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zgvlt · 1 year

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CRUSH x CRASH ruggie bucchi x reader

summary: Ruggie, your fake boyfriend, is your date to yet another wedding.

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff + attempt at humor, 3.1k+ words, not beta read

author's notes (see end for more): i was in a bit of a writer's slump with some newer stuff i was working on, so i picked an older draft to finish. i'm glad it worked out in the end for me. anyway, if this is something that bothers you, reader does not talk about getting married :) the setting is just a wedding

[you can also read this on AO3]

Ruggie likes weddings more than most people. Sure, lots of people find them awfully stuffy, terribly expensive, a huge waste of time, but not Ruggie—even if he does think a lot of them are too fancy shmancy for their own good! Like, what’s with the wedding industry being so costly? Does it seriously cost that much money to rent a venue? Why do dresses and tuxes cost an arm and a leg? Are the to-be-weds actually expected to pay for the flights of their guests if they’re coming out of town?

That aside—he’s not planning a wedding so those questions have nothing to do with him!—Ruggie adores weddings, enough to crash them and celebrate with the newlyweds!

Not that he crashes them, not at all in technical terms, has not really needed to considering you were more than willing to invite him as your plus-one for every event with catering or an all-you-can-eat buffet, all events including weddings! Birthdays and gender reveals were all fine and dandy too, but sometimes those adult party games could get embarrassing, even if they had some snazzy (and usually practical!) prize to be won.

But really, none better than a good wedding.

So sure, maybe tuxedos weren’t exactly his style—he’s worn the same one to pretty much every wedding, but guys tend to get passes on that sort of thing—but it’s really not that bad having to dress up every, what, once or twice a month… and sure, maybe he’s a bit selective with the wedding speeches he actually finds sweet, but he has the decency to clap after each and every one (and even let out a whistle or holler if the atmosphere is casual enough!)

There was also the issue that maybe some of the time that should have been spent chatting up other guests was spent discreetly putting food in the tupperware for him to take home—not like most of them would have finished the food anyway! It would be a waste if it had just gone in the trash!—but he’s the first to ask and lead you to the floor when you seem like you’re in the mood for dancing.

So okay, maybe he doesn’t like every aspect of the arrangement (it’s hard to care about it 100% when most of the attendees are strangers or acquaintances at most) but, well, you were his friend and there was bound to be good food, especially the more extravagant weddings, so attend he shall.

“What color do I have ‘ta wear? Don’t wanna be stared at like I’m the asshole for not following some dumb dress code.”

Like, why the hell would guests have to wear certain colors or prints? Wasn’t it good as long as you didn’t outshine the bride(s) or however the rule went? As if he could even wear something glamorous and bling bling enough for that to happen anyway.

“Sunrise colors, so probably red and orange and yellow… maybe blue as well?”

Excellent, Ruggie thought, absolutely excellent, considering he actually owned a yellow tie!

No need for renting, no need to borrow one from Leona (again), no need to ask Kalim, who would have probably sent him a bunch of way too expensive ties with exquisite patterns and stitching, and definitely no need to ask some other guy who would probably ask for a favor or something which, no thank you, he’ll just break the dress code and play dumb.

“I’ll go wear yellow, then,” Ruggie announced, just in case you wanted to, well, match or something. Wouldn’t be the first time (and the first time was a complete accident!) so he could probably handle the teasing… probably.

“Ah, one more thing,” he asked, suddenly remembering something—his part of the deal when it came to attending these events with you. “So our, y’know, our usual—do we have to do that there too?”

“Hmm? Do what, Ruggie?” you asked, feigning forgetfulness.

With how many different occasions he’s accompanied you to over the past year (this would be the seventeenth, and the year was still a few months away from ending), not to mention the amount totaling from all the years he’s known you, he knew that you were very well aware of what he was talking about.

“Y’know…! Pretend that me and you, you know, that we’re… Oi! Can your laughter, you’re at fault here!”

He gave in anyway, only because he still found himself embarrassed whenever it was brought up. It was easier once he was settled in, but the process was still… yeah.

Honestly, he doesn’t really have much of a (valid, not embarrassing to say) excuse for how and why the whole ordeal still flustered him even after how many years has passed since the arrangement—it just does.

Well, okay, there’s an actual reason, but best not to speak it into existence in case you find out and make fun of him for that too.

He just has to be satisfied knowing that in some ways, he gets the best of you as well.

“Sorry, sorry!” you said, appeasing him with your laughter, “No, no, there’s no need to pretend we’re dating this time! The groom is pretty chill about the invites, so it’s no big deal if I bring a friend along.”

“Cool, cool,” he replied, not really feeling any smidge of the relief you were expecting him to. He feigned a sigh anyway, just to pretend he did. “‘S not that it’s a big deal if I had to.”

“Of course not,” you agreed, “must be like a second skin at this point, huh?”

He scratched the back of his neck as he laughed.

“Ah, yeah, somethin’ like that!”

Second skin might have been the right way to describe it, though Ruggie’s beginning to realize that there are problems as well with how natural everything’s become between the two of you.

This whole fake dating business seemed like all pluses at the start—hanging out with and getting to go to snazzy events with a friend, eating good food, getting all the perks of socializing without having to make too many promises and commitments. Those were all pretty fantastic, really!

The issue is, though, that once you become someone’s fake significant other, you simply can’t stop fake dating them because of the mutual friends and acquaintances you happen to share with the other person. The degrees of separation have decreased significantly since becoming your go-to partner to these things.

“Ruggie! It’s so good to see you!” He gets scooped up into a tight hug—if his personal space is gonna get invaded, can they at least mind the tail?!—by some person he attended the wedding of some months ago. What was their name again…?

“Yeah, good to see ya too, man!” Well, he can’t say he’s all that upset about seeing a sort of familiar face or two, especially a face of a genuinely generous person, but he’s not sure he has much to say, really. Other than your mutual friends, he mostly lets you or the other people decide what to talk about and he sort of just improvs from there. If he ends up getting asked about work and life and such, he’d end up drawing a blank (too hectic and too little he’d be willing to say to an almost stranger).

“Since you’re here, it probably means you’re still dating my cousin, huh?”

The person he had been talking to before the interruption—the groom of today’s affair—was momentarily confused, before grinning at the revelation.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah? Did Ruggie not tell you he’s the S.O. of…?”

Basically, people know him as your boyfriend, and he will be introduced as your boyfriend even when neither of you had the intention of pretending that day for the sake of not blowing your cover.

Like, it’s not as if he’s gonna fake break up with you or anything anytime soon, so spreading the fake news it is!

Really, ain’t he just such a good friend for keeping up the act to the best of his abilities? Not that it was all that hard or nothing, it’s kind of just like lighting a match—after a few flicks, it’s already registered in his brain that he’s supposed to be your date.

“I thought the two of you were just friends?” The groom wiggled his eyebrows in the way annoying adults tended to when they felt like teasing the children in the village about their crushes.

Except Ruggie was already a few years past drinking age so he doesn’t really feel like playing into that game, even if the guy’s your friend. He’ll just answer quickly and move on (back to you, and maybe the buffet table as well).

“Shishishi… It’s an inside joke we love to tell people,” he explains, a well-practiced excuse at this point. “Started out because people kept telling us we’d make a pretty good couple not knowing we were already dating, so we kinda just committed to the bit!”

Yeah right! The irony of it all, if that was the right category it fell into.

“So this has been going on for a while then, huh!”

“Yeah, something like four years, one month, and eight days,” of fake dating, Ruggie said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal that he’s been keeping himself single for all that time so he can continue to fake date you. He’s just never felt the compulsion to stop, and clearly you haven’t either considering you’ve been single all that time as well!

“You can’t just say something like then get the exact numbers down to a T, puppy.”

Likely wondering what was taking him so long to return to your side, you decided to finally grace him with your presence, wrapping an arm around his waist. He pretends it happens frequently enough to the point that he’s not flustered about it.

“Means ya have it memorized too, kitty,” he replies, deflecting. “Not that big a deal. Also, hyenas aren’t even part of the dog family, y’know!”

“Okay okay, whatever you say!” you laugh, nudging the groom with your free arm. “Sorry I lied to you about him being my boy space friend and not my boyfriend. I saw an opportunity to lie and I took it!”

“You know what? I’m not even surprised,” the man says, shaking his head before turning to the hyena once more. “So, Ruggie, since the two of you have been together for several years now, do the two of you plan on getting married any time soon, too?”

Questions like that are meant to be heavy hitting, meant to be discussed for more than just a few minutes, but Ruggie manages to answer it swiftly.

Again, not the first time he’s been asked, but his answer has never really changed from all those years ago.

“Only if my partner wants to,” he replies. He grabs the hand you have wrapped around him, pushing it down so he can clasp onto your fingers properly, like a dutiful boyfriend would. “I’d be happy as long as we have a future together.”

Considerate. That was how Ruggie was known to… pretty much everyone you had introduced him to that didn’t know the truth. He was a considerate boyfriend, one who never spoiled or babied you too much, but one always eager to help or guide you with whatever it was you needed.

You saw him as considerate too, you let him know, a considerate friend. It was why you approached him with this whole fake dating shenanigans in the first place, and why you continued to rely on him over and over again.

“I just don’t know what I’d do with you, really,” you bemoaned, “you’re seriously the best, you know that?”

“Shishishi… if you wanted me to comfort you, you could just ask,” Ruggie replied with a grin, more receptive to the compliment than he wanted to let on. “Whether you want to cry at their speeches and use my tie as a tissue, or ask me to refill your plate with something in particular, I’ll do it.”

You smiled, your appreciation extending from your lips to the tips of your fingers, reaching out to comb through his hair gently.

“Your tie’s too nice for that,” you admitted, your fingers trailing down to his neck to caress the fabric. He might have misheard, but he thought he heard someone murmur about public display of affection… as if a wedding didn’t scream P.D.A. already. Regardless, he lowers his eyes to watch the movement of your hands, only a little bit mesmerized by how gently you treat him at times like these. He’s used to you not being afraid to fool around with him, which is nice, but… but this is nice, too.

Yikes, you’d think you were cupping his face or something by the way he reacted—it was just his tie, for sevens’ sake!

“I’ve always liked how you looked in yellow,” you said, and he could do nothing but melt. That’s all he can do, considering if he tried to speak he would probably whimper and purr and let you have your way with his heart… But you look like you want him to say something, so he should try to do that. It can’t be that bad! He just has to clear his throat and make sure he actually vomits out words instead of feelings.

You can praise me more! was what he wanted to say. Instead, he said,

“Ahh, ya look very charming too in…!” It’s a good enough start, but he trailed off when he realized he couldn’t really pinpoint just one thing he liked. What, was he gonna say you looked good in yellow too? You said it first! He’d just be repeating at that point! “Agh, you’re just cute…! You don’t have to laugh at me for that!”

“I’m not making fun of you!” you explained quickly—not that you needed to, he knew you weren’t, and the clarification didn’t make his cheeks cool in the least bit. It’s like the heat of his hometown all over again! “You’re acting like you wouldn’t tease me for the very same thing!”

“Who, me? Your Ruggie? Never!” he said, lying as easily as he breathed. “So go on, might as well ask me for a few more things while I’m in the mood to be all sweet with ya~”

“Well… what if I want to ask you to dance?”

He laughed, as he tended to in many situations, but he laughed then because he knew his leading you to the dance floor would be inevitable—it was just a matter of time. When you laugh with him, he knows it’s because you knew the very same.

“You know my rhythm ain’t that good, especially when the music is…” He paused to listen to the music, having been too invested in you to pay attention to the tunes. “...classical? Like, piano and violin instrumental and all.”

“Then I’ll let you step on my feet—once!”

“You’re only sayin’ that because ya know I won’t,” Ruggie said, grinning, “well, not on purpose anyway! Shishishi…”

They’ve danced this dance before… not literally, or maybe literally, many wedding playlists and bands repeat the same songs anyway, but the whole let’s dance and pretend we’re an engaging and fun couple kind of dance specifically. He’s not really sure why they continue doing so, most people only really care about who the newlyweds dance with, but once they’ve started they never really had it in them to stop.

At least, that was how he felt about it.

“‘Times it feels like the first time,” Ruggie said, hands gesturing vaguely in the air before they take their place next to yours. You interlock your fingers with his in response. “This whole thing. The date and dance thing.”

“Awkward?”

“S’ not the right word,” he replied, “I always feel comfy around you.”

“Exciting?”

“Fun,” he supplied, “somehow this has never gotten boring even after four years–”

“–and one month, and eight days,” you were already smiling the whole time (he would know—when he wasn’t staring at his feet to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally hurt you, he’s been staring at your face shamelessly), but your eyes crinkle a little bit more. He thinks you might’ve stolen his abilities because he mirrors your very movements. “Or is that nine days counting today?”

“Nah, I already counted today as the eight.”

The look you have on your face resembled approval, as if you were praising him for remembering so well.

“We’ve never celebrated an anniversary, have we?” you whispered, as though too embarrassed to let anyone else hear. Ruggie doubted anyone would, too preoccupied with themselves and everyone else to pay attention to a couple of guests dancing, but he leans into you anyway to hear you better.

(He doesn’t need it, he can hear you fine and dandy with the ears he has, but neither of you comment on the action.)

“Is there somewhere you wanna go? Or do?” he asked, genuinely interested in what your idea of an ideal celebratory date would be. For future reference.

“Your hometown would be nice.” The answer very nearly has him yelping, but he managed to restrain himself by squeezing your hands a little tighter. His eyes look around wildly before gawking at you. You know what his hometown is like, but more than that, you know what that place means to him, the people there that he looks out for whenever he can.

“You’re sounding very much like a real partner right now,” Ruggie said, awed at the unspoken revelation, “makes me wonder why we put that fake label in the first place if we were just gonna reserve ourselves for each other.”

“Because we’re fools,” you replied, glad to be on the same page as him, “and we’ve just been acting as the other does all this time without stepping out of line.”

“Was there even a line in the first place?” The both of you shared a laugh.

“So, what do you think? About that hometown date?”

You probably know exactly what he thinks about it. You’ve always had a way with his heartstrings and he’s done nothing to stop you from doing so, so you know his entire being feels very warm and bubbly just about now, has been the entire time he’s had you by his side, really.

“Help me sneak some sweets out later,” Ruggie murmured quietly, “in the tupperware. The brats back home will love it.”

“One step ahead of you,” you muttered back, a voice with barely contained mischief, “while you were busy chatting up the groom, I already snuck some food out to the car.”

“What the hell,” he breathed out, “I think I might have fallen in love with ya all over again.”

end notes | masterlist of all my works

[ 1 ] Title's stylization was inspired by TOMORROW x TOGETHER, the kpop group. There's no actual inspiration from TXT, though. I just like it.

[ 2 ] Ruggie and Reader have been to seventeen events that year because Ruggie is 17 (in TWST canon, he's older in the fic), and they've "fake" dated for four years, one month, and eight days because Ruggie's bday is 4/18. I just like choosing numbers with purpose or as references is all. Reader only questions if it's been 18 or 19 days and doesn't question the other parts because they're also counting. They're whipped, amen.

[ 3 ] When writing Ruggie, I was careful in how I portrayed him and his attitude towards food and money, mostly I didn't want that becoming his personality. Big-scale weddings are often quite expensive and wasteful, and while Ruggie has his insights about that based on his background, but he also knows that people do derive joy from that and he can appreciate it (basically, he's not hateful even though he can't relate). Not the main point of the fic, but putting Ruggie in that setting I felt like I had to describe his feelings regarding it a bit.

[ 4 ] I made reader call Ruggie "puppy", then I wondered if he should actually be "kitty" instead. I had to search whether hyenas were part of the cat or dog family, only to find out they belong to their own family! Kept puppy in anyw.

[ 5 ] I asked some followers what nickname Ruggie would call his s/o and kitten came up. Makes sense, he says it in a voice line… but for the life of me I cannot type it out because of how the nickname became tainted due to "discord kittens" arghh it felt too silly… I'll commit to it next time when the context is better!

[ 6 ] ( “Because we’re fools,” you replied, [...], “and we’ve just been acting as the other does[…]” ) This is referencing Ruggie's UM/SS literal translation, "March of fools". Though in this case, I suppose it's a dance of fools, huh!

[ 7 ] As mentioned, this was something short to help get me out of my writing slump. This has been in my drafts since June and the original "june wedding prompt" fic I meant to write before I scrapped it for the jade wedding fic instead. I decided to finally write it since, compared to before where I only really enjoyed writing longer one-shots (around 5k-15k words), I've gotten more comfortable writing shorter one-shots :>

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi #twst imagines #twst #twisted wonderland #nathya twst writing #twst x you #ruggie bucchi x you

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lemonlyman-dotcom · 6 months

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Weekend WIP Game

Thanks for the tag @welcometololaland 💕

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more). (There are also questions for artists/GIF creators below).

For Writers

1. WIP List:

Ex Fic (tentatively titled “You and Your Sensational Soul”): TK, Carlos & Owen go to see TK’s ex’s band play when his tour rolls through Austin. Set during the fiancé era between seasons 3 & 4.

TK Strand’s Day Off: exactly what it sounds like, it’s going to be a 5+1 five things TK does on his day off, mostly building it around the paddle boarding with Buttercup scene and this line from Call Me If You Get Lost (as requested by @carlos-in-glasses in the comments of that fic): “So far TK plans to sleep in, arms and legs wrapped around Carlos like an octopus in a forced cuddle, hopefully have lots of lazy sex and maybe catch up on the new season of Emily in Paris.”

Tarlos’s Day At The Gym: exactly what it sounds like! Carlos does free weights with some buddies from work, TK takes a barre class and reminisces over the time Carlos took a class with him and just …could not hang. Carlos reminisces over a time he wouldn’t have felt comfortable coming to the gym with his boyfriend and kissing him when they go their separate ways in the locker room. TK sits in the sauna naked and Carlos loses his mind.

West Wing AU: Carlos works in the White House, TK is an embedded war reporter who’s called back to the states and has to fill in at the White House press corps while his colleague is on maternity leave. He thinks reporting on domestic politics is SO BORING, and he complains to Carlos about it loudly. But. They fall in love. There could be a scandal on both sides if it gets out. What will happen? Will TK go back to being embedded? Will he stay in DC for Carlos? Will Carlos follow him off on his next adventure? I DON’T KNOW LET’S FIND OUT!!

9-1-1 emergency fic: that’s all I’ll say

TK & Paul Buddy cop fic

CHRISTMAS FIC!!!

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

Ex Fic, I think it’s about halfway done

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Probably the West Wing AU

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

I’m only actively working on Ex Fic right now, and that one is really enjoyable because it’s part of my music series. Music is my biggest passion in life and the thing I get the most joy from, so writing about it and sharing aspects of what I love about it with you all is so fun!

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

The West Wing AU!!! I have never written an AU before and I’m scared.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Probably the emergency wip because I have to kind of know what I’m talking about and make it exciting like the show.

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

I typically have all my stories beta read unless they’re 2k or less. I will likely have the West Wing AU sensitivity read depending on where I have TK embedded.

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

Yes!! TK Strand’s Day Off! I wrote the paddle boarding scene months ago and I just. It’s not coming to me. But it will!

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

Okay, I think it’s gotta be TK’s ex Felix from Ex Fic. He’s a musician, he’s a producer and a DJ. They didn’t break up for any nefarious reasons, he was an exchange student at NYU’s music program when TK was in the fire academy. They had fun together, but they always knew Felix was going home (to Germany) so. It was sweet but short, and he’s one of TK’s only exes that treated him well. So Carlos can’t even hate him 😂

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Well there is a (Lemon style) sexytimes scene in Ex Fic so probably that one atm. However, TK Strand’s Day Off is definitely gonna require some sleepy morning sex, yeah?

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Probably West Wing. Maybe the gym fic depending on how heavy I get with Carlos thinking about how he never felt comfortable holding a man’s hand at the gym before. We’ll see!!

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

Ex Fic if only because it’s the only one that’s written 😂 I think my Owen characterization is really good tho

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

Ex Fic bc it’s the most written

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

Ex Fic fic for sure

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

This is a tough question, I think I always set pretty high expectations for myself and my fics. But I feel really good about Ex Fic because my fics centered around music have been some of my most well received.

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

Not that I can remember

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

I think the emergency fic will for sure. And the TK & Paul buddy cop because it’s gonna be a screwball comedy so I’ll really have to nail the jokes.

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

TK & Paul Buddy Cop for sure. Carlos is going to be so exasperated.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

I think Ex Fic is going to involve a lot of Owen, and it’s from Carlos’s POV so I guess we can consider it an outside POV of TK’s relationship with Owen. I always love exploring that relationship and especially from Carlos’s POV because we know how much he respects Owen and values his opinion. So seeing Owen being fond of one of TK’s exes is really gonna throw him for a minute.

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

In the emergency fic TK and Carlos will have to team up to save Andrea

TK & Paul Buddy Cop is not an AU

Christmas Fic will be more TK & Marj friendship

Tagging (for artists/gifmakers here’s the original post with the questionnaire for artists!) @thisbuildinghasfeelings @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo @bonheur-cafe @louis-ii-reyes-strand @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk @chicgeekgirl89 @tarlosmalec @herefortarlos @tellmegoodbye @ambiguouspenny @guardian-angle22 @fckingyrs @ladytessa74 @birdclowns @whatsintheboxmh @iboatedhere @your-catfish-friend @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @rmd-writes @thebumblecee @chaotictarlos @theghostofashton @never-blooms @freneticfloetry and OPEN TAG 🏷️

#tarlos fanfic #tarlos fic #tarlos #wip game

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

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Force of Habit Part Two

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto x Reader

Rating: M (though it may have explicit chapters in the future)

Notes: Not beta-read. This is going to have at least four parts.

Warnings: Cursing; cigarette smoking; mentions of family/canon death

Summary: You get a text at 8:57pm reading, I’m outside, and you grunt, setting the clipboard you’ve been logging inventory on down. You tuck your phone into your back pocket, walking toward the door. You open the door, the words, “You’re early—” Halfway out of your mouth when you spot him.

It's been three years since you were in his kitchen, but the sight of him is unmistakable.

“I need four burgers, two medium, two well—two orders of wings, one basket of loaded fries all day!”

You don’t expect a, Yes chef. Hell, you don’t even expect a Heard—and you don’t get one. Your coworkers give you little grumbles of acknowledgement. You don’t mind. Hell, the grumbles are leaps and bounds from where the group of you had been three months ago. You haven’t been at Crispy’s Eatery long, but it has been one of the most challenging jobs you’ve ever had in the restaurant business.

It's been a confusing place to work. The kitchen is top of the line, freshly refurbished, but the staff and the product…Well, they need some work. They're all buckling under the dual challenges of old ways and new management—which includes you.

Crispy’s had never been a mainstay of Chicago’s night scene, and the new owner is trying to rectify that. Those attempts include a new dining room, a new kitchen, and a whole new menu.

Crispy’s is nowhere near the kitchens you started out cooking in. The plates aren’t miniscule; the prices aren’t astronomical. You’ve gone from Citrus Gastrique to making your own fucking hot sauce. You glance over, doing a double-take at the sight of a familiar friendly face coming in through the backdoor.

“How ya doin’, Fak?” You call out over the clamor of the kitchen.

“I’m okay! Hey, you still tryin’ to ditch that giant stand mixer?”

“Uhhh, yeah, it’s the bane of my fucking existence. Why?”

“I have a buyer.”

“Oh?”

“But they kinda need a deal.”

You glance up from your station, brow raising. That sounds cryptic, but you’re sorta intrigued.

“Can I bring them by?” Fak adds.

“Sure,” You shrug, “Can’t hurt.”

“Okay. I’ll text ya—Thank you!!”

“Thank you!” You call back as Fak hurries toward the back door again you straighten up, eyeing the tickets still hanging in in the window.

“Where are we with those burgers, Steph?”

The answer you receive is in the form of a grunt, and the wave of a spatula.

“You drop two or all four?” You press.

“All.”

“Two medium, two well?”

“Are they gonna notice?”

“...Yes,” You answer as patiently as you can. “Whether you like it or not, Steph, they are gonna notice.”

The cell number that Fak sends you for the buyer is vaguely familiar, but you don't read too much into it. You text back and forth with them a little, nailing down a time for them to come by. Service closes early on Tuesday evenings (an idea of new management’s—no use keeping the lights on if no one’s gonna turn up that night, anyway). They’re set to come by around nine that evening—which is, frankly, longer than you’d planned on staying, but to get rid of the fricking stand mixer, you’re willing to wait. It spends more time in your office than you do.

You get a text at 8:57pm reading, I’m outside, and you grunt, setting the clipboard you’ve been logging inventory on down. You tuck your phone into your back pocket, walking toward the door. You open the door, the words, “You’re early—” Halfway out of your mouth when you spot him.

It's been three years since you were in his kitchen, but the sight of him is unmistakable. He’s unlike you were once so accustomed to seeing him. His curls are at once floppy and a touch greasy as they hang over his forehead, shading his bright eyes. He’s staring down at his phone, so he hasn’t seen you yet—and that’s probably for the best. It gives you a moment to compose yourself.

You’re used to seeing him in a pristine white uniform, not in a pair of jeans and fucking t-shirt.

He finally glances up, then does a double take, eyes widening slightly at the sight of you.

“...Oh, shit,” He manages, cigarette bobbing between his lips.

“Hi to you, too, chef.”

You don’t need to call him that. Hell, you haven’t called him that in three fucking years. It’s just a force of habit. You take a step back, nodding him inside. He squeezes past you in the doorway, eyes sweeping your face before he turns to look around the restaurant.

“...Is this place yours?” He asks. You laugh softly, shaking your head as you shut and lock the door.

“Ah—No. If I had a place I wouldn’t name it Crispy’s.”

You are buzzing with questions, but you can’t find it in yourself to ask a single one. So you just give him a nod toward the office.

“The owner ordered the mixer thinking that we’d do some desserts," You explain on the way, "But those plans fell through, so we got stuck with the mixer. Company won’t take it back and I haven’t been able to find anyone that wants it.”

“Hobart?”

“Globe.”

“No shit,” Carmy mutters as you flick the office light on. You let him get to it himself. He crouches down in front of the Globe stand mixer. You lean back against the desk, watching him eye the box. You’re…Definitely not looking at his ass. Oh, no, not one bit. You turn your head quickly from him as you used to, scrubbing your hand over the back of your neck, eyes set on the floor.

“How much does your boss want for it?” He asks.

“Honestly, he was going for the full three that it cost, but I think that this point, he’d take half.”

“Fifteen hundred.”

“Mhm.”

“That’s a fucking steal.” The comment is more to himself than to you as he turns toward the box again. He straightens up, eyes set on the box.

“Uh…Does he want it all at once?” He asks.

“I think he’d be alright with a payment plan.”

At your insistence, Carmy turns to face you, surprised. You shrug, adding, “He really wants it gone.”

“Okay. Okay,” Carmy looks down a the box. “I think we can do something here, I just, uh…I need to work out how.”

“Sure,” You nod. “I don’t need all of the details right this second. Trust me, us even having the conversation—he’s gonna be over the moon.”

Carmy nods again, glancing between you and the box. You figure that that’ll be it, that he’ll thank you and you’ll show him out, but—

“You wanna go grab a drink or something?” He asks. The offer catches you off-guard, and you know that you look as gobsmacked as you feel by the way that Carmy shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

“How long have you been back?”

“Back?” His brow furrows at the question, arms folded on the cool metal table. You frown yourself, stomach twisting with nerves.

“Yeah,” You nod. “You said you were from here, right?”

Carmy blinks at you for a few seconds before he nods, gaze dropping to the table.

“Yeah,” He clears his throat. “Yeah, I am from here. Forgot we, uh—Anyway. I been back a while.”

A while. You want to press, but you let it go.

“What about you?” Carmy bats back.

“I’ve been here for….I mean, I’ve been at Crispy’s for, like, three months. Been in Chicago for about a year.”

“Why’d you leave New York?”

You consider, turning your head away just a touch as you grapple with your answer.

“I love it there, but, um…My time spent there, working, my world just got so…So fucking narrow. I was at work or I was sleeping, you know? I started to hate cooking, and that scared the fuck out of me.”

“...I hear that.”

“I’m sure you do, chef.”

He smiles a little, leaning back as the waitress approaches with your drinks.

“Carmy is fine,” He offers you once she’s left. And, sure, hypothetically it is, but you’re not sure you’re ready to call this guy by his first name.

“So why Crispy’s?” Carmy plies.

“It seemed like a challenge. The last couple of places I worked were pretty buttoned-up. This one needed helping, and I felt like I could help.”

“How’s it going.”

“Well,” You, raising your hand to tick off the points as you make them: “The recipes were completely overhauled, but I’m still getting old dishes, the microwave gets so much use that I’m a week away from getting it its own apron, and 90% of the product that was used before this last month was frozen.”

“Frozen? In that kitchen?”

“Mhm. Penny smart, dollar poor.”

Carmy’s cheeks puff out as his eyes search the table. “...Ticket times?”

You wince. “We are at twenty-two minutes.”

“Ouch.”

“Down from thirty-five.”

“...Christ,” Carmy mutters.

“Oh yeah. Livin’ the dream.”

Carmy smiles a little, and you feel your stomach flutter.

“Well, you’re already turnin’ things around.”

Your brows raise at the assertion.

“Was that a compliment, Berzatto?”

“It was,” He nods. “I can give ‘em.”

“News to me.”

“That’s not fair. I gave ‘em then, too.”

“You gave me more cigarettes than compliments.”

Carmy’s gaze drops to his bottle, his jaw going tight. You regret the comment immediately. You’d been teasing, but you seem to have hit Carmy somewhere soft. You raise your drink, taking a quick swig before pipping up:

“So what are you doing these days?”

“I’m running my brother’s place.”

“The sandwich shop?”

“I tell you about that, too?”

“...No,” You admit. “Before we worked together, I read a couple of articles about you. It was mentioned in Food and Wine.”

Carmy huhs softly, scratching his cheek. “I don’t remember mentioning that to them, either.”

“It probably came up when they were doing background stuff.”

“Probably.”

“You running it with your brother, then?”

“No.”

You’re torn between pressing him for an answer and letting it go, but before you can, he offers:

“He, uh…He passed.”

It leaves him with a flat numbness. His eyes are still set on the table; his fingers are fidgeting with the label on his beer. You want to reach out and take hold of them, but you’ve never known him like that.

“Fuck, I—I had no idea,” You say softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Carmy shakes his head a little, shoulder lifting and falling in a dejected little shrug.

“How’s it been so far?” You ask.

“What, the—family, or the restaurant?”

“Any of it.”

Carmy’s lips twitch with a smile.

“It’s varied,” He admits. “But we’ve got a brigade in place.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s that going?”

“It was an adjustment, you know, but it’s helped streamline things for the most part.”

“For the most part.”

“Any kitchen’s gonna have hiccups, you know that.”

“I do know that, I just uh…I can’t imagine you having hiccups.”

Carmy’s brow raises and the phrasing, and you huff, leaning back in your seat, grumbling: “You know what I mean.”

“They had their systems, I had mine. We’re comin’ together,” Carmy shakes his head a little. “I’ve got an amazing sous—She’s familiar with the brigade, the systems—And Marcus, he’s a great baker. He’s why I’m looking into getting that Globe.”

“You don’t have one?”

“We have two, but they’re older—just, power-suckers. He’s got great ideas, great product, he just needs the equipment. The place’s wiring is old, too, like so fuckin’—finnicky and delicate.”

“Hence Fak?”

“Hence Fak.” The reminder makes him chuckle.

“I have yet to have a problem that guy can’t help with—Or isn’t at least willing to try.”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy.” Carmy glances up at you, glance flitting across your face before he asks, “How long do you think you’ll stay at Crispy’s?”

You consider, tipping your head back and forth.

“At least until we get our ticket times down to twelve minutes…So, you know. Probably four, five years.”

“I mean if you’ve cut thirteen minutes off the time in three months, I think you’ll get it down to twelve in a year, tops.”

“Careful, Berzatto. You’re gonna pump my ego to an unimaginable size here.”

A warm, flattered sensation bubbles up in you as Carmy’s steps drift slowly with yours, his pack of cigarettes proffered to you. You smile, waving him off gently.

“Thanks, but—’m tryin’ to quit.”

Carmy grunts, tucking the pack away. “How’s that going?”

“Better than the restaurant. I’m doing the patches, the gum, the rubber band.”

“The rubber band?” Carmy repeats. You nod, raising your hand and showing him the rubber band around your wrist.

“Whenever I want one, I snap it a couple’a times.”

“Hard?”

“Hard enough.”

Carmy grunts, then stills in raising his lighter to the end of his cigarette. You smile, nudging his elbow lightly with yours.

“Go ahead. Seriously, it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Carmy raises the lighter the rest of the way, lighting the end. You glance over at him, getting a better look at him the way you used to—side by side, close, the flame lighting his profile.

He looks just as tired as he did back in New York, but it seems to hang more heavily around him. You don’t know if it’s the familial loss, or the stress of the restaurant. It’s probably both. Carmy lifts his head, blowing the smoke away from you before he turns his head a touch. Where you’d used to avert your eyes as quickly as possible, you let yourself look—you let him see you looking. Carmy shoves his hand into his pocket as he turns away again, pulling the cigarette out from between his lips. The two of you stop at the corner as the light flashes Don’t Cross.

“I should get back—Make sure everything closed down right,” He says. You nod.

“Yeah, I’ve got inventory to finish up.”

“I’ll be in touch about the Globe.”

“Alright—I’ll reach out with my manager, make sure he’s good with half.”

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

The two of you each take steps backward, though neither of you seem set to turn away from the other. You clear your throat, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m gonna—”

“Yeah. Yeah, me, too.”

You nod, turning halfway away, then back. He’s still there. You offer a small smile, and a quiet, “It was good to see you…Chef.”

His smile widens as he raises his cigarette to his lips.

“You, too, chef.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce

#Carmy Berzatto x Reader #Carmy Berzatto x You #Carmy Berzatto/Reader #Carmy Berzatto/You #Carmy Berzatto fic #Carmy Berzatto imagine #Force of Habit

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be-compromised · 7 months

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Promptathon 2023 Masterlist

Promptathon 2023 is now over, with a grand total of 647 comments and 41 fills - which is the most fills we've had for the summer prompthon since 2014, wow. Thank you to everyone who prompted, created, beta read, commented, cheered, and took part. We hope you had fun! It's been an absolute delight to see our corner of fandom so active. We do plan to keep the momentum going, so please watch this space (or the comm dreamwidth or discord) for updates on a friending meme coming later this week, sign ups for the Secret Santa fic exchange coming soon, and a revial of All The Things Friday...

If you still have prompt fills that you’re working on, or feel inspired by prompts now or in the future from any of our community events, please do keep creating. Now that promptathon is over they won’t be included as part of the event or masterlist, but they will always be appreciated :)

Promptathon 2023 Masterlist

A Different Call | AO3 by @inkvoices (PG13; Endgame, may or may not be considered an AU) Prompt: And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong I'm right where you left me

A Little Less War Torn by @poppypickle (PG-13; no warnings apply) Prompt: “You touch me and suddenly I feel a little less war torn. I'm not sure what peace is supposed to feel like but I think it may feel a lot like you” — anatomy-of-rains

A Tourist's Guide To Amsterdam by @chaed (T; some language and violence) Prompt: nothing good starts in a getaway car

Building Tensions | tumblr by @quietlyimplode (PG; swearing) Prompt: Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’ll let you win in Mario Kart. Fuck off

Burn | AO3 by @alphaflyer (M; no warnings apply) Prompt: ‘I’m intrigued; the last three attempts on my life were much better funded and prepared.’ (Same Time, Next Hit: Part 1)

bye-bye bikinis & boxers & briefs | AO3 | tumblr by @cassiesinsanity (M; no warnings apply; OT3) Prompt: "Are we sure about this?" Clint says. "I mean, he shot you. Just putting that out there." (Probably Clint/Natasha/Bucky)

Endings and Beginnings | AO3 by ultra_fic (PG/K+; no warnings apply) Prompt: Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. Lady Lazarus - Sylvia Plath

faking it by @quidnunc-life (T; no warnings apply) Prompt: Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. Lady Lazarus - Sylvia Plath

Heat | AO3 by @alphaflyer (M; movie-level violence) Prompt: Doing a mission in, or coping with, excessive heat. (Bonus: mission related to doing something about the climate change problem.) (Same Time, Next Hit: Part 4)

Hold | AO3 by @alphaflyer (T; no warnings apply) Prompt: enemies with benefits (Same Time, Next Hit: Part 5)

Honorary Cat | AO3 by @firlalaith (Teen; no warnings apply) Prompt: Nat (or Nat and Bucky) owns / works at a cat cafe. Clint, being Clint, spots this place and thinks it's just a pet friendly cafe, so he goes in with Lucky. (Bonus: Clint becomes a regular it just becomes too late to explain the mistake...) AND Maybe if he was a little less fuckable we wouldn’t be in this mess.

"It looks like someone threw a train at you." by @chaed (T; no warnings given) Prompt: "It looks like someone threw a train at you."

Just Another Saturday Night by @cassiesinsanity (PG; no warnings apply) Prompt: "Do you wanna get dinner when we're done here?"

Just Come Home | AO3 by @poppypickle (PG13; swearing, slight mentions of past violence) Prompt: "come home and shout at me. come home and fight with me. come home and break my heart, if you must. just come home." - cruel prince

Kiss Me | AO3 by ultra_fic (PG/K+; no warnings apply) Prompt: An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

Last to Know | AO3 by @cloud--atlas (T; no warnings apply) Prompt: "Bet you fifty dollars you can't get a date with the Black Widow."

Leap | AO3 by @alphaflyer (T; canon-type violence) Prompt: it IS a gun in my pocket and no I’m not pleased to see you. (Same Time, Next Hit: Part 2)

Let Me Tell You a Story About War | AO3 by @poppypickle (PG-13; no warnings apply) Prompt: Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

Let’s Show ‘Em | AO3 by @poppypickle (T; no warnings apply) Prompt: "All I heard was 'it will be funny' and then we were in jail."

Lightbulb Moment | AO3 by @cloud--atlas (M; various kink mentions) Prompt: Honeypot mission but Clint is the bait AND Discovering a kink at the worst possible time.

Lounge | AO3 by @alphaflyer (M; no warnings apply) Prompt: Stuck in an airport (due to delayed flight, cancelled flight, mission...). Shenanigans ensue. (Same Time, Next Hit: Part 3)

Love Means Never Having To Say ‘I Love You’ | AO3 by ultra_fic (PG/K+; no warnings apply) Prompt: via tumblr creativepromptsforwriting: "Shut up, I'm trying to confess my love to you."

Making A Different Call | tumblr by @caiti-creative-corner (T) Prompt: Hawkeye goes undercover to a Red Room auction where 'retired' Black Widows are sold.

morning, his place | AO3 by fadedwings (PG13; no warnings apply) Prompt: morning, his place burnt toast, sunday you keep his shirt he keeps his word and for once you let go of your fears and your ghosts one step, not much but it said enough

Overture | AO3 by @alphaflyer (T; no warnings apply) Prompt: When the circus/carnival stops in Ohio, a young Clint Barton meets a young Natasha. Or met, and this is now in the future...

playing yourself | AO3 by fadedwings (PG; no warnings apply; Clint/Natasha/Bucky, Kate/America) Prompt: "Is it weird to play as yourself in a video game?"

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand | tumblr by @quietlyimplode (PG; panic attacks) Prompt: quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Rodeo Man | tumblr by @chaed (T; no warnings apply) Prompt: When they told me what you were doing, I wanted to stay in bed. And now that I’m here, I’m thinking that maybe I should have.

Run Away Now Part 1 & Part 2 | AO3 by @poppypickle (PG13; choose not to warn) Prompt: speak now or forever hold your peace

The Girl of His Dreams | AO3 by ltra_fic (Rated PG/K+; mentions of Natasha's canon death in Endgame) Prompt: "Didn't you hear? You're dead."

The Last Testament of Steven G Rogers by chaed (T; no warnings given) Prompt: Pick an AU and go wild - 1940s mafia AU

The Laundry Day Incident | AO3 by kiss_me_cassie (PG; no warnings apply; OT3) Prompt: The Laundry Day Incident

The Rub | AO3 by alphaflyer (T; no warnings apply) Prompt: I Dream of Jeannie AU: Clint is the Genie and Natasha is the Astronaut.

The Yelena Belova Checklist For Ensuring Your Sister Is Not Dating An Asshole | AO3 by alphaflyer (M; no warnings apply) Prompt: The Yelena Belova Checklist For Ensuring Your Sister Is Not Dating An Asshole

this is a very old story | AO3 by inkvoices (PG13; aftermath of canon character death) Prompt: Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.

Unlike me by quietlyimplode (PG; trauma/shower scene though non graphic) Prompt: One so traumatized that the other has to take care of them and tell them what to do.

Untitled Fill by quietlyimplode (no rating/warnings given) Prompt: Walking the city at 3 am because they can't sleep

Untitled Fill by quietlyimplode (no rating given; no warnings apply) Prompt: The bed is soft and safe and they don't want to get up

No Shelf Control | AO3 by franztastisch (T; no warnings apply) Prompt: Nottinghill (inspired) AU - Clint runs or works at a bookshop, Natasha is a famous actor.

Vormir Took My Soul | AO3 | tumblr by iriel3000 (Teen; no warnings apply) Prompt: "i spent half of my time loving her and the other half hiding how much i loved her." - the seven husbands of evelyn hugo

Whatever It Takes...to Get Her Back | AO3 by iriel3000 (T; language; fix-it fic, happy ending) Prompt:"Remember, you have to return the stones at the exact same moment we took them or you're gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities."

#promptathon 2023 #promptathon 2023 masterlist #clintasha #clint barton #natasha romanoff #hawkeye #black widow #and friends #fanfic #fic recs #marvel fic #be_compromised

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thewayofthemandalorian · 2 years

Text

all’s faire - chapter seven

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 4,348

Notes: Things are happening! Pero and his tavern maid are taking their relationship to the next level. I’m really excited for this chapter. There are so many developments and feelings and things are so great for these two. Thanks to @lowlights for being such a supporter of this fic and to @ezrasbirdie for the support and for beta-reading this series. Also, just to let everyone know, there will be two chapters left after this one for a series total of nine chapters.

This fic is cross-posted to AO3 under the same name and my taglist can be found linked in my bio as well as my masterlist which is linked below.

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Chapter warnings: Swearing, food mention, minor (and quickly resolved) insecurites, kissing, yearning, Pero being a menace, feelings, non-explicit sexual content (including oral - both M/F receiving, and shower sex)

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (pero tovar)

Tuesday comes and goes without much fanfare. Lin-Mae has some stuff going on so you are responsible for opening and closing the store. You text Pero off and on throughout the day. Wednesday, however, is a different story. Lin-Mae just shot you a knowing smirk when you arrived this morning. “How’s Pero?” she asks, and you feel your face warm.

“He’s good,” you reply just as coyly. On Monday night you had spilled (most of) the details of your date and your discussion with Pero to Sarah when you met at Nick’s for drinks. Since Cassie and Tess were both out, there was no reason why you couldn’t go out too.

Sarah had just shot you a knowing grin and said “I told you you’d get used to him.” She had told you that. Many people had. And while you knew that you would eventually get used to Pero and his manner, you weren’t expecting it quite like this.

“He’s happy,” Lin-Mae says, making herself a coffee. “Happier than I’ve seen him since before William passed away.”

The comment makes you feel both happy and sad. Happy that it seems that Pero’s found happiness with you, but sad because he was lonely and sad for such a long time.

Lin-Mae sees your slightly wistful expression and grabs your attention. “This is good for him. For both of you. He’s happy. You’re happy. At least… I think you are.”

Your rueful look vanishes, replaced with a smile. “Yes, Lin-Mae. I’m very happy. Who knew that Pero Tovar would be partially responsible for that?” you tease

“Partially responsible for what?” someone asks from behind you. You turn to see who it is, knowing already that it’s Pero. Out of eyeshot Lin-Mae directs her head at you to Pero with a knowing look, whose quizzical look turns to one of soft tender joy. It makes your stomach do little backflips. “I hope it is all right that I’m here most of the day,” he says. “The internet is down at my place because of scheduled maintenance and I need to do some planning for the upcoming school year.”

Lin-Mae nods. “It’s fine by me. I have to get going anyway, I have an appointment to get to, so it’s really up to this one right here,” she gestures to you, knowing full well you have no problem with it. Where is she going? you wonder. She said that she’d be here today. You hope that nothing is wrong — oh. She’s giving you privacy.

You pretend to ponder over it. “I’ll allow it,” you finally say with a cheeky grin that Pero returns. Lin-Mae makes her excuses, slings her purse on her shoulder and slips out.

It doesn’t take Pero long to cross the gap between you in two strides. He curls his fingers on your neck and kisses you. Hungrily. Greedily. You respond with equal fervour. Will you ever get used to kissing this man? Probably not, but you like that every time it feels like the first time all over again.

“Hi,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you in an impromptu hug. You never would have guessed that Pero Tovar is such a snuggly guy until quite recently.

“Hi, yourself,” you reply, leaning into his arms, returning the hug. You rest your cheek against his chest. You feel safe in his embrace. Cherished, even. And you’re reminded of how you thought that he would protect you when you were doing the handfasting ceremony all those weeks ago. “Can I make you a coffee?” you murmur.

His chest rumbles, moving up and down against your cheek as he replies. “Please.”

Very reluctantly, you pull out of his warm, strong embrace that is an instant boost of serotonin for you and begin to prepare him his coffee. An Americano with one cream.

By the time the coffee is ready, Pero’s situated himself at one of the tables, his laptop open. You deliver his coffee and a brownie to him with a kiss on his scruffy cheek. “Thank you, amor,” he says, pulling his eyes away from his computer screen.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” you reply, your eyes landing on his computer screen over his shoulder as you muss his hair a little.

He turns to look at you, signature eyebrow raised. “More of what? Coffee or kisses?” He steals one from your lips, a quick one and you scrunch your nose at him.

“Well…” you muse, giving him another quick kiss, “I was talking about coffee, but I think I can be persuaded to have more of the other thing available.”

Pero smiles at you, takes your hand in his and gives it a slow, sensual kiss. “That is what I thought, bonita,” he says, seeing your swoony expression.

Another glance at the screen shows spreadsheets. “That looks boring,” you say.

Pero sighs. “It is. But I like to be ahead for the school year. And July is already half-gone. Usually I’m done with the paperwork and planning for the upcoming school year but something’s got me distracted this summer.”

He gives you a teasing glance; you give a coquettish grin in response. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you manage to say. “But that does look important, so I’ll leave you to it. I have some ordering to do. Let me know if you need more coffee. Or more distractions.”

- - - -

At twelve twenty-nine, you put up the handwritten sign on the door. Gone for lunch, back at one o’clock!

“Are you hungry?” you ask Pero, pulling a tupperware container from the fridge in the cafe.

He glances up from his notes, checks his watch. “Lunchtime already?” he asks. You nod. “I’m starving,” he grumbles.

You chuckle. He’s always hungry. He could eat enough for a small army. “I have too much of this. Why don’t we share?” Pero nods. He saves his work, closes his laptop and puts it back in his messenger bag.

You prepare a little smorgasbord for the two of you. Your pasta salad, some cheese and crackers and grapes, some leftover pastries from yesterday and more coffee. Bringing it all over, you place everything on the table, giving Pero his second Americano and yourself your second vanilla latte of the day. “Hi,” you say as you sit down next to him. You weren’t expecting to have another date with him in the same week.

“Hi yourself, bonita,” he replies. He kisses your cheek before digging in. An easy silence falls between the two of you, filled here and there with discussions about how his paperwork is going — dreadful, according to Pero — as well as how your weeks have been going.

As nice as this is, you have a nag in the back of your mind, even though he’s said very clearly that he has feelings for you, even though people who have known him longer than you have said they’ve never seen him this happy. What if this is just some summer fling? Logically, you know that that’s not the case. But still, a part of you wonders if this is just temporary.

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” Pero asks, non-accusatory. He takes your hand in his.

You offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Lost in thought, I suppose.”

“Anything you want to share?” he asks, his voice indicating that there’s no pressure one way or the other.

Inhaling, you try to organize your thoughts. “It’s silly,” you start. “And my mind is running away from me. But… um…” Pero looks expectantly at you. “I just am wondering… what you want? With this. With us,” you clarify.

He frowns for a moment. “I thought it was obvious,” he says. “I lo— really like you, bonita. And at the risk of sounding presumptuous, I think you really like me, too.”

You nod. “I do. I think we’ve both made our mutual really, really like abundantly clear.”

Pero continues. “Then what is there to discuss? We’re together. That is if you want to be. Like I said before, I won’t push you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” He squeezes your hand.

With anyone else, the no-nonsense attitude about such things would be a turn-off. But, as you’ve come to discover, that’s just how Pero operates. And seeing how he’s looking at you with such longing and hopefulness in his eyes, you know he’s not in the least bit dismissive about this. Inexplicably, your eyes prickle as relief floods your veins. Relief and something else, something hopeful. It’s your turn to squeeze his hand.

“I want to be,” you manage to say, blinking away the prickling feeling in your eyes. You lean across the table and kiss him, sealing your words.

“Good,” Pero murmurs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Because I want to be, too.”

You’re a few minutes late taking the sign down and unlocking the door. Pero insists on helping tidy up. Your boyfriend.

It sounds juvenile, but thinking about the word sends butterflies scattering across your stomach, lights up your nerve endings. Pero Tovar, the man you thought couldn’t stand you a few months ago, the last man you thought you’d have feelings for, your boyfriend.

The rest of the afternoon passes by uneventfully. You serve customers, you submit more order forms while Pero works away on the last of his paperwork. At quarter to six, you begin the process of shutting down the store. Pero’s gone from his table, but he hasn’t gone far. It probably won’t take too long to find him. You begin to snap off some lights, turning the sign from open to closed and locking the door before working on cleaning the coffee makers. Everything else done, you go in search of your boyfriend.

“Excuse me, sir,” you call out teasingly through the store, “but we’re closing.”

You find him in the nonfiction section, perusing a book on the crusades. He looks up at you. “I thought it was suddenly darker in here. Is it six already?” he asks.

“Just about,” you reply, feeling impulsive. “Do you want to grab some dinner?” you ask.

He nods, putting the book back down where he found it. “But first,” he murmurs in your ear before pressing kisses onto your cheek, your jawbone, your lips, your neck.

“You make a very good argument,” you reply in between kisses. You can’t say you ever pictured yourself making out in a darkened bookstore in the history area of the nonfiction section with Pero Tovar, but you’re not complaining. Not one bit, especially when he scoops you into his arms and hoists you against him. Your hands dig into his shirt at his shoulders as he deepens his kisses.

You’re fifteen minutes late leaving the store, your clothes slightly askew, your lips swollen from making out with him. “Do you make a habit of making out with girls in darkened bookstores?” you ask as you slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers together.

Pero chuckles. “Only with the girls whose corsets I also tie and untie. I don’t do that with or for just anyone, florecita.”

- - - -

Before you know it, it’s the weekend. You haven’t discussed how your relationship with Pero is going to affect your characters’ relationship, if at all. Like most everything else with Faire, you’re going into this mostly blind.

Saturday passes with little fanfare. It’s busy. The day is warm but not stiflingly so. You’re busy with serving drinks and interacting with customers all day, so you don’t have a chance to interact much with the one person you do want to interact with. He does come in and he’s mostly the same as Captain Bastian as he has been. He’s a bit more openly affectionate but not overly so. He spends more time at the tavern than he usually does and your heart flutters when you look up to see him gazing at you from the door before he leaves for the next duel.

Sunday, though, it dawns grey and rainy. You’ll need to have an extra long shower tonight when you come home. As a result of the weather, Faire is quiet. People still come out, but it’s not in droves like it can be. It’s the textbook definition of a slow day. With the rain comes the humidity. While you and Sarah are inside away from the rain, it’s still an open space, allowing the humidity to come into the tavern. You’re both sweating. There are long, long stretches between customers and not for the first time you wonder if maybe Faire should be shortened by a few weeks. Most people who wanted to come have already been.

Your thoughts are interrupted by someone coming in. A very damp Pero Tovar. His hair is more curled than normal and he looks a bit like a wet dog. A very cute wet dog. “Good day, florecita,” he greets. “Might I enquire for a towel? And perhaps something to drink?” he asks, taking your hand in his and bestowing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Aye, captain,” you reply. You find a clean towel that you usually use to wipe down the tavern and get him a glass of beer as well. Pero’s seated himself in one of the tables out of the way. You deliver him his beer and towel. “As requested, my captain.”

“Gracias, florecita.” He dries himself off to the best of his abilities with the small towel and sets it down on the bench next to him. He takes a long drink from his ale with a groan. There’s two other people in the tavern and they’re being taken care of by Sarah. “Sit for a moment, mi amor.”

Making sure that everything’s in order, you slide onto the bench next to Pero. He lifts an eyebrow. “Come on, florecita.” He pats his lap.

You gulp. “Are you sure that’s family-friendly, captain?” you ask. Not that you don’t want to sit on his lap.

“I don’t see any families in here.” His eyes tell you that you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Fuck it. You push the table out a little bit so you have enough room to climb onto his lap without knocking anything over. It takes a few seconds to get comfortable. Pero’s arms wrap around your waist and he presses little kisses into your neck. A pirate and his intended. Or you and Pero. Your skin is on fire as he whispers little things into your ear, his breath tickling against your skin in the most delicious way. Any cohesive thought you have is replaced with static. You can feel that he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

“Come over tonight, bonita,” he murmurs in your ear, and you know immediately what he’s asking you and it nearly causes your brain to short-circuit for the second time in just as many minutes.

You nod. “Yes, that does sound agreeable,” you manage to say, both in and out of character. “But can I shower first? I’m kind of gross.” These words are meant for Pero’s ears, not the captain’s.

He presses a kiss just beneath your ear that makes you shiver with want and anticipation. “Let me take care of you, amor.”

Well, when he puts it like that…

It takes very little convincing to get you to say yes and no time at all on your part to arrange a ride home for Cassie. You want this. You have for a while. And it’s clear that Pero does, too.

After Faire is done for the day, you and he meander through the thicket hand in hand. The rain has lightened up to a drizzle, but it’s still humid. “Coming to Nick’s, guys?” Dan asks you.

You and Pero share a look. “No, we’ve got other plans,” you hedge and you catch the knowing look that Sarah and Lin-Mae exchange. And you’re positive you see Lin-Mae hand Sarah a twenty dollar bill just as you’re turning back to Pero. Whether or not your friends made a bet as to when you and Pero would sleep together is a question for another day. “Should I just follow you?” you ask, not wanting to leave your car here.

He nods in agreement. “That way I won’t be tempted,” he says.

“Tempted to do what?” you ask.

“To take you in the backseat like I’ve wanted to since your birthday.”

Christ, would your heart ever beat properly or your lungs work correctly again? You’re sure the answer is no. “That is tempting. I commend your willpower,” you say, not giving him the satisfaction that you would have said yes to him taking you in the backseat.

- - - -

You very quickly discover that Pero lives on the opposite end of town to where you currently live. You smile at the little memory of him offering to give you a lift home after your party. It’s at least a twenty-minute drive if not more. You’d tease him about it later.

Pero’s house is exactly how you envisioned it. Neat and tidy. Handcrafted table and chairs. You remember him saying that he was almost a carpenter.

Clementine is sitting on the couch. Her ears perk up when she hears you and Pero come in, immediately running to the front door. Her head presses against Pero’s leg and she meows in greeting. “Yes, I’m home,” he murmurs, rubbing behind her ears. Your heart melts at the sight. She’s a white cat with grey spots, just as Pero described. Her tail is almost entirely grey with a little white tip at the very end. She turns her attention to you, meandering over, giving an inquisitive meow.

“Hi, Clementine,” you coo, holding out your hand for her to sniff. Tentatively, you give her ears a scritch. She closes her eyes, enjoying your attention.

Pero looks on, impressed. “Usually she does not do well with strangers,” he says. Clementine looks up at him, almost reproachfully and meows. “Are you hungry, cat? Is that it?” he asks. Though annoyance laces his voice, it isn’t genuine. “If you want to take a shower, I can feed her and then I will find you,” he tells you.

A shower is the last thing you’re thinking of right now. “I need to have my laces untied,” you start, a coy but fiery look in your eyes.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, quickly reading between the lines. “Clementine, stay here,” he says, filling up her food and water dishes. “She likely will not listen,” he tells you.

You can’t wait anymore. You lean up on your toes and kiss him. “Pero,” you murmur. It takes him no time to respond.

He says your name, pressing kisses to your cheek. “Careful, bonita. If we keep going out here, we will not make it past the front door. And there are many more comfortable places where we can continue this.”

You nod, playing along. “The least you can do is give me a tour.”

It takes you twice as long as it would normally do to get to his bedroom. As soon as you make it to the hallway past the living room, where Clementine has since taken residence in the lazy-boy chair, Pero has you pressed up against the wall, kissing you furiously. There are several more stops on the stairs before he finally has you on the threshold of his bedroom. Letting go of you for a second, he turns on his bedside (also handmade by the looks of it) lamp before returning his attention to you. His bedroom is also exactly how you pictured it. A neatly made bed, a pair of floor to ceiling bookshelves packed with books on all sorts of topics, a few framed photographs, a scratching post and bed for Clementine. You’ll look more closely later. For now, you’ve got other, more pressing things that deserve your full and undivided attention.

As he begins to unlace your dress, you remember when he did this at Faire a few weeks ago. It had been intimate then, when you were doing it for the purposes of Faire. This was downright erotic. His breath is warm, tickling the back of your neck as he mouths against the skin there with each unlace of the corset. After what simultaneously seems an eternity and not long enough, the laces are untied. He assists you in taking off each part of the dress, kissing each newly exposed part of you as the dress and chemise both come off, pooled on the floor at your feet, leaving you in just your underwear.

Pero stares appreciatively for a long moment. You feel exposed in every sense of the word. “Fair’s fair,” you murmur, your fingers reaching for the hem of his shirt, helping him take it off revealing his broad chest and hard muscle from Faire and training. Next are his cargo shorts. He grunts in relief to have them off and it doesn’t take long to figure out why. You swallow, your heart pounding. Pero takes your hands in his, bends to kiss you before he takes you in his arms. Your underwear doesn't take long to go, nor do his. Your name comes out in a strained whisper, nearly grunting as your mouth comes to rest on that spot between his shoulder and neck that you like so much.

“Let me take care of you,” he repeats from earlier, sitting you both down on the bed. He’s not just promising to take care of you, he’s asking if he can as well.

“Yes, Pero,” you manage to get out.

It’s not long before he has you on your back, his fingers and his tongue making your vision go white, your hands gripped in his hair, his name a broken prayer on your lips. He’s an attentive lover, generous and passionate. Explorative, finding out what you enjoy, what you like. Your vision goes white as Pero’s fingers and mouth reach their goal.

He comes up to meet your mouth with his, easing you back down before the two of you continue in your activities. “You are a man of many talents,” you manage to get out in between panting breaths.

Pero kisses your forehead. “That was just warmup,” he teases, and it’s not long before you’re at it again. He presses into you gently, allowing you to get used to him. He moves and you think you might very nearly die of pleasure. His mouth seeks out yours as your hips stutter against his, desperate for release. Your ankles cross against his back, pulling him deeper, closer, the sense of urgency returning. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he half-murmurs, half-growls. “I’ve wanted you for weeks, weeks.” His words and his movements push you over the edge again with a hoarse cry, biting down on his shoulder. Pero reaches his own high not long after, grunting your name against your mouth as he does.

He collapses next to you, both of you boneless and satiated. You snuggle next to him. You’re worn out, sore. But in the best possible way.

It isn’t until later, sprawled out in the sheets that you remember the promise of a shower. You’re sticky and sweaty and dirty. “Do you want that shower now?” you murmur against his neck where your face is currently buried; it’s warm and sweaty and smells faintly of rain and general Pero musk. You don’t want to move but you could be convinced if Pero came with you.

Pero ponders your question for a moment. “I am trying to conserve water.”

“That’s a very noble endeavour. One that I fully support.”

He half carries you to the master ensuite bathroom. He strokes your face again before turning on the shower. You can’t remember a life where Pero Tovar wasn’t touching you. You don’t want a life where he isn’t touching you or a big part of your life. And you find that that thought doesn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. He makes you feel safe. Cherished. Like he’s protecting you while also caring for you. More than you ever originally thought he would. And you care for him in the same way. You feel like you want to protect him as well, want to make sure he feels cherished and safe with you, too.

Pero takes care of you in the shower, as he promised he would, as he has taken care of you all evening. Getting down on your knees and letting the hot water stream down your back, you return the favour from earlier. And you’re not sure, but given how long you spend in the shower, you think Pero’s attempts at conserving water in this shower are moot.

Finally you make it back to bed, warm, pleasantly drowsy and sore, half-way in love with him. “What are you thinking about?” Pero asks, cutting through your thoughts.

You turn to face him, cup his face between his hands and very gingerly and gently kiss his scar before kissing him on the lips. “You.”

He makes that tender face again, the one that melts your heart and makes you have a knot in the back of your throat with just how vulnerable and gentle it is. How vulnerable and gentle he is. He kisses you for what is probably the millionth time today and it’s not long before mouths and hands and other body parts are moving again, finding each other. It’s not as frantic this time around. It’s slower, less urgent but no less passionate. This isn’t simply having sex with Pero Tovar, you realize; this is making love with Pero Tovar. And when you reach that peak again with him that you create together, you nearly sob with the weight of your emotions for him, for what you’re both expressing without words.

At some point the rain stops, but it goes unnoticed by both of you. Neither of you get that much sleep that night.

--- taglist in reblog

#pedro pascal #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar #modern pero tovar #my writing #my fic #the great wall #the great wall movie

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letstalkwhump · 1 year

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Let's Talk Whump No.11

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community. I’m Malice and I��ll be your host.

Today we have @zillstar13 joining us to share their whump story!

Good to have you here, Abraham! Let’s start with a fact about yourself?

I collect all sorts of things. From antique dolls, to rocks, to old bottles, to rusty metal trash, to Halloween decorations.

And what does whump mean to you?

A story or art piece centered around a character being hurt in some way, especially if it is posted to the internet or put in a zine.

My writing is whump. Dracula is whump. The doodles of Marie Antoinette I drew in elementary school are whump. It's very vague and fluid, just how I like it.

How did you find the whump community? What made you want to join?

Tumblr. My friend Mac N Cheese supported my exercises in writing whump before I was bold enough to post anything. He doesn't write whump (as of right now, I'm trying to get him hooked) but has been beta reading my writing since I started posting.

Has your view on whump changed since you joined? Are there tropes you now love/hate that you didn't at first? Maybe your choice of OC vs Fandom? Or even your style ie going from mainly writing to gifmaking or art?

I used to hate most vampire whump. My first series, Our Man Flint, was a vampire whump story with heavy focus on colonial America period folklore and Puritan beliefs.

I couldn't stand most modern interpretations of vampires written by people lacking my vast knowledge of Slavic and colonial folklore. But it's grown on me tons since then.

I still very much prefer folklore vampires, or ones similar to Bram Stoker's Dracula. But modern vampires stripped of historical context can be fun sometimes. I do appreciate how fluid they are as a species.

I guess Mill coaxed me out of my shell after I coaxed him in the complete opposite direction.

Do you have any favourite whump trope?

I love whump based on religion and folklore. Whether it be real/historical or invented for the story. Spirits, vampires, gods, and whatever else. It is simply fascinating and scratches a particular niche in my brain.

What is a favourite piece that you've written? Hype yourself up, we want to hear it!

I love all of my work. But at the moment I simply adore Blood Sacrifices. Its position as my favorite will probably have changed by the time this is posted.

It's an ongoing story about a vampire posing as a pagan god to take advantage of a society practicing human sacrifices. It's very dark for obvious reasons, but human sacrifice is such an interesting concept to me.

There is a lot of religious abuse, for obvious reasons. Including heavily explored emotional and sexual abuse of one of the priests, and straight up torture of another. I view some of it as dark comedy, but in a truly twisted sense. And it could easily be interpreted as completely serious.

I haven't gotten to delve into all of the folklore and religion yet, but boy do I have some amazing things planned.

Religion based whump is so good! Do you mind sharing your writing routine with us?

I write every day, but the amount fluctuates wildly. I mostly write when I'm supposed to be doing something else, like cleaning or eating, but the executive dysfunction is throttling my brain.

I write a lot in the evening. I drink a lot while writing. But that's incidental as I always have water, tea, coffee, or hot chocolate right on hand.

Is there anything you struggle with writing? What comes easily for you?

I'm really good at writing emotional abuse, gas lighting, religious abuse, manipulation, and all that sort of thing. Writing is 80% trauma and 20% skill and I'm banking on the trauma, with a splash of purple prose for good measure.

I have a hard time writing about recovery. I write hurt/no comfort. I cannot find it in me to let my traumatized characters recover. Some people find it cathartic, but I'm the opposite. If I'm stuck with my trauma, they are too. I don't vibe with writing healing arcs.

Is there anything you're working on at the moment?

I have so many ongoing series, it isn't even funny anymore. I'm participating in the Whumpay event. I passed Whumpril with flying colors and am hoping to keep up the energy. The final chapter of Our Man Flint is slowly being picked away at but I have little motivation at present.

Do you have any advice for our readers?

Write the most deranged things possible. Project your traumas and insecurities onto all of your characters. Weave pieces of your past, present, and future into the narrative that it can't be separated from you.

Your writing will be much better if you pour your heart and soul into it. It will feel horribly vulnerable at first, but that does get better. And I enjoy it much more than I ever enjoyed writing popular cliches and random two dimensions ideas.

Shout out to your favourite writing/whump blogs, bffs or people who've inspired you. We're hyping everyone one up here!!!

@elim-flower For supporting me so well, being a truly amazing best friend, talking through all of my problems, and letting me draw us as a vampire and a ferret.

@heavenly-whumper For being my best friend in the whump community, and outside of it, and for keeping all my secrets and letting me keep yours.

@devourerofcheesecake For letting me use our coffee/antique shop dates as an excuse to ramble about my writing for hours on end.

@whumpshaped For helping me through all the niche fears of being a writer with NPD, and saying deranged things about my characters whenever I post.

@whumpsday For all the truly extensive moral support, acceptance, good advice, optimism, and being a fantastic source of supply.

@skittles-the-whumpee For being a good friend and staying up late talking with me about our lives, pasts, fears, hopes, and problems.

Anything you'd like to add? <3

I fucking love this god forsaken community.

Thanks for taking the time to chat with us, @/zillstar13!

And to all you folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

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thegirl20 · 4 months

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actually i wanna ask all of them but i narrowe them down ❤️💥✨️✍️🚀🥳🦋🦈🔎🤩🤖💛🎨 but feel free to skip i know it is many!

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

“I told you, my mother-in-law is moping all over the place, weeping and wailing like an Italian.” Bree Van De Kamp in this fic.

The reason I like this line is that in the episode the following week, Bree said to her mother-in-law: “Even Italians take a break now and again.” So I felt like I’d got the character right. That’s my favourite kind of dialogue - when it feels right for the person saying it.

There are probably more recent things I’ve written that I quite like, but that’s the one that sticks in my brain for some reason. Despite it being like 17 years old.

💥What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Can I say the last three and a half years of Emmerdale? 😉

✨️Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

I can’t answer this one. I enjoy any time people tell me they’ve enjoyed a fic. I love when people pull out the bits they liked the most. I love it when people tell me they can ‘hear’ the characters in my dialogue. Those are my favourite kinds of comments, because I enjoy writing dialogue so much that when it sounds right to people, I feel accomplished.

✍️What’s your ideal writing setup?

I used to write long-hand. I would jot notes down in my work notebook or whatever and then type it up, editing and enhancing as I did so. I stopped doing that and now I mostly just capture snippets of notes in google docs and build things around them. But I used to quite like the tactile sensation of writing by hand.

I don’t really have a set-up as such. I have a room that I use as an ‘office’ and sometimes if I know I need to get some writing done I’ll go in there so it feels more official. But I can write anywhere my laptop is, really.

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

It depends. Mostly my fics grow out of a single line of dialogue or a single scene I have in my head. So I’ll jot that down, then write around it. If I know the story I want to tell is longer, generally I’ll still jot down the scene or scenes I have in mind first, but I’ll try and do some bullet points outlining a vague structure and the things I know I want to include. But if it’s a short fic I just sit down and write it, generally without knowing much of what will be in it beyond the initial thing that inspired me to write it.

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

I’ve always enjoyed creative writing. When I was little, like 8 or 9, I would write out scripts for my dolls or for my friends to act out. I enjoyed writing stories whenever we had to at school. So I suppose when I discovered that people wrote stories about shows I liked, and could make the characters do whatever they wanted them to do, it appealed to me.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

Charity Dingle. No question.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

I find a lot of characters difficult to write. When people don’t have a distinctive voice or way of speaking, I struggle, because I rely on dialogue a lot for characterisation. Yennefer, for example, I find difficult to write and I don’t think I really capture her a lot of the time. I tend to shove her into modern AUs and use that as a bit of an excuse.

🔎 Does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

No. Not even me!

(That sounds flippant, but it’s the truth. This is because I write because it’s fun, and it’s not fun for me to have someone essentially ‘mark’ my work. And I know this isn’t how a lot of people work with betas, and I know it can greatly enhance both the experience and the end result, but for me my brain wants to be done with something when it’s written. It doesn’t want to go back over things. That’s why I tend not to plan things out very much either - if I had written an intricate plan for something, my brain would think it was done and wouldn’t want to do it again)

🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?

Depends which fandom, really. I’ve been known to check things out because of gifs. I have a friend who I watch a lot of tv with and she recommends things to me and vice versa. Although, just because I watch something doesn’t mean I want to get involved in the fandom. Usually I get into a fandom, and particularly writing for a fandom, if there’s subtext involved. Or if people aren’t together yet. I like to have scope for creativity.

🤖 Are non-fandom friends aware that you write fanfic?

No. Absolutely not.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

That people can take joy from my wee stories. Even the ones I don’t particularly like, there will be someone that likes them.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

This is quite funny, because @ehay offered to make art from my fic and I was unable to think of a scene that stood out. And that’s because I’m not a very visual writer at all. I don’t describe scenery or clothing or even people very much. I write dialogue. So it’s hard for me to think of scenes that I would like to see immortalised by the talented artists out there.

Incidentally, @ehay did create some scenes from one of my fics, and it is gorgeous and far more beautiful than I could ever have described: The hour of hush and wonder

And people got pretty excited about Cara Lannister back in the day.

I guess it's exciting to see fan art of AUs because I'm never going to get to 'see' the characters in those settings in canon.

#ask #Anonymous #ask response #writing

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bumpscosity · 6 months

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Signa/Bumpscosity - she/they/it (go hog wild no preference idc)

don’t remember who i am or why you followed me? here’s all my old urls!

Icon by Matthieu Cousin

i just post about whatever’s living in my head rent free at the moment, i reblog from the coolest people on this site so go give em a follow :)

my favorite colors are purple and periwinkle and my hobbies include making up scenarios and drawing sometimes

been here since 2017 and don’t plan on leaving any time soon but if this place DOES go to shit here’s my cohost 👍

spam reblogs/likes are welcome - feel free to ask for something to be tagged, if i post about it a lot i may decline to tag it but there’s no harm in asking :) - mutuals feel free to message me i love getting messages AUOGH and any non-mutual feel free to send asks i love getting asks so so much

i have a sorta dni here, generally no radfems terfs maps etc

here’s a bunch of important stuff/donation links from others

here's a couple different ways to support me monetarily if you'd like! don't feel pressure to though, it's just for fun stuff :)

more stuff under the cut 👍

my header is a reference to the greatest video on the internet

i’m POSIC so if you ever see me being emotional about objects just know i’m not exaggerating

if you REALLY wanna go hog wild with names/pronouns you can use some from this secret list, most of the stuff there i’m still testing out so if you use them for me you’re a certified pronoun/name beta tester

the only tag i consistently use is #sassy speaks which is for my original posts, i tag some other interests of mine too, usually under their acronyms

i used to trigger tag with a tw at the end (e.i. #spiders tw) but not i just tag the trigger (e.i. #spiders)

i’ll probably add some blinkies and other stuff here at some point but for now uhhh

here is one dollar for reading all the way thru <3

#pinned post #sassy speaks #i don’t know how pinned posts should look since this is the first time i’ve made one #lmk if it’s hard to read or if you have any reccs for it 👍

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doctorstethoscope · 1 year

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And the Devil Appears (Part Two)

If there's one thing about me it's that i'm gonna write a happy ending (or at least a more satisfying one) ty as always @hotchs-bitch for betaing for me :)

part one here!

contains: alcohol + tobacco consumption, misogynistic undertones,

wordcount: 1.6k

An unbearable winter had finally broken into an insufferable spring at Atlantis Cable News. Will hated every goddamn second of it.

To be fair, he was the only one who seemed to be so forlorn. The rest of the newsroom was abuzz with the delight of Mackenzie’s upcoming big day. He could hardly take a step out of his office without overhearing Maggie talking to Tess and Kendra about the dress she’s thinking about wearing to the reception, or catching pieces of the conversation between Don and Jim as they discuss whether or not they should go in on a gift together. Sloan is Mackenzie’s maid of honor, of course, and she’s taken to discussing details with Mac at all times of the day– including through the headpiece during commercial breaks, seated only inches away from him when she’s on for segments. It drives him damn near insane— he can’t keep focused on the broadcast with the inane chatter in his ear.

He takes it all with a vow of silence. He spent all that time punishing Mackenzie, and that which goes around had finally come back. He deserved this, this misery, the torture of watching her happiness infect everything and everyone around them. And she deserved that much happiness too.

The worst part of it all, was that everyone else in the newsroom seemed to be happier about the news than she was. Planning a wedding was stressful, he reminded himself. Or, at least, that’s what he’d heard. He’d probably never have one at this point. But this seemed different. For better or for worse, he understood Mackenzie, could read the creases in her forehead and at the corner of her eyes with far more ease than he ever read his law textbooks. He could see the machinations of her emotions on her face– this wasn’t stress. This was despondency, apathy, anxiety, or some stomach-churning combination of the three. Which is how he found himself following her to the ACN patio once again, in the middle of her wedding shower.

He hesitates, this time, in the doorway. These steps had hurt him before. But, at this point, what did he have to lose?

“You know, I think the party in there is for you,” Will remarks gently as he steps out onto the patio, finding her standing against the rail and looking out over the New York skyline.

“It’s my party and I’ll take a breather if I want to,” Mack says, turning towards him and blowing her bangs out of her face.

“You doing okay?” He asks her.

“I’m great,” she lies, knowing full well that he can see through it. “I just needed a minute. I’ve never liked to be the center of attention, you know that. That’s more Wade’s speed.”

“He seems to be getting along well with the folks inside,” Will agrees.

“Oh, he’s a regular charmer. He’ll fare excellently on the campaign trail,” she spits out.

“He’s running for mayor?”

“He doesn’t fucking know, Billy. In his head he’s running for mayor or senator or governor or whatever, but supposedly he hasn’t put much thought into it and it’s not serious.”

“It seems pretty serious to you,” he remarks, trying to tread lightly.

“He sat me down last week and tried to have a conversation about wifely duties,” she says, spitting out the last word as if it were a curse. “About what he’d need from me as a political spouse.”

Will nearly chokes on the air he’s breathing in, but does his best to hold back his disgust– this is the most he and Mack have talked since the last time they were on this terrace together, and he was scared to overreact and break whatever spell had temporarily come over Mackenzie and made his presence tolerable.

“He’s met you, right? And somehow he still said those things and risked castration?” Will remarked.

Mackenzie lets out a humorless chuff. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t know me at all.”

It’s Friday, June 9th, which is the day before Mackenzie’s wedding. Her last broadcast was yesterday, and Jim is in Will’s ear tonight. It should distract him from the soul-crushing gravity of what’s going to happen in the next 24 hours, but it doesn’t. All he can think is that she’s not in his ear because he fucked up, as always.

He stumbles through it, sends the staff home as soon as the broadcast’s over because he knows they all have to prepare for tomorrow. He’s not in any rush, and even if he was, he’d have to hide in his office to avoid the discussion of tomorrow’s festivities anyways. He hides out in his office and helps himself to a generous pour of scotch.

He’s still not quite ready to face his empty apartment by the time his team has dispersed, so he reaches into his desk and grabs the “secret” pack of cigarettes that everyone knows he has before he heads up towards the patio. The building is nearly empty now, save for the cleaning crew, so he does a double take when he looks out onto the patio to find Mackenzie standing up against the rail. He’s halfway convinced himself it’s the booze by the time he steps out into the night, until she turns to look at him.

“Of course. I should have known. You always find me here,” she remarks, and he can’t be sure, but she sounds like she’s been crying.

“I wasn’t exactly looking for you this time. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be drinking with Sloan, or getting a massage, or something. I don’t think work is on the list,” he says, coming to stand alongside her.

“I can’t do it Billy. I’m not going to,” she confesses, the words tumbling heavily from deep in her throat.

“Not going to get drunk with Sloan? I think that’s probably in your best—”

‘Can you take me seriously for like two seconds, please?” She practically begs.

“I take you seriously. I always have,” he assures her.

“He scheduled a fucking campaign kick off for the day after we come back from our honeymoon. He didn’t even ask me, I got looped in on a stupid email from his fucking campaign manager—”

“He hired a campaign manager without talking to you first?” Will asks, the scotch getting in the way of him restraining himself like he normally would.

“Oh yeah,” Mack insists manically. “And a finance director, and he filled out the fucking paperwork with the FEC, too.”

“Jesus,” Billy breathed out.

“I’m not a congressman’s wife. I can’t just bake pies and suck up to people and have babies!” She laments.

“Of course not. You’re Mackenzie Fucking McHale. You’re a force of nature,” he agrees passionately.

“He was using me. He thought I’d get him in with you and it would get him good fucking press.”

If Will thought he was mad before, he was fucking furious now. Mackenzie was the most tediously ethical person he knew— she’d put her own life on the line before she aired a story that wasn’t 100% airtight. She was relentless in pursuit of the truth and indifferent to anything else. This time the truth just fucking sucked.

“He really doesn’t know you at all,” Will offers, and he knows it’s inappropriate, but he needed her to hear it– he knew her, knew what she needed, and knew that she was far better than what Wade had put her through. And, if he was honest with himself, what he had put her through, too.

“I hadn’t found a subletter yet for my place. So I hired movers to get my stuff– they’re coming when we were supposed to be exchanging our vows. So, if you don’t mind, I may still take some time off next week.”

“Take whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Billy,” she says, reaching out for his hand. He squeezes her fingers in response. They sit silently for a few minutes before he speaks up again.

“I have a cabin upstate… I was planning on going away this weekend. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get out of town,” he offers.

“You weren’t going to come to my wedding?” Mackenzie asked, and he knows he’s hurt her a little with his confession, with the truth, once again. He cringes.

“You aren’t going, either,” he points out, ever the master of dry sarcasm, especially in situations where it went wholly unappreciated.

“I suppose that’s fair,” she rolls her eyes. “Give me one of the cigarettes I know you came out here to smoke,” she demands.

He complies, passing her a cigarette and lighting it before taking one for himself.

“So when do we leave?” She asks.

“You don’t… want some space?” He asks, confused but not wanting to give the impression that he doesn’t want to be with her. “I figured you’d want to get away from all of this, not bring the mess with you.”

She lets out a little chuckle and shakes her head as she puts out her cigarette. “You are the least messy part of all of this. And I think I’ll lose it without company. Would you come?” She asks hopefully.

“Of course,” Will says, trepidatiously wrapping an arm around her waist. “We can leave tonight, if you want. We can do this all at your pace,” he tells her, and she knows he’s not just talking about the weekend.

“Billy,” Mack whispered.

“Yeah?” He asks her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t ready. When you told me last time,” she apologizes vaguely, but he knows exactly what she means.

“You think you’ll be ready someday?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she answers. “I do.”

“I’ll be waiting, then,” he assures you. “For now, there’s the weekend.

#will mcavoy x mackenzie mchale #mackenzie x will #will x mackenzie #mackenzie mchale #mackenzie mchale x will mcavoy #will mcavoy #the newsroom #the newsroom fic

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dryerwashers · 1 year

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Can You Dry Scoop Creatine

As a fitness enthusiast, you've probably heard of creatine. It's one of the most popular supplements on the market and is known for its ability to help increase muscle growth and strength. But have you ever considered if it's possible to dry scoop creatine? In this article, I'll be taking an in-depth look at whether or not this method can work effectively. I'll discuss the potential benefits and drawbacks associated with dry scooping creatine as well as provide some practical tips on how to do it right. So keep reading if you're curious about finding out more about this interesting supplement!

What Is Creatine?

I've heard a lot about creatine, but what is it exactly? Creatine is an organic acid that's produced naturally in our bodies and stored in small amounts. It helps to supply energy to all of the cells in our body, particularly muscle cells. It can also be found as a nutritional supplement used by athletes and bodybuilders to help build mass and increase strength.

Creatine plays an important role in how our muscles store and utilize energy for physical activity. When we use up the stored energy from creatine phosphate, it helps us perform at higher levels during workouts or competitions. Our body doesn’t produce enough on its own so many people take supplements to make sure they have enough stored for high-intensity performance. When you take creatine supplements orally, your digestive system absorbs the molecules and then transports them into your bloodstream which carries it throughout your body where it will be stored until needed. The best way to ensure maximum absorption is to mix the powder with liquid before consuming it; however, some people prefer to dry scoop their creatine instead of mixing it with water or other liquids first.

Can You Dry Scoop Creatine?

Creatine is an amino acid that has been proven to be beneficial for muscle growth and strength. This naturally occurring nutrient can also improve physical performance, boost energy levels, and help maintain healthy brain function. Now let’s discuss the question: Can you dry scoop creatine? Firstly, it’s important to know where your creatine is coming from. There are several sources of creatine available on the market today including monohydrate powder, capsules, tablets, liquid form and more. Many people choose to purchase a micronized version of creative because it dissolves better in liquids than regular forms do. So if you want to take your creatine without mixing it with anything else then yes - you can safely dry scoop! However, some experts recommend not taking more than 5-10 grams at once due to its absorption rate being relatively slow. If you decide to supplement with creatine then stacking it with other supplements like beta alanine or citrulline malate could further enhance its benefits as they have complementary effects when taken together. Also remember that while there are many potential benefits associated with taking this supplement, proper nutrition and exercise should always come first before any supplementation plan begins. By following these guidelines along with drinking plenty of water throughout the day, you'll get the most out of any creatine regimen.

Potential Benefits Of Dry Scooping Creatine

Using dry scooping creatine can be a great way to experience the potential benefits of this supplement. For one, it's an easy and convenient way to get your daily dose without having to mix it with any liquids or other ingredients. Furthermore, studies have shown that using a dry scoop may help increase the absorption of creatine into the body, allowing for greater muscle growth over time when compared to taking it in liquid form. And finally, since you don't need any additional items like water or special shakers to take it in powder form, there's less mess involved - making it easier to take on-the-go. All these factors add up to make dry scooping an efficient and effective way of boosting your performance through supplementation.

Potential Drawbacks Of Dry Scooping Creatine

I had discussed the potential benefits of dry scooping creatine, but it also has its drawbacks. One major drawback is that it may be difficult to accurately measure dosage when using a dry scoop method. If your dose isn't accurate, you could unknowingly take too much or too little creatine, which can reduce effectiveness and possibly even lead to health risks. In addition, not all creatines are created equal; some contain chemicals or additives that make them less safe for human consumption than others. Without being able to see what you're consuming in powder form, there's no way to ensure that you're getting a quality product without any fillers or other substances added in. Furthermore, as with most supplements, creatine should always be taken with caution and under medical supervision if necessary. While this is true regardless of how it’s consumed, it’s especially important to heed advice from professionals when taking unknown powders via dry scooping. And while many people have safely used this technique over the years, it’s still best practice to do so carefully and within recommended amounts. So although dry scooping may offer convenience compared to premixed drinks and liquids, users must understand both the potential risks and rewards associated with this method before they begin doing so regularly. With safety considerations made clearly upfront and proper dosages followed closely, those who choose dry scooping can enjoy the same nutritional benefits available from other forms of creatine supplementation.

Tips For Dry Scooping Creatine Effectively

I've been using creatine for a few years now and I know how important it is to scoop it correctly. Dry scooping can be tricky, but with the right techniques you can get the most out of your supplement. The first thing to consider when dry scooping creatine is mixing techniques. You don't want to just throw in one big scoop as this won't dissolve properly. Instead, try breaking up the powder into smaller chunks before adding them separately to your drink or shake. This will help ensure that all of the particles are evenly distributed throughout whatever vessel you're mixing them in. Another important factor when dry scooping creatine is storage options. Make sure that you store your creatine in an airtight container at room temperature away from direct sunlight or heat sources - this helps preserve its potency over time. Additionally, if possible, keep it stored away from other supplements as some substances may react negatively together and reduce the effectiveness of the creatine. In order to maximize results, take special care when measuring out your dose each day and make sure that you follow these tips for successful dry scooping every time!

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Creatine Safe To Consume? Yes, creatine is generally safe to consume. It's naturally found in animal sources like beef and fish, or it can be synthetically manufactured using a biological process. The manufacturing process involves combining the amino acids glycine and arginine with an enzyme called S-adenosyl methionine through fermentation. Creatine is also available as a dietary supplement in powder form so you don’t have to worry about how much you need to take when consuming natural food sources. As for whether you can dry scoop creatine, that depends on what type of powder you're referring to - some are designed specifically for mixing in liquid while others may be able to be taken directly from the scoop. How Much Creatine Should I Take? When it comes to creatine, there is no one-size-fits all answer for how much you should take. Some people do best with a loading phase of 5g per day for about 1 week followed by 3–5 g per day after that. Others prefer to start off slowly and gradually build up their dosage over time. Of course, timing matters too - some suggest taking your dose before or after exercise while others recommend taking it at night on an empty stomach. Ultimately, the amount and timing of creatine supplementation depends on individual goals and preferences. How Often Should I Take Creatine? When it comes to taking creatine, there are a few things you should know. The dosing regimen for creatine is usually 5-10 grams per day split into two or three servings throughout the day. Some people may experience muscle cramps when they begin taking creatine, so it's important to start off with smaller doses and increase over time as your body adjusts. All in all, taking creatine can help improve performance and recovery if taken properly. Are There Any Side Effects Of Creatine? When it comes to taking creatine, you want to make sure that any potential side effects are considered. Unfortunately, there have been reports of muscle cramps and gut discomfort when taking creatine supplements. However, these can be easily avoided by drinking plenty of fluids and avoiding high doses or long-term use. Additionally, if you ever experience any adverse reactions after taking creatine please stop using immediately and consult with a physician as soon as possible. Is Creatine Suitable For Vegetarians And Vegans? Yes, creatine is suitable for both vegetarians and vegans. Although it's usually derived from animal sources, there are vegan-friendly alternatives available too. Creatine monohydrate can be found in both plant-based and animal food sources and so if you are looking to supplement your diet with a vegan source of creatine then this is the best option for you. As well as being able to dry scoop creatine, many products come in powder or capsule form - allowing you to choose which method suits your lifestyle best!

Conclusion

In conclusion, creatine is a safe and effective supplement when used correctly. It can help improve physical performance, increase muscle mass and reduce fatigue during exercise. When taken in moderate doses of 3-5g per day, there are no major side effects to worry about. However, it’s important to speak with your doctor before taking any type of supplement if you have any underlying medical conditions or take medications that could interfere with its effectiveness. It's also worth noting that while most forms of creatine are not suitable for vegetarians and vegans due to the use of animal byproducts in their production process, there are some vegetarian/vegan friendly forms available on the market so be sure to do your research before purchasing anything! Ultimately, whether you choose to dry scoop or mix creatine into liquid form is entirely up to you – just make sure you're using it responsibly. Read the full article

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sugamamacustard · 3 years

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Sweet little chick

Pairing: Mafia boss! Alpha! Sugawara Koushi! X Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Yandere

Request: N/A

Summary: The Karasuno Crows fell to the will of one person and one person alone. You were expected to do the same to the mama crow.

Warnings: Slight/Yandere! Themes. Stockholm Syndrome, Collars, dresses, blood/core/ mafia compliant violence.

Author’s Note: An anon on my main blog (Shameless plug, it’s @angstyclowns) sent me an amazing message and I took care of myself for once and now I’m super motivated! Also, I’m tried keeping this gender neutral, but reader does end up in a dress and thigh highs, so I’m sorry for that!

Requests: Open!

Disclaimer: I do not condone the acts below, please do not kidnap people you fancy and force them to stay against their will until they pull a beauty and the beast. Thanks for reading!

Sugawara Koushi

➵ You weren’t sure how long you had been there.

➵ In fact, at this point you weren’t sure you cared.

➵ You were respected here. People groveled on their knees at your feet for your favor, just to make you smile.

➵ Because if you liked them, your alpha was less likely to slit their throats. You were a direct link to getting in the alpha’s good graces.

➵ At first, you hated it. Hated the feeling of people begging you for their lives.

➵ And sometimes, sometimes late at night, you hated it now too. Hated how their screams still rung in your ears, begging and pleading for you to help.

➵ Most times, your alpha tried to keep you out of the bloody weeds of his business, but some times, when Noya or Hinata weren’t quick enough to stop a new guy who royally messed up from begging you to call off the hit.

➵ At that point, you had to hide in your nest, close your eyes and cover your ears until Suga came to comfort you.

➵ In the beginning you would smack him away, but now you craved his touch. His hugs, his purrs, his words of reassurance, anything he would give to you to settle your fears.

➵ You weren’t sure why you pushed him away in the first place, as you were much better now. You were getting help after the untimely death of your parents (Car accident), you had friends (Suga allowed you to keep company with some of the other crows’ omegas), and everything you wanted at the snap of your fingers.

➵ You were perfectly content with life as it was.

➵ But that didn’t mean you didn’t have your own rules to follow.

➵ Your alpha had several rules to follow, especially because of the role he played.

➵ When he had meetings with Fukorodani or Nekoma, you were to sit on his lap, in whatever tight little number you were gifted that day, and stay quiet. Occasionally, Daichi (Who ran Karasuno along side Suga) would bring his own omega and you two would be allowed to talk quietly among yourselves or play Animal crossing together.

➵ If you had a concern or comment, you would whisper it to Koushi, who would either allow you to share or re-word it himself.

➵ The other leaders thought you were the second cutest thing in their worlds (Their own omegas holding first. But you were reminded them of their own omegas they left at home) and always listened when you spoke, treating you like a valid member of the Karasuno crew.

➵ Which you were.

➵ But not in the same sense as everyone else. You were more-or-less an innocent bystander that held the title.

➵ Under no circumstances however, were you allowed to talk to someone that wasn’t approved by Koushi. Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa (Read, Iwaizumi), even Ushijima were all approved, their omegas too, but no one else.

➵ They understood this, growling at their guards and anyone else they brought for a meeting to stay away.

➵ But unfortunately, not all people took the gracious warnings they provided.

➵ The day started off like it normally did, with Suga waking up far earlier than you cared to know.

➵ He pecked your lips while you groggily watched him get ready, button his shirt while you sat up to run your hands through his hair.

➵ “Do you have to leave so early, Koushi?” You whined, pulling him down once more to hug him tightly. He chuckled in your ear, pecking your cheek before prying you off.

➵ “Unfortunately I do, sweet thing. But I promise, I’ll back to pick you up for the meeting later.” A final kiss was pressed to your lips before your alpha was off, tightening his tie on the way out and slinging on his suit jacket.

➵ Predictably so, you went back to bed, sleeping until a knock on the door woke you up.

➵ Hinata walked in slowly, beaming down at you brightly before setting down a silver and gold box and walking back out, closing the door behind him. You liked Hinata. He seemed to have a second sense to when you wanted to talk or when you just wanted your alpha.

➵ His omega was lucky.

➵ But you were more lucky. You got to see your alpha soon, since he always had your dresses delivered in the time frame that allowed you to get ready right before Suga would show up to pick you up

➵ So you shakily got up, stretching and yawning before picking up the box and sliding off the top. The dress inside was a velvet black up until the bodess, which was a sweetheart neckline. From there, a mesh overcoat covering your shoulders and arms hooked around your neck. It was beautiful.

➵ So you slipped it on quickly, styling your hair with dry shampoo and whatever else you deemed appropriate and slipping some black thigh highs to match before clipping on the final accessory

➵ It was a pristine white collar that buckled around your neck, with a small white bell and a hanging heart charm that simply said your name. It wasn’t as extravagant as the other omegas’ collars, but it suited Suga-- who, in a way, owned you.

➵ Like clockwork. the moment you finished tightening the collar your alpha was knocking on the door, opening it soon after and smiling at you.

➵ He was in a different suit then what he left in and his knuckles were wrapped, but you didn’t want to question it.

➵ “Ready to go?”

➵ You nodded excitedly, hooking your arm with his and making your way out of the room. He grabbed your switch (Which he had gifted you, custom with your favorite colored joycons) on the way out, soon leading you to the ‘meeting room’.

➵ Daichi and Kuroo both smiled from their conversation when you two finally made your entrance, nodding in your direction.

➵ Suga sat in his chair, allowing you to sit in his lap right after before passing you the gaming console and starting the meeting. (Kuroo and Daichi said something about how lucky Suga was that you were ‘ready’ whatever that meant)

➵ You didn’t care to listen, probably for the better, only playing animal crossing with small hums leaving you.

➵ Twenty minutes in and all was fine with minimal disagreement on whatever was going on. At least, minimal trouble for the alphas.

➵ You felt a sense of unease set over you while you were playing a while ago but hoped it would just disappear.

➵ But it never did.

➵ You looked up to see Suga completely enveloped in the conversation with Kuroo and Daichi, so it wasn’t him, nor the other two alphas.

➵ Looking around, you noted it wasn’t any of the Karasuno crows that were in there.

➵ All the usual people Kuroo brought with him were focusing on the void.

➵ All but one. You had never seen him before but he looked slimy from here. Even Lev (One of Kuroo’s bodyguards that got along with literally everyone, including you) was standing far away from him.

➵ His hair was greasy and blue. A gross as blue that looked like he tried to go for silver but failed.

➵ It was disgusting to you and he was staring directly at you. Who tf was this guy???

➵ You mindlessly nuzzled back into Suga’s arms, which made him falter and look down at you before going back to the conversation (A land deal?)

➵ But the feeling never faltered.

➵ You had tried getting up to go the bathroom once during the meeting but the feeling at you sitting right back down, trying so hard to focus on your game. Your scent was burnt slightly, which set Suga on edge, but what made it even worse was when the boy- smelled like beta- offered to take you off of Suga’s hands for the meeting.

➵ “A frail thing like her shouldn’t be in the company of such vile conversation topics, yeah?”

➵ “We’re talking about land, what about that is vile?” Suga sneered, switching from looking at you to the man. He could tell you were off the moment you burrowed into him.

➵ There weren’t any excited giggles coming from you if you discovered something new. No squeals of joy when you finally, finally caught that fish you had been trying to catch for however long. Nothing. Silence and tense muscles.

➵ He had been trying to figure out what was wrong with you the entire time until it suddenly clicked.

➵ The male spoke and you were grabbing his shirt like a lifeline.

➵ It was him.

➵ This beta was making his omega uncomfortable.

➵ Kuroo and Daichi picked up on this fairly quickly, Kuroo already apologizing to Daichi before looking to the Beta.

➵ Suga didn’t hear what they said, but he felt Daichi pushing you and him out of the room. A silent promise in his eyes.

➵ He picked you up effortlessly, taking you to your room and setting you in your nest and scenting you excessively

➵ You whimpered and allowed him to do so, the switch being discarded somewhere.

➵ Suga held you to his chest for hours after that, silently planning ever terrible thing he would unleash unto the unsuspecting beta.

➵ there was nothing in the world Suga wouldn’t do for you.

➵ He killed for you once and he’d do it again over and over again.

➵ Whether it be faking a car accident or disposing of trash, keeping eyes on you with specially planted agents, Suga was willing to do everything for you.

➵ And he certainly had the means to do so.

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rayslittlekitten · 2 years

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2. All I Want For Christmas Is You

1. Last Christmas | A Very TF Christmas Masterlist | 3. Santa Baby

A/N: The song doesn’t quite apply lyrically to the fic, but I feel like it’s a Christmas song Benny would enjoy the heck out of. YT link below.

Again, thanks to @kesskirata @green-socks @spanishmossmagnolia and the rest of my discord crew in beta reading and helping me shape the story.

Rating: G

Pairing: Benny Miller & Named GN!OC (Sam)

Word Count: 1,416

Plot: Having to work on Christmas Eve, Benny makes the most of it while being on shift with his favorite co-worker.

Contains: wholesome platonic fun, a little cursing, gender-neutral pronouns

The whole store looks like closing time on a Black Friday. Items are strewn all over the shelves and scuffed linoleum tiles. Perishable products are found in places that are nowhere near where they should be. There are definitely broken or damaged items all around the store, including fixtures. The last customer left fifteen minutes ago and the final thing left to do is to clean up before locking up. Christmas music is still playing throughout the quiet, empty store.

Sam, who is still wearing their blue uniform vest and cheap elf costume including the booties, is collecting misplaced items customers left in random places and tossing them into a cart. Suddenly, a roll of holiday-themed wrapping paper is flying towards Sam and lands on the floor next to the cart. Sam looks up in the direction of where it came from and sees the tip of a different wrapping paper roll peeking out from an aisle. It slowly moves out further until the person wielding it reveals themselves.

"En garde!"

Sam smiles seeing their favorite coworker, Benny, wearing a Darth Vader mask left over from Halloween while still having on his elf costume he was also required to wear during the holiday season. Sam goes to pick up the roll of wrapping paper by their feet and brandishes it with both hands, getting into stance and preparing for battle.

When Benny swings his weapon, he makes a whooshing sound like he's swinging a lightsaber. Sam and Benny battle it out. They've been having these duels all month every time they've had to close up together and Sam is in the lead with 10-8. All the toy lightsabers are sold out so they have to make do with whatever they have available. Benny has a wider wingspan, but Sam's shorter height and speed makes it easier for them to dodge Benny's advances.

Sam is able to quickly block each one of Benny's swings as Benny keeps moving forward. Sam turns into a toy aisle as they back up. Seeing a child's Captain America shield, Sam picks it up and uses it to defend themself.

"Okay, a lightsaber would probably go right through vibranium." Benny pulls his mask up. "So you lose an arm at least."

"Says who?" Sam asks.

"Says Mark Hamill himself! Come on, lightsabers cut through everything."

They both look at each other, thinking for a moment until Sam without warning jabs Benny in the gut with the wrapping paper.

"11 to 8!" Sam drops the wrapping paper and shield onto the floor and throws their one good arm up in the air.

"Hey, that's not fair!"

"The fight never stopped, Benjamin!" Sam starts doing a victory dance.

"Fine, I'll let you have that because it's Christmas Eve." Benny takes his mask off.

"I don't need your pity win. I won it fair and square." Sam sticks their tongue out at Ben.

"Whatever. Let's finish up so we can get the fuck out of here." Benny chucks the mask onto a nearby shelf.

"You can go if you want. I can finish this and I'll just punch you out when I leave," Sam shrugs. "I'll vouch for you."

"Leave you here to do this by yourself? On Christmas Eve? Come on, we're a team." Benny points to both himself and Sam. "We can get this done quickly and then we can both go celebrate Christmas."

"I don't have any plans after this so..." Sam shrugs as they start pushing the cart again. "I know you have your friend Frankie's party to go to."

"You don't celebrate Christmas?" Benny asks, following Sam.

"I do, but my family celebrates it on Christmas day so I'll see them tomorrow." Sam grabs the small tub of ice cream someone abandoned in the chips and dip aisle. A decision was clearly made. Benny grimaces when milky liquid drips from the cardboard carton and Sam tosses it into the cart.

"So what are you doing after your shift?" Benny grabs the mop which he had temporarily put aside for the wrapping paper battle, and swipes the mop over the floor where the melting ice cream fell.

"Go home and watch Christmas movies while eating take out. I do that every year." Sam pushes the cart and continues down the aisle.

"Hey, I got an idea." Benny continues following Sam. "Why don't you come to my buddy's party? You've met Fish before."

"I don't know. I feel like I'm intruding."

"Trust me. Frankie wouldn't mind. My brother, Santi and Tom will be there too." Ben starts walking backwards with one hand on the cart.

Sam smirks, but is still thinking about it.

"There will be free booze and delicious home cooked food made by Frankie's family," Benny still tries to convince Sam.

"I'll think about it," Sam replies. "Meet back here in an hour?"

"I'll race ya. Whoever finishes first gets a bonus point," Benny throws out there.

"Don't cry about it when the score goes up to 12 to 8." Sam then dashes off with the cart.

*********** Sam looks at their watch and sees it's close to the end of the shift. As Sam heads over to the rendezvous point, the familiar jingle of the one songs that has been playing at least ten times a day for the last month or two comes through the speakers.

Suddenly, a deep voice on the PA system joins in to harmonize with Mariah Carey.

“IIIIII don’t want a lot for Christmaaaas, there is just one thing I neeeeed…”

Sam stops and looks up as if the answers are on the fluorescent lighting.

“Don’t care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree…”

Sam smirks and then continues walking.

“I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know…”

A hand sticks out from the aisle where the meeting point is to pick up a toy tambourine off the open floor. Sam follows it.

“Make my wish come trueee, ooohh. All I want for Christmaaaaaas iiiiiis…”

Sam turns into the aisle and finds Benny, who is still in his elf costume clutching the handset that allows him access to the store's PA system, without missing a beat, turns to Sam and points the tambourine at them.

"Youuuuuuu!!!"

Benny starts shaking the tambourine in tune with the bells in the song, and then bangs it against his hip to the beat. Sam smiles watching Benny singing and dancing his heart out, putting on a show. Benny has always been Sam's favorite co-worker. He's like a work spouse. He's silly and doesn't take himself too seriously. If it wasn't for him, Sam probably would have quit a long time ago.

Benny puts the tambourine on the shelf and steps closer to Sam. He takes Sam's hand and starts dancing with them, swaying back and forth, two-stepping, then swinging their arm and twirling them around. At some point he brings his face and the handset closer to Sam's face and they sing along with him. They continue to dance and sing to each other.

Benny abandons the handset and grabs Sam's other hand so he's holding onto both. They both jump and twist and spin each other around, really getting into the festive song.

"All I want for Christmas is youuuuuu, babyyyyyyy!"

"Okay, my stamina sucks," Benny says, hunched over with his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath.

"Mr. Benny 'Knock 'Em Out' Miller?" Sam asks in surprise.

"Shut up. I haven't trained in a while." Benny stands up straight. "I've been doing a lot of holiday eating." Benny pats his belly.

Sam walks over to the dangling handset to place it back onto the receiver.

"You ready to blow this joint?" Benny asks.

"Yup. Let's get out of these terrible costumes and lock up."

Benny follows Sam as they head to the back area that's only allowed for the employees and staff.

"So you coming to Frankie's party?" Benny asks as they enter the locker room. "The night is still young."

Sam thinks about it for a few moments as they both start changing into their regular clothes.

"Okay, fine," Sam smirks. "Let's celebrate this last day of the season because you know the day after Christmas, we're gonna have to start prepping the store for Valentine's Day."

"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Benny and Sam lock up and walk towards their respective cars.

"I won the bonus point by the way. I got there first." Benny proudly grins.

youtube

#Garrett Hedlund #Garrett Hedlund fanfiction #Benny Miller #Ben Miller #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier Fanfiction #OC #gender neutral #A Very TF Christmas #TF Christmas #Christmas #2 of 5

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bunchofstraydogs · 3 years

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Dazai Osamu in a relationship

Just a lil warning before you proceed: dis a chonky one, kay?

○

Depending on why Dazai is in a relationship affects how he will act with his partner.

If Dazai is curious about them, enough to enter the relationship,

it will last at best a handful of months, at worst about 2 weeks. Enough to get to know them, test them out in terms of reaction, values, honesty and morality, and get bored of them. Thus leading to him braking up with the person or, if he predicts that the person would react badly and cause a scene, get them to break up with him. But even that is dubious because i doubt Dazai would make the relationship official. He would probably just act as if they're dating, leading the partner to believe they actually are without having to verbally confirm anything, and then as soon as he loses interest, pulls a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't and disappears with little to no notice. Hey, he never said they were dating, he calls everyone Belladona, the fault is that person's for being delusional. Yes, he is an asshole, what did you expect of Dazai?

But if Dazai is in love?? Unrecognizable.

I will make a separate headcanon(? whatever these are I'm writing) on what i think a person should be like to sweep Dazai of his feet, but now i want to concentrate on what he would be like in such a relationship.

Is it possible for Dazai to fall in love? Absolutely. He loved Odasaku and Ango, perhaps not romantically, but he's definitely capable of love. People like him- aware of the world's cruelty, dealing with demons and guilt, roaming the world for the sole reason that they haven't died yet, hoping to find something worthwhile they can feel the need to be selfish about and call theirs; don't fall in love, they crash desperately. It takes a lot for them to feel those emotions, but when they do, they can never really let them go.

He would try to act as he usually does in public and try approaching the subject of his trepidation and disarray in many different ways. Distancing himself and going as far to actively avoid them would just come back and bite him in his boney ass. To effectively avoid someone, you need to know their schedule, hobbies, interests, habits, etc. And having learned that would just constantly remind him of them, they'd never leave his mind. He'd look on the clock, see the time and know that they'll be in that specific class because he knows their whole curriculum and class schedule/ at the grocery because they're surly out of their favourite snack/ doing black laundry and yes, he knows unnecessary details about them as well. After that disastrous failure, he comes back running and commences new ways to handle that person. These beta testings are for him as much as they are for them. Just how much and what exactly does he feel for that person, what buttons can he push and which ones he doesn't want to.

When i say Dazai in love would be unrecognizable, i mean it. Not superficially, where everyone can see it, but where it matters.

After doing his best to rail in the unfamiliar feelings under control, going as far as using some of Mori's techniques, the realization of the situation he's found himself in hits him hard.

He comes back as if nothing happened.

The deadpan that person gives him and a "Are you done with your bullshit or do you need some more time to brood about issues you made with yourself?" He doesn't even blink, "Oh, my Belladona! Does that mean you've missed me? Were you worried about me as well??"

All of this was said in your typical, Dazai maniac style, the only difference is that he actually wants an answer. He wants to hear the confirmation, in whatever form it may come- he can read between the lines and body language, just give him something to work with. He's desperate.

While the public Dazai persona won't change, his inner musings and his approach to the love interest will.

Osamu will, sometimes sneakily, usually not so subtly, immerse himself into their daily life. Get them accustomed and used to his presence. What this will do is cause a sense of familiar coexistence, that of people living together; make the person unconsciously continue to include him in their activities; learn to depend on him (not in a unhealthy, yandere way, but if their car brakes down or they're feelinh unsafe, Dazai will be the first person they feel the urge to call) because Dazai can be reliable and he will be reliable for that special person. He will also be the first person they share good news with as well, because if someone is always there for and with you, it's only natural.

Make no mistakes, Dazai is transparent only when he wants to be.

The reasons he does this is because 1) he wants to gauge their reaction to his great interest in them, 2) mask his subtle advances which are the most important part of integrating himself into their life, 3) to get that person in the position where he needs them to be for him to move on to the next phase of his plan.

Now, i may have said plan, but that's a somewhat loose term since what he'll do next depends on their reaction. He definitely has a rough outline of the whole thing in his head, but he's also adaptable and ready to react accordingly to whatever they may throw his way.

[I will be using l/i or LI for "love interest" bc I'm tired of writing that person or whatever, okay? Good.]

Once his l/i made effort to go out of their way for him or commit any type of love language, basically:

act of service- pay for his bills, massage his shoulders, buy crab based food or alchohol he really likes for their own fridge so that he can have it when he's over (often) even if they don't like those things especially then

words of affirmation- thank you Dazai, how was your sleep?, please take better care of yourself i can't help you if you're not making an effort

physical touch- ruffle his hair, lean on him when tired, hold his hand or wrist because it's crowded and it would be a pain to search for you Dazai

gift giving- "I noticed you were running out of bandages", "I bought you food, figured your lost case would forget to eat", "saw this mackerel, reminded me of you^^" "BELLADONA, NO >:("

quality time- spending nights with him because he has insomnia, playing games at the arcade, drive around town run from the cops

He would be overwhelmed. In the best way possible. He'd feel overwhelmingly good and pleasant and warm and worried.

He didn't feel like this, ever.

Not even with Odasaku and Ango. They were probably his first friends, but that's the thing. They didn't make his heart race, they didn't throw him into panic attacks, they didn't overwhelm him, they didn't keep him up at night because he couldn't get them out of his head or completely monopolise his mind during the day.

He gets panic attacks.

A lot of them, actually. Usually he can fake being fine, but sometimes he hyperventilates and can't breathe and all that he can smell is the blood on his hands and his chest is as hollow as l/i's eyes. He knows what can happen. They can and will be used against him. Hell, it could even be an accident. He is vulnerable just because they exist and he can't do shit about it.

He could do his thing: pull some strings, have them move to another country and never speak to each other ever again. He has the power, but he lacks the strength. He could do it, but he doesn't want to. His thumb won't press the numbers, his voice died out, his mind went blank.

The wind blows and it carries their scent with it. The bells ring and it's their laughter that resonates within. His bandages ruffle and it's the warmth of their touch he feels. He's dying, but he's not just ready yet to leave. Hopefully, Odasaku will patiently keep a seat for him.

That was what gave him away, actually.

That's when Ranpo realised, with zero doubt, that Dazai Osamu is in love.

Dazai could be going on and on about suicide.

Enter l/i.

"I found an amazing tree yesterday with really sturdy branches. I wanted to test them out today, but i promised l/i I'd go to the new bakery with them today and who would they go with if i die?? Unacceptable!"

Ranpo: "A new bakery? I'll happily take your place."

"UNACCEPTABLE!!"

With every panic attack he feels stranded on an island in the sea of death.

He's exhausted. For the first time he finally wants to escape alive. Then they walk in and the storm in the sea moves to his heart. And into his stomach and his hands and his knees.

"I'm here for you, Osamu. Everything is going to be fine."

His insomnia goes by a different name now.

It still keeps him up at night and makes him restless.

But this time, when he fills his nth glass of whiskey for the night, when the TV is muted and the trafic quiet, when he can hear their breathing beside him in their shared bed, he raises the glass to hope for the halcyon days.

●

Fucking finally. You think you're exhausted, you waste of bandages?? I have a final today I'm going to fail and actually wrote about your musky ass. You try doing that with my brain.

Hope you guys like it and if you made it this far, here's a cup of ☕ or 🍵, whichever you prefer. I wrote him as i see and envision him. Hope it all makes sense. He's a complicated character, but he is still human and he is not immune to emotions.

Have a good one~☆

I will probably come up with more things for him, because i doubt i covered everything, but for now this shall do.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu headcanons #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu in a relationship

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fanficwritersinterviewed · 2 years

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ITWW, shey

<<This post is a part of a longer conversation about fanfic writers, how they view fanfic, and their writing process. All views are the fanfic writer’s own, and whatever fanfic they choose to write is entirely their own decision. No judgment value will be placed on fic content. These conversations are meant to provide insight for other fanfic writers in whatever stage they are at in their writing life>>

In the Weeds Wednesday (with Shey, @shey-elizabeth )

So let’s talk process. When you start a fic what happens first for you? It depends on the type of fic. Short things (which tends to be anything less than 10k for me) just kind of happen. I usually have a vague outline in my head, but otherwise they do what they do. Long fic usually starts with a lot of brainstorming, followed by a vague outline that gets added to as I go. I typically have a list of scenes and plot points that gets fleshed out as I start writing and figure out who the characters are going to be and what their backstory is in this fic. I usually have a pretty solid plan by the time I finish the first scene or two, but other things definitely sneak in as I go.

You said before that you write about 2k and then edit for a long time after that. What's the typical rhythm of all that for you? Do you keep to a schedule? I try not to have a schedule since I've found that makes things less enjoyable. I do have an idea in my head of when I'd like to post the next chapter of my WIPs, but that's as far as I get. I'm also not someone who needs to post as soon as I finish. I'm much more likely to sit on a fic for a month or more and post it when I feel good about it.

I've been told my writing process is a lot like drafting? I get words on the page, and then I rewrite them until they do what I want them to. I might write an entire scene and change the dialogue four times (including the meaning of the conversation) until I get to something that sounds right. I also go back and add layers. I'll fill in emotion, inner monologue, and movement with each pass through until it feels complete. There's a lot of rearranging and adding. Not usually much subtracting. My goal is usually to get the scene down so I don't forget where I want to go, and then fix it so it actually works the way I intended.

This last pass through is usually adjusting word choice, making sure I'm not repeating phrases, and checking that the dialogue flows.

What part of the writing process brings you pleasure? Writing? Sculpting it in edits? Honestly, the actual writing is the hardest part and the part I have to gear myself up for. Writing will probably always be hard for me, but the finished product makes it worth it. I really enjoy the sculpting of it (LOVE that term! I'm totally stealing it, thank you!) and of course, the “having written” (I write most of my fic so I can read it, after all!). I do adore the comments from readers, too. They make the stress so worth it! My favorite part though, is getting the doc back from my beta and finding out if what I wrote actually worked. I love that feedback and seeing how the suggested edits make everything come together. It's like magic and so satisfying.

What's the hardest thing you've ever attempted with your writing and why was it challenging? Honestly, the hardest thing has been finishing my first fic. It was supposed to be a mid-length, self-indulgent, smutty little getting-together fic. And it's all of that, except the mid-length part! I started it before I really learned anything about the writing process, and I've grown so much as a writer in the two and a half years since then that the first few chapters feel almost unrecognizable to me. I've gone back and edited them (there were some grammar errors that I just couldn't ignore!) but I know the second half is a lot stronger than the first. That made it difficult to keep working on, and it sort of became this looming monster in my head. I started to feel like it was never going to be done. I actually stepped away from it for most of 2021, even though I only had a chapter left, and I knew it wasn't actually a difficult chapter to write. Every time I opened the doc, I would just stare at it and it felt completely impossible.

What I ended up doing was focusing on my other long fic– “Sugarcoated”– and getting that story done. I convinced myself that if I could finish it I could undo this block I had about finishing the other long fic. It seems like it worked, because I finally finished “Sugarcoated” in October, and that took so much pressure off. Now that I can look at it and go "finishing long fics is possible! It's a thing that I've done!" it's given me confidence to actually sit down and get my first fic done.

What's the best piece of writing advice you ever got and how have you applied it to your own writing? Oh man, I’ve gotten so much fantastic advice! Everything from technical (try not to start sentences with “ing” words) to process advice like what to do if you get stuck (go back seven sentences, or skip to the next scene). Probably my favorite piece of writing advice was about how to avoid “puppet syndrome” in my smut scenes. That’s the thing where the whole scene is just action without the emotions attached. You aren’t getting inside the character’s heads enough and the sex becomes “insert tab A into slot B”. It ends up feeling flat, or disconnected, and you aren’t sure why. Making sure the characters’ emotions and reactions are present in the scene is a big focus for me.

I wrote a super smutty one-shot recently that had the working title “Stetopher Filth” and I got a comment asking how I was able to write filthy things that were also so sweet. That made my day. That fic has some heavy kinks in it, so it was extra important to me that the readers saw how much the characters cared for each other. I wanted the emotions front and center every step of the way. That comment told me I was successful!

Haha, that’s great! “Puppet Syndrome.” I usually say it feels like having two dolls and mashing them together, but now I’ll think of muppets, thank you for that horrifically wonderful thought!

Alright, lastly: say something nice about your own writing. Something nice about my own writing… I actually like most of my fics a lot. There's some great advice out there that says "write for yourself." I've always written things because I wanted to read them, and I think that that makes it easier to feel good about the results!

#fanfic writers interviewed #in the weeds wednesday #shey #fanfic #writing

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wroteasongabouther · 3 years

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can’t stand to see you lonely: part 2

a/n: thank you all so so sooooo much for the love on the first part of cstsyl ❤️ i hope you guys like part 2 just as much, and please reblog/leave me any feedback if you can as if really just makes me smile and helps with the engagement and blah blah blah u know the drill lol

and thank you to the lovely jill @havethetimeofyourstyles, jess @arrogantstyles and wendy @bookwormandtea for beta reading for me!

word count: 15k

warnings: mentions of death, couples fighting, awkward silence in elevators, and addicting candy cane pretzels.

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

They were fighting again. Y/N’s voice was booming through the walls, her boyfriend’s echoing after hers. Harry tries his best to focus on anything but their voices, but he can’t. It doesn’t make him feel all that great listening to the girl he had only seen smile and had been making laugh over the past two weeks, now yelling on the other side of the wall between them.

Harry plucks a soft melody on his guitar as he lounges on his couch. His hands absentmindedly playing the four chords that have been stuck in his head all morning while he attempts to write lyrics to the melody. Only, he was having a bit of trouble doing so as he listened to Y/N’s voice again.

“Honestly, Mark! Really?” Y/N’s shouting is muffled, but Harry hears her still. “You really think that it doesn’t bother…” The rest of her words are a bit harder to hear as she quiets her voice. Harry never imagined he’d hear her raise her voice like that. That soft, sweet and gentle tone that he has spent dreaming about for weeks now.

Harry’s still plucking the chords he’s grown obsessed with, humming along while zoning out on the blank tv in front of him. He feels selfish, and rather ridiculous too, not wanting to imagine Y/N with another man. But he also feels selfish that he’s not upset over the fact they’re fighting for the third time in two days. Harry shakes his head and scolds himself for the thought. Regardless of his feelings, he shouldn't want Y/N to feel this way. He can tell these couple days must’ve been hard on her, working all day and then coming home to only end up in a yelling match with her prick of a boyfriend.

Harry rolls his eyes and notices that the shouting has stopped. The silence of his apartment, aside from his guitar, only makes him feel a bit sadder.

“I’m selfish, I know,” Harry sings, “but I don’t ever want to see you with him.”

Suddenly, his phone chimes from where it’s sat on the table, signalling an incoming phone call from Mitch. A picture of the two of them together in the studio last spring shows on the screen, Mitch tucked under Harry’s arm as they’re both slouching into the couch they sat on. Harry reaches for his phone and swipes his finger across the screen to accept his call.

“Hey,” Harry mutters into the phone, focusing on getting together his notebook and cleaning up the few torn crumpled pieces of paper littering his coffee table.

“Hey, you leaving your place soon?” Mitch asks. Harry can hear traffic in the background, meaning that he had already left his place that's located much closer to the studio than his own apartment is. Moving his shoulder up a little, he holds his phone between his ear and shoulder in order to use both hands as he sets his guitar into the open case that’s sitting on the chaise lounge of his couch. Then scrambling around to gather the scrap paper and glass of water he had, standing up with his trash in hand to throw away and glass in the other to put in the sink.

“Just about to,” Harry answers honestly, making his way into his kitchen to clean up. He sighs after clearing his hands and returns his phone to his left hand to hold now.

“You get busy with that neighbour of yours again. Got a new crush, H?” Mitch teases him. Rolling his eyes, Harry brushes a hand on his light wash jeans before patting his pocket to make sure his thin wallet was still there.

“No,” he mutters, obviously lying to his best mate - which Mitch is very aware of as he hums in response. “I’ll be there in, like, 20 if the tube isn’t a horror show.”

“You’ve lived here for nearly 3 years now, think you can call it the subway yet?”

“Nope,” Harry sighs. There were a few things his British instincts kicked in for; many different phrases and words he knew would stick in his vocabulary despite how many years he’s been in the U.S. Harry’s grabbing his green winter coat and slipping on his boots as he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear again. “Should I grab the gang some coffee on my way? Seeing as I’ll probably be the last to arrive,” Harry says in a tight voice, his annoyance from hearing Y/N and her boyfriend still clear even in his phone call with his mate.

“Don’t count on it. Tom hasn't answered his phone all morning, so something tells me he’s preoccupied,” Mitch suggests. Harry recalls the text he had gotten from his friend Tom, saying that he and the Missus were planning to celebrate their anniversary early this year. Mitch seems to be hinting that their celebrations have fallen into the morning too. Harry bets that Tom being MIA was because of his two children. The two of them knew how to gang up on their dad already at a young age—he couldn't imagine how they’d be when they grew up.

“He’s a dad, Mitch, that's probably what he’s preoccupied with,” Harry states. After putting on his coat, he walks over to clasp the case for his guitar closed and heaves it up before heading for the door.

“Point being, don’t bother with coffee. I’m in line at Starbucks anyways. Did you want anything?” Mitch asks.

“A slice or two of the banana loaf, please,” Harry requests, his stomach growling at the thought of food. Time had slipped by him this morning, listening to Y/N and her boyfriend argue, and he hadn’t eaten more than an apple for breakfast.

Harry double checks the lights are off in his apartment before shutting the door behind him, setting his guitar down to rest on the wall to his left, and locking it quickly. Mitch is complaining in his ear about some Karen at the front of the line. Harry chuckles at his friends colourful words and picks up his guitar, not sparing a glance at Y/N’s door as he walks to the elevator and hits the down button to call it to his floor. Not even a ten seconds go by and he hears someone exiting their apartment behind him. Harry doesn’t want to look over his shoulder to check, not wanting to see Mark and Y/N walking hand in hand towards him. So, he keeps his eyes trained up on the red numbers rising above the elevator doors, signalling it’s arrival, soon hopefully.

“Hey, Harry right?” Mark questions, pointing a finger at Harry as him and Y/N stepped up to the elevator. Y/N tries her best not to frown. She hates the way Harry doesn’t smile at her first before meeting Mark’s eyes and nodding.

“Hey,” Harry says. He turns his head and catches Y/N’s gaze. “What are you guys up to?”

Y/N knows he’s simply being polite, something Mark wouldn’t care to be - seeing as he’s already got his phone out of his pocket, and is staring at the screen as he answers. “Y/N’s driving me to the airport,” he states.

Harry looks at Mark, anger bubbling inside of him as he clutches the guitar case in his hand. The elevator doors open then, a light bing! coming from inside. Mark enters first, not even bothering to look at Y/N or Harry, but then Harry waves his free hand in motion to let Y/N walk in before him. She smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she walks into the small space and stands beside Mark.

“Thanks,” she says in a soft voice as Harry hits the button for the lobby. She takes note of the guitar case in his hand. “Are you heading to the studio?” She asks, pointing to the bulky item he’s carrying.

Harry looks down at his guitar case, “yeah, last day before everyone gets their break.”

“No more counting down the days then, huh?” She asks, mentioning their previous discussion about how people typically countdown the days till they have time off - her included this year. But Harry had mentioned that he wasn’t looking forward to his days away from the studio. He didn’t think she’d remember that.

“Counting the days till I’m back in the studio now,” Harry says. Y/N smiles and Harry’s heart bursts at the sight. Having heard her raised voice earlier today, being sure a scowl was etched on her face, he was glad to see her lips turned upward. Mark clears his throat then, causing both Y/N and Harry to quit looking into each other's eyes and step back into reality - her boyfriend was right beside them.

“Studio? What are you, a singer or something?” Mark asks Harry. His eyes catch sight of Mark’s arm snaking around Y/N’s back, resting lazily on her left hip as they stood there. Harry licked his lips and almost nodded, but was quick to catch himself and shook his head instead. “What kind of studio then? Movies?” Mark continues to question him.

“A music studio, I’m just a musician,” Harry answers.

“Oh,” Mark says, “cool,” he adds with a shrug. The elevator doors open and Mark guides him and Y/N out of the small space. “Well, see ya around, ‘Arry,” Mark says with a smug look, trying to mimic his accent. But he butchers it, of course, sounding more like Hagrid from Harry Potter. Mark then waves and turns himself and Y/N to the right of the lobby that leads to the stairwell that went down to the underground parking lot.

Y/N only gets to give Harry a quick smile before Mark turns her away. She wants to apologize for Mark’s ridiculous behaviour, feeling embarrassed by it. She also wanted to say that Harry wasn't just a musician, he was a songwriter too, which therefore meant he was a storyteller, and in her eyes songwriters were some of the most creative and talented people. Y/N wanted to shut Mark up and start bragging about Harry, like he was her boyfriend and Mark was just some dumb prick.

Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and licks them, glancing quickly over her shoulder before getting to the door. Her eyes meet Harry’s intense stare, him looking over his shoulder at her too, and her stomach erupts with butterflies. But then it flips and flops with nerves and her hands suddenly being tugged on by her boyfriend, holding open the door with his hip as he walks them through the doorway and out of Harry’s sight.

Harry finds himself thinking about Y/N the whole way to the studio—as if he hasn’t stopped thinking about her and her boyfriend over the past couple days anyways. Did she ever mention being in a relationship, even in the most subtle way? Did he misinterpret her kindness for flirting like an absolute idiot? These questions were on a loop inside of his head until he walked into the studio, flashed the front desk his ID badge, and headed to studio B where he and his mates would be working today.

“And he’s made it,” Mitch announces as Harry pushes closed the door and walks the few steps to his left where the brown leather couch was against the wall. Adam is sitting on the couch, the phone in his hand chimes as he types on it quickly, merely giving Harry a quick smile before looking back at the screen. Mitch is standing by the switch board, leaning back against it as he stares Harry down. Next to him is Tom, sitting in his chair and facing his many computer screens as he gets everything up and going for the day.

“And I see we were both wrong and Tom beat me,” Harry states. He sets his guitar down, leaning it against the side of the couch before sitting himself down beside Adam.

“I wasn’t answering my phone because I was already on my way over here way before any of you slowpokes, and then I turned off my ringer once I got in here,” Tom explains, leaning back in his chair while his eyes stay on the screen. But then he twirls around, facing Harry and Adam, and gives Adam a bored look. “Like we all agreed to do, right Adam?”

“Relax, I’ll do it after I send this last text,” Adam says.

“Sure,” Tom mutters, swivelling his chair back around and grabbing the mouse to continue his set up.

“Jeez, Tommy,” Mitch chuckles, “did you not get any last night or something? What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Harry’s eyebrows pull down as he takes in his friends stiff posture as Mitch’s words seem to sink in. “Wasn’t it your anniversary date last night?” He questions, keeping his voice light and not as daunting as Mitch’s had been.

Tom turns back around to face the boys and makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but then our babysitter called and was all freaked out and of course Jenny got all freaked out too. I tried to tell her it wasn’t that big of a deal and they could handle it, but we still ended up leaving our hotel room at nine o’clock and dealt with our two crying children who just missed their mommy. I was in bed by eleven.” Tom explains his night, ending with rubbing a hand up and down his face as he was clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

“That’s just life as a parent, man,” Adam states. “Emi and I didn’t have a single date night till Spike was five,” he adds with a shrug.

“Yeah, I get it but it’s just upsetting to have this whole night planned and then it not happen,” Tom says. Harry knew that feeling; he may have not had a full anniversary night away planned like Tom did, but the other day he was racking up things to do with Y/N before he was introduced to her boyfriend.

Harry zones out, eyes glued on the coffee table in front of him as he sighs softly, leaning back into the couch as he was getting wrapped up in his thought of Y/N, again. I could still be her friend, he thinks. Even though it’d hurt to see her with her boyfriend, to hear about a date night or see them kiss. The ache already begins in Harry’s chest as the mere thought of it, and he finds himself bringing a hand up and rubbing over his heart subconsciously.

“Harry,” Mitch calls, forcing Harry to snap out of his thoughts and look up at where he stood. He raises his eyebrows, making Harry think that he had said his name more than once but was ignored.

“What’s going on?” Tom asks Harry.

“He’s probably thinking about his latest little crush,” Mitch smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who is it this time?” Adam asks in a monotone voice.

“His new neighbour. Supposedly, she’s rather beautiful in Harry’s eyes,” Mitch teases.

“Not just in my eyes,” Harry mumbles, looking at his lap and picking off an invisible piece of lint.

“What do you mean?” Tom questions.

Harry hears Tom’s chair squeak suddenly, making Harry assume that he must be leaning back in it again. Harry looks up to see he’s right - Tom’s got his arms crossed at his chest like Mitch while they’re both staring him down. Harry lets out a sigh and shakes his head, leaning further into the back of the couch while he licks his lips and looks anywhere but at his friends’ faces - not wanting to see their taunting looks when he tells them.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Harry says in a low voice.

Mitch inhales a sharp breath, hissing through his teeth as he walks over and clamps a hand down on Harry’s shoulder. “That’s tough man,” he says.

Harry shakes his head again and sits up, causing Mitch’s hand to fall off his shoulder. “It’s not just tough. I get I have these crushes on people a lot, but I don’t know, there was just something different between us. We really clicked and I just thought we’d at least get to go out a few times,” he speaks softly into the quiet room,the support of some of his closest mates surrounding him.

“Have you written about how you’re feeling?” Tom asks. Harry nods and reaches for his guitar without a second thought, taking it out of the case and positioning the instrument in his lap.

“This is gonna be good,” Mitch nods his head and rolls over the second chair that occupied the room. Harry shakes his head at his friends comment.

“I’ve just had this tune in my head for a couple days now, and I’ve only come up with a few lyrics really, so I don’t know how good it will be,” he explains.

Harry plays the song he’s been playing all morning for the other three in the room. The soft acoustic guitar fills the silence, the twang from his guitar strings echoing off the walls. Harry shuts his eyes and lets his voice build up as he sings the two lines he’s been thinking about for a few days now. He feels it deep in his chest, the truth behind his words. Suddenly, more lyrics filter out of his mouth that hadn’t come up before.

“I’m selfish I know,” he sings, “I’d tell you but I know you’d never listen.”

It’s not entirely the truth, because he’s sure that Y/N would listen to anything he had to say. He’s also sure that if he walked up to her right now, ran out of this studio and back to the apartment and waited outside her door, begging for her to break up with him, that she wouldn’t listen. Harry believes that she’s a better person than that - that regardless if she felt what he had over their past few encounters, she wouldn’t listen to what he wanted and would figure things out herself.

“I hope you can see, the shape that I’m in,” Tom suddenly sings along to the tune that Harry’s still playing. Harry opens his eyes in a flash and looks at his friend, but Tom’s back is already to him as he’s facing his computer again. “I have the perfect piano and drums mix for this. I’ve had it kind of hidden away for the right time and I think this is it.”

And that’s when the magic happens. Harry puts down his guitar and gets right into the lyrics, pouring himself into yet another song. He lets his feelings out about the situation he’s gotten himself into with Y/N, and mixes it with some poetry he’s written previously in his journal. You flower, you feast, is something he’s had for quite some time but had never felt it really fit into any of his other songs. And yet somehow in this song full of duck noises, a guitar solo, and many lalalala’s, it somehow found its place.

Not to mention that Mitch absolutely murders the guitar solo. His long hair acts as a curtain as he sways to the music and lets himself go. Nearly every time that Mitch goes in for a solo, he doesn’t remember what he plays because he’s in such a trance, so Tom has to play it back for him if he needs to fix anything up. Overall, the song inspired by Y/N and her shit boyfriend is pretty great.

“Anything else you’ve got to bring to the table, Harry?” Tom asks after nearly six hours of working on perfecting their new song ‘Woman’ - named solely because of the repeating of the word in the course, which was chosen because he felt like he was calling out to Y/N in this song. Saying woman over and over again at her in hopes to get her attention. He simply shrugs and stretches back into the couch, sprawling his legs out in front of him while staring down at his journal that’s sitting in his lap.

“I’ve been writing this one based off a man I see everyday during my breakfast at the cafe down the street from my apartment,” he says. Harry clears his throat and sort of talk-sings what his idea of the melody is with the lyrics he’s got. “Nine in the morning, man drops his kids off at school. And he’s thinking of you, like all of us do. Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon, around one thirty two.”

“Alright, I like it,” Adam nods his head.

“Who’s he thinking of?” Mitch teases, “like all of us do,” he adds with a smirk. His lips then wrap around the straw that was in the can of Pepsi he had gotten from the mini fridge a while ago. Harry rolls his eyes and kicks out his foot in order to nudge Mitch’s leg from where he’s sitting in the desk chair he’s gotten comfortable in.

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles. Adam, Mitch and Tom all chuckle at their friend’s pout, which just makes him smile. He knew that coming into the studio and writing and making music about his situation with Y/N would ultimately make it feel even a little bit better. During the making of their newest song, his friends did give him some advice.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out, H,” Adam had said with a smile.

But there’s no way of knowing how he’ll feel when he bumps into her again, whether she’s with her boyfriend or not.

It’s been a tough few days for Y/N. Not only has work been crazy because not one, but two interns got sick with a stomach bug; meaning she was currently filling their job on top of her own and running around the city - but she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Harry.

She is in her own head again as she walks into the Gucci store on Fifth Ave. for the third time in two days. As Greg approaches her, she appreciates his light pink suit with a white ruffled shirt underneath. His bald head shines under the lights of the store, but that smile was much brighter and obviously, professionally whiten. Greg gives her a kiss on the cheek, saying they are a bit behind with her packages since it’s such a busy time for them as well. Y/N just nods and gives him a smile, accepting the flute of champagne as she takes a seat and waits. This is honestly the first time she’s gotten a chance to sit all day, but of course, she spends it zoning out on a sparkly dress hung up a few feet away from her as her mind begins to think of anything but work.

Mark and her started dating only a mere four months ago. After meeting at a bar in the Upper East Side, he practically stalked her - which isn't too hard considering her social media following - and sent her flowers to work for three days straight till she agreed to go on a date with him. Turned out that he wasn’t just some business man out on the town with some work buddies, but an heir to one of the country's biggest companies. Therefore, meaning that when the gossip started of the two of them seeing each other, Y/N’s mom was the first person to call.

“You hit the jackpot, baby!” She basically screamed into Y/N’s ear.

Y/N only rolled her eyes at her mothers words. Her mother was the typical New Jersey girl that grew up with big dreams of pinning down a wealthy New York City man - and kudos to her for doing it. Her dad, bless his heart, was an older naive man who somehow managed to fertilize her mother’s gold digging eggs and voila, Y/N was born. But with that being said, Y/N was lucky enough to have family money, so she never felt the need to be in a relationship just because a man had more in his bank account. She also had better morals than her mother, and knew that money wasn’t a factor when you really loved someone. So no, Mark was not the jackpot because of his bank account. Y/N just thought he was really nice and attractive too, so she agreed to be his girlfriend those four months ago. But it wasn’t till a month ago that that nice streak ended.

All of a sudden Y/N’s cell phone is ringing. She blinks out of her daze to realize she’s finished her glass of champagne while so deep in thought. Pulling out her phone, she looks at the screen to see it’s Mark calling. His ears must be burning, Y/N thinks.

“Hey,” Y/N answers softly, crossing a leg over the other and resting her elbow on her knee as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Hey, babe,” Mark sighs. Y/N knows right away what he’s about to tell her, all by the tone of his voice and the use of that nickname. He used it when he asked her to drive him to the airport yesterday, which he forgot to mention he needed her to do till an hour before he had to leave - resulting in Y/N being very behind on work for the day.

“How’s Arizona?” Y/N asks politely anyway, mentioning the state he was in for business this time around. He was always traveling for work; his father wants him to know all the branch executives, so therefore he’s been to pretty much every state in the country over the course of six months. The moment they started to date Y/N knew he’d be working a lot, but she didn’t expect him to be working all over the country. She’s lucky if she gets a weekend with him, and honestly, she was looking forward to the almost two weeks work free they’d be getting together. But something told her that was not going to happen.

“It’s good, hot,” he says, seeming distracted by something in the background to which he moves the phone away from his mouth to respond to someone around him. “No, no, not those, the red ones,” he orders.

“Mark?” Y/N questions, keeping her voice down as Greg and one of his associates come from the backroom then with a few boxes in hand. “I’m just a bit busy with work, was there a reason for you calling, hun?”

“Right…Well, unfortunately my time at the Arizona office will be extended. So, I’m not going to make it back to New York before Christmas,” Mark explains. Y/N frowns at his words even though it’s just as she imagined when she answered his call.

“When will you be back?” She asks, her eyebrows pulled together and lip pouting out slightly.

“That’s the thing, there’s really no point in me flying back to the East Coast so close to the holidays when I’ve got to be in Los Angeles for my family’s big festivities.”

“Oh,” Y/N says. She’s only sad for a moment, noticing that Mark is distracted by something in the background once again as his voice is muffled. “So when exactly are you planning to come back to the city, Mark?” She asks as she sits up and projects her voice louder into her phone. Greg and his associate seem to notice Y/N demeanour change, his baby blue eyes widening slightly as he sets the boxes down on the couch beside her.

“I don’t know-”

Y/N doesn’t let him speak, though, her anger getting the best of her for what feels like the millionth time since she began dating Mark. It’s so unlike her, she thinks. She shakes her head and says, “you don’t plan to come back to New York and spend any part of the holidays with your girlfriend? Your girlfriend who very much loves the holidays, by the way.”

“I’m aware of your love for the holidays, Y/N, little hard to not know when your apartment looks like a four year old decorated it with all that crap,” Mark huffs into the phone, his voice matching her tone.

“Oh my god, whatever, Mark,” Y/N snaps in a low voice, having to take a deep breath as she stares down at the floor. “Just go and have fun on the West Coast, don’t worry one bit about me ‘cause it seems you haven’t bothered to to begin with,” Y/N finds herself seething into the phone, keeping her voice low before pulling her phone away from her ear and hanging up before he can say one more thing to upset her.

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. Focusing on making her heart beat slow down and her hands to stop shaking. Did she just break up with him? No, no I didn’t say the words, I didn’t say it’s over and maybe I should have, Y/N thinks while letting out another short breath through her nose. She did not deserve this and she knew she didn’t, and yet she keeps putting up with his extended work trips and him disrespecting her opinions. Mark wanted a woman like Y/N’s mother. One that didn’t have her own hobbies and her own dreams, and who just wanted to be on his arm and live with whatever he put them through. Or did she even give him a real chance? That little voice in the back of her head, the one that was planted by her own mother, asks her.

“You look like you need another glass, mi amor,” Greg says softly, bringing her to open her eyes once more and realize that she did in fact just have a fight with her boyfriend over the phone in public. In front of a supplier too. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Thankfully, she thought of Greg as more of a friend than in a professional view. She smiles at him, forcing it, while he holds up the bottle of champagne and fills her glass.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” he nods, turning to his left to grab the second tall glass and fills it as well. Y/N chuckles as he brings it to his own mouth and has a sip. “What? The holidays are stressful, I deserve a glass too every once in a while.” Y/N only laughs again and raises her flute, Greg lifts his own to cheers her before they both take a sip. “Did you want to talk about it?” He asks after a beat of silence.

Y/N licks her lips, tasting the expensive champagne all over again. “It’s just,” Y/N sighs and runs a hand through her hair before she continues, “I thought that Mark was different when I first met him. He sent flowers to my work and took me to nice restaurants. He seemed to be really into me, and now, he’s really into his work and he thinks my love for the holidays is childish, and that my opinions and my time don’t matter. So, I’m starting to think I jumped into this relationship, maybe a bit too fast all because my mom approved of his last name and Sammy thought he was hot.” Y/N rants in a rush of words, bringing her flute to her lips afterwards for another sip.

Greg doesn’t respond right away, instead he too sips his champagne and looks around the room they sat in. He sighs and brings a hand down on Y/N’s thigh, causing her to look at him. He smiles and gives her a comforting pat.

“You are a young woman in New York City who’s really got her shit together, you know your worth, Y/N,” Greg says. Y/N mirrors his smile, feeling the back of her eyes threaten with tears at his sweet words. “You’ll know what to do about this man,” he adds with a wink. Greg removes his hand and lifts his flute to finish off his champagne. “Plus, men are trash anyways,” he mutters as his eyes wander around the room that’s quickly filling up with customers.

Y/N laughs, “yes, Greg, they can be.” She agrees. But there’s one man that comes to her mind. One with enchanting green eyes, beautiful dimples, a contagious laugh, and a certain swoon worthy accent.

And yet, Y/N is not surprised when her thoughts drift off to Harry again. In fact, she thinks about him the entire way back to her office, the few boxes from Greg in her arms as she travels on the subway and walks carefully on the slushy shovelled snow that covers the sidewalks. What is he up to today? She thinks, knowing that he must’ve gotten home from the studio late yesterday - maybe even this morning. She worked late on emails last night, only having her Christmas playlist playing softly from her TV, and she didn’t hear him get home. She wonders if he sleeps in when he does that, or if he still manages to get up early and do whatever it is he does every day. She doesn’t know his daily routine, but she admits to herself that she’s curious.

Having done the errands that were needed for the day, Y/N ends up sitting at her desk for the remaining three hours of her work day. Her and Amanda go over new interns to hire, seeing as Y/N’s boss doesn’t want her away from the office doing intern work forever. And then she and Sammy are walking out of the building together at five o’clock sharp. They endured yet another eleven hour work day today. And this was one of the easiest days this week, since it was spent shopping around and organizing the office. Tomorrow there would be two A-list clients coming in for their last styling of the year, both finalizing their outfits for the upcoming Grammy awards too.

“You seem off today,” Sammy says as they walk down the stairs to the subway.

“I, um,” Y/N licks her lips and narrows her eyes at the screen that reads when the next stop would be. She looks at her friend and sighs. “I got into a fight with Mark earlier,” she states.

“Another one?” Sammy questions, raising a brow and giving her a look that said ‘really?’.

“Yup,” Y/N says, rolling her lips into her mouth and nodding. “He’s too busy with work to come back to the city for the rest of the month, said he doesn’t see the point in coming back even for a day before he has to go back home to the West Coast. So, I ended up yelling at him in the middle of the Gucci store.”

“Are you for real?” Sammy asks in shock, his eyes widening as Y/N explains what her boyfriend had told her earlier.

“Yup,” she repeats, nodding her head again too. “Oh, and he said my apartment looked like a four year old decorated it and it looked like crap,” Y/N chuckles, realizing now how stupid Mark’s fighting words were.

“Y/N,” Sammy sighs, “dump him,” he says while placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a sympathetic smile. “I get that you wanted to give this guy a chance, but all you guys ever do is fight and I don’t want to say it but I’m going to,” he sighs again dramatically, “I’ve seen you smile over that new neighbour of yours more than Mark in the past few weeks. That’s a sign.”

“But what if I didn’t give Mark a real chance? And what if I’m just playing Harry up in my head-”

“No, none of that,” Sammy shakes his head and stares deep into Y/N’s eyes. “You are the most polite and sweetest person I’ve ever met. There’s no way in hell you didn’t give Mark a chance, hell you gave him a million chances, let’s face it. And as for Harry, you’ll never know unless you get to know him.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as Sammy drops his hand and tilts his head to the side. She notices the platform getting busier and louder then, as the subway makes way towards them from the North. This was her ride, while Sammy had to wait another ten minutes for the one that went to Brooklyn. Y/N thinks about what Sammy had said. Maybe she did give Mark plenty of chances and maybe their time was up, but that doesn’t mean she feels comfortable jumping right back into the game of dating with Harry. Plus, how bad would that make her look. Harry would probably think she didn’t care about relationships and typically shuffled around boys, which was so far from her case. In fact it was why she was so hesitant to date Mark in the first place - she didn’t like to give her time and love to just anyone. It’s just too bad she didn’t realize that Mark wasn’t worth it sooner.

“If I’m just getting out of this relationship with Mark, I can’t just start dating Harry,” Y/N exclaims to Sammy.

“I didn’t say date him right away, I said get to know him,” Sammy states, “hang out, be his friend, and if things happen then they happen. The world works in funny ways,” Sammy says matter of factly, pointing a finger at her while she starts taking a few steps towards the subway that’s coming to a stop. “We’ll talk later! Dump the fucking guy though!” Sammy shouts as Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes while getting into the mass of people cramming on the subway.

“Yeah, dump the son of a bitch,” a croaky voice startles Y/N as she gets through the door. An elderly woman is smiling back at her, her yellow teeth contrasting against her dark skin as she smiles wickedly at Y/N. She chuckles awkwardly and nods, walking across the space to an open seat.

Opening her purse, she finds her Airpods and puts them into her ears. They connect to her phone automatically and she begins to tap on her phone, deciding on which playlist she wants to listen to on her way home. Once she clicks shuffle on her ‘girl freaking power’ playlist, she turns it all the way up and lets the anger in Halsey’s voice fuel her own anger towards her shit boyfriend. She thinks of their fights that have happened recently the whole ride on the subway, then she thinks if it’d be too cruel of her to break up with him over the phone as she walks the few blocks to her apartment building. If he broke up with me over the phone I’d be a little upset, Y/N thinks with a frown as she walks across the lobby to the elevator.

Y/N, who was so in her own world with her music still turned up all the way as a new song by Olivia O’Brien, doesn’t even realize when Harry walks up beside her. He can hear her music blasting through her earphones. He leans forwards a bit, hoping to get in her line of sight. But she is still focused on the elevator doors, nodding her head to whatever song she’s got playing. Harry’s lips tug up into a smile. When he first saw her standing there when he entered the building he got a little nervous, unsure how this interaction between them would go. Should he apologize right away for not knowing she had a boyfriend and asking her for dinner?

“Hello?” Harry sings. “Y/N?” He calls in a normal voice. This time she seems to notice that someone is beside her. She jumps slightly, placing a hand over her heart and reaches up with the other to take out an Airpod which causes her music to stop completely.

“You scared me,” she breathes out.

“Sorry,” Harry says, giving her a timid smile. “I tried getting your attention a few times, it must be a good song.”

She looks down at the earphone in her hand and nods, “uh, yeah, just really into empowering female music today.” She states.

Harry hums and nods, then the elevator opens, revealing a few people inside which causes Y/N to step towards him as they move out of the way. If he hadn’t taken a step back fast enough she'd practically be right up against him. He breathes in and smells her perfume, the intoxicating scent of rose filling his nostrils with her being so close. Y/N gives a quick ‘you’re welcome’ to the people who step out as they thank them for moving before they both step into the elevator together. Harry was too busy thinking about how close Y/N had been to step up and hit the number six button before he could. He gives her a smile in thanks.

The elevator begins to ascend as the space falls into silence between them. They’re both overthinking. What should I say? Is what is on both their minds as they pass the first floor, and then the second. Harry lets out a short breath through his nose before leaning his back against the railing.

“I’m sorry for being so clueless,” he states, pausing when Y/N’s head whips up and her eyes meet his. “I didn’t think you’d have a boyfriend and I just didn’t think twice before asking you if you wanted to get dinner,” he says, finally getting the thought off his chest.

Y/N furrows her brows, “and why did you think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend?” She asks, teasing him, but Harry’s face falls and he stands straight once again, bringing both his hands up and waves them in front of himself as if in surrender.

“Not that you’re like not pretty enough for a boyfriend, or nice enough, cause to be quite honest I would be surprised if you didn’t have a boyfriend cause you are like the prettiest girl I’ve ever met and not to mention really nice and super cool too-”

“I was just teasing you, Harry,” Y/N stops him. But his words had caused quite the feeling inside her stomach, butterflies were multiplying like it was nobody's business while she swore she felt her heartbeat in the soles of her feet.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “right. Well, still, I’m sorry.” He casts his eyes down to the floor, feeling his cheeks warm up from embarrassment. The elevator sounds a quiet bing! as the doors open for them on the sixth floor. Harry lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s once more, motioning with his hand for her to exit first. She smiles and walks out with him right behind her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything till she’s at her apartment door, her key in the lock, and she notices Harry is at his door a few feet away. She sighs and stops twisting the key, letting her shoulder sag as she looks over at Harry.

“I’m sorry too, by the way,” she says. Harry looks up at the sound of her voice, thinking she was simply going to take in her apology and go about her merry life with Mark. He watches her tongue dart out and wet her lips as she leans into her door. “I should have mentioned Mark, even just in a quick comment, but honestly our relationship is sort of new and even a little non-existent at times, it seems, so I guess I was just enjoying making a new friend. I didn’t even think about it,” Y/N explains herself.

Harry takes in her words; that her relationship is new, and non-existent? He wonders what she means by that. But he can’t help but smile at her mentioning that she enjoyed becoming his friend. Harry nods his head and let’s his smile grow wider, knowing his dimples would show.

“I’d like to keep being your friend,” Y/N adds, “if that’s okay?”

“It’s totally okay,” Harry nods. Y/N smiles and nods back.

“Okay,” she says softly.

Harry fits his key into the lock without looking, keeping his eyes on Y/N’s as he notices her cheeks glowing a shade of pink. “How about a movie night? Tomorrow? If you’re not busy, of course,” Harry suggests, twisting his key and unlocking the door.

“I think I’m free. It’ll have to be Christmas themed, of course,” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes as if to challenge Harry to fight her on it - like Mark would.

“Well, yeah,” Harry scoffs, eyebrows pulled together and head shaking in faux disbelief. “Wouldn’t have it any other way during the month of December,” he adds.

Why couldn’t I have moved in like six months ago? Y/N thinks to herself as she smiles at Harry. She finds herself liking him more with every word that comes out of that pretty mouth of his. If only she had met him before she met Mark. Things would be easier, that’s for sure.

The two of them agree on a time for tomorrow, six in the evening, before saying their goodbyes and walking into their homes that were side by side. After Y/N takes off her shoes and coat, she walks towards her bedroom to get changed into some workout clothes for a quick at home video before she ate dinner. Just as she’s changing she hears the muffled sounds of Harry’s guitar - something she’s grown fond of hearing through their shared wall. Maybe she’ll get him to play her something tomorrow, she thinks with a smile.

Y/N makes her way back into her living room and starts up her workout video. She does some jumping jacks to get her warmed up, but honestly, her heart is already pounding in her chest from her interaction with Harry and the plans they have made. Without a doubt she knows she’ll be counting down the hours during her work day tomorrow till six o’clock.

Elf or Polar Express? Both were very different Christmas movies, and they were the two she was torn between taking over to Harry’s. They hadn’t talked about who’s apartment they would hang out in, but as it was ten minutes to six, she hoped to get out the door and knock on his first, in order to get the chance to ask him to play his guitar for her maybe. But that’s not how it’s going to work out because Y/N’s too busy being stuck between two of her favourite movies when suddenly, there’s a knock at her door. She frowns knowing that it’s Harry and wouldn’t get to hear him play guitar, but gets up from where she was sitting crossed legged on the floor to answer the door.

Her fuzzy socks pad across the hardwood floor as she walks to her door, peering through the peephole quickly to double check to see it was Harry. She smiles at the sight of his floppy brown hair and unlocks her door before swinging it open. Harry looks up as she opens the door, meeting her gaze for only a moment before he watches her take in his apparel.

He had thought about it for way too long, what he was to wear to hangout and watch movies with the girl he liked, but ended up staying dressed down as he was all day. Y/N liked how the plain white shirt he wore fit him, only a small brand logo that was over his heart, but she really liked the pastel rainbow coloured sweatpants he wore too. He looks comfy and ready to lay back and relax for a few hours with her. He’s not wearing any shoes though, which makes Y/N furrows her brows for a second.

“I didn’t really see any point in putting on shoes for the few feet out of my apartment,” Harry states quickly to let her know. Y/N nods, chuckling under her breath, but understanding what he means. She steps back and lets him into her home.

Harry takes in the atmosphere of Y/N’s apartment for the second time now. The glow from her many Christmas lights makes him feel warm inside, and her Christmas tree was the focal point of it all. He likes the odd ornaments that are littered among the branches, and he can’t quite make out what they all are, but something tells him that they each hold a special meaning to Y/N. Maybe some from her childhood, others from some trips she’s had - he could see her collecting them from anywhere she’s travelled to. Harry makes a mental note to ask her at one point.

“I was thinking of making some hot chocolate, and I have a bag of, like, this candy cane and white chocolate pretzels that I’ve been obsessed with lately and was going to munch on that during the movie, but I have a bunch of other snacks too, honestly,” Y/N starts to explain to Harry. He turns on his heels to see she’s already locked her door and is now moving into the kitchen.

“I’m cool with some hot chocolate,” Harry nods, “and I’ll give the pretzels a try, they sound good.”

“They are so good, oh my god,” she moans at the mere thought of eating them. Bending down to open her bottom drawer, she reveals a well organized array of munchies that looked like a stoner's heaven.

As she’s ruffling through the drawer Harry takes in her outfit. She’s got on a pair of Christmas themed pajama bottoms with little snowflakes scattered along the dark blue material that matched with her plain dark blue shirt. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, wispy hairs falling around her face as it looks as though it’s been up all day and she hasn’t cared to fix it. Overall, she looks comfortable and at ease - as she should be in her own home. He had wondered if she ever dressed down, seeing as he had only ever seen her after a day of work dressed in trendy high fashion, but somehow casual clothing. Christmas pajamas suit her, he thinks with a smile.

Y/N gets a hold of the bag of pretzels she’s talking about and opens it, taking one out for herself right away to bite down on before turning to Harry who’s standing in her kitchen. She smiles at the pretzel and lifts the bag to him. Harry takes a few steps towards her before reaching into the bag and grabbing one for himself. He brings it to his mouth and Y/N watches for his reaction. His jaw flexes as he chews down on the sweet yet salty treat.

Harry hums and nods, reaching into the bag again, “not bad,” he says before chewing on another one. Y/N smiles and passes him the bag all together, turning towards the stove top to turn on the kettle already filled with water.

“Can you find two mugs in that cabinet?” Y/N asks Harry as she looks to her left and sees him standing in front of the cabinet that held her many mugs and glasses. She points to it and Harry nods. He puts the bag of pretzels down after sneaking one last one into his mouth, and opens the cabinet door to reveal Y/N’s collection of mugs. He goes for the two at the front, which were Christmas themed, of course; one shaped like the Grinch and the other like Santa. As he sets them down on the counter in front of him, beside the bag of pretzels that he sticks his hand into again, he notices a glass container full of brown powder that he assumes is her hot chocolate mix.

“Is this your hot chocolate mix?” He asks, just to be sure.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, “I honestly make myself a cup almost every night during the colder seasons.”

“Are you a coffee or tea person?” Harry asks, keeping his eyes on the container as he twists it open and sees a metal teaspoon measuring cup inside already. He starts to scoop some into each mug as he waits for Y/N’s answer. Although he is very aware of her possibly liking coffee, considering how he’s seen her with many Starbucks cups before.

“Yeah, I enjoy both too. I have way too much coffee during my work days, and tea reminds me of the days at my grandparents,” she explains, watching Harry scoop her preferred amount of mix into each mug without even asking. She smiles softly, seeing him reach for yet another pretzel too.

“Are you saying tea is for old people?” Harry questions, raising a brow as he peers at Y/N in the corner of his eye. Y/N rolls her eyes, a smile still on her lips. Her kettle begins to squeal into the air, but she’s quick to turn and take it off the heat. She turns off the stove and uses a tea towel to bring it over to the mugs - Harry steps back out of her way, but not before grabbing the bag of pretzels.

“Old people and the British too, of course,” Y/N teases.

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says in agreement. He waits till Y/N fills the mugs and sets the kettle back down on the stovetop before he steps back to the counter and wraps a hand around the handle of the Grinch mug. Y/N is quick, stepping towards him and gently slapping his hand.

Harry flinches his hand away and raises a brow at Y/N, jokingly taken back by her action. Y/N bites down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from giggling over how cute that look on his face was.

“I have whipped cream that’s in a can, but it’s still good,” Y/N states, giving him a look that said ‘back off and let me do this’. Harry only chuckles again and nods. “Also slow down on the pretzels, if I don’t get any during the movie I’ll be very upset.”

“They’re addicting, sorry,” Harry mumbles through his mouth full of pretzels, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Trust me, I know. That’s like my fourth bag this week, I swear,” she states with a chuckle.

As Y/N walks to her fridge Harry steps up to the mugs once more and takes a chance on the drawer directly under them for a spoon. His instincts are right as he pulls the drawer open to see her utensils; he grabs a teaspoon in order to stir the hot chocolate. Y/N turns back from the fridge with the whipped cream can in hand, turning around to see Harry focused on the mugs. She smiles, tilting her head as she watches him nudge the drawer closed with his hip, and begin to stir the contents of them till the powder was all mixed in with the water. Look at them being all domestic, she thinks. Licking her lips, she shakes her head a little and walks up to Harry, shaking the can of whipped cream and waits for him to finish stirring. He sets the spoon in the sink and watches as Y/N tops off the mugs with a heap of whipped cream.

“You better actually eat the whipped topping this time,” Harry says to her teasingly, referring to when they had hot chocolate in the park, and she let her whipped cream melt. Y/N chuckles and brings the tip of the whipped cream can to her open mouth.

She puts pressure on the top again and makes the sweet cream pile into her mouth as she tips her head back, the aerosol can is the only noise in the room as Harry watches her do it. His breath catches in his throat and he blinks several times as he imagines an entirely different scenario with this whipped cream can and her mouth. Y/N brings the whipped cream away from her mouth and swallows, watching Harry do the same thing - did she make him feel uncomfortable? She thinks to herself as she licks her lips and looks down at the ground. Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it, she thinks while walking back to the fridge to return the whipped cream to the shelf. When she turns back, she sees that Harry has both mugs in his hands.

“Maybe I should just have both of these, since you’re probably full from that mouth full of whipped cream,” Harry teases her, bringing both mugs to his lips, acting as if he’s going to slurp up the whipped topping that’s nearly flowing over the side.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N gasps, reaching forward quickly for the Grinch mug, but Harry moves it out of her grasp faster.

“I want the Grinch one,” he says with a slight whine to his voice. Y/N can’t stop the giggle this time, blushing afterwards as she thinks of how freaking adorable he is.

“Fine,” she sighs and takes the Santa mug from him instead.

Harry grins and lets her lead the way back into her living room, the bag of pretzels in his other hand. Y/N sets her mug down on the coaster on the coffee table, just like she had with her glass of wine the last time Harry was over. He watches as she sits cross legged on the floor in front of her tv stand. Y/N grabs the two movies she was debating over earlier in each hand and lifts them up for Harry to see. He loves them both of course.

“Which one? I can’t decide,” Y/N states. Harry hums and lifts his mug to his lip to slurp up some whipped cream.

“Elf,” Harry answers, “I’m in a Will Ferrel comedy kind of mood,” he adds.

“Alright,” Y/N chuckles under her breath and turns away from Harry to open her DVD player and then open the case for Elf. He liked that she had the movies on physical DVD, not just clicking away on a streaming app. She places the DVD in the player and then closes it again before standing up quickly and skipping over to the couch, plopping down excitedly but gently that Harry isn’t even scared that he’ll spill his hot chocolate.

“We can watch the other one next time,” Harry suggests, feeling brave in the moment as the trailers start to play softly on the screen and Y/N is reaching for the remote that sat on the coffee table. She looks at him and smiles.

“‘kay, yeah, next time,” she pauses but then points the remote at Harry. “But next time you’re hosting, I feel like we should switch it up sometimes,” she adds and waits to see Harry nod with a smile before she turns to the TV and gets to the main menu of the movie.

“Fair, I just think my place lacks the holiday cheer that we would want,” Harry explains. Y/N stops her from hitting play right away and leans back into the couch, flopping her head to the side to look at Harry. He’s still holding his mug, which reminds her that her own is sitting there untouched, so she sits up again and grabs it.

“Well you know what would fix that?” She questions, bringing the mug to her lips and slurping up some of the whipped cream that was in fact already melting. Harry watches her as her eyes are glued to her mug, focused on not spilling it over the sides it seems.

“Decorations?” He asks, still watching her. He smiles as she licks her upper lip that’s covered in melting whipped cream.

“Exactly,” she nods enthusiastically. She takes another few sips of her hot chocolate before leaning back into her couch once again, getting all snuggled up before lifting the remote to the TV and hitting play.

“I’m not really good with decorating - my sister and mom did my apartment to be honest,” Harry admits. Y/N watches the opening scene of one of her favourite Christmas movies, feeling all giddy inside as it’s the first time she’s watching it this holiday season. She gets like this every year with every holiday movie.

“Well, I can help you out. Maybe we can do a little trip to Target before our next movie night. Then do a quick set up and then watch the movie after,” Y/N suggests, nervously peering over at Harry over the rim of her mug after. She doesn’t know if she’s crossing a line or anything. She just wants to spend more time with him, even if it’s just as friends.

Harry gives Y/N a half smile, one of his dimples making an appearance as he looks into her eyes. He would love that, honestly. The idea of them wandering through the Christmas isles at Target as she gives him advice on what decorations would go together and fit his apartment style; they would set up the decorations after and he’d watch her be in her element. Maybe he’d put on some Christmas music and hope she would dance around. Harry gives Y/N a short nod.

“I like that plan,” Harry tells her.

Y/N smiles and nods back at him. “Then it’s a deal, we’ll set a time after the movie. It’s about to get good,” she says, looking back at the TV screen again as Will Ferrel’s character makes his appearance.

“The whole movie is good,” Harry states.

“Shh,” Y/N hushes him, taking another sip of her drink and keeping her eyes on the movie. Harry smiles and watches her watch Elf. He notices her hand gently tapping the cushion between them after a moment. Harry chuckles under his breath and nudges the bag of pretzels open, taking a few for himself before facing the bag her way. Once she’s got one between her teeth she feels completely content.

She’s got a cup of yummy hot chocolate, her favourite snack, Christmas lights are twinkling around her, one of her favourite Christmas movies is playing, and she’s with good company too. In fact, she finds herself not once thinking of Mark the rest of the night. Even in her dreams, it’s Harry, again.

They exchanged phone numbers. It’s not a big deal, Harry thinks to himself as he gets a third text from his newest contact in his phone. But it felt like a big deal; it was an easy way to get a hold of her whenever he needed to or wanted to even. Not that he would just bother her for no good reason. As much as he’d like to text with her all day, he knows that they really just exchanged phone numbers in order to plan to hangout easily. Like for today, Y/N had a long work day, but still wanted to take Harry Christmas decor shopping, so she was asking him if he could just meet her at the closest Target.

There’s one a few blocks away from the apartment, I’ll send you the location, are you able to meet me there? She texts along with a Google Maps link to the store. Harry tapped out a response right away, letting his focus sway away from the TV show he had on when her name lit up his screen.

Sounds good to me, what time? Harry hits send and notices the bubble with three dots pop up right away. She must have a moment at work right now; he checks the time to see it’s just past noon, assuming she’s on her lunch break.

I should be leaving the office by 3pm today, then it’s like a 15 minutes subway ride and 5 minute walk to get there for me. So like 3:30ish, is that okay with you? Wait. Are you busy today? I didn’t even ask if you were working too, sorry. She sends the texts in a few separate bubbles, realizing that she didn’t even ask if Harry was working or not today. Y/N has no idea what the schedule of a songwriter was like. Harry chuckles at her little panic and types out his response.

Super busy…. Watching mindless TV shows on Netflix. He adds a laughing emoji for good measure, to which Y/N replies with some of her own laughing emojis before saying God I wish that was how my day was going.

Y/N ends up texting Harry her whole lunch break. He asks about what she’s been doing today, his responses seeming very interested in the adventures she has had in the office being a stand in model since her measurements were close to a clients. She then asks what show he’s watching, to which he tells her about this Netflix baking show called Sugar Rush and he tells her about the challenge the contestants on the most recent episode endured. Y/N finds herself smiling at her screen, nearly forgetting to even eat her lunch. Sammy clears his throat just a few minutes before their time is up and causes her to look up at him, raising her eyebrows at his own.

“What?” She asks, stabbing her fork into the salad she had Sammy pick up for her earlier.

“Nothing,” Sammy hums, Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just noticed you’ve been quite busy on that phone of yours for the past, oh, I don’t know, twenty five minutes,” Sammy teases her, eyes widening slightly and motioning his hands in the air with his words. He did that a lot, talking with his hands, that is.

“So?” Y/N tries to brush off her friend's pushy behaviour.

“So? Really? We’re just going to act as if you’re not giggling at your phone screen like a little school girl?” Sammy questions.

“I am not doing that,” Y/N huffs.

“Yeah, sure, sweetie and I’m straight,” Sammy rolls his eyes dramatically and then pouts while shaking his body in his seat. Y/N furrows her brows at his behaviour. “I live off your love life. Please give me something, anything. Please just tell me that you’re talking to that hot neighbour of yours and let me continue on my merry little day knowing that your love life is about to be thriving while mine is dead.”

Y/N sighs and tries to ignore as her phone vibrates again, signalling that Harry had texted her back. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over his chest, covering the deep v-cut of her black body suit that she was wearing with a pair of red slim legged slacks, and a matching red blazer that was currently laying over the back of the chair she sat in. Amanda didn’t have any sort of dress code for work, merely to come in looking professional and stylish, which for Y/N, meant a good pant suit moment every once in a while. But with still keeping it sexy and young by pairing it with a bodysuit.

“Fine, I’m texting Harry,” Y/N tells Sammy, feeding into his gossip need for the day. “We actually hung out two night ago, he came over for a movie night-”

“What?! Why am I just hearing about this now?” Sammy questions, sitting up quickly and throwing his hands in the air. “What happened? Touching? Did you kiss? Oh my lord, tell me what his peni-”

“Sammy! Oh my god, relax, please,” Y/N cuts him off, putting a hand up to stop him from talking. “Nothing happened. Sorry to disappoint, but I am still in a relationship with Mark. Harry just came over, we made some hot chocolate and polished off a bag of those delicious candy cane pretzels.”

“Those pretzels are good,” Sammy nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but anyways, nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen. We’re just friends, and I enjoy being around him a lot. So, today after work we’re going to Target to buy his apartment some decorations, then we’ll probably order in some food and watch another movie.”

“Sounds pretty couple-y to me,” Sammy says in a high pitched tone. Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at her friend again.

Y/N couldn’t lie, though. The few hours later in Target, they looked like a couple. Harry pushes the cart down the aisle while she tilts her head and debates which tinsel really fit Harry’s aesthetic. She brings the Starbucks cup to her lips and sips the warm caramel flavoured latte. Y/N was pleasantly surprised when she saw Harry walking up to her outside the Target with two Starbucks holiday cups in his hand. He gave her a timid smile and explained what both of the drinks were, saying he hadn’t tasted either and wanted to see what she wanted first before taking the other for himself. It was unexpected and ridiculously sweet of him to do.

“I think red would look really nice around your apartment, kind of spice up the place a little,” Y/N explains, her free hand skimming over the many different tinsels that were hanging up before her. Harry agrees, red would look nice in his apartment and spice things up a lot, except his mind is thinking of this red pant suit she’s wearing right now. He thinks it would look rather nice on his bedroom floor.

When she walked up to him and he took in her outfit, he nearly tripped over his own feet and spilled the two coffees he brought with him. But he kept himself together, well, sort of. He stumbled over his words, rambled like a fool about why he got the two coffees for her, but they finally got into the store, which now, he’s just been checking her out as they walked to the Christmas section. Get it together, Harry thinks to himself.

“Red’s nice,” Harry says, his voice cracking slightly. So, he clears his throat and steps away from the cart to pick up a piece of tinsel that Y/N was looking at. “I like the bit of silver mixed in too,” he comments.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she says with a smile before grabbing four more of the same one and adding it to the cart. Harry does the same with the one in his hand and then puts his hands on the cart once more, pushing it back and forth just a few inches. Harry can’t stop himself from admiring that suit once more as she bends down to check out the many different boxes of tree ornaments.

“Which ones?” Y/N asks, quickly turning her body. Y/N catches his gaze on her body, but Harry blinks quickly and meets her stare. The corner of her lips tug up into a smug smile at the thought of Harry checking her out.

“The ones in your, uh, your right hand,” Harry answers her questions, clearing his throat again and watching as she stands straight before putting the ornaments into the cart.

They continue their way through Target, still looking very much like a couple as they grab a few bags of the candy cane pretzels that Y/N got Harry hooked on the other night before heading to the check out. Harry insists on paying for the few little items of Y/N’s in the cart, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t a huge deal. He almost doesn’t let her carry a single thing, but she quickly gets a hold of a standing Santa decoration that was too big for a bag and hugs it to her chest their whole walk home.

Harry unlocks his apartment door for them, noticing how their neighbour Mr Matthers is opening his at the same time to peer out and see who’s in the hallway. Harry holds open the door for Y/N, she thanks him in a small voice and smiles at him. Looking back out into the hallway, Harry waves at Mr Matthers, who simply returns it with a scowl on his face before Harry steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Suppose their neighbour is a bit jealous of Harry, he’s seen the way he looks at Y/N. Hell, especially today in that suit, everyone on the street was looking at Y/N with wide eyes and big smiles - Harry felt like quite the lucky guy, little did everyone know they were in fact not together. Just friends, Harry reminds himself for the millionth time.

“Oh, I love the tree,” Y/N states, her voice bringing Harry back to Earth as he locks the door and walks over to his coffee table to set down the many bags in his arms. Y/N is still holding the Santa decoration to her chest, looking at the fake Christmas tree he had purchased on Amazon yesterday on a whim. He was thinking about them decorating together again, and thought that it wouldn’t feel right if he didn't have a tree too. It’s a good thing he told Y/N over text, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten ornaments or anything for it.

“Yeah, I just got the first one that included lights on Amazon, to be honest,” Harry tells her. Y/N chuckles and walks over, setting the Santa decoration just beside the tree gently.

She brushes a hand over the tree and smiles, “it’s wonderful, really pulls the whole festive look together in my opinion.”

“I agree,” Harry nods. He grabs for the TV remote and turns it on, quickly turning the volume down before he sets it up to the music channels - clicking on the Christmas tunes without a second thought. Y/N watches Harry, her heart hammering in her chest as the soft sounds of Michael Buble fills the room. Mark would never do any of this - he wouldn’t voluntarily put on Christmas music, ever. In fact, he shut off the station in her car on the way to the airport. And he definitely wouldn’t decorate with her either, seeing as he thinks that her apartment looks childish. She pouts at the thought of her and Mark’s phone call the other day. He hasn’t called or texted her since.

“Did you not want to listen to Christmas music?” Harry asks suddenly, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts and turns to look at him. He’s taking off his jacket, revealing a white shirt underneath with a bumble bee and some blue writing around it, paired with his purple trousers and a pair of white socks on his feet after slipping out of his shoes too. Y/N loves his simple yet not basic style.

“No, no,” Y/N assures him, finally unbuttoning her blazer now and taking off the mittens and beanie she had worn in the cold. She stuffs them into the blazer pocket and slips out of it. “I love Christmas music so much, honestly maybe a little too much, Mark hates it,” she admits.

A shiver falls over her body as she realizes then she’s simply in the rather thin bodysuit that also dipped very low in the front. Y/N doesn’t look at Harry as she feels her nipples harder from the coolness of his apartment, embarrassed as she didn’t prepare for her attire after going out. Harry suddenly lifts up a hand, his pointer finger up as if to say ‘one second’, then he’s walking down the hallways and returns not even a minute later with a black sweater in hand.

“It’s clean, just washed today, I promise,” Harry tells her, holding out one of his favourite jumpers for her. He had been given a few merchandising pieces from the label over the years and this plain black jumper that read ‘Columbia’ on the front in white has been in his possession for a couple years now. In his opinion, it was very comfortable due to how much he’s worn it.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly while taking it from him.

She puts it on and is immediately warmer. Her hands cover completely because of how long the sleeves are and it falls down past her bum too, due to the large size. She looks good, Harry thinks as he takes in her wearing his clothing. Y/N smiles and turns to grab things from the Target bags they had just brought in.

“Okay, let’s begin with the tree then,” she says excitedly, trying to clap her hands together but just ends up smacking the sleeves of Harry’s hoodie together.

It’s just as Harry imagined it. The soft lights from the Christmas tree glow over the shadows of Y/N’s face as she wraps the red tinsel around the base of it before passing it to Harry in order for him to reach the taller portion of the tree. She dances when Jingle Bell Rock plays on the TV, his jumper swaying around her body because of how big it is on her. They’re both smiling and singing along to the music, jokingly of course. Harry wasn’t about to show her all his little secrets and start belting out White Christmas along with the singers of Wham!

“Can you pass me a couple of the silver balls?” Y/N asks Harry, her eyes on the tree as she put the last red ball ornament she had grabbed onto a branch. Harry raises his eyebrows in a joking manner.

“The what?” He questions, but still making his way to where the array of different coloured ball ornaments laid on the couch.

“Like two of the balls,” she says again. Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling up and his dimples fully showing as he does. Y/N furrows her brows, but then gets why he’s laughing. “You’re a child,” she scolds him playfully.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry states, grabbing two of the ornaments she’s asking for and passing them to her.

“Thank you for the balls, Harry,” she says. They both end up laughing this time, she can’t help it. His laughter is contagious with how his eyes squint up and his dimple somehow deepens, not to mention the little vocal ‘aha’ he does before laughing. It makes Y/N’s stomach ache, not from laughing too, but with the butterflies. Those stupid little butterflies that have made a home inside of her stomach since meeting this kind, handsome, British man.

Once the tree is done, Y/N beats Harry to ordering them food. They decide on getting sushi, which is something she could never order with Mark since he has this personal vendetta against seafood for some reason. But Mark isn’t on her mind for long. It’s all Harry, all the freaking time. She likes how he beams a winning smile at the delivery guy and thanks him three times in the sixty seconds he’s at his door, and how he barely pays his phone any attention the whole night besides when it chimes with a few texts that he explains is his workmates group chat. Now, she can’t stop watching him chew his food; how his jaw flexes with each bite and how his eyebrows furrow when he can’t get the chopsticks to grab the California roll he wanted. Why do I find him eating so attractive? Y/N shakes her head slightly and forces herself to look back at the TV that’s playing the Sugar Rush show on Netflix that Harry was texting her about earlier.

Harry collects their take out containers after a few moments to ensure that Y/N is done, asking her just to be sure she doesn’t want the two pieces that are left over. She thanks him, but says no, and he manages to grab all five containers in one trip to the kitchen. His mom most definitely raised him well, Y/N thinks as she lays back on his couch and watches the TV show. It suddenly hits Y/N, his brows pulling together as she pushes herself to sit up and turns her body to look behind her through the open concept to look at Harry.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” She asks him. Y/N assumed home was England, besides obvious factors, but she remembers him telling her about driving in London once. Harry brushes his hands on a tea towel that's hanging off his stove before turning to walk back into the living room.

“Um, no, not this year,” Harry says.

“Oh, do you typically go home and visit your family? You mentioned your mom and sister had decorated this place though, do they live here?” She throws the other questions his way as he walks around the couch and sits in his spot again.

“They all live in England, yeah,” he nods, “my mom, my step dad, older sister and her boyfriend all flew out here with me to help me settle in the few years back when I got my job. But I do usually go home for holidays, or just casually during the summer. Earlier this year I had to make an unexpected trip,” Harry pauses and clears his throat as he looks away from Y/N as he feels that familiar pain in his chest, “my step dad passed away. So it just took a bit of money out of my account, I decided not to fork out the money for expensive flights during the holidays.”

Hearing that Harry had lost his step dad recently torn Y/N’s heart in two. She frowns, taking a deep breath before reaching over and placing a hand over Harry’s that rested folded in his lap. Harry looks at where their skin touched, it felt like his hands were vibrating under her touch. She swipes her thumb over his knuckles, the touch so soft like a feather just barely skimming over his skin. Harry has to stop himself from flipping his hand over slowly and intertwining their fingers together. She has a boyfriend, she’s just being a good person and comforting a friend.

“I’m very sorry to hear about your step dad, Harry,” she soft and gentle voice, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his knuckle again as she watches him inhale deeply through his nose.

Harry clears his throat of the threatening tears and shakes his head slightly, a piece of his hair falling onto his forehead as he does. He takes one of his hands and lays it over Y/N’s, giving it a few pats. Tonight had been good

and fun, and he didn’t want to go ruining the mood with his tears. So, he lifts his head and looks at Y/N, finding her somber eyes staring at him already. He forces a smile, licking his lips before clearing his throat again.

“Thank you,” he says, “I don’t want to make this good night all emotional now, so yeah, the short answer is I’m not leaving the city for the holidays this year. I do have a trip planned in March to see my mum for mothers day though,” Harry explains, rubbing Y/N’s hand that’s between his.

Y/N mirrors his smile, although it’s not as full as usual, a bit sad still as she thinks about what Harry and his family must’ve gone through this year - and that his mother won’t see her son her first Christmas without her husband to top it all off. Maybe she could buy his flights? But no, no she couldn’t, she thinks sadly. They sit there like that for another moment, her hand between his much larger once, and they stare at each other. Finally, Y/N lets out a sigh and tries to get out of her head before she ends up crying. Harry lets go of her hand slowly, and she brings both hands to her face to brush back her hair. Harry does the same to get the strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead back into place.

“Well I’m glad you can go see your mom for mothers day, at least,” Y/N says, looking at the positive. Harry nods and then leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to stretch out.

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, “she’s already telling me all about the plans she’s made for my trip and talks my ear right off as if it’s happening tomorrow.” Harry tells Y/N with a chuckle.

Hearing his little laugh brings a real smile to her face this time. “I’m sure she’s counting the days till you fly in,” Y/N says. She is starting to feel a little tired as she lays back on the couch, laying her legs out on the chaise. Harry watches as she pulls the sleeves of his jumper back down, she had rolled them up while eating so they didn’t get in the way, but he likes the sweater paw look on her as she snuggles into the couch.

“Do you spend Christmas at home still?” Harry asks her, keeping his voice soft as he realizes it’s gotten late and both their eyelids are getting heavy.

“My parents have something on Christmas Eve, sometimes I spend the night, other times I make my way home,” she exclaims vaguely.

Y/N doesn’t love her times at home anymore; she finds her parents ‘I’m too rich for anything' attitude to be tiresome. As she grew up into her own person, she realized the privilege she had with the wealth she grew up with. She started to see how pointless some parties her mother threw, and how little she would have to try to just coast through life. Y/N didn’t want to grow up like every other bratty kid on the Upper East Side, so she moved out right after graduation, got into fashion school, focused on herself, and earned her own money - all while learning of how to use her privilege for good, like donating her time and money to good causes. Something her parents only did to look good within their social circle.

So, going back home for over the top holiday parties, getting gifted a new car every year, and seeing her parents throw their money at whatever, really only bothered her more than anything. Y/N would simply stop in for Christmas Eve, enjoy a few hours with family and then go home to her own world again.

A yawn slips past Y/N’s mouth as she’s deep in thought, which then makes Harry yawn as the both of them bring their hands to cover their mouth and then letting out soft laughter afterwards. Y/N sits up and stretches both arms above her head. “I guess I should head home,” she says before standing up slowly.

“Yeah, you’ve got a long way to go,” Harry jokes.

“Oh yeah, it’ll take me ages,” Y/N adds onto the joke with a smile. “Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it,” she says.

Harry nods, “well thank you for helping me with all this,” he says, motioning to the decorating they had done. They both glance around the room then at their work. The red and silver decor matched Harry’s aesthetic perfectly, just as Y/N thought it would.

“We didn’t watch Polar Express,” Y/N realizes suddenly, pouting.

“Next time, Y/N,” Harry chuckles. She huffs and lets out a sigh, muttering a quiet ‘fine’ before making her way towards his front door. Harry follows behind her, planning to lock the door and listen till she gets into her own apartment before getting ready for bed.

“Should I text you when I’m home safe? It’s just so far away,” Y/N continues to joke around, causing Harry to smile as he watches her grab her blazer and slip into her shoes.

“You never know, Mr Matthers across the hall could intercept you on the way home and kidnap you. I wouldn’t sleep till I got that text knowing you got home safely,” Harry says, half joking. Cause you never know with Mr Matthers, he thinks. Y/N laughs and hugs her blazer to her stomach while standing beside the door, reaching for the handle but keeping her gaze on him.

“Mr Matthers is harmless,” Y/N says.

“He’s obsessed with you,” Harry counters back. Y/N just rolls her eyes and unlocks the door before swinging it open.

“Goodnight Harry,” she says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry says back with a smile. She mirrors his smile and then walks off into the hallway. Harry watches the door shut behind her and walks over to lock it before turning off the few lights in the living room and entryway. As he is turning off his TV his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Made it home safely and in bed! Sweet dreams read Y/N’s text sent seconds ago. Harry breathes out a chuckle as he walks down the hallway to his bathroom to begin his nightly routine. As he turns on the light for his bathroom he types back a response. Cheeky.. Sweet dreams Y/N. He turns off the screen before he stands there and waits for her to reply with anything, his heart would even flutter over an emoji.

He was so far gone for this girl, he couldn’t stop himself from falling any longer - but it had felt inevitable from the moment his eyes had met hers in the elevator.

>> part three <<

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

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