#i feel like i have surely forgotten someone but there are so many candidates it's hard to say

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Something something the concept of granting meaning and importance to an object/phenomenon/person by giving them a name

It is especially relevant in the world like the one ASOIAF is set in, where the name serves as an extremely important defining factor for many characters (mostly a family name but also their given one). And boy, did HotD writers lean into this - in their own way.

I am not the first one to point out that Jaehaera's name hasn't been mentioned in the show at all - not once. But guess who got to have one?

Sure, everyone absolutely needs to remember a girl who was raped by the prince (who is now the king) and who, except for that fact - which serves the purpose of vilifying said prince (and, in some way, by association, the entire TG) - had zero relevance to the plot. And so we have Dyana - because this absolutely unbiased show can't have anyone forget that the Greens' candidate for the throne has some deplorable proclivities. She even got some extra screen time in season 2: once again, absolutely unnecessary except for reminding the audience of her existence - and of Aegon's sins.

But who cares about the only remaining child of the king; the girl who came within a hair's breadth from death and then lost her twin brother; the one true joy left to her mother? Why would she even need a name?

Jaehaera's fate in the show is uncertain (the writers didn't do away with her at the very least) - but for now she is not even a tool of the story but merely a dead weight that just had to be there for Blood and Cheese to have someone to choose from. And then she was simply conveniently (nearly) forgotten becoming just "Helaena's daughter" - no name, no face, no emotional attachment from the audience. I just wonder if the writers' unwilingness to actually involve Jaehaera in the story (or just let the viewers properly see her) comes from them being equally unwilling to make the audience remember her brother whose death and its consequences they are so eager to sweep under the rug in order to minimize the PR damage done to the Blacks.

P.S. Speaking about the importance of names - they need to be not only revealed but also remembered. Jaehaerys didn't end up nameless - but how many times was he actually called by his name in the show? Right off the bat I can remember only one such case: Aegon asking Helaena where he was in episode 1. And while I believe this was not the only time (I am terribly sorry but right now I can't make myself rewatch any part of season 2, not even for science - so feel free to point out the rest), I have a distinct feeling that he still was far more often referred to as "boy", "child", "son", "heir to the throne" and whatnot. Once again: no name, no memory - which IMO is exactly what the writers were going for.

[haza8877]

A brief overview of your love path in 2024

Hello everyone, these days I've been quite busy, and now I'm back. I've been thinking a lot about topics for readings. And then, I thought I would do a short love reading first. So, I decided to do this reading, hope you all will like it. Consider this reading as entertainment and don't take it too seriously. I wish you all enjoy it.

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Pile 1

(the star, 8 of pen, knight of wands, 3 of swords, ace of pen, ace of wands, oracle cards - house 8, house 11)

I sense that you are putting a lot of focus on your work. You are enthusiastic and hopeful about a bright future, and what I perceive is that you are dedicating much time and attention to a specific job, project, or idea that you are currently involved in. Mainly, I see that you are concentrating on work, a project, or a particular idea rather than romantic relationships. However, I can see that this year, you will encounter a person who is younger, or regardless of their age, they radiate youthful, dynamic energy. They are proactive, creative, full of ideas, and carry the energy of a Fire sign. They're pretty hot, haha. But please consider carefully, as when you come together with them, there will be a lot of attraction and passion between you (both physically and emotionally). However, they may trigger some of your deep-seated wounds, the ones you have long forgotten or buried. When this person appears, these wounds may resurface. Perhaps the universe has arranged for both of you to meet so that you have to deal with these wounds that cannot be avoided. It seems to be challenging, but facing and overcoming these wounds is inevitable sooner or later. You should understand that confronting these wounds is the key to moving forward into a new chapter of life. The universe often reserves rewards for courageous warriors. I sense that the relationship between you and this person will be intense, full of various emotions. They will help you discover new aspects that you might not have thought about. I am not sure where this relationship will lead, but it will undoubtedly transform many things, and perhaps it will upgrade you into a new version, expanding your relationships and connections with different communities. It will be fascinating.

Pile 2

(the tower, the star, ace of swords, 3 of pen, 5 of wands, knight of pen, oracle cards - yin)

I feel like those in pile 2 have gone through an extremely challenging period, where everything came suddenly and turned your life upside down. Currently, I sense that you are doing better and full of hope for this year, perhaps seeing it as a year to start anew. I feel that those of you in this pile need to clarify your desires more; if you are in a relationship, be candid about what you want from the other person, your thoughts about them, your emotions, etc. If you are still single, be honest with yourself about what you truly need in a person. Like, ask yourself how you want to accompany someone? What will you learn from them? Are you ready to accept risks, competition when being with them or not? Moreover, with the oracle card, I feel you should enhance your feminine energy, which is not related to your biological gender. Regardless of your gender, inside you always have both masculine and feminine energy. Connect with your inner world, with your intuition, and trust it. You can spend time walking in nature, if you live in urban areas with few trees, you can do activities like painting, knitting, playing with pets, meditation, planting a small pot of plants, or having an evening tea and reading a book. There are many ways to enhance your feminine side. In general, create a clear and authentic model for yourself. After you know what kind of partner you want, someone will enter your life. They might be someone who knows what they want, with certainty and caution, someone patient and devoted, exuding the energy of an Earth sign.

Pile 3

(page of pentacles, 9 of swords, 6 of wands, page of cups, the fool, the devil, oracle cards - scorpio)

I sense that the energy of those in pile 3 is quite exhausted; you may be facing some psychological or health issues, experiencing headaches, insomnia, stress, etc. I feel that you are practical individuals, always contemplating before deciding anything, seeking safety and certainty. However, I also sense that you are still inexperienced, somewhat naive, so sometimes you place your trust in the wrong places or make choices that don't lead to the expected results. But what I sense about the energy of love for you in 2024 is 'freedom,' yeah, a fresh energy, like a rebirth, gentle, uplifting, and free. I'm not sure if you will meet someone this year or not, but I think the core energy of your love is freedom, exploring yourselves. After heavy days burdened by pressure, suppressed emotions, I see that you will want to experience fun dates, not too serious in terms of commitment, just looking for new experiences. Perhaps you want to travel somewhere, where these journeys help you understand yourself better. You may also feel a desire to be more creative. Well, it sounds like you will be dating yourself this year, hahaha. Maybe among you, some will date someone, they may be younger than you or around your age. They are emotional, vibrant, carefree, and enjoy experiencing things. They may have the soul of an artist. If you and they progress in the relationship, there will be a lot of physical passion, intense emotional relationships. They bring a different energy than what you have thought, opening up new experiences for you, and you will be carefree and free like a child. However, since the reading doesn't clarify whether this relationship has a long-term commitment or not, let everything flow naturally and don't expect too much. Whether you meet someone this year or not, I sense that when you overcome the psychological difficulties, liberate yourself, 2024 will show you how beautiful and free your soul is. Explore yourself; you can be cautious, but don't worry too much about new things. Listen to the emotions from your heart, let your soul be like clouds, and you will see the vast sky.

Thank you all for watching my reading; I hope you enjoyed it. I also apologize for not being able to answer all the questions in the previous mini tarot game section, but rest assured, I will answer all of you remaining. Thank you for your support.😘💖💖💐💐🌸🌸 

[barzfrommarz]

I’ve been seeing a lot of discussions/discourse on tumblr and twitter surrounding kamala/voting for kamala so I want to put my two cents in as someone who will have no actual influence towards the outcome of the election

(important parts with be in bold)

Let’s look at the hypothetical that trump wins because the vote was split or people simply just refused to and kamala didn’t gain enough votes to win.

In the scenario, I want every person who decided it would be better not to vote or vote for a random third party candidate who has no shot at winning who only comes up during election years to say all of the “not like the other guys” talking points to explain to not just me but every queer, trans, disabled, non white, AFAB person who is now at severe risk why you chose to not vote to help them have rights. I want to see your explanations if trump wins. you also cannot use Palestinians suffering to make yourself seem better than you actually are

My point is that if trump wins because your delusions lead you to believe that you can single handedly change the way elections work in this country by “sticking it to the dems” and trump wins and we become a facist state, I want to hear what you have to say when we all start loosing rights and palestine gets wiped off the map

“Well we won’t let that happen” Good fucking luck. In project 2025 im pretty sure there is a section about how we basically won’t be able to protest anything anymore, not only that im also pretty sure trump has talked about deporting pro palestine protesters specifically!

You cannot be a single issue voter in this election and in many elections to come. Change doesn’t happen overnight and you need to wake up and realize that kamala will be the start of actually getting more progressive candidates and policies even if it’s not enough right now at this very moment. We all have to actually start putting in the effort instead of sitting around on our asses complaining

If we get kamala in, we won’t have to worry about our country becoming a facist state therefore we can worry more about palestine and putting more pressure on the dems than there already is. That should be a no brainer to some of you

This post isn’t praising kamala or trying to idolize her in anyway, always be critical of politicians. This post is more of a message to the preformative leftists on tumblr and twitter who have zero knowledge on how the US government works.

It’s kamala or trump this november. We cannot change that less than 100 days away from election day

Should I repeat myself? I hope you can understand that.

I’m not trying to bash anyone for continuing to put pressure on kamala and the dems for being complicit in bombing children. That’s not who my post is about like I already said

I think that all the protests outside of the DNC are especially important because it shows we have not forgotten and will continue to put pressure on the dems to do the right thing for once

but like I already said, it’s kamala or trump. Third party candidates are either grifters who only are there to get money and trick gullible leftists or candidates who have never been in any lower level political positions who think they can automatically garner a shit ton of support to win when they can’t. Your other option is to not vote which is arguably worse

I’m not trying to be the one to change anyones mind but I hope this post can help you reconsider your options and start facing the reality of this election

You have an important choice to make this november. I hope you can make the right one

edit: im not trying to beg anyone to vote for kamala or make anyone who is against her because of her handling of Palestine vote for kamala, especially if you are Palestinian yourself. Im not trying to make anyone feel bad about it either. Thats not the point of this post. The point is that change needs to happen now and this election is a perfect start to do so. We cannot have good change under a second trump term. I know im just repeating myself at this point but I want to put this out there incase I come off wrong or offensive. Also, I dont like the dems at all. I dont align with their party but you shouldnt even care abt what party I align with most. Im not a pro activist whose been in the game for 10+ years, im just a trans boy who has essentially been forced to pay attention to the shit going on in the country because of who I am even though it shouldn't concern me nearly as much as it does.

second edit: check out this tiktok and this persons other tiktoks abt palestine and kamala

[ardenssolis]

continued from [ x ] || @paramythas

     THE KNIGHTS, TO OZYMANDIAS, could be quite stuffy when it came to duty and all that entailed. A shame that they were so utterly devoted to their King that he couldn’t recruit any of them, but alas, such was the way of it. However, even if he could, he still observed them sometimes – memories from that Lostbelt he had been summoned into always present at the back of his mind. Sure the ones here were not like those who gave up everything they were to devotion, yet even so…he did wonder if they too would have made the same foolish choices. There were times where that was fascinating to see, and there were times that such blind duty earned a faint click of the tongue and a narrowed gaze. That wasn’t important, though. He wasn’t here to discuss the knights. He was here to prod at Arturia and tease her for the words that had slipped past her lips.

     ❝Your knights would indeed be uncertain as to how to proceed if you shared what was in your thoughts to them. Their image of you seems…unbending even after all the time that has passed.❞ A good and bad thing in his opinion. For if Arturia stepped outside of her mannerisms as a king, spoke more candid with them and with looser tongue, they wouldn’t know what to do.

     This he could easily see.

     His index tapped at the smooth surface of the table slowly, soon coming to a stop at what was said next. ❝Insincere…❞ Hardly. He would have merely made it clear that he wished to take Arturia as his from the beginning in the same manner that he had thought to bring that forward to Da Vinci. The only thing that had kept him from that particular line of thought, was for the sheer fact that despite her differences – vast as they were – from the Lion King, at times, when he looked into those eyes, he was reminded of them. Arturia, the one before him, however, held a brighter gaze; one still so human in a way that theirs had not been (in a way that had been forgotten). ❝Is that what you wish to call my response? I would think that you were expecting a certain answer to that question you had asked.❞ His hand taken into hers, it twitched instinctively, the gesture so foreign to him. If one thought that Arturia’s palm would be soft, they would be surprised to know it wasn’t.

     How many battles had she fought?

     Plenty.

     He didn’t need the Throne of Heroes to relay that much to him. As nonchalant as he appeared, there was an intensity in that gaze, golden eyes taking in each and every gesture. A dangerous game she was playing, one that she fearlessly pursued with the same confidence she held on the battlefield. Lips were always so close to touching skin, yet so far away. A tease meant to keep his ever fickle whims from flickering, and oh, she was successful in doing just that. The only thing that broke his hawkish attention was what she said afterwards, soft laughter bubbling from him before he tilted his head back, his amusement filling their room until he could almost feel moisture gather at the corner of his eyes. ❝How brazen! I expected no less!❞ He grew aggravated with those who could not state their desires plain – who danced about it or refused to state their thoughts even when he knew what they were. If there was something someone wanted, they should reach for it. Grasp it.

     ❝Are you not meant to court the one whom has your eye, O’ Dear King? To woo them? To make it so that their heart flutters with the mere connection of gazes from across a room as so written in the many romances from your homeland?❞ He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with both challenge and continued amusement both. Voice lowering, Ozymandias near purred his question. ❝Am I not worthy of also being granted this? To have my heart flutter so due to the machinations of King Arthur?❞

[bitimdrake]

Dream Titans team???

good question good question!! My dream Titans team would pull almost exclusively from the original generation (though not necessarily the original team) with maybe an exception or two as the designated youngster. That older gang of Titans has such a super tight found family aspect that has never been recaptured, and is competing for screen time if you have a bunch of both young and old characters in the mentorship-style team.

...Maybe that's because there's been no good (teen) titans run since the 90s. But in my ideal revised DC history, the Young Justice kids stayed YJ, and the Titans remained the team of that specific now-young adult generation, instead of becoming the go-to name for any new group of teen heroes.

Titans vol 2 (2008) kinda set themselves up with a great combination from the original Teen Titans and NTT runs, if only they hadn't...fallen apart after like 12 issues. I also want to lean on that vibe from the first 90s Titans run where a lot of the characters had grown up and gotten families--i.e., Lian Harper will be here, and she will be basking in the attention of all her adoptive aunts and uncles.

Okay: we gotta have Dick Grayson. My heart also requires Roy (and Lian) and Donna. My most controversial opinion here is that I didn't really care for Wally in NTT and he was so busy being the Flash in the other Titans runs that he's...honestly not necessary for my dream team. (sorry) He can and should go be the Flash, which I love for him, and that will surely keep him busy. Admittedly Garth is at best my fourth favorite of the fab five, but only because I love my top three too much. I really did enjoy his moments in Titans vol 1, and at least someone on this team has to have a softer personality, so I am grabbing him too.

Dipping into the NTT additions, I also require Kory. If I can have specifically NTT Raven, I want her too, but honestly if we're going with more current characterizations...I don't. Post-2003 Raven is such a different character that she doesn't really feel like the friend they new and loved anymore, and it's just not the same dynamic!!

With Raven de-aging, it feels like she and Gar have both slid down into the younger generation. While that is nooot my favorite thing, I am willing to let them go at this point.

Vic I am debating. I feel bad throwing him on a line up without his best friend, but also I feel good giving him back to his own generation instead of pushing him into JLA stuff. We'll mark that a maybe. And this is my post, so I get to include Joey because I can, and because dammit he needs a solid Titans run again instead of the early 2000s sporadic appearances playing endless tug-of-war between "he's totally evil now" and "no!!! he's good!!"

At that point, I wanna dip into some less iconic characters. That would probably be easier if I had a better grasp of the wider DCU of youngish non-Titans, but here we are. And you know who else I liked from the 90s runs? Argent. Toni Monetti's back on the team; welcome aboard.

And I feel like maybe...Rose Wilson? Not from the start, but coming in later as a story arc, and then as the younger kid all these young adult heroes, and then finally sticking around and having the chance to really get to know her brother finally. I feel like she would benefit from a team of older-but-not-old heroes who want the best for her. Extremely reluctant team little sister. She is Cool and Tough and Edgy and hates being the kid teammate (except that actually she doesn't). Bonus points: we get to remember how she used to be Lian's babysitter, and we get to lean into Roy-the-mentor, which is such a good look on him.

So, my current answer for you: Dick, Donna, Roy, Kory, Vic, Joey, Toni, and eventually Rose. That's 7-8 members, which sounds just about right.

[barbiewritesstuff]

Chapter 10: Easy Peasy

-- Jake deserves the best, I love him

@because-edmund @blue-aconite

His alarm rang. The sharp beeps almost echoing through his bedroom. You were still asleep next to him, calmly breathing in and out. Jake had to fight the urge to stay and force himself to walk to the shower. He soaped his body and washed his hair,  skipping his usual routine of imagining the water washing away his worries. He'd learnt that trick in his support group, Jake wasn't sure it actually worked but it had become so ingrained into the fabric of his day that removing it altogether would feel wrong. Skipping it for the day should be fine though, Jake thought. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself. 

Shower, tick.

His phone notifications showed texts and one from his brother.

"Dude, we have neighbours!!" and "The TV is at max volume!! I can still hear you!!" were from Rooster. 

"Don't forget: dinner at 6pm. Can you pick up wine?" John had sent. He'd almost forgotten about dinner on Wednesdays and now that he remembered, he didn't really look forward to it. He was already kicking himself for calling John for help. It had felt good in the moment, but now it just made him panic.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He looked over at your sleeping form on the bed and calmed down. Despite knowing the list by heart, he still looked at it. Next up: work out. He put on his trackies, trainers and a random shirt he found on the floor and shot you a text in case you woke up when he was gone and left the room.

The house was silent. Jake closed the front door behind him, leaving his keys in the stone statue Rooster kept the emergency keys in. 

You were still asleep when he came back but you were starting to stir when he came out of his second shower. 

"You're up early" you mumbled in your sleepy voice, he smiled

"Insomnia does have advantages, I get to be up for every sunrise" Jake lied. Insomnia had kept him from sleeping more than three consecutive hours at a time most nights since The Incident. The only memorable good sleep nights he had had were nights spent with you or spent on a hospital bed. And Jake had stopped feeling anything but dread 

"We should do that someday, see the sunrise"

"Sure, we can do that next time you sleep over"

"You seem awfully certain that'll happen again" 

"I thought you had volunteered to help"

"I didn't know it was a permanent position" 

"Might become one" he said before he could think.

You smiled at him, Jake tried to look concerned about an imaginary spot on his floor and pretended to scrub it with his foot. He was trying to hide a blush.

"Breakfast?"

"What do you have in mind?" You asked and Jake shrugged his shoulders.

"There's a place down the road that does decent pancakes and passable coffee?" He offered.

"I love passable coffee! Let's go!" 

Jake wasn't hungry. His morning cereal was usually his least favourite time of the day simply because he never felt hungry in the morning, but like his shower ritual, he had been doing it for so long that stopping it would only disturb his daily routine. And without daily routine, he spiralled.

You picked a booth by the window overlooking the beach. 

"It'll give us the best view" you had said

"Yes, it's beautiful" Jake said, looking straight at you. You blushed.

"So, a permanent position… what would that entail exactly?" You asked

"Well, here at Jake Seresin inc. We are looking for someone to fill a very particular role. The candidate that will be chosen for this position will need to fulfill certain specific tasks, such as killing spiders, making cups of coffee if asked nicely, and of course being available for cuddles whenever needed" Jake replied

"Well, sir, I believe I am uniquely qualified for this position. See, I am one of the few people capable of killing spiders without being afraid of them. I also make a killer cup of coffee among many other drinks and I am always willing to go above and beyond when it comes to cuddles."

The waitress interrupted. You both ordered pancakes and a cup of coffee.

"Well miss l/n, ou make for a very attractive candidate. I shall contact you within the week to tell you wether or not you have been chosen for the position. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes. Are you interviewing many candidates for this position?"

"No, as a matter of fact, you are the only applicant"

"How would previous employees in the position describe working with you?"

"Well, I believe they would describe it as difficult. I can be away for months at a time and long distance -- err -- employment isn't easy for everyone." 

"I'm up for the challenge" you winked "Oh, another question, what are the benefits for this position?"

"We pride ourselves on having amazing benefits, here at Jake Seresin inc., we really value our employees and vow to take care of any need they might have" He wriggled his eyebrow "This obviously includes being given terrible cups of instant coffee, kisses whenever demanded and of course, never having to open doors of any kind ever again." He said, making you laugh. The pancakes arrived and syrup was poured. You were both quiet while you ate. 

Then, your phone rang and the phone number of one of your superiors lit up the screen. You frowned.

"I have to get this"

Jake nodded. He watched you step outside, and answer your phone with it against one ear and your finger in your other one. He had a bad feeling about this. He'd gotten enough calls like that, but when you came back, sat in your seat and said: "One of my colleagues dropped out last minute, they need me for a three week journey. I leave in an hour", Jake could suddenly smell it again. The putrid cloud coming in through the door and bee-lining for him. 

[hereforhalstead]

‘Harder...Deeper’

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: No.

• Warnings: swearing/smut implied.

• Summary: Kim and Hailey help you tease Jay in Molly’s, after watching a guy give you his number he follows you out of the bar to remind you the affect he has on you.

• Words: 2827.

***

“So it’s just a coincidence they’re here then?” you question Hailey as you walk into Mollys, she shrugs her shoulders in response and you roll your eyes “Remind me not to tell you lot anything ever again” you huff and take a seat at one of the tables opposite the bar. 

“Don’t act like you don’t want to see him” Kim nudges your arm “First round is on you, thanks” you offer a sarcastic smile to which she happily hops off her stall and heads over to the group currently situated at the end of the bar.

 “Oh come on Y/N, what could go wrong?” you hear Hailey pipe up from the seat opposite you but you’re too focused on second guessing what you’re wearing.

Was you’re hair straight enough? Did you touch up that black mark on your face earlier? Did you look good enough to see him?

You had been promised a fun night out with Kim and Hailey, a ‘girls night’ as they claimed. Feeling slightly set up by seeing Jay and Adam throwing back some shots and Hermann happily topping them up with more of the clear liquid as they return the glasses. 

Hailey was clearly feeling smug after having caught you and Jay getting close in his van one night after work and Kim was soon to find out after. You tried to shrug it off and acting casual by it but when they corner you about it the best you can come up with is ‘We’re just friends who are close, nothing wrong with that..’.

That of course wasn’t exactly the truth and they knew it, this meant they were on a mission to try and break it out of either one of you. Kim slams down a tray in front of you and your eyes flicker over the many shot glasses and double spirits with the mixer bottles by the side.

 “Christ” you mumble as Hailey begins to unload the drinks onto the table “Just tell us what we want to know and we’ll calm down with the questions and drinks” Kim adds “So you’re getting me drunk so I’ll be easier to get round, unbelievable” you scoff and down one of the shots “my lips are sealed”. 

After many trips back and forth from the bar you find yourself stood at the bar with Hailey, examining the shelves lined with alcohol and deciding on what to go for. By this point, it felt like you had already drunk most of the bar and neither of you sure what else you can stomach but one of the new bar staff catches Hailey’s eye.

 “Hey! Excuse me?” she calls and your head snaps to who she is trying to get the attention of. “Is he the new candidate at 51?” you question as she scans her eyes up and down to check him out, you nudge her arm to bring her out of her trance and she widens her eyes at you “Just because you’re taken by lover boy, doesn’t mean I can’t have him”.

You quietly swear under your breath and take a quick glance over to where Jay and Adam are sitting “You want me to act like I haven’t seen him take his eyes of you or?” Hailey yet again pipes up from next to you but you’re soon interrupted by the new candidate appearing in front of you “How comes I haven’t seen the pair of you in here before?”

“Who us?” Hailey questions and sarcastically flicks her hair and he laughs “Yeah, seems like I’d remember you” you feel his eyes roam your body and for a split second you feel the drink settling in your stomach rise to your throat. It’s not that he wasn’t good looking but it had been a while since someone other than Jay had flirted with you and it’s almost like you’d forgotten how to act. 

“Actually, we were just trying to decide on what to drink” Hailey interrupts and he swivels to lean his back onto the bar and also examine the shelf “What kind of drink you after?” he questions and you hum in response “We’re not fussy, why don’t you choose us something” you suggest and his eyes light up “Any drink?” he confirms and you nod “and 3 shots”.

He gets to work adding different liquids into the glasses and measures out a dark colour spirt and pouring it into the shot glass “Why don’t you come round here and I can show you how to float the syrup so it floats on top?” it takes you a second to realise he’s talking to you and you secretly wish he was directing his attention to Hailey but that was not the case “She’d love that”.

Hailey speaks for you and ushers you round the end of the bar, past Adam and Jay and round the back to join the candidate pouring the drinks. You feel Jay’s eyes burn into your back and this made you swing your hips a little more as you walk and allowing your hair to sway down your back.

 “Right” he positions himself behind you and hands you the bottle “You wanna cover this hole as your pour, that will stop the air flowing into the drink and stop it from sinking. Got that?” he questions and hands you the bottle, you start the pour the bottle as his hand rests on top of yours and guides you towards it.

“Oh this is brilliant” Hailey mumbles and you glare up to see her grinning and staring over to Jay, you can only imagine the look on his face and the jealously in his body. You successfully pour the drink and stop if from sinking and this earns you a high five from Hailey and the candidate.

 “What am I missing out on over here then?” Kim stumbles over and clumsily sits where you just were “Well” you turn to face the candidate but slightly loose your balance, he is quick to rest his hands on your hips to steady you and you hear Jay scoff at the end of the bar. 

“There a problem?” the candidate asks and your heart sinks, Jay beams a smile and takes a swig of his drink “No problem at all”. You can practically hear his thoughts and how much he wanted you away from that man but you were just friends with benefits, he didn’t have that control over you and it killed him. 

You move your eyes back to the bar and grab another shot glass “Sorry, we didn’t even ask your name” you start to fill the glass as Hailey asks “Michael” the candidate finally reveals his name and you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed you had gone this long without asking “That’s a nice name” Kim seems to flirt back as she rests her head on the palm of her hand to lean on the bar.

“You like that, you should hear my phone number” he instantly responds and you fake heave “I haven’t even asked what your names are?” he questions and Hailey happily informs him “Y/N? That’s a cute name” he compliments and you hand him the shot glass “Not as cute as my phone number” you answer and he nods his head to seem impressed “Oh, I like you already”.

**

It had been nearly an hour of the three of you stood at the bar with Michael but Hermann soon interrupts "Mike, I need you to run to my house and pick up the keys to lock up. One of the kids accidentally took them home and I can’t lock up later without them” you feel a slight relief as you were starting to regret laying your flirting on so thick and how close Mike seemed to be getting to you “Can’t i jus-” he begins but Hermann is quick to interject and throws him the keys to his car “Just. Go.” he demands and turns back to serve a customer.

“right, well.. guess I’m off” his tone sounds disappointed and low but you’re quick to join Hailey and Kim back on their side of the bar and to where you feel more comfortable. “It was nice meeting you” Kim smiles at him and he nods in response “Maybe I’ll see you around some time”. 

You take a sip from your drink as an excuse not to reply. He excuses himself to the back room and you head back to your table which luckily was still available “Think he liked you” Kim comments and you shoot her a glare “Let’s just not talk about it” you scan your eyes over to Jay and Adam and just as Hailey had earlier said, it seemed Jay’s eyes had been on you the whole team and his face was a storm, he did not look impressed. 

You resume conversation but hear some chairs being dragged and soon appears Adam and Jay making themselves comfortable next to you “Hope you don’t mind if we join?” Adam asks but by this point they’ve already sat down “Wasn’t getting much sense out of Halstead sat over there as he gawked” he adds and Jay shoots him a narrow eyed stare “Just saying” he holds his hands up in defense and from the corner of your eye you see Mike approaching.

He hands you a piece of paper with his number on it and you feel everyone round the table fall silent “Just wanted to give you this, I had a great evening” it’s almost as if he could sense Jay’s desire to rip his head off so settled on making a quick exit. You lay the paper on the table and Kim peers over.

 “Told you he liked you”, you fold it up and put it in your pocket but feel the need to explain the situation to him as you felt kind of bad “I’ll be right back” you lay your hand briefly on Jay’s thigh as a sign of ressurance and follow Mike out of the bar. 

You catch up to him as he is about to get in the car and his face lights up “Sorry, thank you for the offer but I’m actually kind of seeing someone” you lowly admit but it doesn’t seem to affect him “Ah, that’s okay. You can’t blame a guy for trying” he shrugs and you smile “It was really nice to meet you though, did you want me to hand your number to either of the others?” you try and reason but he is quick to shake his head “No it’s okay I was only interested in you”.

You instantly feel awful but as much as you and Jay weren’t ‘official’, you weren’t in the mood to be looking at anyone else “Well, have a nice night” you turn to head back into the bar as he opens his car door but he pauses “Just out of curiosity, was it that guy sat next to you at the table?”. 

You spin back to face him and before you even say anything he chuckles “Might want to tell him to tone down the death glare a bit, jealously isn’t a good look” he adds before getting in the car. You laugh to yourself as he was right, Jay didn’t hide his jealousy very well but as much as you didn’t like to admit it - you secretly loved a bit of jealous Jay. 

You watch him back out of the car park before taking a moment to breath in the fresh air and have a minute to yourself “Couldn’t leave without a kiss goodbye, could he?” Your enjoyable silence is ruined by Jay’s mocking tone and you now wish you’d just gone back inside the bar which would’ve avoided this situation “leave it alone Jay” you try to shrug him off but he follows your stride to stand in front of you and block your path.

 “I said, leave it” you warn but he isn’t having none of it, nothing could wipe the smug grimace off his face “I see you pocketed his number too, saving it for a rainy day?” You huff as he continues to probe “Hailey was saying he really took a shine to you, she said you were all over him” he runs his hand along his jawline and opens his mouth to continue speaking but you grab his hand and pull him behind his truck which was parked a few steps away.

“You have no claim over me Jay, we’re just friends with benefits so if I want to ‘be all over’ someone then you can’t say anything” you harshly whisper, aware of the fact someone could hear.

 “He only wants one thing Y/N, I hate to be the one to tell you but he’s a guy and that’s what we do” he cocks his head to the side and you feel nothing but anger at the way he’s speaking to you “So what makes him any different to you then?” You question and his reaction changes, now seeming confused and dare you say hurt?

“Don’t even go there” he warns but you continue “No, I’m fed up of you thinking you have this hold on me and wanting to knock a guy out just because he shows me a bit of attention. Do you think I don’t see the way girls throw themselves at you and you hardly do anything to ward them off. How comes it’s one rule for you and another for me?” 

He places one hand next to your head to lean into the truck and assert his dominance over you, you remain stood with your arms by your side as he smirks “You think I want anyone else over you? That’s funny” he chuckles but you’re not amused.

“See what I think” he begins but takes his other hand and rests it on your hip comfortably but clutches at the skin as he speaks “You knew I was watching and wanted to make me jealous, tell me I’m wrong?” He lowly whispers in your ear and you feel the shivers run over your body.

 “You’re trying to convince yourself you could be with someone else other than me, huh?” You bite your lip to stop yourself saying something you’ll regret and secretly enjoying the way he was getting riled up “I just want you to picture us together” he leans in to place a kiss to the crook of your neck and your close your eyes in pleasure “Me pinning you against the wall as my hands roam over your body” he taunts

“Knowing exactly how and where to touch you. He wouldn’t have a fucking clue” you feel him lightly laugh into your neck as he continues to leave a trail of light kisses on your skin.

 “You moan my name as I go Harder.. Deeper” you snap your eyes open and see how much he’s enjoying this “having fun?” You question and he nods “you don’t even know the half of it” you run your hand up his chest and rest it on the back of his neck and twist the ends of his hair through your fingers.

“So, you don’t want me to have this then?” You bring out the piece of paper and hold it in front of him, he quickly moves to snatch it out of your grasp and crumple it in his hands “Don’t do that to me again” he throws the paper over the top of his truck and you look over your shoulder to see where it lands.

“Sorry, did you want that?” He smiles and you roll your eyes “Nah, think I’m happy with what I’ve got” you reassure and you you see the glint in Jay’s eye “You better be baby because I’m not going anywhere”

***

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.2

A/N: Really wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction to pt.1 so thank you all so much for your likes, reblogs, kind words and support! I had a few requests to make a taglist so I’ve done it at the bottom - let me know if you’d like to be added! (and I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone) so - on with the show!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: swearing

pt.1 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

You startle when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the sudden and abrupt noise of it quick to drag your attention away from the true crime documentary playing across your TV screen. You eye it from your spot on the couch, so far, yet only a mere reach away if you could be bothered to stretch the distance. Your eyes fall back to the TV, happy to just ignore it and address it when you eventually have to move from the cocoon of blankets and pillows you’ve surrounded yourself with, but when the reminder alert sounds two minutes after receiving it, a small voice in the back of your head pipes up, saying it could be something important and you sigh tiredly.

The effort to move pulls a low groan from you and you stretch out, snatching the device from the table and back into the warmth before you could tumble onto the floor and really have something to grumble about.

Hey Benny’s mystery girl, how’s your night going?

The text sends flutters through your stomach, your hands immediately clamming up with a brief wave of nerves. This was the guy that Benny was setting you up with – an apparent very close friend and someone who clearly meant a lot to him. Why did you feel so much pressure to make a good impression?

Blankets, cushions and crime show now forgotten, you straighten up and let your fingers hover over the keypad in contemplation.

Do you play it cool? Act like you have a brimming social life, full of fun and endless options, and are not currently sat at home on a Friday night in your pyjamas watching Netflix, eating an excessive amount of snacks? No. No, you shouldn’t put a false image out there. Honesty is the best policy.

Hey yourself mystery fish. It’s a nice and relaxed night on my end, how about yours?

You leave it at that, briefly wondering if you should quickly chuck your phone on airplane mode, delete the message before it could go through and start again.

Did it sound boring? Is that the kind of image you were throwing out there? Maybe you should’ve acted like you were at least doing something productive. But then… what if Benny was there to call you out on your bullshit, knowing you literally have nothing better to do? He’d gladly do it, too.

You roll your eyes at yourself, wondering why you even cared what this mystery man thought about you and your weekend rituals when you had literally never even met. You were who you were, and that was that. If he didn’t like it, then he could take his handsome face and pretty brown eyes elsewhere.

I’m jealous. Stuck out with the guys and all I can think about is sleeping.

Scratch that. Maybe he was a man after your own heart, after all. A picture of a tray of tequila shots and lemons wedges comes through, another text quickly following which had you giggling quietly to yourself –

I’m too old for this shit.

You grin at your screen, opening your camera and snapping a quick picture of your blanket covered legs, snack covered coffee table and bright TV screen before sending it with a little smirking emoji. You’re not disappointed when he replies almost immediately.

Now I’m really jealous – are those Doritos?

Nacho cheese!

The one and only acceptable flavour. Is that Forensic Files? I binged the shit out of that the other day!

OMG it’s so good!

-

Surprisingly, your eyes didn’t feel as heavy as you thought they would when your alarm drags you from sleep the next morning. You could even say you were looking forward to waking up, which was not how your Saturday mornings usually played out.

Immediately you reach over for your phone and unlock it, smiling like an idiot at the Home safe :) text waiting for you. You chew your lip as you scroll through the many bubbles of conversation, stomach twisting in delight as you re-read through the topics you managed to bounce through in the few hours of texting before you had to call it quits at 2:14am and send a final – Goodnight Frankie x

You had paced your apartment after that, ringing your hands together anxiously and eyeing the clock as the seconds ticked past, scowling at your reflection in the mirror as you took your worries out on your teeth, scrubbing them much harder than necessary. Was a kiss too much? Is it too early for that kind of thing? You had only literally just started talking. Should you quickly text and say it was an accident? It’s not like you can say you sent it to the wrong person – the message had his fucking name in it.

The sound you made when you got a – Sweet dreams mystery girl x – in return wasn’t even remotely human and the words swirled around your head long after you fell asleep.

The reservations you had originally developed on being set up, yet again, quickly dissipated the longer you and Frankie exchanged messages. There had been no awkward block of nothing between texts, no dragging up mediocre subjects to keep the conversation rolling… it had just flowed so effortlessly, so naturally – something which had never happened before with Benny’s previous candidates. The only other candidate that you had managed to have a comfortable conversation with was Will, and that was only after you had both agreed that there was no attraction between the two of you.

Over text, Frankie seemed funny – quick witted and sarcastic – and often had you snorting into your drink over a comment or joke made at his own or his friends’ expenses. No, you weren’t even remotely hesitant about this anymore. If anything, your evening of conversation just made you that much more eager to meet him.

It’s much later in the day when you finally message him, having kept the temptation to message him at bay while you tidied up, keeping it short and sweet with a, How’s the head? You chew your lip, eyes flicking over the message with thoughtful eyes before quickly tagging a little kiss on the end and pressing send. Not even two minutes later, your phone goes off on the coffee table and the clammy hands return tenfold when you read over the message a good fifteen times.

Can I call?

Shit. Shit. He wants to call? And like… talk? With voices? What if you stutter? Choke? Oh god, your throat’s dry. It’s dry – how can you talk with a dry throat? You can’t. Fuck. Fuck. Drink – you need a drink –

You quickly run to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and swallowing it down as quickly as you could, not at all caring that it half spills down your chin and onto your jumper. You gasp for air when you finish, slamming the glass down and catching the drips of water from your chin with the back of your hand. You slide across your floor as you run back out to your couch and grab your phone, typing a quick reply.

Yeah sure.

Too casual. Was that too casual? Should you have added a kiss? Shit – it’s already sent. It’s fine. It’s fine. He asked a short question, and he got a short answer. It makes sense. It’s fine. You yelp when your phone starts to vibrate in your hand, his contact name flashing across the screen.

Oh God.

Oh God.

He’s calling. He’s somewhere out there, phone to his ear, waiting for you to answer and you’re what – standing in your lounge and looking at your phone, watching it ring, like an idiot? What are you doing?

You inhale deeply, clearing your throat a little before swiping the green icon.

“Hi,”

Oh God, what was that? What was that tone?

“Hey. Sorry �� looking at my phone screen and trying to reply was making my eyes feel like they’re exploding.”

His voice is deep, hoarse from his night of drinking, and overwhelmingly pleasant to listen to. It brings a flush of warmth across your cheeks, an electric tingle across your skin.

You laugh softly, “It’s alright. Tequila wasn’t a good idea, then?”

He grunts quietly and your stomach tightens, throat suddenly dry again at the suggestive sound.

“It never is.” He groans, melting into a long yawn and you start to feel a little guilty. Did your text wake him up?

“I’m sorry, I should let you sleep –”

“No! No, it’s fine. I uh – I really want to talk to you… if you’re not busy.” He adds onto the end, almost nervously. 

“I’m not busy,” you reassure quietly, smiling shyly down at your lap. “I’m all yours.”

He chuckles lowly, and the sound settles deep in your belly, “Good.”

You don’t understand how conversation could just be so... easy with someone you’ve never met. For a brief moment, you worry you might be talking too much, maybe boring him, but when he keeps asking questions, encourages you to continue, you think that maybe he doesn’t mind, maybe he actually is just interested in what you’re saying.

When dinner comes around, you’re in a fit of giggles as you prepare your food, listening to pots and pans bang and clash on the other end as Frankie prepares his own meal. You cook together, eat together, and then settle in front of Netflix together, debating back and forth on what to watch. The evening melts into night, one movie turns into two, and eventually conversation dies down.

Sometime in the night, you roll over, briefly waking to fix and fluff the pillow under your head when a sound makes you pause. Your head jerks up and you look around, finding yourself sprawled across the couch, and a blanket twisted around your legs.

Glancing over to your phone to check the time, you touch the screen and blink in surprise when you see your phone call is still connected with Frankie, who’s quiet on the other end. You move to press the red button but freeze when a soft snore sounds from the device, and a warm flood of affection grows in your heart and spreads throughout your chest.

He’s asleep.

You listen a moment longer, smiling tenderly when more quiet snores reach your ears. Instead of hanging up, you bring the phone closer, tucking it just beside your pillow before laying your head back down and closing your eyes, letting the quiet breathing soothe you back to sleep.

If the strong butterflies turning your stomach were anything to go by, you were in serious trouble.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh​ @peterhollandkait​ @sara-alonso​ @starlightsearches​ @bookishofalder​ @empress-palpat1ne​ @shadowolf993​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @canyonmirrors​ @eoz-stuff​ @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa​

[landinoandco]

|Shutter speed|

Chapter two : A New Beginning

{Lando Norris x Reader}

Summary: A photographer. A pair of F1 drivers. Triangles. A sticky situation of morals and fighting fate. What could go wrong?

Warnings: none :) apart from a mention of grief and passing of a loved one

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2.9 k 

A/n: welcome to the second chapter of 'Shutter speed.'

I'm going to start a taglist so comment on this post or message me if you would like to be added :)

Previous chapters: Chapter one

Chapter two: A new beginning

By the time Georgie had raced home, it had stopped raining and the sun was beginning to fight its way through the mass of clouds that had filled the sky. The journey home had given Georgie plenty of time to think - to mull everything over about the crazy afternoon she had just endured. They had finally booked their first event since lockdown, the insanely attractive stranger she had met in the coffee shop but somehow it all ended back to a person she thought she had finished thinking about - not that you ever could. Her Theo. Her lovely Theo. 

Theodore was her childhood sweetheart. Theo was everything to her, llike Georgie was everything to him. They had their whole future planned out: travelling around the world and experiencing different cultures, photographing their entire experience and showcasing the beginning of their journey through life on an Instagram they had set up. Before settling down and starting a family of their own. Together. It was going to finish like all the fairy tales did...

And everybody lived happily ever after.

In hindsight, they had jinxed themselves before they had even started, not long after they had finished their A - levels and about to start their next chapter at Uni - Theo had fallen ill. Georgie refuses to acknowledge the illness for she believes it shouldn’t be the way he is remembered, instead reminiscing on the short but meaningful life he lived. Theo died not long after he was diagnosed, leaving Georgie behind with a new and tainted meaning to happily ever after because if it wasn’t with him then what did it truly mean? 

As they say hindsight is a wonderful thing.

Even now, 5 years on, 23 years of age, she is still plagued with the memories and the thoughts of everything they could have had but for some reason the universe was against it all. She hated to think of herself as unlucky because she was blessed to have met Theo in the first place. 

Shaking the memories from her head, she unlocked the apartment door and trudged through - hanging her coat and bag on the hooks then making her way over to the breakfast bar. On top was a fluorescent post-it note that read: “Popped into the city to pick up some new lenses for the cameras. Fill you in when I get back. Fancy getting a takeaway tonight to celebrate? Love you lots ~ Maisie.” 

A takeaway was exactly what was needed. She thought. And a nice warm shower. 

The thing Georgie loves about showers is that they give her the ability to find an answer and solution to pretty much everything and anything. She spent a lot of time in the shower after Theo passed, it was the only thing she could justify enjoying. Striping her clothes off and chucking them into a pile on the floor, she reached into the shower to turn it on - the water immediately rushing out and crashing loudly onto the floor. As soon as she was happy with the temperature, she stepped in - letting the warm water droplets wash all of her worries away. It was the only thing that she felt helped her relax; come to terms with everything she was feeling. 

Her first and main worry was what they were going to do after Goodwood. If they didn’t find consistent work soon they were going to run out of money - they were lucky to have made some good investments and savings leading up to this point to have coped through lockdown. 

Georgie grabbed the shampoo and rubbed it thoroughly through her long waves. She had been to Goodwood a few years back -  Theo had taken her. It was the best date she had ever been on - she remembered it as clear as day. They had found an empty bench to sit on next to the hill the cars climbed in the ever popular annual hill climb - it was there and then they had decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together and travel the world. 

Stepping back under the water, she let the water take the shampoo away, watching as the bubbles slipped through the drain. Theo had been a massive formula one fan - dragging Georgie into the sport as well. Jenson Button had been his favourite driver and McLaren his favourite team so naturally that was hers as well. As soon as he passed Georgie had nothing to do with the sport - she refused to watch it and stopped keeping up with the teams. 

She reached for the conditioner bottle, pressing her lips together in a tight line. All of this thought about Theo and the racing world she turned her back on - a slight regret forming in the pit of her stomach, was she ready to go back to it? She remembered the atmosphere of Goodwood when she had been, people from all over the world gathered to celebrate the one thing they had in common: their love for cars. She was slightly envious of the people who got to travel the world, following in the car's tyre tracks and capturing the moments you only get to experience once in a lifetime. 

Georgie paused and furrowed her eyebrows, she was struck with an idea. Whether it was absolutely brilliant or outright stupid and unrealistic, she was yet to find out. Hoping out of the shower and grabbing her towel, she made her way to her room. It was worth a look, she supposed, there was no harm in that. Once she was dressed, she sat at her desk and turned on her laptop; begging fate to be on her side today. 

“Honey, I’m home.” Called a voice from the kitchen. 

“Hey sweetie.” Georgie shouted back, “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” 

She pulled up the McLaren careers page, her mouse hovering over the view jobs link. Georgie was ready to travel the world. She was ready to experience life again - after all it was Theo’s dying wish that she completed everything they were setting out to do. Perhaps she was selfish for not coming to this conclusion sooner. 

She clicked. 

Taking one last deep breath, Georgie placed her hands to her forehead and moved her face closer to the screen as she read through the roles. Tyre performance engineer. No. Finance analyst - production. Definitely not. Hope was diminishing rapidly even though it was as she had expected. The chances of finding anything suitable were low. She was coming to the bottom of the list when a role jumped out at her. But not impossible apparently. 

Lead photographer - team. 

And the deadline was Tuesday at 11.59 pm. They had the best part of 6 hours to complete this application. It was going to be tight but possible. 

She jumped up and rubbed her hands over her face in disbelief. Running her hands through her hair, she sat back down - hardly being able to keep still. It was only an application advert - many people were going to be applying. She thought as she exhaled loudly. More experienced people. Skimming through the description and requirements, she almost felt like she was dreaming. It was perfect. The role was to travel with the whole team and capture every moment to later be used on social media and advertising. 

“Everything alright in here?” Maisie poked her head around the door. She was faced with an almost tearful Georige. Her words almost trailed off.

“Do you want to travel the world?” Georgie asked her, her voice wavering slightly.  Maisie seemed taken aback as she moved into the room and sat on Georgie’s bed. “I’m sorry - what? Have you forgotten what’s been going on recently?”

“With a formula one team, Mclaren to be precise.” Georgie corrected and moved aside so Maisie could see the screen. Silence fell between the pair as Maisie read on, Georgie’s leg had started bouncing in anticipation. Minutes later she was met with a frown. “That’s not quite how I had imagined you would react.” Georgia mumbled, sighing. She mirrored her friend's expression, chewing on her bottom lip. 

“Before we start fantasizing, I just want to make sure you’re ok with this.” Maisie said softly, taking one of Georgia’s hand in hers. Georgia nodded slowly, rubbing her thumb over her friend’s hand. “This would be his dream. I know he’s watching us - he really is looking out for us, Maise. I want to do it for him.”  

Maisie’s smile grew, “As long as you’re sure. Come, let’s discuss it over take away and I will explain how this weekend is going to work.” Georgie stood up, grabbing her laptop and a notebook, “One thing is for sure. We are going to need one hell of a portfolio.” 

It was now Sunday - the final day at Goodwood. 

To say the rest of their week leading up to this point went smoothly would be a lie. In the end it all got a bit complicated. They submitted their application at 10:58 pm that Tuesday evening - due to it only being a singular role they applied as their business in hope that the combined experience would set them apart from other candidates. Wednesday they spent the day prepping for Goodwood - trying out the new lenses and practising photographing cars they found around London. They were going to watch the Goodwood livestream on Youtube Thursday and Friday to see what they were going to be faced with that Saturday. Until Maisie received a call. It was Mclaren and they had gotten through to the interviews - all taking place that Thursday afternoon on teams. As it turns out, they wanted to have hired someone for the role by Friday in order to be ready for the British Grand Prix the following weekend. 

“I mean it makes sense,” Maisie said, blowing her coffee to cool it down before taking a long sip. “It is their home grand prix after all.” 

Georgie chuckled, “It’s just, I feel like if we were to explain to anyone they would think we were making this up. It’s all happening so quickly.” 

That Friday, ahead of their debut at Goodwood on the Saturday, they got the call. According to the lady Maisie spoke to, it was very close between them and another candidate but the fact they were working at Goodwood tipped the scales in their favour. 

“And.” Maisie started. “We are going to meet with a man called Zac Brown on Sunday, he is the CEO of McLaren Racing-” Georgie was very lucky to have Maisie as she was the businessman - or women in this case - out of the pair. Her people skills were unmatched, how she did it Georgie would never understand. 

Now on Sunday, Georgie was quite sad to see it coming to an end. The atmosphere was one that she had never quite experienced before - it was one that filled her with pride and adoration; something she hadn’t felt in a long time, not to this extent anyway. The whole weekend, a beaming smile had been plastered onto her face - so much so that her facial muscles were beginning to ache. The whole community of people were ecstatic to be there, watching on in excitement as a sport that had missed the company of their crowds opened its doors once again. It wasn’t long before she had agreed to meet with Maisie ahead of their meeting with Zac Brown that she found herself walking up the infamous hill. The loud buzz of conversation seemed to fade, instead the only sound she could hear was the rumble of engines as they came cruising by. She stopped at a clearing where a bench stood proudly, smiling softly to herself as she slung her camera strap over her shoulder, stuffing her hands into her trouser pockets. It hadn’t aged a day. 

Lando Norris had decided to take a break from the main McLaren marquee - he had just finished his final drive of the day and was looking for some time to reflect on the weekend he had just had after having the honour of driving the three cars that Aryton Senna won McLaren their championship titles. It had been a tough season leading up to this point - after Carlos left to join Ferrari he felt this year all eyes would be on him. Many expected Lando to fall into the shadow of his new teammate Daniel Ricciardo, everybody expected him to fade back into the background. Perhaps that was why he trained so hard during the winter break - he had pushed himself right up to the limit. Lando wanted to prove to himself more than anyone else that he was a good driver and he did have potential to fight those at the top, after the taste of a podium in Austria - he was hungry for more. Even as a young boy during his karting career, Lando put pressure on himself - to strive to be the best on the grid - sometimes it meant he forgot to enjoy himself because he was so worried about what other people thought about him. 

He had reached a clearing past the trees. All weekend he had kept half an eye out for the girl at the coffee shop. Part of him was disappointed not to have seen her, he really wanted that second chance. He came to a stop and checked his watch - it wasn’t long until Zac wanted him back; he mentioned briefly about a pair of photographers joining the team. They would be replacing his friend Jason after he decided that travelling just wasn’t practical anymore, who could blame him, his first child was on the way and he wanted to be there with his wife every step of the way. 

Lando brushed a hand through his curls, casting his gaze around before he would make his way back. When a bench caught his eye or more specifically the girl sitting on the bench. She sat with a content smile dancing on her lips, a reminiscent glaze coated her eyes. He took a step towards her, there was something familiar about her. It was like his feet were frozen in place - his brain was telling him to go back but his gut told him to stay put. He stood for a minute or two before it hit him - square in the face and quite frankly he couldn’t believe his luck. It was the girl from the coffee shop. Right in front of him. It was now or never. Lando took a calming breath before going and sitting next to her. 

Georgie was rudely pulled from her thoughts when a person sat down on the bench next to her. She moved her head slightly to see who the intruder was when her heart stopped. Recognition dawned on her face. Georgie knew instantly he had recognised her as the corners of his mouth twitched into a shy smile. “Hi.” His tone silvery and almost breathy. 

“Hey.” She beamed back, “I’m Georgie.” She said, gazing up at him, admiring the way the sun caught around his halo of curls giving them an almost angelic glow.

“Lando.” He told to her, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Neither of them could quite believe that they were sitting with each other. 

“I - uh - It’s a wonderful day for it, isn’t it.” Georgie had panicked. She didn’t know what else to say and her mother used to always say:  ‘if in doubt talk about the weather.’ It was something along those lines anyway.  Silently cursing herself, she cringed at her awkwardness only to hear him chuckle at her comment. 

“It’s much better now the rain has cleared off.” Lando instantly felt relaxed around her, he didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was that she seemed just as socially inadequate as he was. “So Georgie.” He savoured the way her name rolled off his tongue. “What brings you to Goodwood? I hope you don’t mind me saying this but I heard you talking about it before you rushed off the other day.” 

Georgie inched closer, almost leaning into the comfort and warmth he seemed to provide. “My friend and I are photographers and she somehow got us into working for the Goodwood Festival of Speed brand. I still don’t quite know how she did it, for some reason she didn’t want to talk about it.” She trailed off, a pink tinge creeping onto her cheeks as she had come to a rather astonishing conclusion. The corner of Lando’s mouth lifted at her innocence. “Anyway.” She moved on quickly. “As it turns out I am also here to meet my new boss.” 

“It’s almost like it was meant to be.” Lando quirked. “Who are you working for now?” 

“I’m the new photographer for the McLaren formula one team.” She explained, pride laced in her tone. Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open in disbelief before he caught himself. Composed his expressions and stated very plainly...

“I’m Lando Norris. I drive for the McLaren formula one team. As it turns out you and I are about to attend the same meeting.” 

Taglist: (please message me or leave a comment if you would like to be added :))

@mjuikoli​ @httplayer​ @phatyak​

[mystic-shadows42]

Allure {Part 2}

Warnings: None

Aslaug and her sons gathered around to have their meal just as they always did around this time of the day. They had all been unusually quiet. Aslaug had noticed that they never were lively with you gone

So to get them to open up more, she turned her attention on Ubbe.

“When are you going to marry and have children?”

Ubbe sighed loudly. This conversation has come up quite a few times much to his displeasure.

“This again mother?”

“I am curious as to why you haven’t found yourself a suitable woman. They’re plenty here to choose from.”

“I don’t intend on marrying anyone anytime soon.”

Ubbe had lost his appetite at the thought of having to marry. His mother has always been adamant that he should lead his brothers by example. 

He didn’t want to marry to lead by example. He simply wanted to live his own life without being questioned or pushed to do so.

“That’s because he’s waiting for the inevitable to happen. We all know she’ll never marry him.”

“Whom do you speak of?” Aslaug asked curiously. She hadn’t seen any of her boys stick with one woman for long.

“Y/N,” Sigurd stated in an obvious manner.

“Shut up Sigurd!” Ubbe stated, throwing a piece of food at him. Aslaug felt like she was starting to lose control now that her boys were starting to fawn over you.

“I don’t think the daughter of Lagertha would be a good choice, considering her mother was once with your father.” Aslaug wanted their attention directed elsewhere other than on you.

“I’m surprised you’re actually denying a candidate for marriage.” All the boys grumbled in agreement.

“I want the best for you. She seems sweet but I’d rather you go with...someone else.”

“You sound bitter.”

Aslaug ground her teeth and turned to look at all her sons who were now focused on her.

“I have no reason to be, it’s just that there’s always someone better. I figured Bjorn and Lagertha would object to such a pairing considering the circumstances. Even if you were to be with Y/N there’d always be complications. It can’t always be-”

The doors had opened abruptly making all of them turn their heads to see who had interrupted their conversation. When they saw it was you at the door, they all sat up straighter staring at you with surprised looks on their faces. 

Your arrival had been unknown to them.

“Oh, you’re all having dinner. My apologies, I was just looking for Bjorn.”

Ubbe stood up from his seat immediately. “Don’t go. Have dinner with us.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Please,” you couldn’t help it when all of them looked at you like that. So you gave in and nodded to them.

One of the new thralls was quick to give you a seat that was on the other end. Before any of the boys could say anything to you, Aslaug jumped in.

“So, Y/N, we certainly weren’t expecting you to come here today.”

“Which she’s always welcomed to at any time.” Ivar chimed in winking at you.

Aslaug bit her tongue not liking how quick they were to come to your defense. She didn’t hate you, she just didn’t like how you had the power to make or break her sons. That uncertainty is what unsettled her.

“My visit won’t be long. I plan on going back to Hedeby.”

“You don’t have to leave so soon. My boys rather enjoy your company. I myself don’t even know that much about you other than you being Lagertha’s daughter.”

You slightly tilted your head at Aslaug. “Something tells me that you know more than you’d like to share. You see my mother told me of your particular outlook on things that haven’t happened yet. She’s shared something with me when I was but a little girl still. One that I didn’t understand until I became a woman. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. It was, after all, your vision.”

Aslaug hummed. She was impressed with your quick wit.

“What vision do you two speak of?” Sigurd was quite curious as well as his other brothers. He had grown accustomed to the fact that his mother had visions. One that foresaw him having a defect in his eye making it look like a snake.

“It’s nothing.”

“I want to know now,” Hvitserk spoke while leaning forward. His food had been long forgotten now that you were here.

“It wasn’t my vision.” You stated looking to Aslaug. You knew she never told any of her boys what she saw. She figured if she never said anything that you might be forgotten somehow. “You can tell them.”

You nodded once more to Aslaug to let her know that it was okay to continue. All the boys then turned their attention onto their mother who was debating whether or not to tell them.

She knew it wouldn’t affect the outcome either way but still, it felt as if she was admitting defeat. 

The gods personally had you under their care because they favored Lagertha. It was set in the stars that Aslaug would bear Ragnar’s children. It was a bitter-sweet twist of fate. 

Not one person could truly live in happiness once the gods had plans for them.

She knew her time would soon be up. She had her sons and raised them well. She wouldn’t grow old, no, she would leave this earth soon but did she really want you around her boys manipulating them when she’s gone?

“My vision occurred when Y/N was just a little babe. She had this...presence about her. An aura if you will. I knew then that she was under the protection of the gods. How else would you explain Lagertha having a baby after so many failed attempts of conceiving? That wasn’t all. I saw that when she became a woman that all you boys would flank to her side. Be with her even when if it went against everything you believed in.”

Ubbe scoffed and threw a piece of meat down on his plate. Aslaug raised her eyebrow at his reaction.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“You know I don’t. While I do believe what you see has some truth to it, I believe everyone acts on their own free will. Your vision changes nothing. My brothers and I do what we want and we’ll continue to do that until the day we die.”

“Oh, so you don’t think you’re overly fond of Y/N here? Do you not wish her to be your future bride?”

Ubbe’s smug smile had dissipated.

“In your vision mother,” Ivar quipped. “Do any one of us have her to ourselves?”

Aslaug sighed aloud. “I only saw her with all of you kneeling down to her. It was all just a bunch of quick flashes.”

“I hope you didn’t see everything. I’m quite a giving lover, that I’m proud to admit.”

Hvitserk was all smiles at what he said with only Ivar smiling at his joke. Aslaug was annoyed more than ever with her sons.

“Not all of you can have her. If any one of you were to marry it’d have to be just with one. Marriage is sacred.”

“I know it’s customary and ideal to marry but I don’t plan on doing such a thing,” you chimed in.

Aslaug clicked her tongue and patted her mouth with a cloth.

“May I ask why?”

“I’ve never seen one marriage in my life that worked. There’s no sense of love or loyalty. My mother told me of her previous marriages and they all failed some way or another. I made a vow to myself that I won’t be like that. I’ll make my own decisions on what I think is right.”

“Well, that seems a bit harsh. Don’t you want to elevate your status? You’re very beautiful and I bet you’d be capable of marrying an earl or even a king.”

“None of that is fitting for me. Marrying an earl or king would mean that I would be under their thumb. Those of high power are used to being in charge. They’d probably have very little patience for what I say and do.”

“I do admit it takes some getting used to but that’s what husbands are for. They’ll give you children and life goes on after that.”

“That doesn’t seem much of a life for me.”

All the talk of marriage between you and Aslaug had been a strain in the brothers’ eyes. Not one of them wanted to marry, but when the mention of you possibly marrying someone else in a made-up scenario just didn’t sit right with them. It would have to be one of them or no one at all.

Hvitserk reached for your hand and stroked it with his thumb, offering comfort and support.

“Don’t worry marriage is a tough subject for us too.”

“Perhaps we should go for a walk outside?” Ubbe mentioned wanting to get away from all this talk.

“Yeah, but Ivar can’t come. He’ll only slow us down if we have to carry him.”

“Sigurd,” Aslaug warned.

“What? Do you really think a cripple like him has a chance at being loved without women feeling sorry for him? I doubt he has any chance of having children. Though, I think it’s probably for the best.”

“Sigurd! That’s enough.” At the sharpness of your voice, Sigurd backed down.

Everything was hitting Ivar all at once. His anger towards his brothers began to surface. They had always doubted him. The rage and jealousy hit him tenfold. 

“Y/N, did you know that my brothers here have all shared the slave girl, Margrethe? That’s all they’ve been doing since you’ve been gone.”

After Ivar made his announcement Ubbe nudged Ivar’s seat and Hvitserk’s eyes grew wide. Sigurd was flabbergasted. They all were at a loss for words.

Now Ivar was the one with the smug look.

All three brothers were glaring at Ivar before turning their attention to you.

You retracted your hand from Hvitserk then watched them all before briefly turning your attention on the thrall whom they were speaking about. Her eyes were cast downwards while shuffling her feet in obvious discomfort.

“I appreciate you being truthful Ivar but your brothers can bed whomever they want. They can do whatever they want. They’re free right? Now if you’ll excuse me I have to find my brother.”

“Y/N, please,” Ubbe spoke up but you didn’t even turn to acknowledge him.

“Well, brothers it seems like I’m going to be favored and in Y/N’s good graces. Good luck trying to win over her affection.” Ivar smiled boastfully.

“She said we can do what we want.”

The brothers all looked at Hvitserk shaking their heads.

“Poor Hvitserk, so slow to catch on,” Ivar chuckled.

“Would you be okay with Y/N sleeping with someone else?” Hvitserk shrugged. “Other than us.”

That’s when Hvitserk’s expression changed. He didn’t like that thought at all.

“Yeah, I can see why she’d be upset.”

“I think it’s for the best. You all should keep your distance with her.” Aslaug had no problem voicing her opinion on the matter. She was actually glad her boys were focused on someone else at the moment.

“Why’s that?”

“She is the daughter of Lagertha after all. She’s probably turned her into a good manipulator seeing that she is a beautiful seductress to you all.”

“I don’t care who her mother is. I only care for her,” Ubbe spoke up.

“I suppose that’s why you slept with the help then,” Ivar couldn’t help himself. He wanted to revel in their misery which worked when Ubbe stood up and stormed off with the meek thrall following after him.

Everybody else dismissed themselves after that, leaving Aslaug all alone while they all scurried after you.

Tagged: @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine @lol-haha-joke @mariaenchanted @ethereallysimple @bababasti @ir-abelas-telanadas 

[yandere-daydreams]

Can we have a general yandere typing for the TW dorm leaders or your favorite dorm pls?

This is very, very general (it has to be, if I’m going to fit seven different characters into the same post), but I hope it covers what you’re looking for! I’ve been meaning to write a ‘darkest fantasy’ drabble for the dorm-heads but,,, this’ll have to do, for now.

The NRC Dorm Heads as Yanderes.

TW: Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Dehumanization, Implied Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Non-Consensual Touching, Mentions of Blood, and Implied Violence.

~

Riddle is Domineering.

He can’t change what he is, and even if he could, he wouldn’t see the need to. Riddle loves you, he loves you so, so much, but to him, you’re so reckless, so impulsive, so inept, it makes his underclassmen seem cautious, in comparison. He worries less for your safety than he does for your carelessness. He doesn’t think you’ll impale yourself on a banister or trip and manage to break your neck, and yet, he’s managed to convince himself that, the moment you’re left into your own devices, you’ll twist, distort, manage to take something that’s so precious to him and turn it into something perverse, something that doesn’t deserve to have a caretaker so devoted. If he has to take a few hours out of his busy schedule to make sure you understand why he’s so adamant that you obey him, then so be it. He’d rather have a perfect, prized doll who can’t meet his eyes without trembling than someone he doesn’t even know, someone he can’t even love. Someone who won’t let him love them, even when he’s made it so clear that if he suffocates you, it’s only because you've forgotten that you can only breathe because he lets you.

Leona is Jealous.

It’s such a classic younger-sibling complex, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s possessive, he’d be more than fine with carving you up and handing out the pieces if he knows who he’s sharing with, but he’s had a say in so little, he’s had so much snatched out of his grasp before he knew better than to let it go, he can’t stand the though of losing you like that, too. He needs to monopolize your time, your attention, he needs to monopolize you, because if he doesn’t someone else is going to come along to do it for him, and he knows they won’t treat you half as well as he will. It’s why he’s so quick to pull you away from conversations he didn’t give you permission to be a part of. It’s why he can’t seem to go five minutes without insulting your friends or implying that you could cling to him as much as he clings to you, even when the two of you have been along for hours. It’s why he’s so desperate to bite into your neck and burrow his nails under your skin and leave proof of his existance, if only to satisfy that repressed, buried, primal part of himself that just wants something he can own. And he will own you, by the time he’s done. He tends to be thorough, with the things he’s so determined to see play out.

Azul is Paranoid.

There’s a connotation with this kind of alignment that might be a little misleading, when it comes to Azul. He’s manipulative, too. He’s obsessive and he’s controlling and he’s so many other things, but above all, he’s terrified by the idea that one day, you might decide that he’s just some pathetic, pitiful bottom-feeder and move on to someone’s who’s worthy of you. His mindset seeps its way into his behavior visibly, tangibly, blatantly, whether or not he’s willing to admit it. A dozen locks on your bedroom door, a new contract he’s gone over a hundred times, a thousand kisses and a thousand promises and a thousand hours spent clinging to your waist, his face buried in your chest as he begs you to never make him let go. He feels like you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold you close, like you’ll find a loophole or a way to leave him and he’ll never be able to get you back. It doesn’t help that he responds so reflexively to any change he didn’t acconut for. He can make all the plans in the world, contrive as many schemes as he’d like to, but all of his preparations won’t stop him from reacting so harshly when you say something he doesn’t want to hear or do something he didn’t see coming. Above all, he needs you to love him. He won’t respond well to any evidence of the contrary.

Kalim is Smothering.

You have to understand, he really, really thinks he’s just being the best boyfriend he can possibly be. Kalim is naive, like that. He loves you, and he doesn’t know better than to show that love off any way he can and every way he can. It kind of sweet, if you look at it like that. How is he supposed to know you wouldn’t enjoy receiving his gifts as much as he enjoys piling them onto you? You never told him how much his endless parties overwhelm you, so why would he ever stop throwing them? You always bite at your lips and look away and try to cover yourself when he gives you something pretty to wear, and Kalim just thinks you’re so beautiful, so wonderful, it’s only natural that he’ll - playfully, of course - pull you into his lap and go on about all the many reasons he loves you, layering on compliments so thickly, it’s only a matter of time before they start to seep into your lungs and force out the air. Remember, he’s blind to anything he doesn’t want to see, so by the time he finally crosses one too many lines and forced you to snap, he’ll be so caught off-guard, so heartbroken, he won’t know what to do besides buckle-down and give you more, force you to take more. He’s a simple man. If his antics were enough to make you snap at him, surely, more gifts, more attention, more love will only make things better.

Vil is Narcissistic.

This one speaks for itself, really. You might manage to worm your filthy little way into his heart, you might find a way to root yourself there and drive him to the point of near-insanity, but no matter how dear you are to him, no matter how much he loves you, you’ll always be second to the man himself, you’ll always be less than, compared to Vil. It shouldn’t be such a problem, he already acts like he should be the pinnacle of all mankind’s aspirations, but it’s taken to a new extreme when it comes to his closest companion. He expects to be doted on, to be worshiped, and when you’re not busy tripping over yourself to tend to his every desire, you should be hanging off his every word, letting him do whatever he’d like to because you’re just so honored he’d take a moment out of his day to look after you. If it takes a love potion or several, he’ll find a way to live with it. That’s the thing about a mentality like Vil’s, an obsession focused inward that just so happens to brush against someone it’s not meant to - he doesn’t really care about the parts of you that don’t lead back to him. Your health, your happiness, it’s all on the table if he has a chance to take hold of what he wants. He’s always been ambitious. You shouldn’t be surprised when he approaches your love with the same cut-throat attitude.

Idia is Possessive.

If it’s any help, he wants to lock himself away from the rest of the world just as much as he wants to isolate you. You’re the one person he can stand to be around, the one voice he’ll never get tired of, the one pair of eyes he knows will never judge him, even if he’d prefer that you call him more affectionate nicknames, as he explains that he’s just trying to keep the two of you content and alone. He’s greedy, when it comes to you, but that’s not his fault. He gets… sensitive, when you start to focus on other people, when you let other men touch you like they have any right to put their hands on something he deserves to keep to himself. It leads him to some habits he’s not proud of, some reactions that don’t exactly encourage you to indulge his more questionable habits, but while Idia still wants to be able to hide in your arms and ramble on to the only person he knows will listening, he stops caring about how much you want to embrace him, eventually. The world’s already so unfair in so many ways, and no one knows that more than Idia. He doesn’t think he’ll mind if you begin to think he’s as much of a disgusting freak as he already knows he is.

Malleus is Apathetic.

He wants to care. Don’t forget that - he really, really wants to care about your feelings, your interests, your happiness, all of it! He tries to care, too. Not a day passes where he doesn’t make an attempt to get you to smile, to coax out a hint of fondness from your scorned little heart, to sort through all the betrayal and the hurt and the pain and find something redeeming, something that proves he’s not making you any more miserable than he has to. He’ll give you what sparse freedoms he can, keeping your leash as slack as he can afford to, but when you take a step too close to an open window or refuse to hold his hand or he just decides it’s been a few minutes too long since you last swallowed your pride and showed him the affection he strives after like a touch-starved puppy, he never hesitates to pull you back to his side and ignore how violently you’re choking as he takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. He never feels guilty, either, not for the act itself. He’ll fret over the hatred in your eyes, he’ll loath himself whenever you flinch at the first signs of his touch, but in the back of his mind, he knows he deserves what he rips away from you. He’s doing you a favor. Humans are so fragile, so delicate, so easily tricked, and as a prince, a prodigy, a source of unadulterated power, he’s the only suitable candidate when it comes to keeping you safe, to guarding you as fiercely as dragon guards its hoard. He protects you, and he treats you like royalty while doing it, so he wants something in return. He doesn’t think he’s asking for a lot, considering how much he’s been denied.

You should just count yourself lucky Malleus might feel a little bad, by the time he’s done. At least he won’t leave you as bloody as he could, after he’s finished.

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

First      Previous

Chapter 11

She always knew she had a Father. When she was younger she used to ask her mother about him. She mostly told her half-truths. She knew his real name, and about his nightly activities. About his time with the League, and how he adopted some orphans along the way. She heard all about him. From Mother, Grandfather, and sometimes other members passing by. From a young age, she had him pictured in her mind. 

But now, sitting in front of him, in his office, she felt silly for ever trying to imagine what he would be like. He didn’t compare to whatever her young mind had conjured at the time.  He was tall, and he had a face that she could only explain as enigmatic. He wore a mask, that she knew. After years of perfection one of her own, she could only imagine what he had been thought to dissociate himself from the people around him. 

The office was simple, but at the same time imposing. It had a desk, behind it was her father paying attention to every word that came out of her mouth, with a large bookcase by her left. All the wood was dark, giving the room a more serious look. To her right, the wall was entirely covered with windows, with its drapes open showing the beautiful big garden outside the Manor. Behind her father, there is a painting hanging. A family portrait. She recognizes everyone in the painting with ease. Bruce is seated, with Damian in his lap, while Jason, Richard, and Timothy are standing behind Father’s chair. It’s an exquisite piece and even though they all are wearing suits, it makes the whole room look homey.

“Why didn’t you come here, after you healed from the attack?” They had been talking for the past hour. Marianne spent most of that time telling him the circumstances of her upbringing.

“I couldn't. My Master thought it would be better to stay longer.” She explains while playing nervously with the hem of the shirt Damian had lent her this morning. He could feel the anxiety coming out of her but was impressed that she kept herself strong and didn’t avoid eye contact. “So we continued with my training, but after some time we discovered a destructive energy that could only come from someone misusing a Miraculous. So it was decided that we would stay and assess the situation.”

“And this person was the fashion designer you killed this week? Gabriel Agreste?” He had a disapproving face, typical of parents disciplining their children.

“Damian made me aware of your no-kill policy, but since this was an Order business I believe you do not have the power to dictate how I dealt with it. I respect that this is your city, but believe or not I was lenient in his punishment. If it was up to me, death wouldn’t have been enough to compensate for all the pain he caused to the citizens of Paris, but I must allow the Gods to decide his punishment, so death it was.” Her speech allows him time to think about the situation. By the end of it he agreed, it wasn’t his business.

“What happened is in the past. I need to know if I can trust you not to endanger the people of Gotham. Who are you loyal to?” 

“I am loyal to myself. And Damian. Trust has to be earned so it is okay that I do not have yours. But trust this: I love Damian, and would rather die than hurt him” Bruce analises her for some time, trying to find any hint of dishonesty on her, but just like his youngest when cornered, her emotions were transparent in her face.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that you remind me so much of… well your mother” He confessed with a nostalgic expression. “When she first brought Damian to live with me I was so shocked. I must admit that my reaction wasn’t the best. He was so grown, that it was hard to get to know him. With the others it was easier, they-”

“They weren’t your blood” She supplies. He looks a little relieved that she understood what he was trying to explain. “But you loved them all the same.”

“I did this once, it was a terrible job. Just know that I’ll be trying my best to- well, accommodate you into this family.” 

“That’s all I ask for.” She replies with a small smile. 

Marianne looked so much like his mother at a young age. He remembers spending hours looking through family album photos when he was younger. Sure he could see traces of Talia in her, but the blue eyes and black hair were definitely a Wayne trait. It scared him. Did he have any other children out there that he knew nothing about? He lost so many years from his children's lives, it pained him to think about what type of childhood they received. Sure, both Damian and Marianne didn’t hide their upbringing, but anyone could see that there were things they weren’t comfortable sharing. He knew from his own time at the League that it wasn’t easy.

“When did you meet Jason?” He had heard from Dick just this morning that apparently there was something that Jason hadn’t told them about his time in the League.

“Mother ordered me to train him after he was resurrected, because of my powers I was the best candidate to help him control the madness inside of him.” She explains, but Bruce could see the faint blush on her cheeks. 

“And you two…” He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase his question.

“Yes. And please let’s leave it at that.” She’s blushing more than she ever did before. The fact she’s talking about her love life in front of her newly acquired father makes the whole situation hilarious, and if she wasn't so mortified she would have laughed. 

“There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you” Marianne begins, uncertain of how the man in front of her would react to her request. “If it was alright with you, could I please have a hug?”

Whatever Bruce thought she was going to ask, it definitely wasn't this. So he stays there in shock, totally still for more time than he realizes. Enough for doubt to appear in the girl in front of him. His daughter. His blood daughter. He had some experience with Cassandra, but he still wasn’t sure he hadn’t totally fucked up with her yet, so this whole new daughter scene was hard on him.

Before she can flee the room in shame of her request, Father rises from his chair with grace, hiding his anxiety behind his perfected mask. In two strikes he is at her side.

The hug feels nice. Not that she would ever confess but the physical touch was something she always missed. The only person that had no trouble with being smothered with her love was Damian, and then later Jason. So, this hug from her father was definitely something she needed.

When they are done Bruce takes one more lounging look at her before dismissing her. He truly needed some time to think of all that had happened in the last few days. It had been almost 4 days since the reveal of the parentage of the girls, so he still had a lot to process. 

So now sitting with a glass of bourbon in one hand, and his cellphone in the other. He did the only thing he could think of. He called Seline.

“Hey… It’s me.”

Hello again everyone! A special thank you to everyone that has been supporting this story! I wasn't sure if I indeed wanted to write a PART 2 to this story, but after all your comments I decided to do so. I hope you all like this chapter, it's shorter than usual, but I still need to figure some stuff about the story, so please bear with me! Let me know what yall think of it!

Next

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[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 <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

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[blufox234isadumbname]

Las Nevadas and Poker Cards theory

/rp /dsmp (all of the mentioned people are characters of the Dream SMP. not the actual content creators)

---

So this began with a random thought floating in my head about the new characters introduced to the Las Nevadas lore in Episode 3. This sparked the reawakening of my obsession with cartomancy and the meanings behind playing cards. So subsequently, I decided to associate the new four characters to the four symbols of the playing card deck

For a brief intro to playing cards, the standard 52-card deck uses the French suit - which include the diamonds, hearts, clubs and spades. Each suit/symbol includes three face cards (King, Queen and Knave) and ten numbered cards (Ace of ... to Ten of ...) The suit of cards varied throughout history before the French suit became popularised. Most of the derived meanings of the card suits themselves have mostly been very much after the creation of the suits, but I still think their symbolism is still interesting to look back into. The changes to each suit along with each varying meaning will be highlighted in individual sections. So, let’s start with:

Foolish

For the first chapter, Quackity mocks Foolish of being inferior to the tempered god he used to be. Foolish in his current state is a pacifist, a normally non-violent character who doesn’t take the offence. To Quackity, that achieves nothing, backed up by how Foolish was killed off in a selfless act and could not fight back. Quackity mocks the temple Foolish built, saying it is merely an empty shell only made to look pretty. Like Foolish, it is only impressive on the outset, but when it comes to its use it does not serve a function. The magnificent temple is merely for show, like how Foolish appears as a god of undying yet still was able to lose a life. Quackity actively tries to paint a picture of that perception to Foolish, trying to convince Foolish that such a lifestyle has not been beneficial. What Quackity offers to Foolish is a chance to make a name for himself, by doing the opposite. Quackity wants Foolish to cause destruction instead of creation. He wants Foolish to be a cannon, to take the brunt of

Clubs in the French suit have been thought to represent peasants. They are the weaker members of the society, the ones without a legacy to leave behind unlike those higher above them. This is what Quackity view Foolish as, a mere peasant who does not leave his own mark even despite being a god. When it comes to tarot readings, the clubs are seen as the wands. This particular suit tends to refer to calls to action, associated with the element of fire. They represent both aspects of creation to build and cook, and of destruction. It is symbolic of passion, where one’s motivations lie within. Meanings behind the wands deal with one’s own consciousness, what one’s own ambitions, what makes a person create action. It’s also interesting to see that Foolish in the past, brought destruction to a town with lava. So with this suit, Foolish is seen to need to take more offensive action. He needs to take the chance with Las Nevadas to create that action, to create destruction as he did before. To become more than the lowly being he is now.

Charlie

This one is trickier to pinpoint what suit he is since this is the first and currently only time we’ve seen him in the lore. In the time he was introduced, we can still deduce something about his story in the Las Nevadas arc. For instance, his role in Las Nevadas is being a mole for Quackity. Like a more goopy Hercules Mulligan, he can acquire intel and slink out with ease. He is a shapeshifter technically, able to mimic anything. The only seen problem he has is his unawareness of the world around him, basically akin to a child experiencing the world for the first time.

So I associate Charlie with the Spades, the commonly associated symbol for nobility. To Quackity, Charlie is not someone too hard to influence while at the same time may seem to have influence with the knowledge he holds. In past iterations of the spade, it was a sword. Even in Italian, the swords suit was referred to as a spade before it became the symbol. Charlie is the secret weapon with the intel he holds. Charlie is the most important to Quackity, the one who holds the most value above all the other candidates. Unlike the others, Quackity doesn’t berate or deliberately ruin what Charlie has, mostly because he has nothing to begin with. Instead, he is praised and gifted a home, like how nobility, when they are born, are simply gifted their titles. As the swords suit in tarot, spades represents aspects of thinking and communication. From his spy job, Charlie might open his eyes to a complicated world in a childlike manner. He’ll learn slowly but surely, whilst slowly having his perceptions being altered by Quackity. He already has shown doing this by lying to Charlie about snow. It is Q’s goal to coerce the easily swayable Charlie to blindly follow him akin to a child following a parent

Purpled

A mercenary after wealth, Purpled is being offered to join Las Nevadas in exchange for money. It is shown he is competent at sticking to what he believes in, but he does still follow the money mostly. However, Purpled is after more than just simple jobs to accrue wealth, which is what Quackity baits him with. He blows up the only thing that gave Purpled a name in the Dream SMP and offers him much more than the original incentive from the Red Banquet job. With the UFO gone, Purpled is given a choice to go big or go home, the final decision still unknown by the end of Purpled’s chapter. It’s interesting to see Quackity’s approach with Purpled, he’s much more confrontational with him than the others. Where Foolish was just insulted and Charlie merely being strung along, here Q deliberately makes a statement with TNT and a weapon. This might have to do with how Purpled is to be hired as a mercenary again, the man to depend on to take out a target. The only difference is the massive gain and utmost loyalty to Las Nevadas

Purpled is the suits of Diamonds. This suit has been thought to be associated with the merchants, the ones who gain most from sales of goods and services. To Quackity, he just has to convince Purpled with money beyond his wildest dreams. It’s quite important to note that Diamonds used to be bells in German suits, more specifically hawk-bells. These bells were used for falconry in medieval Europe, to denote a bird’s location and status. This is like what Quackity wants to do with Purpled, to keep the hunter under his guidance and not have his loyalties lie elsewhere. Diamonds in the tarot is seen as the suit of pentacles, concerning everything material and worldly. Pentacles often do not just concern financial matters but anything of security and practicality. It is all about what is realistic, for Purpled that is what he can own. Quackity knows that, he knows to bait the mercenary with money and to gamble with it.

Fundy

This one is a fun one to cover since this chapter is solely from Fundy’s point of view. Not once does it shift to Quackity and what he sees. Only Fundy and his nightmare. In the dream, Fundy wakes up in the middle of a red desert. It’s been said before, but being in a desert represents loneliness and disconnect. He is isolated and alone at first, except for Quackity. When he brought to the memories of L’manburg and its iterations, he views it all in awe. This contrasts with how he reacted before to the caravan, with anger and panic. In the dream with Quackity, he happily remembers the times of the past with Quackity, even if they were the most tragic times of L’Manburg’s history. The most notable thing about Quackity in the dream is the fact that he constantly makes Fundy feel noticed, make Fundy feel known and present. Fundy is not invalidated for his involvement in L’Manburg’s history. For once, Fundy feels happy. So when it twists around in Eret’s tower, a reminder of countless wars, the scene shifts to have Quackity in control. Fundy is told he does not matter all over again, told he will be as forgotten as L’Manburg’s history.

Fundy is the suit of Hearts, the suit associated with the clergy. This refers to someone with religious duties or more generally concerning what a person holds within their heart. This person is only important due to the group they associate with, similar to Quackity saying Fundy does nto matter until eh chooses to join with him. Besides just solely the card suits, the Heart tends to represent feelings and relationships. The latter part is an integral part of Fundy’s story, how his relationships with others always tend to fall apart. Feelings are important to Fundy too since he’s only attached to many things because of those feelings. He almost gains nothing but emotional support. And really, that’s is just always been something Fundy has been after – someone to depend on. And so, Fundy is swayed by the promise of a stable relationship with others, something that his dream pre-empted to be used by Quackity. Hearts in the tarot is seen as the Cups or Chalice, which represents everything of emotions as well. More interestingly, the suit of Cups deals with the unconscious too, even dreams. Pretty matching.

 So what does it exactly mean for these connections with the poker cards? Well, to use the cards is to play the game of gambling, the game of poker. And that is what Quackity sees these people as, tools to use to win the game. He’s collecting these cards to gain a winning hand. It’s also evident that he’s pushing these cards to gamble as well. He cuts off all attachments they have and force their hand to take a risk. Foolish has to risk being destructive again. Charlie risks confiding with an untrustworthy friend. Purpled risks losing actual money. Fundy risks losing mental stability all over again. It’s all about taking a risk, something that Quackity is taking advantage of to win. The perception of the cards all come down to how Quackity sees what to string all of these people along to join his cause. In the end, Quackity only cares about what benefit it will bring to Las Nevadas, instead of giving sure promises of such high rewards for tagging along. With the parallels between how Quackity views the members to how Dream views others, it’s fun to see how Quackity sees more and more of this project as a game of chance he’s willing to take. So how will the game play out for all these cards? Only fates can tell.

[windblooms]

zhongli scenario – psycho pass au

inspector!zhongli × gender-neutral reader; 3.3k words, angst & dark content (violence). a document of zhongli’s involvement in sibyl as he becomes an enforcer. swearing, violence, heresy, trauma development – it’s psycho pass, a seinen series. please proceed carefully.

a bright individual in academics and well-respected in his social circle, zhongli was practically guaranteed a fulfilling life by the sibyl system.

his peers often looked up to him as a senior: not only did he study diligently and looked forward to integrating himself into society, but he took it upon himself to be an emotional resource for others. 

others often described him as a warm balance between equitability and empathy.  the word “pragmatic” derived its definition from him, or so was the joke that his friends tossed around.

“ah, you want to sweeten me up, don’t you?”  his laugh can pacify even the most irate of hounds – a siren for the “frenzied”, but of course dulled down, just as all passionate emotions are suppressed in this society. 

but, oh, sibyl.  what will you do to this man?

while zhongli directly benefits from the system – good-natured, charming, and from an established family – it’s only by the system’s choice.  self-autonomy is an illusion when it’s dictated by a hand that only has five fingers and one palm.

they all lead to the same end.

zhongli deludes himself with a restless brain. night after night leading up to his sibyl exam, he busies himself with the news (or at least what’s left of it) and sibyl system statistics instead of studying.  japan is peaceful.  he likes it here, and there’s a life waiting for him.  people anticipate his choices.  he can’t let them down, yet he also can’t help but wonder . . .

division one welcomes him with open arms.  with a crime coefficient of 36.7 and a pretty hue painted like cream vanilla, he is, in nearly every single aspect, a prime candidate for an inspector.

“mister zhongli, are you still working at this hour?”

you speak as if you’re not doing the exact same thing, lurking around the office far from when the lights have been shut off.  but your sincerity is reassuring, and as you hand him a glass of water at his station, he can’t help but smile.

“just some extra work childe left.  i decided to take over for him so he could sleep early.”

“ah.”  hovering around his desk, you shift your weight from one foot to the other like a ship rocked by the waves.  out of the corners of his eyes, zhongli sees you lean your body against his cubicle.  “and you’re sure you’re not making things too easy for him?”

“probably not.”

a muted chuckle from your lips; your shoulders don’t hold the tension they do during the work day.  “hopefully he remembers that you’re giving him extra sleep.  let me know if there’s anything i can do for you.”

“much appreciated,” the inspector replies without a beat in between, irises flickering momentarily back to his screen.  childe had actually finished most of his work; all that was left was filing and labels.  simple stuff, really.  childe could easily complete it in less than 20 minutes in the morning, although zhongli can’t bring himself to admit to you that he’s actively concerned with the beastly enforcer.

“actually, would you allow me to walk with you back to your apartment?  if you’re heading out for the night.”

there’s something in your eyes he can’t quite place the moment his proposition reaches your ears.  you’re set alight by his words, a switch flipped on and a charge igniting your cheeks an enchanting shade of coral – but it doesn’t consume your eyes.  had his proposal been too sudden?  you’re not exactly the closest of coworkers – perhaps he had wrongly assumed that you would be open to spending more time with him, even if just for a walk – and his paperwork is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles to compose an apology for his frankness.

he probably just should’ve focused on finishing childe’s work instead of giving you mixed signals.

“ – i promise, i thought you were preoccupied.  i’d love to be in your company, but i’m not sure how long your filing will take.”

zhongli finds that he can make it 10 minutes instead of 20.

it’s snowing outside; the streets are dark, save for the explosion of lights above in apartment buildings, and the only sounds in the night are of cars revving in the distance.  the chill is hardly noticeable underneath the layers of coats you two wear, and he only recalls that it’s winter when he gazes at his boots crunching in the snow, or when he faces you and puffs of warm breath flow from your lips.

admittedly, he’s not even sure where you live – so he walks alongside you as your companion. 

“beidou got moved to another division, and miss ningguang didn’t disclose why.”  you bite your lip, although zhongli barely catches your ministrations  in the dark lighting.  only occasional overhead street lamps illuminate your path, but you steadily walk forwards as if you don’t need it in the first place.

“i know it’s not my place to question.  i just think that beidou was doing well – it’s odd not seeing her around.”

“i believe there was an announcement earlier last week discussing structural changes in the crime investigation department.  beidou will be fine in divison three.”  zhongli’s reassurances are quiet in the ambiance, a pacifying lull of flowing water to a clear river.  your feet guide you to a left turn.  “i can pass a word to one of my colleagues in division three if you don’t have the time to visit.”

“oh?  i wasn’t aware that you were one for many connections, mister zhongli,” your voice teases his senses, much like your words poke at his penchant for introversion – but of course, negotiation when necessary.  “but you don’t have to go out of your way for me.  i’ll shift around my schedule for her.  you have your own enforcer to take care of, right?”

“that i do.  if it’s acceptable for me to say,” zhongli starts, briefly wondering if his subordinate will pardon the mentions of his name in unofficial business, “childe reminds me of my niece sometimes.  always looking for a distraction, for something engaging . . . which often isn’t the best thing to do at the time.” 

his fingers drift to the pockets of his coat, smoothing down the fabric inside as you continue.  "why don’t you bring her in for work one day?  i’m sure you could arrange something with miss ningguang . . . especially since you’re on her good side.”  

you don’t mention his standing with her out of malice, or with any hint of resentment in your voice.  your observation is matter-of-fact: it’s true, it’s tangible in how ningguang maintains eye contact with zhongli out of everyone else in division briefings, even when disbanding them; how, even just among division officers, her eyes are solely on him.

and of course you’d know this: everyone in the crime investigation bureau has heard about it from the analysts that mow over the security cameras in their spare time.

he exhales into the chilled air, one of admission with a lilt of humility.  the corners of his lips are etched unusually high onto his cheeks.  “ningguang prefers her workspace neat.  i guarantee that if i brought along my niece, she’d tear the place apart.  she might even give childe a hard time.”

“i take it that you’ve seen it first-hand?”

“well, yes.  not that i’d ever mention her behavior to just anyone.”  it’s his turn to chuckle at the thought, although it’s tinged with a hint of . . . dismay.  “but she’s smart.  i doubt you’ll be hearing of her tirades as she learns more about the system.”

your understanding is communicated through silence, yet it’s not unpleasant.  it’s heeding and respectful to his insinuations.  he’s aware that no one discloses much of their personal life – since at the bureau, there’s hardly any time for sentiment – and even much less the inner workings of sibyl.  among some inspectors, it’s a mutual feeling; a slight nag, but it’s also the truth. 

some just prefer avoiding it entirely, and on occasion, it’s also reciprocated.

“mister zho – ”

his wrist-watch screeches in his ear before you can finish uttering his name.  sibyl’s voice is entirely unwelcome on a quiet night such as this, with her magnetic, crisp timbre, and by the parting of your lips, zhongli knows you’re receiving the exact same message he is.  snow no longer conceals the pavement, but instead, numbers and letters.  images, even, of murky colors with three-dimensional graphs and timelines.  

“area stress level abnormal,” sibyl reports in his mind.  “enforcement action requested.”

there is nothing in his hands – there is no dominator to work with, only maps and crime coefficients strung together in zhongli’s head.  but you’re already fumbling for your phone, voice rushing to contact the bureau in the midst of the impromptu warning.  “shepherds to hounds, any available?  asking for immediate assitan – ”

for the second time in a moment, the sounds emitting from your mouth are overtaken by something else: shouting.  zhongli pulls you between two stores as you furiously usher commands to headquarters in the dead of night.  surely an analyst would at least pick up your call, if not another working inspector.

“suspect is in his late twenties.  crime coefficient . . . of 152.7.  do we have any methods of subduction without dominators while we wait for a proper team?”

“no – unless you prefer hand-to-hand incapacitation, or the small stunner.”  he doesn’t have to look at your face to know that you’re grimacing, diligently combing over the information you’re given by sibyl.  “it’s just one man.  he’s been running around for the past ten minutes, and if someone can pick up, it’s a 15 minute drive from the bureau.  he’s only latent.  we can just negotiate with him.”

your gaze catches his out of the corner of his eyes.  it’s dangerous for inspectors to directly involve themselves without dominators, especially without the intervention of enforcers as a preventative measure to not cloud their own crime coefficients.  you’re both vetted in combat as per inspector training, but without dominators as a barrier between barbarism and lawful jurisdiction, not even inspectors are exempt from sibyl’s eyes.

“ – was marked by scanners three blocks down.  approach one at a time?”

zhongli nods without hesitation, opening his watch to change into his inspector attire as you do likewise.  

“meet you there.”

you’re off first, your figure disappearing into the falling snow as the bureau logo on the back of your jacket flutters back at him.  he resumes the call that you left on, ears straining to pick up any sounds at all – from both his communicator and his surroundings.  a minute passes before he himself is off into the streets, running further into the murky blue of the circumference painted before him in his irises. 

out of all the corners he turns, all are empty, save for the occasional scanner.  he matches the data on the drones to the information that’s presented on his watch – except that the radius the two of you split up to search in is smaller than before, more specific.  also, noticeably more inclined to the streets you ran into; the suspect must have been picked up by more overhead scanners.

zhongli practically shoves his watch next to his lips, voice hissing into the mic.  “y/n, are you there?”

a pause, and static silence. 

and you pick up.  “yeah, yeah, i’m here.  got the new info.  think i’m closing in – i hear someone panting.  i’ll send you my position, and then i’ll approach and try to talk.”

“all right.  eta in three minutes.  be careful.”

you don’t reply, only sending him off with an emote through the pop-up display.

he runs as swiftly as he possibly can in two inches of snow the drag from his coat is also inconvenient, so he zips it up before resuming his trek.  another notification message also pops up from the bureau, and he’s reassured professional enforcements.  all he needs to do now is meet up with you. 

vaguely, he begins to make out the sound of two voices to his right, one of them distinctly belonging to you: even in tone, yet strained with cracks.  a momentary thought crosses him: why are your voices raised?  the negotiation must have –

“’ts a sick system!”

“sir, please, i can’t help you unless you try and remain calm.”

“just one time.  one fucking time – ” the presumed suspect’s voice rises louder, harsher, overruling your own.  zhongli picks up his pace.  “you lot can just walk around with your perfect academy scores.  so many options.  but one bad break for us – the regular ones – and we can be disposed of.  there will be a movement, mark my words.  this system is fucked, and so are all of you – ”

something – and the worst part is, zhongli doesn’t know what – audibly snaps, and he hears you scream.

he blows in the scene in time to see you, crumpled at the knees and grappling with the suspect, raising a limp wrist to his neck in a vain attempt to get the stunner off.  but the suspect knows what you’re trying to do – cruelly enables you even, by jerking you by the elbow towards his jugular – as you wheeze, palm against his shoulder in order to push away.

“what’s the matter, huh?  academy didn’t teach you how to fight like in the pits, inspector.”

zhongli charges in before thinking.  he only sees you, hair mangled and clothes torn at the cuffs, and the deranged target before him before all three of you collide together.

the snow does nothing to soften your fall, and after he tumbles to the floor with the suspect, zhongli regrets that he had to resort to such brute measures to get you out of danger; the suspect is much larger than you, and even him with his lithe frame, so it takes all of his strength to keep him pinned down onto the concrete, the snow filtering into the hood of his jacket.  and much like you moments prior, zhongli is wrestling to get the stunner off.

it’s as if he knows – the target knows about their methods, and keeps the face of the watch away from his skin, inhumanly twisting zhongli’s wrist away.  there’s a damaged light in his brown eyes, and zhongli can hear the grating of the man’s teeth as they go back and forth on the ground.

“eta!?”  the inspector nearly bites his tongue as he barks out the question, knee working to hold down the target’s thigh.

“a minute and a half!”

your trembling, staggered steps come up to his side in crunches.  perspiration nearly drips into his eyes despite the frigid air.  it’s so hot, even burning, and he realizes that the sensation isn’t bound to his chest as the suspect continues ranting about sibyl. 

“you don’t even question it!  neither of you have brains of your own.  but we can live!  and without your dogshit ‘justice’!”

your wrist is lifeless, but your watch shines on it as if nothing’s wrong.  the pain on your face extends to your forearm, where he can see forming bruises through the tears in the fabric; with bitten, bloody lips, you lower your wrist to the target’s neck as zhongli subdues him as best he can –

– thrashing like a red herring in a net. 

“bitches to the system.”

the target launches zhongli up and over his body, nearly tossing him to the side as if he were a hefty log, before making another start to you.  senses dulled by the pain oozing through your form, zhongli witnesses as your body crashes to the ground once more.  

you kick and claw at the man on top of you with what you have left, but he doesn’t relent, crushing your form under his body weight as you once again struggle to stun him.

“you’re all going to kneel soon enough.”

zhongli’s knuckles collide with the target’s cheek, just before your neck is encased by grimy, frostbitten fingers.  for the second time, he crashes to the ground with the subject, but this time he doesn’t hesitate to conduct necessary action.

“mister zhongli!  that’s enough, mister zhongli . . . ”

what jolts him from his frenzy isn’t you, but rather the sirens that gradually envelop the alleyway in blue and red. 

beneath him, the target is unconscious.  welts simmer onto his flesh with indents of zhongli’s knuckles, gnarly and ugly, just like the disrupted snow in disarray on the pavement.  his nose is bloodied, and just like your wrist, jerked at an unnatural angle.  the breaths in zhongli’s chest are haggard, like a beast awoken from slumber, in contrast to the target’s muffled inhales.

and his fingers – they’re painted scarlet as well, just like the ink on the target’s face.

“wow.  i never thought you’d make it past 70.  but this thing . . . ”  you’re no where to be seen, probably dragged off by the medics; metal clacks against a hand behind him.  “sorry, but all i’m seeing is 119.”

you’re light-headed once you’re settled into the back of the van.  your inspector jacket (or what’s left of it) is suffocating enough that you request for it to be cut off completely, since you can’t shuffle it off with a broken wrist.  the small back-up team of childe and keqing are fussing around the scene, keqing in particular instructing the retrieval of your heretic of a target.  

zhongli, on the other hand . . .

both hands subdued behind his back, drones escort him off the premise.  he doesn’t have his inspector coat on, and instead, childe approaches you with it in hand.  the white symbol of the merged caduceus and judicial scales is untainted by the dirtied snow it was subject to.

the enforcer’s voice is light, pretty much normal, despite the dire circumstances as he sits adjacent to you, legs hanging off the back of the van.  “you look like you could use a hot shower.”

you don’t humor him – frankly, you don’t have the energy to.  you were practically powerless, inept at fulfilling one simple task.  you think that, if you had been more forceful, zhongli wouldn’t be in the situation he’s in.  keqing wouldn’t listen to you, and maybe you were imaging sympathy in her amethyst irises when you tried – god, you tried – to defend your coworker. 

it’s not fair.

childe tsks, although it’s not out of irritation but more so impatience.  always one for instant gratification, but you’re so desperate to find some ounce of emotion at the sight of his partner being treated so poorly that you feel tears well up in your eyes.

after a minute of silence is when he admits to your sniffling.  although he doesn’t extend comforts, but leaves you to your own devices.

“if he wants to, he can rejoin as an enforcer.  which isn’t the worst option out of the few he’s given.”  the ginger leaps off the back of the van, and makes way for zhongli – but not before giving you some final words as you meet the topaz eyes of the former inspector.

“don’t blame your pretty head about it; he knew what he was getting into.  and at least you can drop the honorifics and just call him zhongli now.  he’s always told me how he wishes it was just that simple with his friends.”

[alwaysmychoices]

Landry Olsen Finding Out About Ethan and f!MC (Charlie) - Headcanon

for a long time, I’ve been meaning to make a fic about Landry finding out about Ethan and MC, and after reading @utterlyinevitable​‘s amazing HC, I was encouraged and inspired to finally write my HC out. Her characterization was incredible - truly wanted to punch Landry. 

Also, for me, MC is Charlie. I kept writing Charlie by accident, so MC is just Charlie now. 

It had been 10 years since Landry Olsen moved to Boston – and 7 years since he left.

Landry Olsen finished his residency at Mass Kenmore successfully but quietly. He did well but never distinguished himself. He was, at best, an upper middle candidate – good but never as good as the greats who walked the hall beside him.

Never as good as Charlie.

Charlie ended her residency at the helm of Edenbrook with a permanent position on the bolstered diagnostics team. Within a month of her completed residency, she had dozens of research offers, job opportunities, and even a handful of speaking invitations. She was the face of medicine.

It wasn’t fair, of course.

She was just lucky. She caught all the right breaks.

She didn’t work for it like Landry did.

At 29, Landry took a job in Chicago, determined to make a name for himself.

He worked hard. He did research. He stayed late, missing big events and dates. He neglected everything but his work. He was his job.

He wasn’t always the best. Sometimes, a star protégé would step in and outshine him, and he grit his teeth through every second. Usually, he tried to win favor by staying later that night or taking on bigger and better cases. Occasionally, he dipped back into old habits of sabotage, but he promised himself it would be the last time.

He earned his place. He earned this career. Hell, he deserved more!

It wasn’t his fault that he had missed all the biggest breaks.

Landry didn’t like being back in Boston – too many bad memories of disappointment and disgust.

He wanted to limit his time in Boston as much as possible. He was here for a conference, and as soon as it was over, he would be on a plane back to Chicago.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He had to see Edenbrook.

It looked… the same.

Even with a new sign and a new name, it was the same place.

A place of disappointment – of regret.

As Landry bought a cup of coffee from a nearby bodega, he imagined running into Charlie. He wondered what she looked like. He wondered if she still hated him.

Landry tried his hardest to stay away from the rumors about Charlie.

When he worked at Mass Kenmore, they were inescapable. She was magic back then. She cured a senator, survived a deadly bioweapon, and saved the hospital while she was at it. She even earned Ethan Ramsey’s friendship in the process.

Landry knew the rumors about them. According to all the best informants, they were always together, curing unknown diseases and steering medicine’s future. Occasionally, Landry heard hints of affection on Dr. Ramsey’s side. Once, he heard that she had been seen carpooling to work in the early hours of the morning.

As much as Landry wanted to know everything, he gagged when he heard about their partnership.

Landry should have been Ethan’s partner, not her.

And their friendship? Disgusting. Unethical, even. He never paid much mind to the rumors of romance. He knew Dr. Ramsey would never break so many rules. Nonetheless, Landry hated hearing about it.

But did any of that matter now?

It had been 7 years.

With a twinge of satisfaction, Landry liked to think that Charlie’s magic had worn off. A magical intern wasn’t a magical attending.

Maybe she ran out of luck.

As Landry walked the familiar path from Edenbrook to the nearest train station, he let himself daydream about Charlie struggling like he did. It made him feel more accomplished and self-assured.

It was during these musings that Landry Olsen saw Dr. Ramsey, his idol, for the first time in nearly a decade.

Ethan Ramsey sat outside at a nearby coffee shop, a medical journal in one hand and espresso in the other. He was older now, probably close to 50. His hair had greyed, and he wore a pair of glasses on his nose.

Landry lost his breath.

Even after Landry left Edenbrook, Ethan had been Landry’s hero. Landry read all of his research, even if he hated occasionally seeing Charlie’s name next to his under the title.

And Landry wanted to talk to him.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to say.

All he really knew was that he needed to clear his name. He needed to prove to Dr. Ramsey that, despite his transgressions during his intern year, he was a successful, competent doctor. He wasn’t just a dumb kid who jeopardized a whole hospital for his vengeance.

He imagined approaching Dr. Ramsey with a respectful yet cordial greeting. Maybe Ethan would remember him. Maybe Ethan would invite him to sit so they could discuss his career. Perhaps Landry could convince Ethan to join his latest research venture.

Maybe, after all this time, Landry could still make a good impression.

Maybe, one day, he could be Dr. Ramsey’s right-hand man.

Landry jammed the crosswalk button frantically, hoping to get to Ethan Ramsey as soon as possible.

Then, he saw her.

Charlie.

She looked the same, just a little older.

And with her, she carried two children. The first, a girl, was old enough to walk alongside her mother. She looked exactly like Charlie, same hair and same nose. The little girl giggled the entire time, making the small boy in the stroller laugh with glee.

Charlie had a… family.

Landry hesitated at the crosswalk and stared as the small family crossed his path.

He was so busy being astonished that Charlie had children that he missed all the clues.

Well, that was until the little girl broke free of Charlie’s grip and ran across the sidewalk a screaming, “Daddy!”

She ran to Ethan.

Ethan left his chair and kneeled on the sidewalk just in time to catch his daughter as she flew into his arms. Ethan exclaimed something about how happy he was to see his little Lori, and he spun the little girl around to make her laugh.

That’s… his daughter, Landry felt frozen.

Charlie followed her daughter, chastising her for running away from her in such a busy place. She approached Ethan with ease. She stood next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then…

And then, she kissed him.

Landry watched from across the street.

Ethan accepted the tender kiss happily before greeting the baby in the stroller, who cooed his approval.

When Ethan put Lori down, he wrapped his free arm around Charlie’s waist and pulled her close.

They were…

They’re together, Landry realized.

Now, he could see the glitter of their wedding bands and the comfort they shared in each other’s arms. Ethan whispered something to make Charlie laugh.

They settled into the café chairs and kept a close eye on their children.

Ethan held Charlie’s hand across the table.

They were happy.

Landry felt a rush of shock and horror.

How could they be romantically involved?

Was that why Charlie did so well? Had Dr. Ramsey really just favored her because he hoped to secure her affection? Had Charlie just gotten ahead because she was willing to pursue her boss? How many ethical lines had they crossed?

Had they exchanged favors in exchange for Charlie’s burgeoning success?

Landry fumed.

He had to work his ass off, and all this time, Charlie got the easy route because a respected diagnostician wanted to father her children.

Landry hated them. He hated the entire system that let them exist. He hated that they got to win and be happy.

Everything clicked together in the worst of ways.

He wanted to confront them. He wanted to tell them precisely what they did wrong and what it had cost him.

He imagined how they would react. They wouldn’t understand. They would think he was crazy and vindictive. Walking away, he would seem like he was wrong when he was really the injured party. Later that night, while Landry was alone in a hotel room, the couple would probably talk about him at dinner, sharing complaints and theories about his behavior.

They would be on each other’s side, and Landry would be alone.

In fact, Ethan would always be on Charlie’s side…

Landry paused, watching as the crowd around him peacefully crossed the road. He didn’t join them.

Because Dr. Ramsey picked a side.

No matter what Landry did, Dr. Ramsey would never be his friend. He would never honor Landry with accolades or collaboration.

To Dr. Ramsey, Landry was just the asshole who betrayed his wife nearly a decade ago. At best, he was a forgotten memory. At worst, he was a representation of disappointment and pain.

Landry might look at Dr. Ramsey as a hero, but Ethan looked at Landry like he was a rat.

The streetlights changed, and the crosswalk closed to Landry. Across the street, the innocent family ordered two coffees and a hot chocolate for their young daughter, who was now in her mother’s lap and scribbling in a coloring book.

They had no idea Landry Olsen watched them, and they had no idea when he looked away and left.

And wasn’t that better?

If Landry Olsen was always going to be the rat, he might as well be a rat out of sight.

He couldn’t stomach watching Ethan’s eyes widen with recognition and then harden with hatred. He couldn’t fathom being his idol’s enemy.

It’s what he deserved.

Deep down, beyond all his whining and entitlement, he knew that they were right about him.

He was just a mediocre doctor bullying someone else for being better than him. But he hid it well. Strangers never suspected him, and he was so skilled that he even fooled himself.

But he still knew… In those quiet moments when he reflected on his mistakes, he knew.

Landry Olsen was a rat – and a lonely, hated one, at that.

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