor made for him by a person who’s loved him forever.

Britta with her little devil’s horn hair somehow (Tea + Whooshing sound) invades Abigail/ Cheryl’s dream mindscape where Penelope Blossom is hamming it up to high heaven with an accent that’s vaguely Southern and Mid-Atlantic at the same time.  Cheryl in the dreamscape is in time out, weeping at her own birthday party.  Britta bravely stands up to Penelope on Cheryl’s behalf.  When the dream-inhabitants give Britta a stern look, she escapes the dream, waking up shortly before Abigail.

Reggie and Veronica are in their office with the portrait of Hiram in the space.  Veronica wants to make the casino a clean business because she wants to rehabilitate the Lodge name and contribute to ‘fixing’ Riverdale.  Reggie reminds her that going ‘legit’ is going to be highly expensive, so Veronica gives the go ahead, which is fine enough, but then she does something very peculiar - she wants to hang up a portrait of her dad as a sort of hate-watch, so she can be reminded of who she doesn’t want to be like. This is not how that works.

Percival is buttering up Alice to vote his way at her house.  I don’t know why this scene was necessary - Alice would’ve voted to bury the homeless alive if she thought enough people would go for it. I hope Percival serviced Alice after we pan away (Uhh minors DNI?).

We’re at another town council meeting.  Veronica and Reggie present their proposal for a Riverdale as Atlantic City.   She wants to open an arcade.  Frank says there are too many broken people in Riverdale for a casino to be a ‘good’ option.   So both Frank, who lives off of his nephew that he just described as broken, and Alice, former cult member and child abuser, that the idiotic core four elevated to these unelected super powerful positions and have moreover never launched nor run any sort of successful business are basically naysaying the only person with any sort of entrepreneurial spirit in Riverdale.  Oh boy.  

Next up is Archie, mouthing the things that Jughead told him to say.  Toni likes it, so does Tabitha (who mentions that she’s seen these mini houses in Chicago, which means this was where Jug got this idea from).  Alice says no, because it’s expensive, and Percival points out that his plan is very low cost.   

Archie and Percival have their tete-a-tete, long overdue.  Percival points out the obvious, that Alice (“your neighbors”) would rather the homeless problem disappear.  He basically describes what NIMBY is which Archie describes as warped and cynical.  

Archie  calls on Toni and Tabitha to ask for money ($25K per) to build the microhomes, and both women say yes.  Jughead takes Archie and other irrelevant people to Sketch Alley to let them know they’re going to build them the microhomes.  Doc looks really happy, so you know it’s going to turn to shit, because Doc is tied to Jughead, and Riverdale is a story about taking nice things away from Jughead Jones (If Tabitha dies I will riot).

Reggie meanwhile is giving Veronica a big reality check.  That they can’t go ‘legit’ and ever turn a profit.  And just on the heels of this piece of sobering news they’re told that ‘something bad’ has happened in the ‘private’ gambling room.   A man has committed suicide in there.  These two hard nosed criminals (that’s what they are) talk about what they should do to save their long term business interests right in front of a dangling corpse.  Veronica decides to call the Deus Ex Machina Godson. 

Britta has drugged Abigail a second time to have a go at inception again.  Her hair is back in the demon braids.  I love this hairdo on her, it makes her look like Irish Chun Lee.  She finds Cheryl, but they barely have any time to talk before Penelope Blossom reenacts Mommy Dearest for us all, making her kids  scrub the floors. She even mentions the hanger!  

Next day at Sketch Alley, people are building things without any sort of training somehow and I’m supposed to think this is all good. That is, until Doc wallops Kevin across the head with a hammer. (Who is looking after Baby Anthony right now?)

Alice is all over it at her news channel or whatever that is. What is that?  It’s an opinion channel that commentates on current events?  Tabitha, Toni and Archie are at the diner and very concerned.  Tabitha and Archie are still all in on this very losing endeavor, the microhouses.  I think I’m supposed to think they are good and kind people, but I am not.  I want these two very young women who are struggling running a diner and a bar in a dying town to just look after number one a bit, or at least, their own employees, instead of pursuing this cockamamie plan with Archie.  But that’s because I dislike Archie. 

Reggie has done an interesting thing to actually investigate why the gambler suicided in the private room - he’d been winning huge!  It turns out Percival was literally whispering in his ear.  Okay then.  But they don’t have much time to discuss this because Abuelita’s Godson shows up to ask where the body is.  I love Reggie’s “Jeez, cut to the chase much?”   Reggie like crimes of a financial nature, and Jughead (in Killing Mr Honey) had been very prescient that he would be ill at ease with murder, corpse desecration and other wet work (ooooh I got to say that like I am a tough person).  Geraldo is not amused by his humor.

Britta consults with Grandmistress Rose about Cheryl’s situation.  Is Nana Rose’s character that she’s going through early stages of dementia? Because she goes through lucid phases like this where she’s quite coherent about the underlying family dysfunction (“Penelope has always been Cheryl’s tormentor”) and other times when she’s just gleefully doing batshit insane things without a care in the world.   Poor Britta.  She’s tasked with figuring out the solution to this strange magic/witchcraft/ demon coma problem that the Blossom women have created amongst themselves. 

Percival Pickens knows the power of showing up for people.  He seems to be the only person who actually visited Kevin in the hospital. (Toni, Archie and Tabitha absolutely have not, though they care).   Never underestimate the power of physical presence, friends.  When you want to influence someone, SHOW UP IN PERSON. 

Benjamin Moore donated the paint for future houses, is what Archie says, in front of the finished microhouse. Is this SUBTLE product placement? Or was this Riverdale the Show trying to solicit a sponsorship?  Or are they trying to pressure Benjamin Moore the company to make donations to homeless shelters and microhomes?  …. Youtubers with less than 10K subscribers do a much better job of advertisement for sponsors that Riverdale.  Jabitha and Farchie (Frank and Archie probably fuck, I don’t know, I hate Frank so much) are very happy in the parking lot.

Abuelita’s Godson wants to help Veronica’s business by putting out the word to ‘the wise guys.’  He’s trying to help, so Veronica wants him to investigate Percival Pickens.  The fact that nobody (neither Journalist Alice nor Journalist Jughead) have actually done this is an indictment for both.

Within a single evening, the model microhouses they set up in front of the Diner has been graffitied nastily.  Archie punches the hell out of his car.  Our hero.   Meanwhile, Jughead visits Doc, to ask why he attacked Kevin.  Is this what happens to all of Jughead Jones’s father figures?  They get visits from a very disappointed Jughead while behind bars?   Doc completely takes it as a given that Jughead can read his thoughts. Okay then.

At long last, Jughead has a 1:1 with Percival.  Jughead opens strong by lobbing a Gandhi quote at an Englishman.   I wish the show had let this have a little bit of room to breathe, because that is very, very funny, not just because of Gandhi v Evil Englishman but also because it’s one smug white man doing this to another smug white man.   Jughead gets caught “rooting around inside” Percival’s mind.   Jughead is so scared.

Britta is left handed, with lovely penmanship and knows her way around a fountain pen.  She’s trying to dream inception to rescue Cheryl again.   This time, Cheryl’s hair is all torn up, weeping in a chair in a sailor outfit.  Britta tries to wake Cheryl out of it, but they’re caught by Penelope.  Dream Penelope can tell IMMEDIATELY that Britta is both sapphic and a slut. Awesome Gaydar you got there.  Penelope has to be gay. She has to.   I love the white flowers on Britta’s sweater.  She leaves the note for Cheryl as she gets kicked out of the dream house.   Penelope’s hunched-shoulder flailing around in a rage is EXCEPTIONALLY delicious.  Cheryl, just from this one note from Britta, recovers herself entirely, lipstick, bustier and all. 

Next morning, Jabitha, Frank and Toni are repainting the microhouses.  Just as Jughead is about to convey important information about Percival’s mind bending powers, the man himself shows up to announce that the homeless have been successfully ejected from Riverdale. 

The new fivesome (?) visit the emptied out Sketch Alley that evening (I don’t know why they couldn’t go right away?).  It’s Frank, Toni, Archie in the center, Tabitha and Jughead. I like that there’s more for Tabitha to do than be Girl-Friday for everyone and Toni doesn’t have to try to be some sort of tough which she can’t do, but I HATE THIS LINE UP. The two POC women are still completely subordinate to the whims of Archie Andrews, and they’re the ones taking the biggest risks with their businesses.  

Cheryl is back to herself so she’s visiting Britta in her dreams to say they have to drive Abigail out of Cheryl’s body.

Everyone is applauding Percival for his successfully clearing out Sketch Alley.  Alice is one of the people applauding. I hope once again that she got cunnilingus at least out of this.  Sheriff Keller hires Percival as a deputy and the core four are peeved.  Jughead finally makes a mistake where he assumes that someone he wasn’t looking at said the thought he overheard - Archie gives Jughead a dire look. 

Alice loves exercising all this power over other people. Saying no to people, getting in their way, kicking people out of their own businesses.  Why Alice suddenly despises Veronica (other than Percival’s interference?) seems unsupported to me so I feel the same sort of boredom I feel about any other sort of unmotivated villainy.

As a result, Veronica decides to be her Daddykins’ daughter after all, which is music to Reggie’s ears (he wants to run scams!).  Abuelita’s Iceman says he couldn’t find anything on Percival.  Betty comes back to the Andrews residence, saying she’s lost TBK (what else is new) but she’s acquired an affliction in the form of terrible migraines.  Archie tells Betty that Jughead can read minds, and that Percival Pickens can control people’s minds.   He says the whole town is in trouble. 

I wonder why they didn’t show this very important discussion between Jughead and Archie? Is it because Archie was as indifferent, brutal and irritable as he’d been about Jughead’s deafness?  

In his commonplace book, Percival writes “Jughead Jones ,Mind reader??” but his penmanship is much worse than Britta’s.  He has a murder board set up with Core Four and Uncle Frank. 

[mercy-burning]

A Shit-Ton Of Sugar

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer work up the nerve to ask each other out after he’s been coming into her café for the past year. Category: FLUFF Warnings: Implied smut, nothing else :) Word Count: 5.3k

Full Request: “...Congrats on 1k that’s so exciting! I was hoping to request barista!reader that works at the coffee shop that Spencer goes to every morning, and literally knowing his order by heart??? And maybe like finally working up the nerve to ask him out/give him her number? Preferably fluffy, but I don’t mind! Thank you!” — @bauhousewife 

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

DAY 1

The first day he came into the shop, she felt like she couldn't breathe, which may have sounded like a cliché, but how else were you supposed to feel when a man like that walked in and just existed in the same space as you?

However, when she heard the bell ring, signaling someone coming into the tiny café, the fact that it was almost six-thirty in the morning was enough to make her grumpy. Whoever it was didn't even have the decency to wait a half hour until they officially opened? So, she turned around to face the stranger, ready to put on a fake smile and act like she didn't secretly want to strangle them, and then laid her eyes on probably the most beautiful human being she'd seen in a long time.

His eyebrows lifted, simultaneously expressing a greeting and an apology. "I—I'm sorry, I know you're not technically open for another half hour, but I'm in a rush on my way to work and I was wondering if I could just get a quick coffee to go?"

It was obvious that he tried to speak evenly, but between apologizing and being late to work, his words still came out rather fast. And suddenly her annoyance faded, quickly turning into a need to please him however she could.

"Oh! Oh, no worries, I can do that," she rushed out, scrambling to smooth out her apron. "What can I get you?"

A flash of relief flooded the man's eyes when he blinked, and his posture seemed just as relieved, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a breath. "Just a black coffee with lots of sugar is fine, thank you."

"No problem. I'll have that up in a minute. Size?"

"Large, please."

As she got to work, he waited as patiently as he could, looking around the small space.

It truly was what everyone would describe as "home-y". Everything was painted a pale yellow, with lavender and sage green accents in the form of window trim, picture frames, little knick-knacks, and art pieces. As the man scanned over the few tables, he found little centerpieces of old ceramic mugs with flowers painted on them, each one containing real (or maybe fake? he couldn't tell) flower arrangements.

He smiled to himself as he found everything so... comforting. And as his eyes finally made their way back to the barista behind the counter, he finally got a good look at her.

"This is... your place? You own it?"

The woman turned back to him briefly as she poured the coffee into a large to-go cup. "Oh, yeah. I just opened up a few months ago. We don't get too much business, but that's fine by me as long as it's enough to pay the bills."

At her laugh, he smiled a little wider. It was a nice sound, just as comforting and home-y as the place he stood in. "Well, i—it's really nice, congratulations. I'm glad things are working out for you."

She laughed again a little, and if he knew any better he would have swore she was blushing. "Thank you. Um... How much sugar did you say you wanted?"

It was his turn to blush now, the way she was looking at him completely doing something wicked to his insides. "O—oh, um... I guess I never really did specify, huh? Sorry about that, um... Just three tablespoons is fine."

It was clear that he really didn't want to be an inconvenience, even more so when he mumbled a, "Sorry," so soft that Y/N wasn't even sure she heard it. Even still, she put on her best smile—even as she was turned around—to make sure he knew that she wasn't annoyed with him at all.

Though, it wasn't hard to keep smiling when she couldn't think to do anything else around him. Just the thought of his face made her want to smile, like she had a choice in the matter.

She finished the coffee, putting on a lid and turning around to face him again. "Can I get your name?"

He paused for a moment, like he was shocked she'd even ask, but laughed to himself and swallowed before responding, two syllables that almost sent her into cardiac arrest. "Spencer."

Suits him... she thought as she wrote his name down on the cup, her handwriting a pretty mix of cursive and print. And seeing his name spelled out in the penmanship she always got complimented on growing up looked like it might have been the most satisfying black marker trail she'd ever seen. Almost as satisfying as his face...

She cleared her throat and slid the cup across the counter to him, hoping she wouldn't be too obvious about her little eye-candy crush when she spoke. "Three-fifty is your total."

Spencer grabbed a five dollar bill from his jacket pocket and held it out, his fingers just barely brushing hers when she took it from him. If not for the intense concentration she was immersed in, trying not to embarrass herself, she would have jumped at the contact. Instead, she quickly ducked her face behind the tall register to keep from him seeing the stupid grin she couldn't keep away as she opened the drawer and started counting change. When she handed it over, though, she set it on the counter, hoping she could avoid touching him again.

He looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he scooped the change into his hand and immediately dropped it in the empty tip jar, a small smile on his face.

Just as Y/N said, "Thank you," Spencer grabbed his coffee and said the same, the both of them immediately going warm at the interaction. They let out a small laugh then, Y/N tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before she spoke again.

"Thank you for coming in," she said with a nod.

Spencer took a sip of his coffee and nodded back with a nod of his own. "A—and thank you for the excellent coffee."

Even after he left, she waited until he was across the street and completely out of sight before she let out a long, dramatic breath, immediately followed by a, "Holy shit."

And little did she know, it took everything within him not to keep looking back at the café as he left it—and her—behind.

DAY 5

She should have known it was too good to be true. In fact, if it weren't for the vivid physical and emotional reaction she'd had to seeing him lasting for days after it happened, she would have though she'd imagined the entire interaction. Spencer was quite literally the man of her dreams, if only because that's the one and only place he seemed to exist as of late.

Of course, it'd only been five days, and there was a possibility that he could come in again. Right?

Y/N shook away all thoughts of him as best as she could, focusing her attention to cleaning up the tables and closing for the night. The café was empty, the last customer having left no more than five minutes ago. But even as she cleaned tables, Y/N kept the sign on the door flipped to 'OPEN'— because the café closed for good at 10pm, and it was only 9:47. Though no one ever came in past 9:30, she figured it was better safe than sorry.

Soon enough, the small café started to smell more like lemon-scented surface cleaner than coffee, but Y/ didn't mind. In fact, as much as she loved the smell of coffee, after a long day it started to give her a little headache, one that instantly cleared once she started cleaning and closing up. It was calming, getting the place ready for the next day in the peace and quiet. She always turned half of the lights off so it wasn't as bright, a fact she was grateful for especially after the sun went down, but mostly because it made the place feel more atmospheric. Dim lighting during nightfall was probably Y/N's favorite feeling in the world.

At least, she thought it was.

She wasn't so sure anymore when the bell on the door rang and she turned around to see the man of her dreams, in all his tall, well-dressed, beautiful glory. 

She froze instantly, the bottle of cleaner falling softly from her hands and dropping onto the table, making her jump.

"Oh, I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Spencer said quietly.

"N—no, it's... Um, it's fine," Y/N laughed, more embarrassed than anything. "I just wasn't expecting anyone to come in so late, we usually don't get anyone after 9:30."

"Yeah, I... I know it's late, I apologize, um... I just got back from work and I figured I'd stop by for a pick-me-up, i—if that's alright."

There he went again, acting like being in her presence was such an inconvenience for her, and it made her stomach do flip flops. There was no way he wasn't a figment of her imagination, right? He always showed up at the weirdest time, nervously asking for a cup of coffee like he wasn't supposed to be there.

Granted, this was only the second time it's happened, but the sentiment remained the same.

Either way, Y/N was happy to oblige.

"It's always alright. What can I get you this time?" She smoothed out her apron before sprinting behind the counter, turning on a lamp in the back that illuminated more of the kitchen.

"Oh, a black coffee is fine."

She couldn't help but laugh as she grabbed a to-go cup. "No mountains of sugar this time?"

To her surprise, he laughed back, and the sound made her feel warm. She wasn't looking at him because she was laser-focusing on the coffee making as to not make another embarrassment of herself, but she could see his smile in her head all the same. Hopefully the dimmer lighting wouldn't give her away, another stupid grin rising to her face.

"Mountains of sugar would be fantastic, actually," he said, his voice ever so warm and friendly, albeit soft. He was obviously tired, and if he was looking to stay awake, this coffee would definitely do the trick for a few hours.

"You sound like you had quite a long day," Y/N observed as she started brewing a new pot of coffee.

"Long week, more like... Work has been... a little rough."

The exhaustion threaded in his voice made her heart ache a little. "I'm sorry to hear that. Though, it sounds like you should be getting sleep instead of coffee."

When Spencer laughed this time, it was humorless. "Yeah, well, in my line of work sleep doesn't really come easily..."

Y/N glanced up at him then to see his head tilted upward as he stared at the ceiling. The dim lights of the café accentuated the peak of his nose and his jawline, and if not for the clear exhaustion highlighting his features, she would have taken more excitement in the fact that he was there, standing in front of her looking like a beautiful sculpture for free.

Though that was definitely an upside to him finally stopping by again, deep down she knew the reason he was there now wasn't because of her; He needed coffee, some semblance of comfort and probably normalcy after a shitty week. And Y/N was inclined to understand exactly how he felt in that regard.

"I'm sorry to hear that," is all she said on the subject. But she had an idea, hoping to brighten his day just a little, to bring another smile to his face. "Tell you what, I'll give you an extra coffee, no additional charge, and if you want, I'll even send you on your way with some of these extra muffins."

The half-worried, 'oh-shit-I'm-being-a-hassle' look on his face was almost familiar at this point, making Y/N laugh a little to herself.

"O—oh, Y/N, I couldn't do that, I—"

Ignoring the feeling she got when he said her name aloud, she stopped him, shook her head, and started pouring the freshly brewed coffee into two large to-go cups. "Really, Spencer, it's fine. I'll have to throw it all out otherwise, and this way it saves me the trouble. Trust me, you'd be doing me a favor."

"A—are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble..."

"I own the place," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And since I'm my own boss, I can confidently say that I won't get in trouble."

Though his smile wasn't as wide as she remembered, the sweetness and utter thankfulness she saw in it this time around was enough to call it a win. "Thank you... A—and again, I know it's late, I'm sorry for coming in—"

"Nonsense. You're welcome here any time," she reassured him with a smile almost as sweet as his coffee.

Maybe one day Spencer would stop apologizing, but as long as he kept returning to the café, Y/N didn't mind whether he did or not.

DAY 30 

Y/N was feeling rather bold today. Not bold enough to actually ask him out or anything, but bold enough to have his order ready when he came in.

Over time she learned that Spencer's work schedule was pretty random, that he traveled a lot, therefore he probably wouldn't be in every day. But a few days ago, he mentioned he was scheduled for a week off, which rarely happened, and today marked the fifth day of his mini vacation— every single day prior, he stopped in at exactly 9:00am. 

Taking the chance that he would be stopping in a fifth day in a row, Y/N was already making his usual coffee at 8:50.

Beside her, her friend and employee, Heather, snickered, finishing up with a customer and teasing Y/N with an evil grin. "You're so whipped."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she responded quietly, stirring in the mountains of sugar and setting the spoon down beside the cup.

"If you don't ask him out, Y/N, I swear... No way a man like that's gonna stay single forever, you gotta make your move."

"Who says I'm not going to?"

"Oh, so when you hand him his coffee today, you're going to give him your number and not just freeze and chicken out? You know, like you always do?"

She glared at Heather, but it only lasted for a split second before it turned into a look of pure pining and sadness. Pathetic... "Probably not..."

Heather patted Y/N on the shoulder. "It's alright, babe. When he comes in, just be yourself. He obviously likes you, enough to come in every day for your shitty coffee..."

The shit-eating grin on her friend's face was enough to make Y/N laugh again, and she shook her head, then turned back to put the lid on Spencer's cup. "Yeah, yeah... We'll see what happens. But I get what you're saying."

As Heather went off to clean some tables, Y/N wrote out his name on the cup, contemplating whether or not she should put her number next to it. What could be the harm in that, right? It was cute and charming as hell.

Just as she was about to write the first number down the chimes sounded above the door, and as some type of Pavlovian response, Y/N set down the marker and looked up to see if it was him. Instantly she berated herself for being so obvious, but by the look on Spencer's face when he approached, he didn't look phased in the slightest.

"Hey, Sugar," Y/N called out to him, sliding him the coffee and feeling butterflies swarm her stomach at the look on his face when he heard the nickname.

Then she realized she called him by a nickname...

Even though he still smiled and took the coffee, reaching into his pocket for money and clearly not phased in the least by her affectionate nickname for him, it still made her insides flare with a little embarrassment. And if she wasn't nervous about seeing him before, she most certainly was now that he was in front of her, smiling at her and being as kind and charming as ever with few words.

He was going to leave, grabbing the cup and turning, but halfway to the door, he turned back around, and when he spoke it sounded like he was as nervous as she was.

"Oh, um... I'm leaving to visit my mom this weekend, so, I just... Wanted to let you know... You know, so you don't waste your time and resources on my order..."

Though he was obviously looking out for her, Y/N still felt this overwhelming flood of foolishness, like he actually did find it strange that she memorized his order and made it for him so it would be ready on the dot when he got there. She figured, just for a moment, that it was his subtle way of telling her he thought she was taking things to a whole new level of weird.

"O—Oh, sure. Thanks for the heads up. Enjoy your weekend." She gave him her best smile, hoping her insecurity didn't bleed through.

But then he said, "You, too, Y/N," and smiled back, looking at her for a moment that lingered just a little too long before turning away. And before he actually walked out the door, he stopped and looked back at her again, giving a small wave as his face showed all signs of reluctance to leave.

She wasn't sure how long she stared at the empty doorway, but Heather's laugh broke her from the trance.

"You know you have nothing to worry about, right? He's definitely into you."

"You... You think?" she returned softly.

"I know. The next time he comes in, give him your number."

DAY 84

Turns out, Heather was completely wrong.

Y/N hadn't seen Spencer for weeks, and then the next time he came in, there was a girl with him. Y/N tried extra hard not to jump to conclusions— maybe she was just a friend? Or a sibling, or a co-worker... And besides, even if the girl was dating him, it's not like it would have been any of her business, right? She barely knew the guy, and though it hurt to have this stupid crush on him just to find out he had a girlfriend and she'd misread the entire situation, that's all it was. A crush.

A crush that, in the end, well... crushed her.

Because the girl was, in fact, his girlfriend. He didn't really introduce her at first, but the second day they came into the café together, they were holding hands. And the girl, short and pretty and adorning a beautiful mane of long, red hair, clung to his side, giving him the same doe eyes Y/N had been teased by Heather for giving him that day he'd left. Not to mention, when they ordered, the girl called him "Babe".

It was absolutely crushing.

Y/N didn't want to cry, because it was stupid for a grown woman to cry over some dude she barely knew, right? But that didn't stop the tears from welling as soon as said dude and his freaking girlfriend stepped out of the café, leaving her behind with an ache that she hadn't felt in ages.

She and Heather went out drinking that night, and after a few days of wallowing, Y/N promptly decided that Spencer and his stupid, beautiful face and his stupid, beautiful girlfriend could kiss her ass.

Of course, immediately after, she felt bad for thinking so negatively and just settled on staying out of their business.

But it didn't help that they came in almost every day for months. Even when Spencer was at work, therefore absent, his girlfriend was there. Jeannie, her name was. She had a regular order, too, one that Y/N couldn't help but dread making every morning but did anyway, even going so far as to have it ready for her when she came in. And Jeannie was incredibly nice, a fact which Y/N hated because it would have been way easier to deal with if she was awful. At least then, she could have maybe felt better about herself for being a nicer person, but she knew that wasn't fair.

This particular day, though, Spencer came in alone. And despite herself, the first thing Y/N said to him was, "Where's Jeannie?"

Maybe she should have known by the look on his face, but he sighed, returning her question with a simple, "Delaware."

Y/N started to make his usual order, keeping the conversation light even though she was inwardly sighing at he prospect of discussing his girlfriend's whereabouts. "What's she doing there?"

She wasn't looking at him, but the sadness in his voice stopped her in her tracks. "She's there with her husband."

"Uh... What?"

"Turns out she's been engaged for the past five years... They, uh... Took a break to see other people to really see if they wanted to get married, and I guess they... got married. Last week."

"Holy shit. Spencer, I... I don't know what to say, I'm... sorry..."

He didn't say anything, only giving a half-hearted smile that conveyed more sadness than anything. Y/N hated that someone had the audacity to make him feel that way... to use him like that without at the very least telling him her situation first, before getting into a relationship.

She finished his order, but before handing it to him, she reached for a blueberry muffin and wrapped it up. And as he took money out of his pocket, she sook her head and slid his things over across the counter. "Everything's on the house today."

"Y/N, you don't have t—"

"I insist. Jeannie did a stupid thing, and you deserve better than that... You deserve something good. And I know this is small and probably nothing, but I don't care."

A little of the sadness from his smile replaced itself with amusement, and Y/N decided she'd take it. He muttered a small, "Thank you," before grabbing his coffee, but before he took the muffin he looked her dead in the eye and deposited the five dollar bill from his other hand straight into the tip jar.

She sighed and shook her head at him.

But that only widened the smile on his face, most of the sadness gone. In fact, it looked more like a satisfied smirk as he grabbed the muffin and turned to leave.

Despite Spencer's refusal to not pay, Y/N found herself smiling as he left.

DAY 174

Thankfully there were no more girlfriends after that. 

Well, okay, it wasn't fair of Y/N to say that, because if she wanted to take her shot she would have, and she couldn't get mad every time he had a new girlfriend. 

But of course, that didn't mean she couldn't be relieved every time she saw him walk in alone.

This time it was Valentine's Day. The café was decorated with sparkly red garland and pink, red, and white hearts that dangled from the ceiling. All the flowers on the tables were replaced with roses and tealight candles, and currently, almost everyone was rushing to buy the chocolate-covered strawberry arrangements that Y/N made herself. 

She was currently in the back, working on making more when Heather came rushing to the room, calling out her name.

A small panic started to sink in, because if Heather needed more supplies or more of the strawberry arrangements, she would have just sent back a ring of the bell on the doorway to the kitchen. But she almost knocked over said arrangements on her way in, and Y/N was worried that maybe something bad happened.

"Heather, what's wrong?" she asked hurriedly, smearing chocolate all over her apron.

"Nothing's wrong, but your boy is here. He's asking to see you!"

Her heart leapt out of her chest, and suddenly it was like the wind got knocked out of her. "S—Spencer?"

"Yes!" Heather half-squealed, reaching out to pull at Y/N's arm. "Go!"

"Wait! Wait, how... how do I look?"

"Take off the apron, pull down your shirt a little."

"Heather!"

"You asked! If he's here to ask you out, why not give him a little preview? Now c'mon, hand the apron over." She held her hand out, waiting for Y/N to take it off.

She grumbled as she did, suddenly more nervous than she'd ever been. Her hands shook as she untied the apron and threw it over to Heather. She looked down at the deep red v-neck she wore and sighed, pulling it down a little to give a better view of her cleavage. She fluffed her hair out, letting out a huge sigh and then shaking out her hands.

"You're hot, now go!" Heather exclaimed, practically pushing her out of the kitchen and into the bright café main room.

The moment Y/N stepped out, she saw him immediately. And as always, he looked absolutely perfect... In the last few months, he'd let his hair grow out a little, strands of it tucked behind his ear while most of it fell loose atop his head. Currently he was wearing a long coat, though she couldn't tell what was underneath. But she didn't need to know, really, because he could have showed up wearing a garbage bag and she still would have practically drooled at the sight of him.

Swallowing, Y/N made her way over to him with a smile, Heather following behind.

"Hi," she said, hoping her nerves wouldn't show through. "Heather said you asked for me?"

"U—uh, yeah. Hi, um... Sorry if you're busy, I just wanted to... stop by, say Happy Valentine's Day..."

Her heart beat faster than it ever had, and seeing him smile this nervously in her direction made it all the more endearing. "Oh, thank you," she said, giving him a small wave and then wondering why when she could have done literally anything else... Wink? Finger guns?—No, Y/N, what are you thinking? Just keep cool and talk to him like a normal person! "Do you... have any plans?"

Spencer stood still, seemingly starstruck by the question for a few, long, seconds before blinking and slightly shaking his head. "O—Oh, yeah, um... Some friends and I are going out for drinks later, that's all. Should be kinda boring, actually, not really my scene..."

"Oh... Boring's nice, though, sometimes. Personally all the huge Valentine's Day plans are kinda over-the-top anyway." She might as well have been wearing a sign on her forehead that said Lie! Lie! Lie!

He laughed, though, and Y/N's heart sunk. "Yeah, you're right... Um, I'll let you get back to work, then, I just wanted to stop in and say hi." 

"Oh... You don't... want coffee or anything? I—I've got these chocolate-covered strawberry arrangements, too, if you want one. You know, 'cause why not?"

"Oh! Uh, sure. That... That sounds great."

His smile lit her insides on fire, ad she tried desperately not to stumble as she worked her way through the kitchen, making everything. He waited patiently by the side of the counter, trying equally as hard not to keep sneaking glances at her as she worked. Meanwhile the pink post-it note with his phone number in red ink burned in his pocket, his hands shaking as he struggled to think of a scenario in which he wouldn't fumble with it and completely make a fool of himself. Because now that he was there, in her presence, it was a lot harder to pretend like he had the confidence to actually ask her out.

And when she brought his order, she flashed that beautiful smile and he knew immediately that he would never be able to give her the post-it. Whether she knew it or not, she made him nervous, and if he was going  to mess everything up, he certainly wasn't going to do it in a café full of people on Valentine's Day. He'd never recover.

So Spencer accepted the coffee and the small bouquet of fruit, trying his best not to drop it with shaky hands. "Thank you. How much?"

"For you, on the house," Y/N returned. "And please don't just put a 5 in the tip jar. I'm getting really tired of you doing that."

They both laughed, the memories of every time since the last time he'd done it sparking between them like lightning. Almost every time she insisted on giving him his coffee for free, he pulled a 5-dollar bill from his pocket and landed it in the jar, and every time she rolled her eyes at him and told him to get out.

"Well, I have to give you something," Spencer insisted, the paper in his pocket burning even hotter.

Likewise, Y/N felt like she was going to lose her balance again. Was he going to ask her out? Heaven forbid, would he kiss her? "What do you have in mind?"

The deep tone of her voice sent a chill through him, and in that moment it was now or never. So he set the coffee down on the counter and reached into his pocket. Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a raise of his eyebrows. "It's not what you think. I promise."

Somehow she didn't believe him.

But then he pulled out a hot pink piece of paper and slipped it in the tip jar instead, his eyes never leaving hers. "I really hope you empty the jar at the end of every day, otherwise this is going to be a little embarrassing."

"What... What is it?" she asked softly, though she already had an inkling of the answer.

And then he said something that made her heart soar. "I think you already know."

Sure enough, Y/N looked down and saw numbers written on the sheet of paper through the glass. She smiled, letting it burn heart-shaped holes into her eyes.

Spencer was gone when she looked back up, but the image of him was still seared into her brain.

DAY 366

They hadn't even made it out of the parking lot. And you'd think that after months of dating and going on dates he would have been used to how pretty she looked, but alas, yet again he couldn't wait, and now Spencer and Y/N were laying in the backseat of her car, praying no one had just seen what went down not twenty minutes ago.

"You know what, I think that has to be a record," she laughed, combing through his damp hair with her fingers. "I didn't even have my seatbelt on yet."

He laughed with her. "You know I'm impatient..."

"Yeah, and I also know that we're certainly not going to make those dinner reservations you worked so hard all month to get. All that hard work, for nothing!"

He scoffed, though the smirk on his face never faltered. "I hardly think it was for nothing... You are definitely something... Besides, I had to, because today is very special."

"Oh, and why's that?"

"Well... I don't know if you know this, but you and I met exactly one year ago today. And I've never been the same since."

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide. "Has... Has it really been that long already?"

"Mhm... And it only seems like it hasn't been that long because we've only been technically dating for 192 days... But I wanted to celebrate anyway. Because no matter how long we've been dating, I've actually been enamored by you for 366 days. And counting."

Warmth flooded through her veins as she hugged him tighter to her, pressing a kiss to his jaw before nuzzling into his neck. "Oh, Sugar... I love you."

Spencer smiled fondly at the nickname, thinking back to all the times he'd watched her pour a shit-ton of sugar into his coffee at her cute little café— the one he'd only ever stumbled on by accident because he was running late for work and needed a quick fix of caffeine. Turns out it had been the best accident he'd ever stumbled into.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

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[earth-ambassador-jim]

Parent/Mentor Swap AU

The swaps:

Aaarrrgghh – Bular

Blinky – Nomura

Barbara – Strickler

 Yeah so this was meant to just be a short explanation but it’s not so please enjoy my 2500ish word backstory for this AU. (Jim will still be the Trollhunter.)

Bular

Shortly before the Battle of Killahead Bridge Bular is talking with his father about their plans for their future kingdom. In the course of the discussion Gunmar reveals that he wants to eliminate all humans and bring about a literal Eternal Night. (Gunmar has talked about the Eternal Night before but Bular assumed it was a metaphor.)

Bular doesn’t like humans per say. He definitely agrees that their numbers need to be reduced. He certainly wants them to be cast down into the dust and subjected to the rule of trollkind…

But he doesn’t want them gone.

The thought has frankly never occurred to him.

Humans are pests but they are tasty and create useful things. The world will be worse off without them.

The second point is even worse. Bular may be rash at times but he is not a fool. Trolls may not survive under the sun but they won’t survive without it either. Bular has traveled far and wide recruiting trolls for Gunmar’s cause. He’s seen what the Northern Lands become during the winter when for a time the sun ceases to rise.

Based of off that he has a fairly good idea of what the surface will become like under the Eternal Night and it is not desirable. There is no point in taking over the surface only to decimate it.

He tries to argue these points but his father will not listen. Eventually shutting the conversation down entirely with a warning snarl.

Bular is left uneasy. He wonders if it is wise for Gunmar to be the ruler anymore. He wonders if there might be more substance to the rumors of his father’s madness then he thought.

As the War comes to a head and the Battle of Killahead Bridge draws near, Bular tries to convince his father to change his mind. He receives only growls, sneers and a couple beat downs for his trouble.

Eventually he decides that other measures must be taken.

He considers starting an uprising but he doesn’t want to kill his father. Eventually he learns of Deya’s plan to banish Gunmar into the Darklands and decides to assist her. He thinks that spending some time in a world without humans or the sun might bring Gunmar to his senses.

Unfortunately Gunmar learns of this.

Bular, not wanting to fight his father, flees. Gunmar can’t leave to pursue his son, so he sends a detachment of soldiers lead by his most trusted general Aaarrrgghh after him.

Centuries later he comes to Arcadia. He is not accepted by the local troll population for a very long time. They don’t believe he’s really changed sides. It also doesn’t help that unlike Cannon!Aaarrrgghh he is not a pacifist. (He has sworn off eating humans however.) He eventually wins them over by helping the Kanjigar protect Trollmarket. He’s brought into the market for the first time because his energy drops to dangerously low levels (he’s completely catatonic when Kanjigar finds him) because he hasn’t been near a heartstone for centuries and doesn’t eat humans anymore. (I headcannon that eating humans allows for trolls to live away from a heartstone because humans produce a similar energy but in very small amounts).

 Aaarrrgghh

Aaarrrgghh’s origin story is the same as in cannon: he was given to Gunmar by Usurna to be his champion.

In this story he doesn’t switch sides at the battle of Killahead. Seeing the destruction wrought by humans on uninvolved trolls leads him to believe that Gunmar is in the right about wiping them out. When the battle of Kilahead happens, he and his detachment of soldiers become the only Gum Gums outside of the Darklands (or rather the only known Gumm-Gumms) because they were hunting for Bular at the time.

Aaarrrgghh works rather loosely with the changelings as well as doing “recruiting” of more trolls to the Gumm-Gumm cause. (More like threatening into obedience).

Aaarrrgghh comes to Arcadia when he learns of the Trollmarket and Trollhunter’s presence there.

Aaarrrgghh’s presence combined with his small battalion results in more skirmishes with Trollmarket than in cannon. Bular and Draal work with Kanjigar to protect trolls that go out to scavenge against the Gumm-Gumms. The Janus Order has their hands full keeping the constant fighting secret.

Aaarrrgghh generally stays in Barbara’s basement which has a tunnel connecting it to the sewer system. (Disguised with magic so Trollmarket trolls and maintenance workers don’t find it.)

He often leaves the window open and tries to lure cats in for him to eat. This is how he meets Toby.

Toby happens to be looking for one of their missing cats. He finds paw prints leading to the open basement window. He attempts to get in the window but is shoved back by a pole. (Aaarrrgghh has been told repeatedly to not eat the neighbors since this will draw to much scrutiny and they will have to find him a new den if he does.) This distracts him from the cat as he is now more interested in learning about the strange something living in the basement of what he thought was an unoccupied house. He starts asking Aaarrrgghh (who he can’t see) questions about himself and Aaarrrgghh (who isn’t quite sure what to do in this situation) awkwardly responds.

Eventually Toby falls into the habit of visiting Aaarrrgghh’s basement window in the evening and jabbering to him about his day. He brings him little treats and will occasionally ask him questions.

Aaarrrgghh ends up growing fond of him and decides that while he doesn’t like humans in general this one is okay and he starts making plans to keep Toby alive after Gunmar returns.

  Blinky (Bartholomew Georgiou)

Blinky is given as a whelp to the Gum-Gumms by his brother Dictacious (who was working as a spy for Gunmar at the time) and made into a changeling. He’s slightly older than Barbara.

Blinky works at the Arcadia museum. He is in the habit of swapping out old, rare books with exact replicas so he can horde the originals in his secret library.

He has an incredible collection of books from many ages and places. He guards them zealously. Entering his library without permission is suicide and generally ends in the offender being blown to pieces by one of Blinky’s booby traps.

He has very few books of Trollish origin and would do just about anything for more.

 Nomura

Nomura was stolen by the Gumm-Gumm’s when she was a child but her parents survived the initial raid and several decades later they are able to rescue her. Her time with the Gumm-Gumm’s have left its mark, however, and she no longer fit the other trolls in her clan. Her family eventually moves to Dwoza Trollmarket.

She doesn’t really fit in with the younglings her age there either but she makes friends with the archivist. He eventually takes her on as his apprentice and when he passes she takes over as the Trollmarket librarian. She takes her job very seriously and does not tolerate loss or abuse of books.

She becomes friends with Draal (due to having similar temperaments) and later she becomes the first troll to truly accept Bular in the Arcadia Trollmarket.

 Barbara

Barbara is a 700(ish) year old changeling (equivalent of 40-50 human years) and the head of the Janus Order. She’s still a doctor and has the most knowledge of how troll and human bodies work of any one person on the planet. This is partially due to how long she’s been alive but also to the large number of often highly unethical experiments she’s carried out on both species.

Barbara meets James Sturges when she’s working on retrieving a piece of the Killahead Bridge in Maine (officially she’s just a nurse at the hospital named Janet). They hit it off and start dating. Barbara finds his expectations for how she’s supposed to act a little annoying but it suits the role she’s currently playing so she goes along with them.

Then James makes the mistake of breaking one of Barbara’s rules and goes through some of her off-limits stuff, so she kills him and disposes of the body.

She assumes that’s the end of that but about 4 months later when she tries to shift into troll form she can’t. Aside from a curse, there is one thing that will prevent a changeling from shifting back into a troll. A trip to the local pharmacy confirms it: she’s pregnant.

This is certainly a dilemma.

Until she’s done with the pregnancy (one way or another) she’s trapped in her human form.

In the past she would have had an abortion without a second thought, but with Gunmar’s release and the destruction of the human race drawing closer and closer this will probably be her last real opportunity to experience pregnancy. So out of pure scientific curiosity she decides to go through with it.

Quite a few arrangements have to be made but soon she’s on her way to her hidden cabin out in a remote area of Alaska.

The pregnancy and birth go well and soon she is the mother to a little boy. She names him James after his father, figuring that will keep her from getting attached. She plans to keep him for two or three years to observe his growth and see if any changeling traits manifest after which point she’ll drop him off at an orphanage or something. As far as the Janus Order can tell human-changeling unions produce completely human children, but one can never beat first hand observation and experience.

She initially chalks up the warm and mushy feelings she’s getting to hormones. It isn’t until Jim is about two and a half that she’s tucking him into bed one night and Jim gives her a sleepy smile and leans into her hand that she realizes that she really truly loves him.

This was not in the plan.

After Jim is asleep, Barbara calmly goes outside and devotes an hour to cursing. (One of the perks of living centuries is that she’s had ample opportunity to amass an extensive collection of swear words.) After that she feels a lot calmer and more ready to look at the situation in a rational manner.

The fact of the matter is that she genuinely cares about Jim. She’s developed feelings for people in the past but it’s always been something she’s been able to pass off as part of her cover. (She still misses her pirate crew sometimes). Jim however is not. Barbara has a lot of enemies. If Jim’s relationship to Barbara is discovered he will never know peace and if Barbara keeps Jim around it will be discovered.

So it’s with a strangely heavy heart that Barbara realizes that this changes nothing: the best thing for Jim is for her to give him up.

On his third birthday she gives him some tea that will make sure he stays soundly asleep. Barbara can’t go through the legal process of giving up a child because: A. Jim does not exist in any legal manner and B. As changelings are everywhere and Barbara is well known (infamous really) there is a very real possibility that someone would find out. So she leaves him on the doorstep of a foster family she has carefully vetted out as responsible and trustworthy and keeps watch from some hidden cameras until she knows he has been found and is going to be taken care of. With him are a note with his date of birth and first name and a necklace with a pendant carved from Barbara’s own stone (Barbara isn’t very good at magic but she was able to enchant it with a simple protection and luck spell.).

Once she’s satisfied that Jim will be cared for she goes on her way and forces herself to not look back.

Nine years later she moves to Arcadia and three years after that she is very shocked to find a found add describing the Amulet of Daylight of all things. She calls the number but is told that the amulet was already claimed. Further investigation reveals that the amulet has chosen its first human bearer (or so everyone thinks). Barbara feels a bit of a twinge in her heart when she learns that the new Trollhunter is about the same age her son would be and that his name is Jim but doesn’t think too much of it. There are a lot of Jims in the world after all and she left hers in Alaska.

She immediately arranges a very minor “accident” as an excuse to make contact with his father in order to keep an eye on him.

 Walter

Walter Strickler is a history teacher at University of Alaska Anchorage. He enjoys his life and his job but there’s one thing lacking: he’s always wanted a child.

He’s had a few relationships over the years but none have ever stuck. He’s also of the opinion that he shouldn’t go into a relationship specifically with the end goal of having a kid.

He weighs his options and decides that he’s financially very stable at the moment. His work hours are consistent and he can afford to cut back a little; especially since his stock investments have been doing well in the recent years. All things considered: he decides he’s in a place that he can be a single parent.

He begins looking into adoption.

Eventually he finds Jim. As Jim has no parents or relations on record, the adoption is relatively simple.

Jim is very shy at first (having spent his life so far out in the woods with only his Mom for company). Eventually he warms up to Walter and then becomes very clingy. Living with only one other person for his early years and then being left behind has left Jim with some attachment issues.

Walter ends up taking him to his classes where he sits in the back and doodles while Walter lectures. He’s a rather quiet kid (most of the time) so this works out well. Walter’s students adopt him as the class mascot.

When Jim is five, right before he’s ready to start Kindergarten, Walter’s mom falls ill. Walter is an only child, so after some debate he ends up moving back to his hometown of Arcadia, California to care for her.

He meets Nancy Domzalski through the chest club and through her Jim meets Toby. The two boys become fast friends.

When Walter’s mother passes away four years later, he decides to stay in Arcadia. Jim is well settled and Walter enjoys his job teaching history at Arcadia High School.

Things are going well.

Then his son finds a strange blue amulet in the canal. It looks fairly expensive so Walter puts a found add up and assumes the owner will give him a call. Then settles down to work on grading papers.

He is definitely not prepared when his son, sitting across the table from him, reads an incantation off the amulet and starts floating.

He is even less prepared when a large stony monster the size of a large grizzly barges into their house.

Bular attempts to explain the situation to the father-son duo but they both faint from terror.

Not quite sure what else to do he wraps them up in a tarp and takes them to Trollmarket. He figures Vendal can sort it out.

[anothermicrocosm]

Chapter IV - My Love, When You Dream Them Up

I’m alive! I’m so bad at consistency in general but I was suddenly struck with inspiration so I decided to write a new chapter. I’m hoping I’ll be more consistent from now on so this story can actually progress. Thank you to my two friends (you know who you are!) for bullying me into writing a new chapter, I forgot how much I enjoy it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

x

I hate you.

I hate that you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever laid eyes on. I hate that you know this.

I hate how smart you are. You’re smarter than me and you’re smarter than anyone else I know. I hate the amount of words that are stored in there, in that big, wonderful brain of yours.

I hate your pretentiousness and how you refused to ever say “fuck” when referring to intercourse and only ever used the term “make love”.

I hate your inability to wash dishes.

I hate how you exclusively chew peppermint gum with your mouth agape, loudly. And I hate myself for finding it attractive.

I hate that I feel your absence like a gaping black hole in my chest. I hate that whenever I’m with anyone else, I can’t help but think that it would be better if I were with you.

I hate that you’ve tainted everything I ever shared with you. I can’t listen to “Something” by The Beatles anymore. I just think of the first time you kissed me.

“Do you remember the first time?”

The words resound in my head.

I hate how premeditated that phrase was.

Premeditated - like everything you do. We’re both over-thinkers, except you think about things before, I after. You, wise, me, naive.

You were, of course, referring to the Pulp song. You know it’s my favourite song. Fucker. You fucker. You know the power you have over me, you know you do, so you decided to go on and taint it.

I take my headphones and my phone out of the handy pocket my tailor sewed into my gown. And I play “Something”. And I think of that sunny afternoon spent with you, the one our first kiss took place in. And I think of the song you wrote for me about that day, that glorious, “pulchritudinous” (you un-ironically used that word), picturesque (I’m speaking like you), day.

And I think about how you decided to cover the song with your obtuse metaphors and twist it into being about Arielle. And I hate you even more.

I’m at the café we agreed to meet up in ten minutes early. 12:30 on the dot. We’d met several times after that party and had numerous phone calls. I had officially moved to sunny Los Angeles three months ago and I was immensely grateful for our meetings because it meant I had a friend in that hot, large city I already despised.

In the end, you weren’t able to produce my album because you had to record an album of your own. I wasn’t even disappointed. I was thrilled you even considered it.

“Don’t be late”.

That’s what you ended yesterday’s conversation with. And that’s why I was there half an hour earlier.

You were already there when I arrived.

You smiled at me through big sunglasses and waved me over to the table you chose outside so we could smoke.

As I sat down next to you, I noticed something was different about you. Something had shifted. I later realised what it was, when I got to know you better.

You were nervous. You already knew what was going to happen.

Another example of your overthinking. You had the whole afternoon planned, all of it. Down to the kiss. But you were nervous. I made you nervous. Me.

Honestly, I don’t remember anything about that meeting. I can’t recall what was said. I was too busy drooling over you like a total idiot. I really liked you. A lot.

The only thing I remember was you complimenting the black boots I bought myself for my birthday.

“They’re space cowboy boots. I love them. Very Kubrick-esque”, you said, chuckling.

I had to chuck the boots I so adored in the storage room I rented to put all my tainted belongings in. I just couldn’t have all those things around me. It burnt my heart in ways I couldn’t understand.

The coat I was wearing that day also went in there. And the dress.

“I like your cheetah print coat. Now that I think about it, your whole outfit is straight out of a sixties french filmé. Even your makeup!”, you exclaimed through a cloud of smoke from the cigarette you were holding in between two fingers.

I laughed. “Thank you, although it’s leopard print, not cheetah. For someone who knows so many words, you sure don’t know a lot about fashion”, I teased.

It was a cool yet sunny September afternoon. It was cool enough to keep my coat on, which was wrapped tightly around my black slip dress.

You payed for our lunch despite my arguing and on we went with our adventure. We didn’t stop talking the whole time as we slowly walked, calm and content towards a local record store you knew.

You took me there without my asking because you remembered I kept a collection.

The record store had a secluded listening booth.

We looked through the bins while talking about music and other unimportant things that seem huge in those moments.

I later found out how comfortable you were with me from the start. I thought you were only shy with interviewers since you were funny and charming with me from the start. Until I saw you with other people you were supposed to be close with. I don’t think I ever saw you talk to anyone else the way you talked to me.

You held up a record. A “Something/Come Together” 7” single by The Beatles.

“Let’s listen to this”, you said, cocking your head in the direction of the listening booth.

I sat down in one of the chairs and watched as you put on the record.

I heard the soft drums and the first seven guitar notes of “Something”‘s intro. All of a sudden my palms were sweaty and the room was too small…

…Something in the way she moves…

…You looked over at me and I looked right into the dark galaxy of your eyes. And your mouth, slightly agape as you leaned over…

..Somewhere in her smile she knows…

…I watch you close your eyes as you get closer to me and my chest feels too tight and my stomach flutters. Your mouth is almost at it’s final destination and you slowly put your hand on my thigh…

…You’re asking me will my love grow…

…I feel my face redden as I close my eyes and lean towards you, my mouth in a pout to help you finish your journey…

…I don’t want to leave her now…

…You taste of coffee and cigarettes and faint peppermint gum and of the tuna sandwich you just had for lunch and your lips are soft and I can smell your cologne and your men’s deodorant and fresh shaving foam and the pomade in your hair and the leather of your jacket and the detergent of your shirt and your skin I can smell your skin itself and your hand is on my thigh and your ring is pressing against my soft skin and I’m melting and I know the song is about to end and you’ll pull away from me and I want this moment to last forever and…

…You know I believe and how…

…The last notes of the song play and I look at you and you’re blushing too and I can feel how hot my face is and your hand is still on my thigh and I don’t want to move and I want to stay there in the booth forever staring into your dark, expressive eyes…

There’s a loud knock on the door and a voice tells us to get out.

“Coming!” I yell back at the voice.

You take your hand off my thigh, put the single back in the sleeve, help me up, and open the door for me.

And just like that, the moment is over.

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 3

a/n: we love a little throwback with this gif, my heart 😭 again, i can’t thank you all enough for the love you’ve shown my writing it’s truly the sweetest thing and i’m happy you guys are liking the story so far! this was is the longest part so far with a lot happening, so happy reading! remember to leave some feedback and reblog cause it’s always appreciated.

and as always, thanks to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles​ and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles​ for beta reading ❤️

word count: 19k

warnings: mentions of a partner cheating (f*** mark), minor mention of drugs (aka weed lol), alcohol consumption (tequila anyone?), and serious! sexual! tense!

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Y/N didn’t realize she had left Harry’s apartment the other day with his hoodie on until the next morning when she had woken up to the sweet smell of faint lavender and laundry soap. She didn’t return the hoodie, though. In fact, she shamelessly slept in the hoodie for three more nights; it was just really comfortable, she tries to convince herself that’s the only reason she’s wearing it to bed each night. It wasn’t because the smell that calmed her, reminding her of that dimpled smile and dazzling green eyes that would wander into her dreams every night now and then. And it was especially not because she found herself falling for those same pair of eyes, no, not a shred of feelings besides friendship there.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Sammy deadpans.

“What are you talking about now?” Y/N questions, keeping her eyes on her phone as she texts back Harry.

“You and your little affair,” Sammy quips back. His choice of words causes Y/N’s head to quickly snap up and look at her friend. He’s giving her a bored look, a smug little smile on his face that makes Y/N narrow her eyes.

“I am not having an affair, Sammy, so let’s not start that rumour around the office, please,” Y/N says to him in a hushed voice. “Plus, Mark hasn’t bothered to call or text me in almost a week now. So, I’m pretty sure the next time we do talk it will be to end things officially,” Y/N explains, her voice falling flat as she feels her heart rate pick up just thinking of her and Mark breaking up. Regardless of the fact he’s hurt her feelings, annoyed her and so on - it’s still a break up, and they really freaking suck.

“I sure hope so,” Sammy says. “You know I’m team Harry all the way,” he gives Y/N a wicked smile which she only rolls her eyes at.

There were no teams to be on, she thinks. She was just becoming friends with Harry, and yeah, she found him ridiculously attractive and really sweet too, but she wasn’t dumping Mark for him or anything. If she was dumping Mark it was because of how their relationship turned out, without Harry’s help, and how neither of them are benefitting from being together anymore. Hell, they didn’t even have sex last time he was in the city. It also didn’t have to do with the fact that Y/N would be nervous that Harry could hear them. Nope that thought didn’t cross her mind not even once - Y/N finds herself biting on her bottom lip as she’s deep in thought and trying to convince herself certain things.

Her phone buzzes where she left it on her desk brings her back to reality. She picks it up and swipes up as the face ID recognizes her, opening up the messages, between her and Harry, that she was previously on. Y/N can’t help it as a chuckle leaves her lips. She notices how Sammy leans back in his chair and raises a brow at her, but she chooses to ignore him and instead keeps watching the gif Harry sent on loop over and over again.

It was a cartoon Santa, dabbing. Yes, Harry used a gif that had to do with a trend from the world's youth. Y/N never would have guessed Harry even knew what dabbing was. She holds back another chuckle and looks up a gif to respond to his. She goes for one that’s a cartoon of Rudolph, his nose lighting up like a strobe light as he dances on two legs. It’s silly, but she’s enjoying this back and forth texting of stupid Christmas themed gifs. It’s been going on for about five minutes and she doesn’t even know why or how it started, but she loves it.

How’s work so far today? Harry texts after sending a gif of the Olaf the snowman from Frozen, dancing in the field of flowers. Y/N tilts her head to the side and leans further back in her seat, stretching her legs under her desk. The work that was on her desk was long forgotten when her and Harry began texting earlier.

It’s good, I finally have a few moments of downtime at my desk. We had like four clients in this morning for some fittings for the many Christmas parties going on next week. Y/N sends that off before typing, How’s your day? Write anything good yet?

Glad it’s less busy now, don’t let me distract you with all these amazing Christmas gifs though. And I’ve got a few things written while at the cafe, finally found the right melody for another song I was working on last week. Harry types out to Y/N, biting on the nail of his thumb after hitting send. He’s been leaning on the guitar in his lap for the past twenty minutes. That melody was found, but pushed away after he got into texting Y/N.

Not too distracting, although I think Sammy is jealous no one’s sending him any silly gifs. A second text shows up only seconds later, Harry’s sometimes surprised at how fast Y/N can type. And that’s good though! Will I ever get to hear you play in person besides through the wall our apartments share?

Harry smiles over his thumb at the first text but then is biting at his nail again as he reads over the second bubble a few times. He isn’t too surprised that she can hear him play from her apartment, but he is surprised she’s asking to hear him play. He doesn’t think he’s all that great of a guitar player. It’s kind of hard to think when he’s best mates with one of the best guitar players in the industry; Mitch could outplay him any day. Harry stops biting on his nail and hovers his thumbs over his keyboard. Although he’s usually too nervous to just sit and play for someone, he finds himself imagining playing for Y/N.

Tell Sammy I’ll send him some gifs too if he wants. And as for playing for you, maybe... if you catch me on a good day. Y/N shakes her head at his response, somehow not too shocked that’s what he says. She recalls him not telling her what popular songs he had written, how his cheeks grew a shade of pink at the mere idea of Y/N knowing of his work. So, she’ll take her odds and pray that someday soon she gets Harry on a good day and hears him play something.

“Y/N,” Amanda’s voice calling her name causes Y/N to jump, sitting straight up in her seat and nearly dropping her phone. She shuts off the screen and feels the vibration from her Apple watch, a notification reading that it was time to head into the conference room to interview new interns with Amanda. Y/N looks over her shoulder to see Amanda standing behind her with her eyebrows raised and her lifeline of a notebook in hand. “You alright?” She asks, slight concern in her tone.

“Yeah,” Y/N clears her throat and stands from her desk, wobbling on her heeled boots as she gathers up her laptop and cell phone. “I’m all good, ready to find us some new interns,” she states with a smile.

Amanda gives her a look as if doubting her, but then nods as Y/N steps in front of her and they move into the conference room. It’s not until their third candidate that Y/N thought of her boyfriend. Her watch buzzes, flashing up at text from Mark, then one from Sammy right away. She ignores them and tries to focus on listening to yet another fashion student talk about their love for the industry and the company. She was once just like them, sitting on the other side of this conference table and grinning ear to ear from just being in the building. She still felt excited to come into work every day and she feels very grateful to still feel that way. So, therefore she doesn’t hate sitting there for a few hours and having a handful of first impressions with girls that she once was. But, in the back of her mind she’s wondering what Mark could have texted her. It’s been five days since the phone call she ended up hanging up on him. What could he possibly have to say?

“Thank you for coming in today,” Amanda says with a smile to their last interview of the day. The small blonde stands up as the two of them do, and reaches across the table to shake both of their hands before saying short goodbyes and letting one of the receptionists walk them out.

“I think I liked her the best,” Y/N comments, writing a quick note beside her resume.

“I agree. We’ll email back and forth a bit more about it. I’ve got another phone meeting with a few clients for the new year first,” Amanda explains as she’s reading over her planner before snapping it shut.

“Sounds like fun,” Y/N nods before walking separate ways from Amanda and heading back to her desk. As she gets closer, she can't help but notice the oversized bouquet of flowers on her desk. Her eyebrows pinch together as she slows her steps, taking in the beautiful pinks and oranges in the bouquet before reaching for the card that stuck out of it. Sammy pops up then, right by Y/N’s side almost breathing down her neck.

“Did you not get my text? These showed up like halfway through your interviews,” Sammy states, trying to read the card before Y/N can. She shields it’s away from his eyes and looks at him over her shoulder. “Sorry,” he apologizes and takes a step back.

Y/N reads the printed out note and finds herself sighing as she reads it over again. I’m sorry - Mark. Y/N shakes her head and rolls her lips into her mouth, staring at the bouquet again. That’s it, just sorry? She thinks, but then remembers that he had texted her too. Maybe there’s something more there but Y/N finds herself doubting it.

“Who’s it from?” Sammy questions. Y/N ignores him and pulls out her phone from her back pocket. She unlocks it and taps on her messages app, having to back out of her conversation with Harry in order to open up Mark’s text from earlier.

Did you get the flowers? The company sent me a notification saying someone signed for them. Y/N rolls her eyes at his careless text message; not an ounce of emotion behind any of his words, through text or on the note. She doesn’t find herself smiling at the flowers, thinking how it’s a nice gesture, but instead finding it ridiculous that her boyfriend missed the whole point of the fight and just thinks some random bouquet of flowers will fix everything that she’s feeling. Is he even bothered by the fact they fought and haven’t spoken in five days? She wonders as she shuts off her phone screen without responding.

“Mark sent them,” Y/N finally tells Sammy, turning around to hand him the card. After he grabs it, and Y/N turns back around and places a hand on either side of the vase. She turns on her heels and walks around her desk to the left, moving Sammy’s chair out of the way and placing them on his desk instead. “You can have them, they look better on your desk,” she stays in a flat tone of voice, feeling indifferent about if she should just throw them out or not.

“Are you going to break up with him?” Sammy asks, his voice is quiet and soft - sounding like a caring friend instead of a gossiping coworker.

Y/N bites down on her bottom lip and nods, “yeah, I think I am going to. I just don’t know how, breaking up with someone on the phone feels so shallow and I would hate to be broken up with over the phone.” She explains, turning back around to look at Sammy again. He’s frowning, a look of pity in his eyes.

“But it’s unfair to you both to keep this relationship going on like this, Y/N,” Sammy says, letting out a deep sigh and tosses the card in the garbage bin by Y/N’s desk. “You’ll know what to do, you always do,” Sammy adds on with a smile.

Y/N tries to mirror her friends smile but feels it fall flat on her lips. She’s doubting herself, doubting her choices with Mark these past four months, and she keeps doubting herself all day till she’s walking into her apartment. She closes her door and slips out of her coat. Y/N sighs and pulls out her phone while walking to her bedroom, taking a seat on the end of her bed before pulling up Mark’s contact.

Her fingers hover over the call icon, her heart beating a million miles an hour as she imagines how this phone call is going to go. Should she really break up with him over the phone? She thinks, yet again doubting herself. This was really the only way to do it, seeing as he won’t be in the city for who knows how long. Y/N didn’t want to be in this relationship anymore, especially since it started to feel less like a relationship as the days went on this past month. Y/N inhales deeply just as her phone begins to ring, Mark’s contact picture of him kissing her cheek fills the screen in her hand. Y/N exhales before tapping the green icon on the phone and bringing it to her ear.

“Hi,” Y/N says softly into the phone.

“Hey, you didn’t answer my text earlier,” Mark starts off the conversation with a hard tone of voice as if he’s annoyed. Y/N licks her lips and nods, even though Mark can’t see her.

“Yeah, um, sorry, work got busy,” she lies. She had the time to text him back, she just didn’t know what to say as her thoughts were clouded with how to break up with him.

“Did you get them?” Mark asks.

“The flowers? Yeah, I did,” Y/N sighs. She’s racking her brain on how to do this. How do you break up with someone over a phone call? She shakes her head and brings a hand to her forehead, pushing her fingers through the roots of her hair. “Mark, we need to talk,” she says, feeling that’s the best she can do - the good ol’ classic line.

“Yeah, we do,” Mark agrees with a sigh from him now. Y/N listens as it’s like something shuffles on the other end of the phone, as if Mark switches his phone from one ear to the other. “Look, Y/N, you’re a wonderful girl, truly, you are. But we’re not really benefiting from this, are we?” Mark says, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as her brows pinch together.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Y/N questions.

“Uh, yeah-”

“No, no, I’m breaking up with you. I have thought long and hard about this for days now, and I don’t think we should be together anymore, Mark,” Y/N blurts out quickly, feeling as though her moment that she’s been talking herself up to all day was being taken away from her. She releases the grip she had on her hair and stares straight ahead at the painting on her wall, waiting for Mark to say something.

He lets out a long breath, “then I guess this is a lot easier for the both of us then, huh?” He says. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief.

“I guess so,” she mumbles.

“I’ll uh, I’ll send my assistant over soon for any of my things I’ve left at your apartment. She’ll bring the few things of yours that are at my place too. Are you available tomorrow?” Mark explains, asking the question so casually too. In fact, he sounds like he’s distracted with something on his end of the call too.

“Have you had this planned for a while now or something?” She asks, her eyebrows only pull together tighter in confusion. How can he act so unbothered only seconds after breaking up with her? She thinks. Sure, it’s a mutual break up, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t bothered by it still.

“Uh, no,” Mark mutters, not sounding convincing at all. Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at herself - how did she even date this guy?

“You know what, whatever,” Y/N breathes out as her eyes close and she runs a hand through her hair, “I’ll be home from work around five in the evening tomorrow for your assistant to come by. Tell her to be on time, please,” she tells Mark.

“Alright,” he says. There’s a couple beats of silence between them, and she doesn’t feel upset over it at all. In fact she feels at peace with this breakup. She supposes that they didn’t date for long, and they never said I love you to each other and really didn’t spend too much time with one another the past two months. Maybe that’s why she’s not bothered by this break up at all.

“Well, it was fun, Mark,” Y/N says, “I wish you the best,” she adds.

“You too, Y/N,” he replies. And with that, Y/N brings the phone from her ear and ends the call. Staring at the screen that was on Mark’s contact info for a few minutes as she lets herself fall into her thoughts.

That was a lot easier than she imagined it to be earlier today. Y/N falls back on her bed, her hair fanning out around her as she holds her phone to her stomach and stares up at the ceiling. Did he have this planned though? She finds herself thinking. She imagines that he sent those flowers earlier to butter her up, maybe, before he called to break her heart only hours later. And having already made plans for his assistant to go through his apartment and bring her things to her. Maybe he already had gathered her things beforehand, meaning over a week ago he would have packed it up - only to come over to her house and fight with her for days on end before making her drive him to the airport. Y/N just shakes her head as her thoughts run wild.

Y/N knows exactly what she needs to do to get out of this overthinking stage that she’s got herself into. She gets up from her bed and opens her closet, her figure skates sitting on the bottom of the closet leaning nicely against each other. She finds an empty tote bag and tosses them inside, then quickly gets dressed into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, a plain white turtleneck long sleeve, and then layering by putting on a dark grey crew neck that has ‘LA’ in white writing across the front.

After making sure she has her wallet, phone and keys, she puts on a black puffer jacket and heads out her front door. Harry’s walking out of the elevator just as Y/N is locking up, he’s got a Starbucks hot drink in hand and a smile on his face.

“Hey,” Harry says, but then his eyebrows pinch together as he realizes the time, “where are you off to?” He wonders. Y/N brushes her hair from her face and lets out a small sigh.

“It’s, like, two weeks till Christmas and I haven’t gone skating yet, so I just got up and grabbed my skates to go out,” she explains, lifting her shoulder that her tote bag was hanging off. Her skates are poking out the top slightly, Harry notices the white figure skates with a pair of matching light pink guards on the bottom.  

“Oh, fun,” Harry nods, meeting her eyes again.

Y/N doesn’t even think twice before she’s asking, “did you want to come with me?”

Harry smiles, causing Y/N to mirror him, before he takes a few moments to nod in response. “I would love to, yeah,” Harry clears his throat, noticing how overly excited he may have sounded. “I should dress a bit warmer, though, it’s supposed to snow tonight,” he tells her, motioning to his apartment door down the hall.

“Good call,” Y/N says, following him to his doorway. Harry holds open his door for her after unlocking it, then letting it close softly behind them as he takes off the lighter jacket he had on. Y/N smiles at the decorations around his apartment, loving how the glow from the lights of his tree filled up the space around them before he can turn on any lights.

“I don’t have my own skates, suppose I’m not a real New Yorker like that,” Harry states as he opens the closet beside his front door and starts ruffling around in order to find where his scarfs were hiding.

“That’s fine,” Y/N says with a soft chuckle, turning around to watch as he sticks his head into the closet and pushes things around. “They have rentals at Bryant Park,” she tells him.

“I’ve never been,” Harry admits. He finally gets a hold of the long burgundy scarf with a brown leaf pattern on it, his mum had gifted it to him a few years back. Harry pushes the doors of his closet closed and puts the scarf down for a moment, hanging it on the door handle before he grabs his long black coat to slip it on. Once he’s got that on, he wraps the scarf around his neck, fixing the collar of his coat and the scarf so it’s comfortable.

“You’ve really never been to Bryant Park?” Y/N asks surprisingly. It wasn’t Central Park by any means, but anyone who lived in the Manhattan area typically had walked through Bryant Park.

“Nope,” Harry says, grabbing for his forgotten Starbucks drink, bringing it to his lips for a quick sip. He looks up at Y/N to find her smiling at him. “What?” Harry questions.

“Nothing, I’m just excited for you to see Bryant Park. It’s beautiful during the Winter,” she states.

“Well then, let’s not waste any time, come on,” Harry nods his head to the door and gives her a smile while holding it open for her. She thanks him, waits for him to lock the doors before they fall into step with one another to the elevator. Harry beats her to hitting the button, literally leaning in front of her in order to push the down button before she can. Y/N shakes her head at him, smiling.

“So how was your time at the cafe earlier?” Y/N asks Harry, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“It was good,” Harry says, tilting his head to the side so he can look at Y/N, “wrote another song about love,” he adds with a smile. Y/N chuckles and raises her eyebrows.

“Never would have guessed,” she teases him.

The whole walk to Bryant Park, all Harry can think about is when the hell was the last time he skated? That and how good Y/N looked, which is a thought that’s always going through his head, to be honest. But he’s stressing himself out, hoping and praying that some sort of muscle memory clicks in and he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of Y/N. God, maybe he should have just saved himself the embarrassing situation and declined her invitation. Harry knew the moment he looked into her eyes there was something a bit off with her; how her smile didn’t quite reach its full potential - so the moment she asked if he wanted to come along with her, he didn’t even think twice before saying yes. The girl has her own figure skates, Harry wouldn’t doubt it if she’s about to skate circles around him.

“All black outfit,” Y/N comments as she watches Harry pick out a pair of black skates in his size, “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear all black before,” she adds with a smile.

“I used to only wear all black,” he admits, “back in uni, I really didn’t venture out in fashion and only wore black jeans and black t-shirts basically all year,” he explains to Y/N, letting her lead the way to the area for skaters to sit on the many benches and do up their skates.

“I truthfully can’t even imagine that,” Y/N replies, taking a seat on the bench right by the open door to the ice rink. She looks out at the about forty people on the ice, lit up by the many Christmas lights hanging over it and a few light posts in each corner too, as the sun has fully set now. The city around them is still hustling and bustling as it always is, which makes her smile.

“It was a tragedy, but I got older and realized that fashion can be fun, especially after moving to New York, seeing what people wear out for some innocent ice skating,” he mentions, taking in Y/N’s fashion forward outfit. The style was very trendy these days, he had noticed - online and in the streets.

“I would be an abomination of a former FIT student if I just walked around New York City in leggings and a hoodie,” Y/N states, “if I’m going somewhere, with someone, I always feel the need to look good.”

“And you do, by the way, look good,” Harry says, his words coming out quick and in a bit of a stumble. Y/N can feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She says a quiet ‘thank you’ before she begins to lace up her skates.

Y/N has her skates done up before Harry, so she has an extra minute to take out her phone and open her Instagram app. She checks out her newest comments, liking a few, before she finds herself aimlessly scrolling through her feed and liking some posts there. Checking up on Harry, she notices he’s almost done doing up his skates, so she stands up and grabs her tote bag that now holds her skate guards and chunky black boots.

“Did you want to lock anything up?” Y/N asks Harry, motioning to the small lockers to their left.

He shakes his head, “no thank you,” he says before his attention is back on tying his skates. Y/N smiles at how his tongue pokes out just slightly passed his lips before she turns around and walks over to lock up her tote bag, making sure everything but her phone is inside.

Once the small locker door is closed, she walks over to the wall of the ice rink and opens her Instagram again, putting on a quick filter that makes it look like it’s being filmed with an old film camera before she pans her camera around while holding down the button on the screen. As she turns to face where Harry is, she cuts off the video and double checks he’s not in it. With having so many followers, she always makes sure that her friends and family are comfortable with being posted before doing so. Y/N adds a quick caption of ‘first skate this season’ with a white heart emoji before she posts it to her story, then she slips the phone into her back pocket and walks over to where Harry sat waiting for her.

“Ready?” Harry asks, smiling up at her.

“Yup,” she nods, smiling back at him. Harry nods, muttering ‘alright’ under his breath, and then stands up on wobbling legs. Y/N chuckles and reaches for his elbow, helping him stand up straight. “You’ve skated before, right?” She asks, realizing now that she only assumed that he had.

“Uh, it’s been a few years,” Harry admits, flashing another nervous smile her way. All he can think about is her hand on his arm, and how she hasn’t let go of him yet. Harry hadn’t even thought about the potential arm holding, or hand holding maybe, they could get into here. She has a boyfriend, he reminds himself over and over again as he watches her lips tug up as she smiles back at him again.

“Alright, we’ll take it slow then,” she assures him, pulling at his arm gently to get them moving forward on their skates.

Y/N takes the first step onto the shining ice, letting her blades slide over the top slowly before she takes a sharp turn and is in front of Harry in an instant. His eyebrows fly up his forehead as his eyes fall down to her skates again, noticing how worn out they look now, her left foot lifting up as she sticks the toe of her skate blade into the ice - her whole stance made her look like some sort of professional. Harry’s head snaps up and he meets her gaze, lips now smirking at his stunned expression.

“You’ve been skating a lot before then, hm?” Harry gulps, looking back down at his feet as he inches slowly to the ice.

“Since I was a kid,” Y/N reveals. He’ll touch more on it later, but first he wants to get himself onto the ice and get this embarrassment over with. Harry sighs and starts to place his right foot into the ice, letting out a deep breath as he does but just as quickly as he makes the move he’s slipping. Harry sucks in a sharp breath, ready to fall before he even has both feet on the ice. But both of Y/N’s arms fly out and grab a hold of his forearms, causing him to wrap each of his hands around her much smaller forearms.

Harry shakes his head and just decides to get it over with, pushing both skates onto the ice in a quick motion. Y/N is fully prepared for his sudden movement and skates backwards, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure she doesn’t get in anyone's way. She keeps a tight grip on Harry’s arms and smiles as she looks up at him and sees the stressed out look on his face.

“You’re doing great,” Y/N assures him, her voice causing Harry to look down and meet her soft eyes. “We can move a bit closer to the wall so you can hang onto it for the first bit?” She suggests, motioning to the wall beside them.

“Probably for the best,” Harry agrees, nodding his head and finally taking his eyes off Y/N’s in order to make his way to the wall. The few movements on his part aren’t as hard as he thought they’d be to get over to the wall. He thinks his muscle memory for skating will click in soon, hopefully.

Y/N takes it slow beside Harry, waiting for him to get comfortable enough to only need one hand on the wall before she lets go of his arm. She already misses the warmth from his touch. Not even one day into her and Mark’s break up and she’s already feeling touch deprived. To be fair, her and Mark hadn’t so much as given each other a few quick pecks and barely snuggling on the couch the last couple days they were together. Y/N shakes her head slightly at her thoughts of Mark.

“So how did you get into skating?” Harry asks after a few moments of them finding a slow pace.

“Um,” Y/N pauses as she thinks of how to explain how her parents didn’t want to spend much time with her, so they stuck her into many different hobbies to fill the void. “I was into a lot of the typical little girl hobbies, dancing, gymnastics, art, but figure skating was something that just really stuck with me as I grew up. Probably in connection with my obsession with the holidays, and the winter season,” Y/N explains, noticing already how Harry’s pace on his skates is picking up.

“Are you, like, really good?” Harry questions. Y/N chuckles and looks away from the ice below them to meet his gaze before he’s glancing down at his skates again in order to keep upright.

“Yup,” Y/N nods, rolling her lips into her mouth to hide her grin.

“So humble,” Harry jokes with a chuckle. “You could probably skate circles around me, huh? Do those little twirly things too?”

“I could do a few spins, yes,” Y/N says and nods her head. “I’ll let you get used to the ice first before I throw out any big moves,” she adds, looking down at how Harry’s feet were moving on the ice. Every minute he is getting better, soon enough he’ll let go of that wall and be able to skate in slow laps around the rink with her.

“How very considerate of you,” Harry notes, causing the both of them to chuckle again.

They do another two laps with Harry’s hand just inches away from the wall, hovering over it just in case he made the wrong move. But then soon enough, they’re mixed in with the other skaters and making strong, smooth strides across the ice. Y/N is laughing at something Harry says about how he must look like Bambi on ice, head thrown back and eyes crinkled up, when Harry just about falls. She catches him gasping and opens her eyes quickly before catching his hand in hers.

“You okay?” She asks, clear concern in her voice as she moves in order to meet his eyes. Harry knows this isn’t the first time they’ve sort of held hands, but it still feels like her skin is too warm for his cold touch and butterflies erupt in his stomach as she cards their fingers together so effortlessly. Damn Styles grow some balls and don’t let her make all the first moves, he thinks to himself.

“‘M alright,” Harry mumbles and nods, completely losing focus on the world around them as they float across the ice looking into each other's eyes and holding hands.

Y/N licks her lips, blinking up at Harry in what feels like an innocent way but realizes the moment his gaze drops to her lips that maybe it isn’t. Clearing her throat, she squeezes Harry’s hand and then slowly lets go. Harry can’t help but feel disappointed by how short they’d held hands for, he was hoping it would at least last a whole lap around the rink. Y/N shivers and sticks both of her hands into her coat pockets, playing off letting go of his hand with being cold, but in reality touching Harry’s skin made her feel like she was on fire.

“Tell me what your favourite colour is,” Harry blabs out loud suddenly.

Y/N furrows her brows and looks up at Harry. He’s no longer watching the ice with each stride of his skates, instead his posture is completely at ease almost as he seems much more confident on the ice now. Something tells Y/N that Harry is stupidly good at pretty much anything and if he doesn’t get it right the first time it would only take a few more before he masters it.

“It changes almost every other day,” Y/N admits, biting down on her bottom lip - which causes Harry’s eyes to flicker down to her lips yet again. “Lately it’s been green,” she exclaims, as she speaks Harry’s gaze falls back to her eyes.

“Like my eyes?” Harry teases, batting his eyelashes.

There’s suddenly a group of teenagers in their way, causing their conversation to pause as they have to maneuver around the few bodies. Harry finds that he doesn’t struggle at all with the quick movements he has to make with his skates in order to get around them. He smiles to himself, proud of how fast he’s picked up skating again. Maybe he’ll try the little twirly spin around Y/N to impress her. Too bad she’s much more talented on skates and is picking up speed before making a quick turn and is now skating backwards in front of Harry with her eyes narrowed and a tight smile on her lips.

“Firstly, that was a poor set up to try and get a compliment out of me, I’ll just tell you that your eyes are very pretty,” Y/N states. Harry smiles at her words, those pesky butterflies back in his stomach once again. “And second, my favourite green is more like a dark, rich, forest green,” she explains, quickly looking over her shoulder as they turn the corner of the rink. Harry notices how effortlessly she picks up her skates and crosses them over each other to smoothly take the turn.

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry wonders.

Y/N smiles and nods, “exactly, like a Christmas tree,” she says, a beat of silence between them before she asks, “what’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink,” Harry answers without missing a beat. It’s been his favourite for years now, since he was just a young lad.

“Like my lips?” Y/N teases, her voice dropping down into a low and soft tone that causes a fire to spark in the pit of Harry’s stomach. His eyes drop to her lips at the mention of them, which Y/N notices and smirks at him before she’s turning on her skates and facing forward again. They both don’t say anything as they skate around the other turn of the rink, avoiding an older couple that has slowed down in front of them. Y/N still has a smug look on her face when Harry glances to his left where she skates beside him. Obviously, yes, exactly like the shade of your lips, Harry thinks and wishes he had the guts to say aloud.

“More like,” Harry pauses and then smiles, “like the Pink Panther,” Harry jokes.

“You know what, fair enough,” Y/N chuckles and shrugs her shoulder.

The two of them continue to ask each other more random favourites, getting the basics down with favourite foods, favourite alcoholic drinks, and favourite word too, of course. In fact, they are just skating at a leisurely pace for quite some time. Y/N notices that the number of people on the rink dwindles down to a mere twenty and she lifts her Apple watch up, so it lights up and shows her the time. Bryant Park should be closing within an hour or two, depending if they’re on holiday hours yet, meaning that Harry and her have spent nearly two hours out on the ice together.

“I think it’s time you bust out some of those fancy figure skating moves,” Harry suddenly says unprovoked. Y/N furrows her brows and shakes her head, watching a young couple, just a few people ahead of them, holding hands, like how she wishes her and Harry could have been this entire time. But it’s too soon, she thinks.

“I don’t know,” Y/N mutters under her breath, her eyes still on the couple as they’re laughing together - much like how her and Harry have been. Did these strangers around them think they were a couple?

“Fine,” Harry huffs and starts to skate a bit faster to be a few strides ahead of Y/N before he comes to a wobbly stop a bit more into the middle of the rink out of everyone's way. Y/N comes to a much smoother stop in front of him. “I’ll give it a shot then, how hard can it be to spin around a few times.”

Famous last words, Y/N thinks as Harry tries to whip his body around to try and attempt to do a spin. She can already see how he’s lifting the toe of his left skate, the small ridges getting caught on the ice while his body is still trying to spin around. Y/N’s eyes widen as she suddenly tries to stop him, her hands just barely getting a hold of his arms before he can fall. But his weight is too much and her skates slip out from under her. A small screech escapes her mouth as the two of them begin their fall to the ice - for surprisingly the first time tonight. Harry turns them both so he gets the worst of the fall, moving Y/N so she falls more on top of him rather than on the ice. Y/N notices and quickly moves her hand to the back of his head to ensure he doesn’t smack it against the hard surface. Her fingers card through his hair, while her other hand is clenching into a fist around the fabric of his coat.

“Shit,” Harry groans as the bodies fall to the ice. Thankfully, he tries to sit up a bit during the fall, so he doesn’t hit his head but instead he feels immediately pain shot up his elbow and backside.

“Oh my god,” Y/N gasps, blinking several times as she takes in what had happened. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She asks Harry in a rush of words.

“I’m okay,” he nods, which causes Y/N to realize her hand is still brushing through his hair. She rubs his scalp a few times with her thumb before removing her hand and quickly lifting her body off of Harry’s. “I’ll probably have a bruised ass, but I guess that’s karma,” he tries to joke.

Y/N frowns and smacks his arm gently, “don’t pull that shit again, oh my god, I thought we were going to end our night in the ER.”

Harry chuckles and sits up, taking in how Y/N has sat up on her knees with both her hands resting on her thighs. Her hair is a bit of a mess and her eyes wide and wild with emotion - but otherwise she looks alright. Thankfully, Harry did good and kept her safe in their fall.

“Just need a few ice packs and maybe a joint before bed to ease the pain,” Harry says, only half joking.

“Wait,” Y/N’s eyebrows pinch together, “do you smoke weed?” She asks. To be honest, she couldn’t imagine Harry as some pothead. Not that there was a true look to a ‘pothead’ these days. Hell, she’s had her fair share of joints and edibles while in college. Even afterwards too, Sammy loved to roll a joint or two towards the end of their wine nights.

Harry shrugs and begins to get up from the ice slowly. “Not really. It makes me a bit sleepy, truthfully,” he tells her.

“I get that,” Y/N nods, “I don’t smoke often, but when I do, I typically fall asleep within the hour after smoking. It annoys the crap out of Sammy.” She tells Harry truthfully. Harry nods as well, only a little bit surprised to learn that Y/N didn’t say no to drugs in her youth. Not that he was judging, far from it really cause he had no room to judge, but he just simply didn’t imagine her consuming anything more than a bottle or two of wine.

The two of them get up off the ice now, finally getting back on their feet. A sigh leaves Y/N lips as she brushes her hands on her jeans. “I think you falling is our cue to get out of here,” she suggests, skating slowly backwards towards the doorway where the benches were.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agrees and begins to follow her, trying not to whine with his movements as a sharp pain stings his bottom with each stride of his skates.

Y/N leaves Harry to sit on the bench they had used before and goes over to unlock her locker and get her tote bag. Harry’s lucky no one stole his shoes he had just left under the bench with no care in the world, she thinks as she walks back over and sits beside him. She unties her skates and is slipping on her boots before Harry can even untie one of his skates. Y/N puts the guards on her skates and places them into her tote bag before turning to look at Harry, noticing the pained look in his face as he bends forward to work on the laces of his other skate.

“Did you need help?” She asks him.

“No,” Harry pauses to hiss in pain, “I’m fine,” he adds, but Y/N just rolls her eyes and scoots over on the bench till she’s nearly pressing right up against Harry’s side, leaning down in order to work on his laces.

Harry watches her nimble fingers untie and loosen the laces, noticing how her hair falls as she bends down further. A faint smell of roses hits him with the movement of her hair as she pushes it back away from her line of sight. Harry looks away, glancing around them to see if anyone’s watching them because from any other view it may look like Y/N is giving him-

“There you go,” Y/N says with a smile and sits up again. Harry looks at his skates to see them completely loosened and ready for him to slip off easily.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile.

After Harry has his trusty not-so-white vans on, they walk over to return his rentals and make their way out of the ice rink area of Bryant Park. Harry notices the shops around the park, the painted white frames and clean windows were rather pleasing to look at while the inside glows with soft yellow lights. He wonders what they sell, but notices Y/N hiding a yawn behind her hand and decides it’s probably best they just head home. Also, his ass really did hurt with each step he took.

“Would you like to get a hot cocoa before we walk home?” Harry suggests, pointing to the small shack that was open and looks like it serves hot drinks and a few treats maybe.

“I would love that,” Y/N answers with a bright smile.

Her heart can’t help but burst at the thought that Harry knows her so well already. Not even a month of knowing one another and he already is so much better than Mark ever was. He would never go skating with her or buy her a nice warm drink afterwards either. It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend anymore, Y/N finds herself reminding herself, which causes her heart to pitter patter in her chest again. This time thinking about how maybe Harry could maybe be her boyfriend, one day.

“Hi,” Y/N gives the small brunette at her front door a tight smile.

She’s almost thirty minutes later than Mark said she would be. But to be fair, the subway was later than usual on her way home so Y/N had only just gotten home ten minutes ago. She had texted Mark to let him know and relay the message to his assistant, but he didn’t answer, no surprise there. So, in hindsight it wasn’t the biggest deal that his pretty little assistant was late.

What the big deal was the way she just strolled into Y/N’s apartment and set the box of her things on the couch. Y/N is standing by her door still in disbelief, mouth hanging open and eyes wide at the girls behaviour. When she turns around and gives Y/N a funny look while pointing around at her Christmas decor.

“It looks like Mrs Claus threw up in here,” she says.

“Thanks,” Y/N mutters and walks over to where she stood by the couch. Mark’s assistant steps back, pulling out her phone and tapping away at the screen as she seems bored to be here. “I’ll go get Mark’s things,” Y/N says, but then just as she’s about to walk away her eyes catch something red near the top of the box of her things that Mark had packed up.

She pushes her favourite Eagles shirt out of the way and hooks one finger around the lacy red fabric. The Victoria’s Secret label sticks out of the barely there red thong that’s hanging off her index finger. Y/N doesn’t recognize the underwear, she thinks as her head begins to spin. How the fuck did a pair of woman's underwear get into this box of things Mark packed up? Why would he have a red thong at his apartment that wasn’t Y/N’s? What the actual fuck? Another round of questions are about to spew in Y/N’s head as her heart beats out of her chest but then suddenly Mark’s assistant is reaching for the lacy fabric and taking it out of Y/N’s grasp.

“Oh, those are mine. Must’ve slipped in by accident,” she stammers out the words. Y/N’s head is spinning, her heart is beating out of her chest, as she puts the pieces together.

“Really? A thong just slipped into the box?” Y/N urges, narrowing her eyes at the young brunette standing in her living room. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?” Y/N asks and raises her voice, the anger filling her whole body now.

“Ex boyfriend,” the brunette has the guts to utter out.

“Answer the damn question,” Y/N snaps back at her.

Her face is turning red, to match the stupid thong in her hands, “uh, it’s none of your business-”

“Just tell me!” Y/N shouts, feeling like she deserves some truth in this moment. Mark’s assistant visibly gulps, avoiding Y/N’s eyes and looks all around the room.

“Like, a few months,” she mutters under her breath, still not meeting Y/N’s burning gaze.

Her whole body is shaking with the anger coursing through her. She should have known. How could she be such an idiot? She thinks while shaking her head. Of course, Mark was cheating on her during the entirety of their relationship. They were only dating for four months, meaning that for at least half of it, he was busy screwing his fucking assistant - how unbelievably cliche of him, but also how unbelievably naive of her to not guess. Y/N brings a hand to her forehand and rubs at her temple as a headache begins.

“Can I just get Mark’s stuff and go-”

“Get. Out.” Y/N spits out the words, glaring at the brunette who has the audacity to be so nonchalant about being the other woman.

“What about his things?” Mark’s assistant all but winces out the words, her dark eyebrows pulling together.

“Tell Mark to eat a dick,” Y/N sneers, taking a step towards the girl which causes her to step back. She can’t deny the bit of joy she feels at the sight of fear in the girls eyes. “And get out of my apartment, now!” Y/N shouts at the woman.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, turning around and walking to the front door.

Y/N is hot on her heels, making sure to slam to door shut behind her. The moment she’s left to herself, her apartment falling silent around her, she feels the pain settle in. Mark cheated on her with his assistant that he then had the nerve to let come over to her apartment. The realization of how embarrassing this whole situation is hits her, along with the hurt too. Regardless if it was a mutual break up, being cheated on does not feel good. Y/N sniffles, bringing a hand to her mouth as she suddenly is holding back sobs. Tears fall down her cheeks while her brain runs wild thinking of how many times Mark could have fucked his assistant and then just waltzed into her apartment and then they-

Her thoughts are cut short as she’s bolting to her bathroom, throwing the door open and bending down in front of the toilet. She lifts the seat and empties her stomach into the bowl. After a moment she’s coughing, lifting her head out of the toilet and reaching for the lever to flush away any contents that were in her stomach. Y/N grabs the hand towel to her right and brings it to her mouth, wiping away the bit of drool at her lips.

Y/N can feel the vibration from her cell phone after a moment of sitting on the bathroom floor, zoned out on the shower and thinking about how stupid she could have been to trust Mark. She lets out a short sigh and reaches into her back pocket to find her buzzing phone. Her eyes roll on instinct of seeing Mark’s contact photo taking up her screen. A part of her wants to answer, to yell and to scream at him. But a bigger part of her feels sick to her stomach again and just tired, honestly. So, she ignores the call and opens her phone to her contacts and deletes Mark all together. She goes into her photos and does a quick sweep of any photos of them together. It was something she was going to do eventually anyways, but after the news of him being a cheating piece of shit she couldn’t waste another second before getting rid of anything involving Mark.

Mark is a fucking asshole. His precious little assistant came by to drop off my few things and one of her thongs was in the box, so she spilled the beans that she had been sleeping with Mark for months. Meaning that piece of absolute trash was cheating on me like the entire time we were together. Y/N types out the message to Sammy, making sure that he knows the drama first - but also just simply because he’s her best friend.

Sammy is typing back a response as Y/N stands up from her spot by the toilet, flushing it again due to her spitting a few times into the bowl, and then she quickly washes her hands and looks up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are red, her hairs a bit frizzy and out of place from the perfect curls she had earlier today, and her makeup is ruined. She decides to wash her face, drying it with a clean towel as her phone vibrates on the counter.

Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m going to kill him. Please tell me we have a murder plan, I know where we can hide the body. Did you want to talk about it? I can come over and bring a big bottle of tequila? Sammy sends each sentence as a separate text, adding a few choice emojis too. The knife is used many times. His enthusiasm makes Y/N chuckle but then she’s frowning again while walking out of the bathroom and to her bedroom.

Honestly, I just want to curl up in bed and cry it out some more while listening to some sad music. But I’ll keep you updated on any murder plans I think up. Y/N sends back her texts before throwing her phone down on her bed.

Letting out another sigh, Y/N strips out of her tight fitting pants and puts on a pair of grey sweatpants. Next, she takes off the collared button up shirt she had worn tucked into her pants today, hanging it back up in her closet to prevent it from getting wrinkled. Her eyes wander around her bedroom, a certain article of clothing was on her mind to put on and snuggle into bed with. Y/N smiles as she sees Harry’s black hoodie on the top of her laundry hamper. To be honest, it needed to be washed, but she needed the comfort of his oversized clothing more. So, she tugs it on, puts her hair into a messy topknot bun, and tugs down the hood before lifting the blanket and getting into bed.

Not even three songs into her ‘depressed? yeah, me too’ playlist of sad songs, there was a knock on Y/N’s front door. At first she thinks of ignoring whoever it is, but then her music is cut off as a phone call comes through. It’s Mark’s number, regardless that she just deleted his contact, she still knew his phone number. Y/N groans and gets out of bed. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she imagines Mark or that little assistant of his having the balls to come to her apartment again and demand for his few things he had left around here. Y/N narrows her eyes and unlocks her door, ready to glare at her sad excuse for an ex boyfriend - but her face instantly softens at the sight of Harry standing there.

“Nice jumper,” Harry comments. A smile on his lips as he takes in how Y/N looks in his clothing, days after he had lent it to her. But that smile vanishes when he notices the redness in her eyes and her pouting lips. “What’s wrong?” Harry asks, his voice full of worry as he fights back reaching for her and bringing her in for a hug.

Y/N sniffles, “um, I thought you were Mark, sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Oh, sorry, is he coming over?” Harry questions. Suppose it made more sense for her boyfriend to comfort her during a bad day, he thinks although it tears him up inside that it can’t be him.

“No, no, he’s in Arizona, or somewhere. I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs, her voice sounding brittle, like it’s about to crack at any second, as she tries to keep herself composed in front of Harry. “I don’t really care actually, we broke up,” she reveals, her gaze down at the floor. Harry’s wearing those dirty white vans again, she wonders if he wears anything else.

They broke up, holy shit don’t freak out Styles, keep it together, Harry’s thoughts are all jumbled up at the news of Y/N and her boyfriends break up, which she is clearly very upset over, judging by her appearance and how she’s sniffling every second - bringing the sleeve of his Columbia jumper to her face to wipe her nose. Harry frowns and adjusts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” Harry says softly, “break ups can really suck,” he adds - knowing from experience just how terrible break ups can leave a person feeling.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathes out and looks up at Harry now, “but he’s kind of a trash human so it’s for the best, honestly,” she tells him, letting out a breathy chuckle while shaking her head. She shouldn’t be crying so damn much over the guy, she thinks.

“Oh, well then, fuck that guy,” Harry agrees with a nod of his head.

Y/N lets out a genuine chuckle at his words. She brings a hand, that is covered by the cuff of Harry’s hoodie, to her forehead to swipe back any crazy wispy hairs that are in her face. “So, what brought you to knock on my door?” She asks, smiling as Harry realizes he had gotten distracted by her state and forgot why he knocked at all.

“Right,” Harry chuckles, “um, a few friends of mine are in this band, it’s nothing crazy they just play at the pub a few blocks away. And I was wondering if you weren’t busy if you wanted to come with, thought it could be fun. But if you’re not in the mood to leave your home I understand,” Harry explains to her.

“No, I would love to come with,” Y/N insists. She lets out another chuckle and motions to her current appearance. “Just not looking like this, and as long as you promise there will be liquor involved in this Saturday night out.”

“I’ll buy you as many drinks as you need,” Harry promises with a smile.

“Then count me in,” Y/N says, mirroring his big dimpled smile. “Just give me some time to get ready?”

“You’ve got plenty of time, we don’t have to leave for another hour and a half,” he tells her. “I’ll let you get to it,” he adds, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as he takes a step away from her doorway.

“Oh, I’ll wash the sweater and give it to you soon, by the way,” Y/N says, lifting both her arms before letting them fall to her sides. Harry just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.

“Keep it as long as you need, it’s no problem, honestly,” Harry tells her while flashing a grin her way, hoping that it makes her feel even a little bit better. And it does, his casual response to her wearing his hoodie and then those dimples - it had her stomach fluttering. She gives Harry a small timid smile, tucking her chin down slightly into the collar of the hoodie as she watches his walk backwards down the hall to his door. “I’ll come knocking again in a bit,” Harry adds before he’s out of her sight and she’s closing her front door shut once again.

Y/N absentmindedly brings her hand to her mouth, biting on her nails as she stares off at her Christmas tree - though the lights are blurry due to her zoning out. You can do this, Y/N thinks and begins to give herself a pep talk of getting out of the sad break up phase and going out with Harry and his friends. Oh my god, Y/N’s eyes widen at her thoughts, what am I going to wear?

Y/N felt overdressed.

After twenty minutes of ripping apart her closet and tearing items out of her dresser drawers, she was truly tempted to just keep on Harry’s hoodie, pair it with some good jeans and some red heeled boots and call it a day. But that would be weird, showing up to hang out and meet Harry’s friends while dressed in his clothing. She was sure they were already going to assume things with him just bringing her along. Y/N didn’t need them thinking they had sex before too.

The thought had made Y/N blush like crazy as she tore off the stupidly comfortable hoodie and grabbed a silky white top that plunged low in the neckline, tying off just at her belly button, and then had long flowy sleeves. Pairing this with her trusted pair of light blue jeans, and for accessories: some chunky gold hoop earrings and layered gold necklaces to fill up the amount of skin she was showing at her chest. To top it all off, she slipped into her go-to black Balenciaga boots and long brown jacket to keep warm. After heading into the bathroom quickly, she brushed her hair through again and restyled the curls, put on a touch of light makeup, and then made sure to stick her lip gloss in her small black purse just as Harry was knocking on her door again.

Harry was dressed in a grey t-shirt with a large yellow smiley face, brown trousers and a blue and cream plaid jacket that quite literally made chills wash over Y/N’s body when she saw the whole fit - but that jacket, it made her head spin with some rather inappropriate thoughts. She’s a fashion major, can’t blame her for thinking clothing can make someone even more attractive. But even then she should have gotten the vibe of this evening and changed into something more casual.

But she didn’t, so now as she’s walking into a dive bar a few blocks away from the apartment building, she feels very out of place. Everyone’s wearing t-shirts and jeans, it smelt like cheap beer and cigarettes, and was definitely not the place to wear a silky white top that cost about five-hundred-dollars.

“You alright?” Harry's voice is soft and closer, as he steps directly behind Y/N after walking into the bar.

He notices how she crossed her arms at her chest and seemed to tense up almost immediately after walking in. Y/N shivers at the feeling of Harry’s breath falling over her exposed neck, having pushed her hair to lay on her left shoulder while he stood over her right. Y/N is still looking around the bar, trying to put together who may be Harry’s group of friends in this crowded bar.

“Y/N?” Harry tries again, this time placing a delicate hand on the small of her back - barely touching her, that he’s not even sure she’s noticed through her thick jacket. But she does, and she feels dizzy at the sweet gesture.

“Yeah,” she sighs, blinking a few times before looking to her right shoulder at Harry. He’s lips are so close, she thinks while trying her best to keep her eyes on his eyes. “Just feeling a little overdressed,” Y/N admits with a tight smile.

Harry shakes his head, “you look fine, better than fine actually. You look amazing,” Harry watches as Y/N’s eyes flicker to his lips for just a split second. He smiles but clears his throat, finding that they’re both blushing at his comment now. “As any FIT student in New York City should, of course,” he adds on to try and make his compliment a little less obvious.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/N smiles.

When Harry saw Y/N for the second time that evening, it was like day and night from the hour before when she answered her door in his hoodie. She looked incredible, and was so out of his league. Dressed like she was going to a photoshoot, hair flowing down her back perfectly, and accessories that made him visibly gulp - he was a sucker for some gold jewelry on a girl, it was a weird weakness of his. And now, standing in the dim lighting of this dingy dive bar, she did look a little out of place, but in the best way possible, like she shined too bright to be in just a dark and depressing place.

“This way,” Harry says, leading the way to where he notices his friends are sitting at a table. They thankfully got his texts about him bringing Y/N with him and had two seats open for the both of them.

“Should we stop at the bar and get a drink?” Y/N asks. She’s honestly unsure how the service works at a place like this. To be honest, she hadn’t been in too many dive bars in her years.

Harry stops, looks behind him at her, and shakes his head. “We have a waitress that works basically every night my friends play, so she’ll come by and get our drinks for us,” he explains to Y/N. She nods, giving him a tight smile, and Harry can’t help but notice how she’s still got her arms crossed at her chest. Is she uncomfortable here? Maybe he can make some shit excuse after the first few songs and get her home.

Harry notices as he’s turned towards Y/N just how much attention is on her. He’s not surprised, seeing how he already realized how much she sticks out in a place like this, but he doesn’t quite enjoy seeing every male’s - and a few girls too - eyes in this place on the girl he’s brought with him. So, he makes the quick decision of holding out his hand for Y/N to take. She looks at Harry’s outstretched hand and feels her breath get caught in her throat. Playing it off, she smiles and reaches forward, watching as his much larger hand envelopes hers and tugs gently to get them moving again. Y/N’s stomach is already full of butterflies and her head is spinning at them holding hands for all of ninety seconds it takes to get to his table full of friends - she needs a drink, stat.

Harry lets go of Y/N’s hand as he approaches his friend's usual table and has to bring his arms up in order to hug Adam, who’s throwing himself into Harry at the sight of him. Harry huffs out a laugh, making a comment about how drunk Adam must be already, to which he responds by smacking Harry’s back a few times and laughing with him. Y/N can’t help it as the corners of her lips turn up into a small smile at the sight of Harry engulfed in a hug by a man bigger than him. As she’s watching their interaction, she notices how everyone else is watching her. Y/N’s smile falls right away and she finds herself crossing her arms at her chest again.

“Everyone,” Harry speaks a bit louder in order to get everyone's attention as he turns around and holds his arm out to Y/N, which she takes as her singal to step forward for an introduction and smiles timidly at the group of four others at the table. “This is Y/N, Y/N, this is everyone,” Harry announces, smiling at his friends - catching Mitch’s smug look in return.

“Hi,” Y/N says, her voice that soft and gentle tone that he had grown to like, quite a lot, actually.

“I’m Tom,” he’s the first to speak up, offering a hand to Y/N to shake, which she turns just a bit to her left in order to properly greet Harry’s friend. Tom’s got bleached hair that’s not styled and laying flat on his forehead, his roots are a dark brown that match the mustache and bit of bread he’s got. Y/N notices the few different necklaces around his neck while he’s wearing a simple outfit of a black long sleeve and black jeans.

“Jenny,” the woman sitting to Tom's left reaches over the table in order to shake Y/N’s hand. She’s also got bleached hair, and a dazzling smile too. Y/N notices the equally dazzling ring on her finger and she glances down at Tom’s hands to see a wedding band, assuming they are married due to them sitting so closely.

“Mitch,” a long haired young man speaks up just as Y/N and Jenny drop their hands. Y/N meets his gaze and blinks a few times, feeling slightly intimidated by him. Regardless of how he seems like the scrawniest at the table, his eyes just sort of bring Y/N to a stop, but she recovers swiftly and gives him a smile, returning the wave he gives her as it’s too far of a reach to shake hands. Mitch raises a brow at Harry, to which Harry is quick to return. Catching the interaction, Y/N imagines they are the closest of the group. Suppose he’s just a bit protective of his friend bringing a random girl around, Y/N thinks to herself before her attention is grasped by the last person sitting at the table.

“And I’m Adam, the only name you need to remember, obviously,” says the man who had hugged Harry upon their arrival. He’s smiling so widely there’s crinkles near his eyes, which make Y/N feel all warm inside as she stares into his big brown eyes. He’s got a full bread, like Mitch, and matching brown hair that looks like it may need a bit of a trim but he styles it well. Y/N likes his button up shirt that’s a dark navy with little white stars all around it, paired with some plain black jeans.

“It’s really lovely to meet you all,” Y/N says after shaking Adam’s hand, “thank you for letting me come crash your night,” she adds with another timid smile.

“Nonsense, it’s nothing special,” Jenny assures her, waving her hand too before wrapping it around her half full glass of what Y/N assumed was alcohol - or hoped, because she really didn’t want to be the only one drinking tonight.

“Ouch,” Adam scoffs jokingly, “guess your husbands best mates playing is nothing special then, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m hurt, Jenny,” Mitch nods, bringing his glass up to his lips to take a sip of the dark yellow foaming liquid in his tall glass - beer, okay, sweet, so we’re all drinking, good, Y/N thinks. She also notices that Mitch is the only one with an American accent. She wonders how this group all became friends, being from different parts of the world, where did they all connect?

Harry chuckles and shakes his head at his friends, looking to Y/N to find her smiling at his mates too. He places a hand on her elbow, causing her to look at him. He nods his head to the open seats on the other side of the table for them. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and begins to walk around the table, stepping behind Tom and Jenny’s chairs before stopping at the first one on Jenny’s right. Y/N catches Mitch’s stare, now ignoring the conversation at the table to instead watch Harry and her, but she’s quick to look away from his intense gaze and focus on taking her jacket off. Just as she tosses her jacket over the back of her chair, fixing her top in a discreet manner too, a red headed woman steps up in between her and Harry who is also slipping out of his jacket.

“Hey, Harry,” the woman greets him in a sultry tone. If Harry notices the obvious show she puts into her voice, he doesn’t act like it.

“Hey, Amy,” he says quickly, looking at his chair as he pulls it out and takes a seat.

“Running a bit behind your friends tonight, huh? What took you so long?” She asks. Seems she's rather observant of Harry’s presence, Y/N thinks, while she takes her seat and looks anywhere but to her right where the red head - fake red dye too, it was so obvious - back was mere inches away from her.

“I love your top, it’s so stylish,” Jenny comments, causing Y/N to look to her left at Jenny’s dazzling smile again.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, “this may not be the place to wear it, seems more like a casual band tee kind of place,” she notes, narrowing her eyes while looking around at the bar around them. Noticing now just how many neon signs there were in the dark space. The biggest was on the wall behind the small stage, which every table was facing. The bar was at the back of the bar and there were booths lining the wall closest to the door, then a couple of pool tables and gambling machines in the far right of the bar. Y/N had spent too much time in high maintenance bougie bars to find any of this remotely normal - but she didn’t hate it.

“Rubbish, you look hot, definitely got people in here questioning their wardrobe,” Jenny states, gaining Y/N’s attention again, “hell, next time I’m stepping it up to match this energy,” she adds, waving her hands at Y/N’s outfit. 

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “well thanks, but you look incredible already! There’s no need.”

“Y/N,” Harry interrupts the girls suddenly.

Y/N lets out a small breath before turning to face what she’s been ignoring. The flirtatious red head and Mitch’s strong stare. Y/N raises her eyebrows at Harry. She completely ignores how the waitress now stood facing both their chairs, but she did notice how her hand was resting on the back of Harry’s.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Harry asks her, lips turning up into a smile. He can’t help himself, he finds himself smiling so much around her he’s sure he has wrinkles already.

“Oh,” Y/N says, finally looking at the waitress now. Her dark makeup made her blue eyes pop, it was a bit smudged but Y/N assumes she’s too busy working to notice. The waitress, Amy - Y/N reads her name tag, pinned on her tight black v neck shirt that has the bar's name on it - is staring at her, clearly forcing a smile while waiting for Y/N’s answer. “I’ll have tequila and soda water, bring a few lime slices on the side too,” Y/N orders, knowing exactly how Upper East Side she sounds, “please,” she adds with a forced smile that she mirrors from Amy.

“Coming right up,” Amy nods before turning away, not without a lingering gaze on Harry though.

Her obvious fake customer voice was rather annoying, Y/N thinks as her eyes follow her walking back to the bar. She takes note of the crowd around the bar, many waving at the one bartender stationed behind the bar. He looks older and is struggling to keep up with the rush of people. When Y/N turns back around, to face the table again, she catches Harry eyes on her. She scrunches up her nose at him and he chuckles before their attention is taken away by Adam’s deep voice.

“So, Y/N, you're this bloke’s neighbour, huh?” He questions, nodding his head to Harry. Y/N smiles and nods, sitting back in her chair while folding her hands between her thighs.

“Yeah, we just met in passing and ended up becoming friends,” she states, catching Harry nodding in the corner of her eye while he rests an arm on the table and faces towards her as he leans slightly into Mitch. To which Mitch responds by pushing his shoulder gently, making Harry’s smile widen at how he manages to bother his friend so easily.

“Give us the tea. How shit of a neighbour is he?” Adam asks, causing everyone at the table to chuckle.

“Hey,” Harry playfully whines at his friends.

“He’s fine, great even,” Y/N tells them, earning another smile from Harry as he watches her.

“Surprising considering he’s a shit roommate,” Mitch comments after taking another long sip of his beer. Harry turns in his chair and glares at Mitch, earning a smirk from him in return.

“I am not,” Harry grumbles.

“When were you two roommates?” Y/N asks, finding herself bringing a hand up to adjust her necklaces. Anything to keep her nervous hands busy. Suppose making new friends wasn’t her biggest strength, it was a rather nerve wracking experience to be honest.

“We just room together when we travel for any work stuff,” Harry answers, meeting her eyes for only a brief second before he’s looking back at Mitch. “Mitch here just likes his beauty sleep, while I have a pretty set morning routine I like to stick to,” Harry explains, looking back at Y/N as he finishes talking.

“Yeah, that starts at like six in the morning like a crazy person,” Mitch huffs jokingly.

“Six is way too early,” Y/N agrees, nodding along with Mitch. “At least give the man till nine,” she adds.

“He’s just being dramatic,” Harry states. Mitch mumbles something under his breath before taking another sip of his beer. Sounded a bit like “say’s the drama queen himself” but Y/N isn’t sure. Regardless, the interaction makes her smile. Just as she’s about to make another comment, Amy returns with hers and Harry’s drinks. Setting his down first with a smile before turning to Y/N and placing the glass of tequila and a small dish of limes too.

“Thank you,” Y/N says. Doesn’t matter if she thought Amy had an attitude problem, Y/N had manners.

“Anything else for the table? Another refill for you boys before you head up on stage?” Amy asks, ignoring Y/N completely and instead turning her back on her and looking at Mitch and Adam. Y/N notices how she leans her body into Harry a bit, her arm resting on the back of his chair again. If Harry notices, he’s oblivious to her motives. It almost makes Y/N laugh at how Harry’s ignoring her. 

“Please,” Mitch nods, lifting his glass to finish off the rest of his beer. Y/N tries to hide her facial expression as she is impressed with how Mitch manages to gulp down the beer so fast, instead bringing her focus to her own drink - which she was looking forward to downing herself honestly.

She picks up a lime wedge and squeezes it over her glass, watching the juices squirt out and into her glass. After she stirs it with her straw, she brings it to her lips and gulps back nearly half of it. Y/N suddenly feels her phone buzzing in her jean pocket. She sits up slightly in order to slide it out of her pocket and looks at the screen. It’s Mark’s number again. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she declines the call and sets her phone screen down on the table before grabbing ahold of her drink again and having another sip. He sure has some nerve to continue to call numerous times, Y/N thinks as she zones out from whatever Harry and his friends were talking about.

“Y/N grew up in the city, actually,” Harry states. Y/N raises her eyebrows and looks around the table to see everyone’s looking at her now. She’s missed what they were talking about prior so she just spit balls it here and smiles.

“Um, yeah, born and raised,” she nods, “I noticed you all have quite a jumble of accents, where are you all from?” Y/N asks, looking towards Tom and Jenny as they begin to explain where they were separately from before meeting in London.

Harry watches Y/N while his friends speak, mostly because he already knows everything there is about their lives, but also because he likes watching Y/N. Taking in her small mannerisms like how she talks with her hands quite a lot, and how she rubs her ankles together under the table as she listens to Adam talk about his wife and kids back home. They all chat amongst themselves, making jokes and laughing too, for nearly thirty minute before Mitch and Adam are whisked away to the stage. Harry feels his chest bursting as he sits back and watches Y/N interact with his friends as if they are her own. He smiles when she looks his way, her cheeks howling as she sucks on the straw of her second drink - nearly finishing it while staring at him. Harry has to break the gaze as his thoughts run a different less innocent route, causing him to readjust how he’s sitting and clearing his throat just as the lead singer of the band introduces them.

“So, why aren’t you in the band?” Y/N asks as the beginning chords of their opening song play out. She’s leaning her elbow on the table, resting her head in the palm of her hand while turning her head to Harry - shutting out Jenny and Tom completely but they’re too busy watching the band to care.

“Bold of you to assume I have enough talent to be in a band,” Harry says with a smirk. Y/N rolls her eyes and reaches for her glass, bringing the straw between her lips and finishing off the tequila and soda water with three squeezed lime slices in it - Harry watched her prepare her drink both times, finding himself intrigued by her drink of choice.

“You are definitely talented enough,” Y/N says, “from the bit I’ve heard through the walls, you’re great with a guitar and I’m assuming I’m right considering that your job revolves around music.”

“Well, they already have a guitar player,” Harry notes, nodding his head towards Mitch who’s strumming away on his guitar. “And he’s one of the best in the business so if I did have any talent, he wipes me out without a question,” Harry insists.

Y/N is about to respond but then the band is starting to really get into the song. She turns her head, sitting up straight again, and watches the band perform. They’re really good, she thinks and starts to bob her head along to the song. Harry tries to not be obvious, but he stares at her for a few moments before facing the stage to watch his mates as well. He smiles as he watches her get into the music, nodding along with the bass line and tapping her foot to the drums. They’re performing one of Harry’s songs. He had written it a couple years back when he had finally settled into New York, hence the title ‘Ever Since New York’. He didn’t sell the song to any big artist, instead he kept it within his personal folder and when Mitch asked if his and Adam’s band could borrow it Harry said yes. It was one of the few personal songs he would let his friends borrow, others were too much of him to let someone else sing.

Y/N is seriously enjoying herself. The tequila has hit her, settling into her body with a constant buzz, and this band was so good. She’s shamelessly swaying her body in her chair and nodding her head back and forth with the beat. To be fair, so was everyone else at the table. Jenny matched her energy perfectly, even throwing an arm around her shoulders as the course of their third song picked up - Jenny knew the lyrics and sang along, causing the two of them to erupt into laughter afterwards. After Jenny turns her attention back to her husband, Y/N looks at Harry and notices him lightly singing along while bobbing his head too. She smiles and ends up watching him instead of the band for maybe a little too long. He turns his head and catches her stare, raising a brow but she just shakes her head and leans closer to him to ensure he can hear her before speaking.

“They’re really good,” she compliments, “like a lot better than some of the mainstream artists I’ve seen recently,” she adds on just as the band finishes up another song.

“Yeah, they are,” Harry nods in agreement, “but the bands really just a hobby for all of them since they are all involved within the industry already.”

“Oh, that’s sick though,” Y/N says, “not everyone’s hobby includes filling up a dive bar in New York City every weekend with people singing along to your songs,” she exclaims. She had looked around the room earlier during the last song to see it wasn’t just the bandmates' friends that knew the words to their songs. Majority of the people in the bar were singing too, clearly being regulars to their sets.

Amy arrives at their table again, setting down everyone's refills in a rush, thankfully being too busy to stop and flirt with Harry. Is that jealousy, Y/N? She questions herself in her head. She ignores her thoughts and brings her new drink to her lips, not even bothering with the lime slices this time as she’s feeling a bit drunk now and honestly could care less. As the band opens their next song with some strong drums and an incredible electric guitar melody, the crowd goes a bit crazy. Y/N furrows her brows and looks at the people at her table, Tom and Jenny are also hollering at the band while Harry is chuckling. He meets her eyes before echoing the crowd and cheering on his friends. Y/N’s eyes widen and she huffs out a laugh before she grabs her phone quickly and opens her Instagram.

Just in time, she opens her Instagram stories as the song picks up and the small crowd that had formed overtime at the front of the stage starts to dance around. Everyone is cheering and singing along, causing Y/N’s jaw to drop in pure amazement. She holds down the button to record and gets a quick ten second video of the band rocking out while the bar sings and goes nuts as the bass line played by Adam kicks in and their drummer flings his body around to play one of the most addicting beats they’ve played so far. Y/N shakes her head and swipes a filter on before tapping on the screen, turning to face Harry - who’s already watching her, of course.

“Does the band have an Instagram?” She asks. To which Harry just shrugs in response, because he really isn’t too sure - he’s not hugely into social media himself.

“They do!” Jenny says with excitement, Y/N turns in her seat and grins at Jenny as she spells out the bands Instagram handle. “I keep trying to get them to stay active on it but they barely do,” she states.

Y/N slips her drink that she holds in one hand and taps ‘post to story’ on her phone that in her other hand. “Well, they might get, like, a few notifications flood in since I tagged them in my story,” Y/N tells her.

“Oh yeah?” Jenny questions. “Are you big on Insta?”

“It’s kind of grown over the years, I just hit half a million last week actually,” Y/N states. Her words cause both Jenny and Tom’s jaws to drop. Suppose it’s quite a big number, Y/N thinks.

“That’s insane, oh my god,” Jenny says, “is social media like your job then?” She asks. Y/N notices how both Tom and Harry are more interested in hearing about her Instagram than the band’s next song, to be fair it is a slower tune, but still it shocks her a bit.

“Um, not really,” Y/N licks her lips, “I have a career at a fashion studio in the city, we style the city’s elite and some celebrities, do their personal shopping and all that. But the social media thing is really just a little add on, I guess,” Y/N explains, pausing a few times as she feels a bit nervous telling them about her following. Some people saw it as a clout thing, asking for shoutouts and tags so her followers would get their follower count up. While others thought it was childish and weird that she was kind of like an influencer in a way.

“Wow,” Harry says, his voice gets Y/N’s attention as she looks towards him now, “how didn’t I know this?” He questions with a chuckle.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “it’s really just like a hobby, barely even that.”

“Like how the band is for Mitch and Adam,” Harry nods.

Y/N smiles and nods with him, “exactly.”

“You’re definitely the coolest girl Harry knows, by the way,” Jenny states, bringing Y/N’s attention back to her left where she sat. Y/N laughs and brushes her hair back over her shoulders.

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N disagrees and shakes her head, reaching for her drink again to take a few sips.

“No, you definitely are,” Harry corrects her, having a sip of his own drink as well. Y/N puts down her glass and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back into her seat.

“I mean, if you say so,” she says in a joking tone. Jenny, Tom and Harry all chuckle, which makes Y/N laugh along with them. The band is talking to the crowd now, mentioning that their weekly gig will not be happening next week due to the holidays. Then they’re explaining something about their next and final song, thanking the crowd before the song starts up.

“This was their first song as a band,” Tom tells Y/N. She smiles and nods, appreciating the insight from him.

The song is catchy, still fitting the bands vibe but definitely isn’t as good as some of the other songs they had played already. Y/N decides to take a final snap of the band on stage on her Instagram story. Mitch’s head is down, his hair falling forward that she can barely tell that it’s him, while Adam is grinning at the crowd which makes Y/N smile as she swipes on a filter to lighten the picture some and types out ‘new fave band alert’ as her caption, finding a red siren gif quickly before posting it to her story. As the song comes to an end the bar erupts into a roar of cheers. Y/N brings her hands to her mouth and hollers along with the bar, grinning as she watches the four boys of the band come together and bow. As they bend down Harry whistles, having both his hands at his mouth, to show his support to his friends.

Y/N widens her eyes and turns quickly to look at Harry, surprised by the loud whistle that came from him. He matches her look, widening his eyes and playing dumb as he slowly lowers his hands from his face. Y/N laughs, slapping a hand on his arm and leaning back, immensely entertained by his actions. Harry laughs along with Y/N till they both calm down and shake their heads. Just as Y/N is about to say something her phone starts to buzz on the table from an incoming call. She looks down at the screen and sees it’s Mark - again.

“Ugh,” Y/N groans and hits decline, unlocking her phone to go to her phone app. “How the hell do you block a phone number?” She asks aloud to no one in particular.

“Is it Mark?” Harry questions in a low voice, leaning towards Y/N to keep his words between them. Y/N frowns but nods her head once. The tequila in her system starts to mess with her, her screen becoming fuzzy as she thinks about all the crap she learnt about Mark earlier today. And now he was ruining her fun out with Harry and his friends.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Y/N asks, turning to Jenny since she would know the location of the women's bathroom over Harry.

“Down the hall in the back corner over there,” she points in that direction and before anyone else can say something Y/N is on her feet with her phone in hand and heading to the bathroom.

Harry looks over his shoulder as he monitors Y/N’s move across the bar. He’s worried about her, obviously, but he’s also watching to make sure no douche bag makes a grab for her. Although he is sure that she could handle it herself. As he turns back to the table he sees both Tom and Jenny staring at him. Harry furrows his brows and brings his drink to his lips, having the final sip of his third drink tonight. Jenny just shakes her head and looks down at her phone, he’s pretty sure she’s looking up Y/N’s Instagram. Tom’s still staring at Harry though.

“What?” Harry finally asks, setting his glass down with the few other empty ones at the centre of the table.

“So,” Tom pauses, “what’s going on here?” He questions, being annoyingly vague.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, trying his hardest to not roll his eyes.

“Well you just show up with this bombshell of a woman, who is beyond anything you could’ve described her as by the way, and we’re all just supposed to forget she’s in a relationship?” Tom questions, tilting his head just slightly to the side as he stares down Harry.

“Firstly, I’m insulted you don’t think we could just be friends,” Harry says, he’s about to continue but Mitch and Adam join the table again. They get a round of ‘good job’ from everyone before Mitch is turning to Harry and furrowing his brows.

“What were you saying before?” He asks.

“That it is just possible for Y/N and I to be friends, but also not that it’s any of your guys business cause it’s not even mine, but her and her boyfriend broke up, like, recently,” Harry informs his friends, dragging his fingertip along the condensation of his empty glass in front of him. He feels silly, having to explain himself for simply bringing along a friend to hangout tonight. But he can’t deny it feels good to know that she is single now. Only to feel bad a second later as he knows that Y/N must be hurting, judging by her drowning herself in tequila drinks and getting upset over Mark calling her.

“Well, shit,” Mitch breathes out. Harry lifts his gaze to find his best mate with his usual smug look on his face. “What are you waiting for then, loverboy, make a move,” Mitch coaxes him.

“Did you not hear me when I said they broke up recently? As in maybe I should just let that settle for a while before I try and make any sort of move,” Harry says.

“Well if you don’t eventually and you let this one go, then you’re a bloody idiot,” Adam resorts, “Y/N is a prize, one evening knowing her and I understand your little crush, H,” he adds with a smile.

“Trust me,” Harry huffs out a breath and shakes his head a bit, “I’m well aware. But seriously guys, I’m just going to let it play out and not force anything. I’m happy to just be her friend, honestly,” he explains. Everyone nods, seeming to understand where Harry is at now with Y/N. Perfect timing, Amy shows up with refills for everyone to get the attention of the group off Harry.

“So, Harry,” Amy says after setting down everyone glasses, turning her body away from Jenny and the empty chair for Y/N to completely face him - her boobs practically in his face. He gives her a polite smile, leaning back in his chair in order to get some distance from her. “Who’s this new girl you brought with you? A cousin or something?” She asks, her body seeming to lean even further towards him as she speaks.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to let Amy know her ridiculous assumptions were wrong. When he hears Y/N’s voice from behind where Amy stood. “Classy,” she mutters under her breath.

Amy rolls her eyes rather dramatically before she turns away from Harry and looks at Y/N as she’s pulling out her chair and returning to her seat. “What did you say?” Amy asks, her voice rather snarky in Y/N’s opinion.

“I said, wow you’re hair colour, it’s like, so classy, I love it,” Y/N resorts, putting on a smile just as fake as her words.

Amy’s lips part, her eyes narrowing at Y/N’s bored stare. Whatever bitchy response she has lined up for Y/N is cut short as Amy’s name is being yelled by the bartender. Her gaze falls behind Y/N, looking at who had called for her, before she meets Y/N’s eyes again. She glares again, huffs out a short breath, and then is nearly stomping away from the table like a child who didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted to play with - or rather the Ken doll. Y/N’s lips turn up slightly into a smug smile as a feeling of pride flushes over her.

“Yup, it’s official,” Jenny says, bringing Y/N back to reality as she looks away to her left. Jenny is grinning as she brings an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into her side. “You’re one hundred percent the coolest girl Harry knows,” she states, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“You handled Amy like a pro,” Adam notes, then jutting his chin towards Harry, “H is always too nice to let her know how annoying she’s being.”

Y/N smiles and looks at Harry in the corner of her eye, noticing the slight tint of pink upon his cheeks. She flips her hair over her shoulder and shrugs, “I grew up dealing with the snobby Upper East Side kids, Amy is harmless, believe me,” Y/N ensures the group before grabbing for her drink and sucking back a few good gulps.

The group around the table begins to talk about the performance, compliments and praises to Mitch and Adam all around of course. Even a few strangers come up to give them a pat on the back and ask for a picture. They’re like royalty in this dingy little bar.

Y/N is enjoying sitting back and simply being around people, letting herself push away any thoughts of Mark. She had blocked his number while she waited in line for the washroom, then responded to Sammy’s million texts asking where she was and with who - when she told him she was with Harry he just replied with ‘#TeamHarry for the win’, which she rolled her eyes at but ended up smiling down at her phone and texting him a thumbs up back.

When Y/N finished with her business in the rather dirty washroom - the sink barely even worked, it was not ideal - and she saw Amy at the table beside Harry again, Y/N let her jealousy fly. Then when Amy started leaning so far into Harry that her boobs nearly touched his chest, Y/N just couldn’t help it. It was like her vision turned red suddenly, her chest swelling up as she tried to bite down on her tongue. But she couldn’t, she was too annoyed by Amy’s less than classy actions towards her customer.

“Hey,” Harry’s low voice snaps Y/N out of her own world. She blinks and focuses on him, feeling herself melt at the sight of his smile. “Are you okay?” He asks, more than likely referring to her quick departure to the bathroom after Mark called.

“Yeah,” she assures him with a smile and a nod. “I blocked his number, I don’t want to hear his excuses. I could really care less,” she explains to Harry. He nods in response and is about to say something else, about how Mark is a real idiot for whatever he did to hurt her. But Y/N sits up, places a hand on his arm that was resting on the table between then, and gives him another smile. “But enough about him, seriously, I’m feeling a little drunk and having way too much fun here with you to be bothered anymore,” Y/N tells him.

“Alright,” Harry smiles, peering at Y/N as his heart beats wildly in his chest. He’s pretty sure his skin’s tingling from where her hand rests. But it doesn’t last long before she moves, reaching for her glass - that she then raises into the air.

“I would like to make a toast,” Y/N announces to the table, gaining everyone’s attention and smiles, “to Mitch and Adam’s absolutely amazing performance, new friends, and to having a lovely holiday season,” Y/N beams as Harry and his friends cheer in agreement and everyone lifts their glasses into the air.

The group ends up buying shots after, then another round of drinks, and then more shots. Y/N is laughing so much her stomach hurts. She hasn’t been this happy while enjoying others' company in far too long, outside of work of course. Harry makes another joke, teasing Adam, but Adam dishes it back right away. Y/N finds herself letting her hand slip to Harry’s thigh as she throws her head back with laughter at Adam’s absurd comment. Everyone else is too focused on the banter to notice, but Harry does of course. He’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels her delicate fingers spread over his thigh. He gulps, unsure if he wants to break whatever drunken trance that Y/N may be in. Does she realize that she’s put her hand on his thigh? He wonders. But his thoughts are quickly answered as she caresses her thumb along his pants before lifting her hand slowly off of him altogether.

Y/N’s leaning on her elbow again, her chin propped up in the palm of her hand as she looks at Harry. He’s so hot, her drunk self thinks as she watches his Adam's apple bob up and down for a second time since she had placed her hand on his thigh. It happened by accident to be honest, but she wasn’t sorry about it. God, she was just itching to touch Harry. His thigh, his arm, maybe rub gentle circles on the back of his neck as he talked amongst his friends, but she wanted to touch his lips more than anything. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty pink lips as he replies to whatever whoever said to him.

Harry catches Y/N’s glossy eyes staring at him in the corner of his eye. He rolls his lips into his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He likes how she can’t seem to keep her eyes off of him, because he does the same thing maybe a little too often. Harry turns his head and meets her gaze, giving her a smirk as she playfully narrows her eyes at him. Her cheeks are rosy from the amount of liquor she’s consumed, while her eyes truly are a bit glossed over from her being more than tipsy. She’s so hot, he thinks, as his eyes shamelessly roam over her appearance. Even hours later at this shitty bar and she still looks breathtaking. Harry’s gaze lingers a little too long on her chest, admiring the way the top fit her breasts; was she wearing a bra? Oh how he wishes he could find out.

Y/N adjusts her position in her chair, letting her left arm fall into her lap while she lays her right arm beside Harry’s. She is liking this game they seem to be playing with their eyes. She sits up straight, knowingly sticking out her chest just a bit as she watches Harry’s eyes fall to her breasts. But she keeps it classy, of course, unlike some people. Y/N lets out a breathy sigh as she looks at Harry’s hand mere inches away from her right hand. Those rings, she thinks, they could do some real damage. Her thighs clench involuntarily, her mind falling into a fog as she imagines them leaving red marks on her bare bottom or how cool they would feel against her throat.

“I really like your rings, have I told you that before?” Y/N’s voice is hoarse, but she doesn’t care as her pinky reaches over to touch the large gold ‘S’ that rests on his pinky. The metal is cool to her touch, just as she imagines. Feeling brave - thanks to her good friend, tequila - she lifts her hand slightly in order to comfortably drag her fingertip over the ‘S’ shape a couple times.

“No, you-” Harry clears his throat, feeling it become dry at the sight of her doe eyes staring at his fingers. His mind goes somewhere dirty, thinking of somewhere else his fingers could go. Tangled in her hair, wrapped around her throat, inside of her. Harry licks his lips before he speaks again, “you haven’t, but thank you.”

“Which is your favourite?” Y/N questions, her finger still lazily tracing the ring on his pinky finger.

“Quite like the inicals,” Harry answers, smirking as she glances up to peer at him through her lashes. She mirrors his smug look easily.

“A very narcissistic answer,” Y/N hums, teasing him. Harry playfully narrows his eyes at her, which she returns but ends up giggling after a moment as he sticks out his tongue at her. These inappropriate thoughts have got to just slide away for a moment, Y/N thinks with a deep breath.

“We’re going to head out,” Tom announces to the table suddenly, helping Jenny out of her chair. Jenny’s beautiful dazzling smile is on her husband as he helps her into her coat. They’ve both had quite a bit to drink too and Harry notes how Jenny latches onto Tom’s side after they’re in their coats.

“I’m still shocked you two both came out tonight,” Harry says.

“We paid big bucks for this babysitter, so they better keep it together for at least another four hours,” Tom exclaims with a wink. Jenny gasps and smacks her husband on the chest as she realizes what Tom is insinuating.

“Don’t go acting like you last longer than ten minutes, bud,” Mitch taunts jokingly to his friend. Everyone laughs as Tom glares at Mitch across the table. Y/N covers her mouth with her hands, finally bringing her finger away from where it laid on Harry’s ‘S’ ring, in order to cover her chuckles.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Y/N,” Jenny gushes, letting go of Tom in order to put her arms around Y/N and hugging her tightly.

Y/N smiles into her bleached hair, squeezing her back just as tightly, “you too, Jenny,” she says.

“Don’t let H keep hiding you away now,” she says, pointing a stern finger at the two of them. Harry laughs and shakes his head at his friend.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jenny,” he tells her.

Then they’re all saying goodbye to the couple as they walk out of the half empty bar. Y/N glances around the place, noticing how it feels less scary now. Maybe it was the tequila that helped, or how comfortable she felt around Harry and his friends. A yawn suddenly makes it’s way past Y/N’s lips, she brings the back of her hand to cover it but ends up squinting her eyes closed as her whole body feels drained. She meets Harry eyes after the yawning stops, he shows her a small soft smile that makes her return it right back.

“Ready to go home?” He asks. She contemplates it for a moment, because she truthfully doesn’t want the night to end. But she decides to not fight it and nods to Harry.

Harry does practically the same thing as Tom just had. He announces his and Y/N’s departure, helps her into her coat, and lets her say her goodbyes as Adam opens his arms up for a big warm hug. Mitch only nods, waving to them both before Harry leads the way out of the bar. The cold night air blasts Y/N’s hair back, the sharp wind taking her by surprise as she blinks back tears from the cold. She puts both her hands into her coat pockets and zips it up all the way, snuggling into the warmth it will provide her on their walk home.

“I feel like Mitch doesn’t like me much,” Y/N admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence between her and Harry.

“What?” Harry shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together. “No, that’s just how he is. He’s quiet and looks all moody. Give him some time, he’ll warm up, promise.”

“I think he’s just protective of you,” Y/N says, looking up at Harry after they cross the road, “thinks I’m a threat or something.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head again,“well, it’s definitely not like that with Mitch and I, plus he’s seeing someone. Her name’s Sarah, she plays drums on a lot of tracks we write.”

“If you say so,” Y/N sighs. She looks around at the sights before them. A few other mildly drunk people wander the streets, and she notices a few homeless people too, that tore Y/N’s heart apart, as they were bunkering down in the alleyways. Harry keeps pace with Y/N the whole walk home, letting her control the speed they walked and what they talked about. She would jump from subject to subject the entire time, but Harry thought it was kinda cute that she was so drunk she didn’t even realize how quickly she changed the topic.

And all too soon, they’re in the elevator in their apartment building. Harry presses the number six button and joins Y/N on the back wall. They both lean into the railing, comfortable silence falling between them once again. But it was obviously their thoughts were anything but silent. The elevator doors open on their floor, and Harry lets her walk out first as always.

“Well this is me,” Y/N says dramatically as she approaches her apartment door. Harry chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly and letting his eyes fall to the floor for a second before meeting Y/N’s stare again. “I really did have a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells him.

“I’m glad, I did too,” he agrees.

Y/N wants to kiss him. She really really really does. But they’re both a little drunk, and she literally just broke up with Mark yesterday - or maybe technically two days ago now since it’s past midnight. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be that girl. Plus she wanted to really get to know Harry and take this slow and see where it went. That didn’t stop her gaze from falling to his pretty pink lips though. Harry’s thoughts are running laps too. He wants to kiss her. But he knows she’s more than likely still hasn’t recovered fully emotionally from her break up Mark, hell not even ten hours ago she was crying because of her shitty ex boyfriend. Didn’t mean he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her though, especially when her gaze falls to his lips.

Just as quickly as they seemed to fall into some dream like state as thoughts of kissing each other float around them, they snap back to reality. Y/N blinks a few times and takes a step back, bumping into her front door. Harry clears his throat and steps back as well, towards his own front door.

“Polar Express,” Y/N says suddenly, earning a look of confusion from Harry. “We’re watching the Polar Express tomorrow, and you’re going to play me something on that guitar of yours.”

Harry lets out a chuckle and gives Y/N a smirk, “yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“You will,” she singsongs as she focuses on unlocking her door. It takes a few extra tries to get the key in but once she does she unlocks it and opens the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry smiles.

“Goodnight, H,” Y/N says softly, smiling as well, as she leans against her door to look back at him. Harry’s smile deepens at her using his nickname. She must’ve picked it up from his friends using it earlier during their time at the bar.

She gives him one last look over, knowing very well that she’s going to dream about him in that cream and blue plaid jacket - and maybe only wearing that jacket - before she shuts her door and presses her back against it as it closes. Today was a lot. But she’s beyond grateful that Harry invited her out, introducing her to his wildly unique group of wonderful friends, and letting her get a little bit drunk too. Her chest flares up as she remembers their close moment at the bar, her touching his rings, placing her hand on his thigh-

“Oh god,” Y/N all but moans out as her thoughts go right back to the place they were at before.

She shakes her head and heads to her bedroom. Harry wouldn’t be able to hear a vibration from the other side of the wall, would he? Y/N shrugs and opens her bedside table drawer to grab her vibrator, knowing just how much she needed it tonight as she imagined Harry’s hand between her thighs. Fuck, she’s so screwed, she thinks, biting her lip as she realizes, she really really really likes Harry.

>> part four <<

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