#IT'S ALL BEEN A BIT SILLY AND RIDICULOUS AND ID LIKE A BREAK IN THE NEW YEAR THANKS

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

merry christmas yall, i hope everyone has a safe and peaceful holiday, even if this time of the year sucks due to life shit and circumstances. and i hope 2024 is kinder to us all ❤️

[wannaeatramyeon]

Yandere!DG + Reader: His hold on you

TW: as above, nothing too bad tho. Platonic. Could be read as x reader if you want. For non-anon anon request.

Friends tell you you're lucky to know someone like DG, to have him look out for you. Introduce me, they would ask and when you shake your head, their eyes cloud with resentment and jealousy.

DG had warned you not to share anything about him, no matter how much your friends begged. A little part of you preens at the special connection between the two of you. It's private, intimate. A secret little club just for you and him.

You hold onto this connection and thought when your friends distance themselves.

Even your own parents are blinded by the pop-idol persona; the fame and fortune and perks of being associated with the country's favourite singer. All too happy to let you and DG spend time together. They dismiss any concerns with a wave of their hand while surrounded by lavish gifts.

So who can you actually tell, who will listen when you mention how uncomfortable you are. How you can't exactly put your finger on why your skin crawls, your stomach drops, and the discomfort continues to grow each time DG contacts you.

(Truly, the hold he has on you scares you, you admit to yourself that one time. The last time you can recall DG leaving you just about long enough so you can form your own thoughts. Moments of clarity before he sinks his claws in again. He has only made that mistake once.)

He used to be sweet, and you would respond to him giddy with excitement. DG! A K-pop idol! Paying attention to me!

But now he feeds you far too much bitterness. It's unbalanced. You never know which side of him you get.

When he pushes just a little bit too much, when you want to scream at him to leave you alone through tears, he's all sunshine and sugar again. Like how it used to be. Like he knows what words are on the tip on your tongue.

And when you're all buttered up, then he would chide you for being silly and young and you should just listen to him, his voice light and full of laughter. Hasn't he been good to you? Hasn't he been good to your parents?

Yeah he has, you concede. He's older, more experienced, seen the world. He's right. What do you know in comparison? Barely anything.

So it's fine. Everything is fine. You're just spiralling for nothing.

On top of that, the last few months have been better.

He's been nothing but nice to you. You can't bring yourself to ruin such a good thing.

Yet something unsettles you. And you know you sound insane. Crazy. Because why would DG do this? Why would he even break in?

Things are misplaced in your own room, or something you swear was right there disappears for a few days and miraculously turns up.

Little harmless things. Things you should hardly notice it but the insidiousness builds and builds and builds.

A book missing on your bookshelf, photos switched around.

You stop being able to relax or rest in your own home, only catching moments of fitful sleep as your mind races and your sanity hangs by a thread thinking someone has been in your space and messed with your things.

Even your ID disappeared. You turned your room inside out, was shouted at by your parents for losing such an important thing before it appeared on your bed.

Lying right in the middle, on top of the covers. So obvious. You can't have missed it.

Could you?

"Why would I do that? How? You must be seeing things." DG denies when you ask, body looming over yours and eyes flashing.

Maybe he's right. This is DG after all. He's busy. He's been nice lately. You don't want to rock the boat.

You think about your missing items, the misplaced things. Yeah. It is ridiculous to think DG would have any involvement.

Must all be in your own head.

"Y/N," he says, lips quirking and eyes a little unhinged, "It's funny though. Isn't it? If someone messed with you like this."

Is it? You think it's not, but you don't know what to think anymore.

"Seeing you go a little crazy," DG prods.

"It's ok to laugh." Somehow that feels like a threat.

So you laugh and laugh and laugh yourself sick, until your eyes are streaming and you convince yourself it's tears of laughter and DG is right.

[anika-ann]

One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.  

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.  

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers​.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’  Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

[taetaespeaches]

“It’s everything to lose.”

taehyung x reader/oc  (but also jimin x platonic reader/oc) genre: angst word count: 6K

a/n: well, this was a process to write lol. Basically, Peaches/reader and Tae are experiencing a mix of feelings due to their best friends’ (Jimin and Dear) break up. Fears of a possible relationship with each other are worsened, plus, Tae and Peaches are just sad because their closest friends are sad. Also, Peaches finally talks to Jimin for the first time after he broke up with Dear, so that’s a big part of this as well. And we get a brief moment between Peaches and Dear, our ride or die duo. Ok, that’s really it. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

Grasping the back of your neck, you massaged your muscles as you yawned, your eyes set on the coffee percolating into the pot. You loved your best friend, and of course you wanted to be there for her, but her post-break up antics were beginning to wear on you as you failed to get accustomed to running on five or less hours of sleep night after night.

Leaning over the countertop, you looked through your most recent texts with your other best friend, Taehyung. The conversation, which started with him bragging about an amazing waffle he had just eaten, had turned a bit sour as you both defended opposing friends in their recent breakup.

It was hard to find common ground with the man these days, as he was on tour with the antagonist of your friends’ little drama, and you were in a constant state of being the shoulder to cry on for the dear protagonist. A sigh slipped from your lips as you scanned through the messages, the grumbling of the coffee pot sounding in the otherwise silent apartment.

You: He dumped her through text while he was away on tour. That’s fucking ridiculous and it’s cowardly.

Tae: You don’t know what’s going through his mind though.

You: There’s obviously not much going through his mind.

Tae: He’s your friend too.

You: And he broke my best friend’s heart.

Tae: I know that. I’m sorry, I hate this whole situation.

You: Me too. I’m sorry and I hate it too.

Tae: Is she at your place again?

You: No, I’m sure she will be but right now she’s out drinking with those stupid friends she has.

Tae: Oh….

You: Yeah. I’m anxious as fuck. I wanted to keep her from going out but you know, I can’t do that. She has to do what she’s gonna do.

Tae: I’m sorry to add to your stress.

Tae: She’ll be ok, Peaches.

You: No, it’s ok, you could never truly add to my stress. You’re my comfort, Tae, you know that.

Tae: I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle like this.

You: I’m sorry you are too. I’m gonna try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a good night, Dearest.

Tae: Sweet dreams, Peaches.

Craving for two seconds away from the ongoing story of your friends’ turbulent romance, you scrolled up on your text conversation with Tae, a faint smile appearing on your lips at the photo of a waffle the size of the plate it sat upon, followed by a photo of Taehyung shoving a massive bite into his mouth.

Tae: It’s definitely big enough for the both of us but since you’re not here I guess I’ll have to manage it alone.

Tae: I miss sharing breakfast foods with you.

Tae: Never mind, this is so good, I’m glad you’re not here to eat it all.

Your brief moment of relief was broken when your screen changed to display a caller you were not prepared to speak to. Guilt and anxiety settled into your stomach as your breathing hitched slightly at the image of his name and photo. The contact ID reminded you of simpler times, the man pulling a silly expression with his chin tucked into his neck to give himself two of them. He had called you a few times the past couple days, but you’d consistently ignored them, trying to avoid hearing the voice of the man you considered one of your closest friends.

You almost didn’t answer again. Looking to the room your best friend slept in, a serious hangover awaiting her on the other side of slumber, your thumb pressed on the green circular button on the right side of the screen.  

Pausing a moment, you shook your head before raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice hushed as to not wake up the girl a few rooms away. A rush of air sounded through the phone, as if the man was sighing in relief, but that was the only response you received. “Jimin,” you sighed.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, defeat coating his tone. He must not have had the strength to pretend to be ok.  

Another awkward pause ensued, both of you waiting for the other to break the silence first. With another sigh, you stood up straight, turning your back to the counter as you leaned against it. “Can you say something?” You asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted lamely, you licking your lips which became quite dry suddenly.  

“You called me,” you pointed out, annoyance in your words that wasn’t intentional but was true to your current mood. “You’ve been calling me for days, but you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” he said shakily, and you were sure there were tears bubbling up in his eyes.

Hearing the sadness in his tone, you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to conceal your own emotions in response to his tone. You weren’t sure your feelings even mattered right then. “Well I answered,” you told him, in a sort of assurance. Assurance of what, neither of you were sure, but it allowed Jimin a small sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” the man whispered, causing you to clench your teeth to hold back your pity and consideration for him as you turned back around to the coffee machine.

“Don’t thank me,” you told him, a slight anger behind your tone. “What do you want to say? I have errands I need to run.”  

As Jimin prepared his words, going through his mind to figure out exactly why he was calling you, you patiently waited, halting your movements as your hand sat on the handle of the coffee pot. You knew he needed time to gather his thoughts, and though you were angry with him, you cared for him enough to give him that. “I just miss you,” he admitted, a crack in his voice indicating the earnest admission.

Taking in a shaky breath, you let it out in a wobbly exhale. “Of course I miss you too,” you said honestly. You refused to lie to him about that. “But I don’t want to talk to you, Jimin.”

His words tumbled out of him bitterly, but it was shrouded in frustration, which you believed to be with himself. “You were my friend first,” he said, uncertain whether he regretted the comment or not.

“I’m still your friend,” you told him adamantly, though your voice was still quiet.  

“Then please talk to me,” he begged, almost desperate for the affection you normally showed him. Well, that you showed him before he broke your best friend’s heart.

“I can’t,” you told him trying to sound stern, but your exhausted state ruining your feeble attempt to put up a front.

A sniffle sounded through the phone, adding to the heaviness in your heart. “Why not?”

Holding the phone to your ear with one hand, you moved your other from the coffee pot to the top of your head as you scratched your roots in frustration and distress. “I can’t risk saying something awful to you,” you confessed through an unsteady voice. And that was it. You were angry with him, but you didn’t want to hurt him. “I love you, you’re one of my favorite people on this entire planet, Jimin,” you cried, your sniffling giving away your emotion to the man on the other side of the phone.

“I’m sorry,” he told you in a rush as you wiped away a tear.

“I see her every day,” you told Jimin in a whisper, ensuring your voice was too low for your friend to hear you if she suddenly awoke. However, you were sure the quietness of your voice was giving away that the woman he still loved was just feet away from you; just feet away from the conversation currently taking place, asleep in your spare bedroom. “I’m so mad at you, Jimin, god I’m mad at you,” your voice suddenly broke, no longer able to hold back the pent-up emotions. If Jimin’s thoughts had strayed to the girl nearby, the sound of your distressed voice surely brought him back to the present conversation; the present state of your friendship. “I need to process all of this before I talk to you because I love you and I can’t say something I’ll regret or something I don’t mean,” you explained as tears spilled over your lash line.

“I understand,” he said roughly, clearing his voice right after as if he was trying to pull himself together for your sake.

“I just-” You paused, holding your breath as you attempted to swallow more tears. “I need time so I can forgive you,” you told him sadly, clenching your fist together as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you told him, your voice just above a whisper.

“Please don’t apologize,” he begged, choking back a sob. “I get it, take your time,” he assured you. “I’m really sorry for doing this,” he admitted sadly. The man sounded regretful and broken, your pity for him swirling around in the whirlwind of emotions you were currently experiencing. “All of it.”

You knew that was true. You knew he still loved her. And you knew he felt immense guilt for what he did to her, you, Taehyung, your whole friend unit, but mostly her. That much was obvious.  

“I do miss you,” you assured him through a small whimper, choosing to give him the reassurance rather than responding to his apology. “I won’t be mad forever.”

“I miss you too,” he told you sorrowfully. “I’ll be here whenever your feelings change.”

With that, you ended the call, leaving Jimin alone in his hotel room. Setting the phone to the counter, you wiped your face once more before grabbing the handle of the coffee pot, pouring some into the mug you had taken out earlier.

Thinking upon your conversation with Jimin, you wanted nothing more than to scream at him; tell him what an idiot he was. But you also wanted to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that he would be ok. You were my friend first. You scoffed, thinking of his remark, though a tear slid down your cheek. You wanted to be there for your friend, but how could you be when your other friend was just down the hallway, passed out after a night of trying to numb her heartache through the use of alcohol? He caused that pain. You were right to be mad at him… weren’t you?

It was almost astonishing how things, seemingly meant to be, could fall apart right before your eyes. Things weren’t always easy for Jimin and your friend, but they loved each other. One would think that love would be enough to get them through. But maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe fate isn’t enough.

Fate. Soulmates. They’re interesting concepts. Souls destined to find each other. But the rhetoric surrounding these notions don’t suggest that you’ll end up together.

But maybe if Jimin and your friend could see past everything that went wrong, they would find something worth fighting for still. It wasn’t simple, but it could be simpler for them.  

Something also simple but not simple at all was you and Taehyung. More and more recently, you had been realizing how much you love him. Maybe you both were meant to be together too. Tied together by the fate of your souls. But seeing how things can fall apart, perhaps it’s more risk than it’s worth. Wasn’t it better to have Tae in your life in the role of your best friend than it was to complicate things and lose him? You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t let yourself.

You sniveled as you brought the coffee to your lips, making an attempt at a deep breath before taking a sip. Your emotions needed to be locked down by the time your friend awoke. However, that concern came too late as two arms wrapped around your middle, the surprise affection causing you to jump in start.

The presence of her limbs were tentative as he she carefully rested the side of her face against your back. Breathing out in a huff, you relaxed a bit. “Jesus,” you spoke softly, but your friend gave you no response. Alarm bells went off in your head as her body trembled just slightly against yours. “You ok?” You asked, setting the mug down carefully.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed against you, and as your mind went into high alert, your heart plummeted into your gut. Immediately, you turned in her arms, wrapping your own around the back of her head, holding her impossibly close to you. Sorry?

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, leaving a kiss to the side of her head on the top of her hair. “Absolutely nothing.”

“My behavior last night could use an apology,” she admitted, causing you to smile slightly though she couldn’t see it with her face buried against your neck.

“Well, maybe that,” you teasingly agreed, thinking back to the few hours earlier in which you had to drive to the club she was at because she had broken down on the dance floor. All anger, if there was any to begin with, however, had completely dissolved when you pulled up outside the establishment to find her sitting against the wall in the cold, mascara stains down her cheeks as she sobbed about how much her heart hurt. “But are you even apologizing for that?” You asked her, realizing she must have heard you on the phone with her ex.

“Partially,” she cried harder. She knew the strain the breakup had put on all four of you, and though it wasn’t her fault, she still felt guilty. You knew she did. Her heart was too soft for her to not take some sort of blame.

Allowing her to cry in your arms, you moved your hand to the back of her head as you tried to make her feel safe. “You’re gonna be ok,” you whispered to her repeatedly in a gentle tone.

After a few moments, she pulled away to look at you, your thumbs moving to her cheeks to wipe the tears away, though more continued to fall, quickly replacing them.

“How is he?” She suddenly asked you, her lip trembling as she held back a sob.

Scanning her features carefully, you debated your answer. If you told her he was ok, it would make her feel pitiful for not being ok, plus it would be a lie. If you told her he wasn’t ok, it could possibly hurt her even more. Locking your eyes on her pleading ones, you sighed. “About as good as you,” you told her simply, holding back your own tears as she broke down, your arms wrapping around her shoulders to bring her close once again.

Placing a hand back against her head, you held her to you tightly. “Why does that make me feel worse?” She asked against your shoulder, her voice muffled from your sweatshirt.

“Oh babe,” you spoke softly near her ear, a tear slipping from the inner corner of your eye. “Because you still love him.”

You weren’t sure if you should have said that, but it was true. And maybe if she heard it from you, she would face those feelings. As she cried against you, your mind raced over everything that had happened that morning already. Everyone was so broken, and suddenly your mind found its way to Taehyung. Because he was the only one you wanted to talk to in that moment. He was your comfort.

But what if you didn’t have him anymore? Two people as meant to be as Jimin and the girl in your arms couldn’t even make it work. Add in your fickleness in love, and where did that leave your odds at success with Tae? You refused to break him, and you couldn’t lose him. You just couldn’t.

Hauling your groceries through your apartment, your phone started ringing in your pocket. Rushing to the kitchen, you set the bags on the floor before grabbing the device, finding Tae on the other side of the video call.

Accepting it, you waited for his face to appear on the screen before greeting him. “Hi,” you answered in a huff, Tae immediately chuckling at your hectic state.

“Hey,” he greeted, “Are you busy?”

“No,” you shook your head, dropping the phone to the counter just after speaking the word, causing the man to giggle further. “Just got home from grocery shopping,” you told him as you discarded your bag off your shoulder and onto the countertop. Taehyung hummed in response just as you propped the phone up against the side of your bag, situating it so he could see you as you stood in your kitchen.

“Did you get anything fun?” He asked, as you scanned the bags on the floor.

“Um,” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I got those cookies you like,” you spoke through your exhale, looking at him through the screen to take in his appearance. “You look handsome,” you told him, the man smiling slightly at you as you stared at his still damp hair atop his head, giving away that he had showered recently.

“You tired?” He asked suddenly, being met with your groan as you stared down at the groceries without moving. “What happened last night?”

“Well, she went out with those friends and of course it was too soon for her to be out partying and I had to pick her up at 2 am outside of the club because she had a break down,” you ranted to him as you knelt down to begin taking items out of the grocery bags.

“Jesus,” he sighed, your eyebrows raising at his response.

“What?” You questioned defensively, piling items onto the floor as you emptied all the bags.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he tried to evade your anger. “I’m assuming she’s not there right now?”

“No, she went back to her place for a bit,” you told him. “What was with the judgmental tone just now?” You pressed.

Looking up at the phone, you watched as shook his hair out with his hand. “It’s just, that’s not really fair to you, is it?”

Scoffing at him, you stood, not bothering to look at the phone as you brought some juice and a few other items to the refrigerator.

“I just mean, you deserve some rest,” he added. “A break maybe.”  

“Well I don’t get a break because your best friend broke up with mine and she’s devastated,” you said coldly, shutting the fridge door and turning back to face the device.

“He’s your friend too,” he reminded you, his eyebrows raised, causing you roll your eyes.

“I know that,” you said in annoyance. “But you don’t see what she’s going through every day,” you pointed out, feeling protective over your friend and her broken heart.

Reaching to grab a box of crackers off the floor, you headed toward the cupboard as Taehyung told you, “You really should talk to him.”

Letting out a dry laugh, you nodded to yourself. “Tae, she’s my best friend,” you reminded him once more.

“I get that, but he’s your friend too,” he repeated, causing you to sigh. “He’s going through stuff too,” he added. You wanted to scoff, but if you were being honest with yourself, your anger towards Jimin had diminished significantly since speaking to him briefly that morning.

“Well,” you thought out loud, facing the man once more. Folding your arms over your ribcage, you shrugged. “I’m sure he is but he did this,” you said, trying to remain firm in your coldness.

You were met with the sound of Taehyung breathing out slowly as his eyes stayed locked on you. “That’s not really fair, he’s hurting too,” Taehyung defended his friend.

“I love Jimin,” you clarified. “But I don’t have time to think about him when she’s at my place all the time because she can’t handle being alone in her own apartment for a single night,” you told him, staring at him as you waited for him to respond. Taehyung ran his tongue over his bottom lip as you sighed. “I know Jimin is hurting, but she is too. And it’s bad, Tae,” you told him sadly.

Taehyung sighed as you stared at him through the phone, waiting for his next words. “I know, I don’t mean to be insensitive to her. I know he hurt her, I get that. I’m just here with him and he’s a fucking mess,” Tae huffed. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted sadly, giving you a defeated shrug.

Stepping closer to the phone, you shook your head slowly. “I don’t either,” you admitted. You both sat in silence for a moment, watching each other through opposite sides of the phone, your remaining groceries still waiting on the floor.

Taehyung was the first to break the silence, asking, “What are you thinking?”

Sighing, you ran your hands over your face. “I don’t even know, I’m just-” you stopped yourself, not sure if you should speak your next words; because of the implication to you and Tae.

“What is it?” He pressed, resituating himself on the bed as he sat laid across a pillow, his head supported by his hand. “Peaches,” he said gently, causing you to relent.

“Maybe they shouldn’t have ever gone from friends to more,” you thought aloud, Tae’s silence feeling heavy on your heart as he tried his best to keep his face from giving away any emotion.

“You think?” He asked simply, his feigned indifference covering up the hurt you knew was there.

“It’s just a hard leap to make,” you explained, leaning against the counter on your elbows, holding your chin in your hands. “If it doesn’t work, this is where it leaves you.” Your eyes were glued to the phone as you watched him carefully. Suddenly, you felt angry at these fucking phone companies who couldn’t make a better camera or give you a better connection to be able to read the emotions flashing through his eyes and features more closely.

“Sometimes it works though,” he told you quietly, his voice nearly shaking, almost as if he was meekly defending himself.

A lump formed in your throat that you didn’t believe you’d be able to ever swallow, knowing you were the cause of the sadness he was feeling. “But if it doesn’t, that’s a lot to lose,” you argued, your voice faint as the emotions sat in your vocal chords.

“But it can work,” he said a bit louder than his last comment, his voice more assured as he licked his lips.

“Tae,” you sighed, cocking your head to the side just slightly. You both knew you were no longer talking about your friends’ experience with moving from friends to lovers. There had never been any confirmation from either you or Taehyung, but sometimes it seemed as though there was an unspoken understanding of how you both thought of each other.

“Look at Jin,” Taehyung countered, pointing to the fact that Jin and his old friend had successfully added romance to their relationship over a year earlier. “They’re doing really well, they’re happy.”

“Tae,” you called out to him gently, attempting to swallow as your eyes shined with emotion. When he responded with his silence, his sad eyes scanning over your features carefully, you chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to hold in your emotion. “It’s a lot to lose,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “It’s everything to lose,” you added, blinking a few times as Taehyung looked down to the bed and began picking at the comforter. A few seconds of silence went by and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you suddenly exhaled, feeling breathless and tired. “Dearest,” you addressed him softly.

“No, you’re right,” he said half-heartedly, keeping his eyes directed downward. “It is everything to lose,” he agreed with a small nod, looking up to you.

“Everything, Tae,” you emphasized, hoping he would recognize that he was everything to you.

“You really should talk to Jimin,” he changed the topic, his tone stronger as he seemed to easily move on from your unspoken confessions. Inhaling deeply, you nodded slowly, standing up straight before moving back to the groceries. Trying to shake yourself out of the conversation that just took place, you spotted the cookies sitting on the floor.

“I’ll think about it,” you replied before reaching for the package. “I’m not gonna save you any of these,” you teased, holding them up for him to see as his lips spread into a mildly amused grin.

“Well I didn’t save you any of the waffle so it’s only fair,” he played along, both of you pushing aside the tension between you both once more.

You would think about talking to Jimin, you meant that. But it would be hard to think of anything but Taehyung.  

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you sighed deeply as you tried to muster up some courage. Lowering your digit to the phone screen before you could change your mind, you nervously raised the device to your ear.

The rings were deafeningly loud as you awaited the answer, running your hand through your hair and chewing on your bottom lip; nervous gestures.

“Hey,” Jimin greeted suddenly, his voice appearing breathless as if he rushed to the phone.

“Why’d you do it?” You asked him, skipping greetings and pleasantries. A moment of silence encased the phone call before Jimin sighed.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore,” he said, a sob following the words as if he had been sitting on the edge of a break down for days; weeks. The confusion and heartbreak in his tone shattered your heart, filling you with guilt for evading his calls and texts for so long. “I don’t know if there was even a valid reason and I regret it so much.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” you admitted, thinking back upon their relationship and what they had revealed to you.

“Me either,” he barely spoke through his cracked voice. “I don’t know, it’s like, as secure as we made each other feel, it was like we could never fully rid ourselves of our own insecurities,” he explained through his cries. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asked as he held back tears.

“Oh Jimin,” you sighed, realizing what drove them apart. And suddenly, you had the urge to wrap them both up in hugs because in an instant, there was nowhere to place the blame you were previously placing on Jimin. It was both their faults, and also no one’s fault. Jimin had made the wrong move, your best friend didn’t make enough moves, and yet they were both just victims to their own intrusive perceptions of themselves.

“Our own shit just got in the way and-” he let out a harsh breath. “When I sent the text I immediately regretted it and I was just trying to convince myself that it was for the best,” he sniffled. “And I was about to take it all back and beg for forgiveness, fuck, I was thinking about leaving tour and coming back to her so we could fix whatever the fuck was causing all of this shit between us,” he paused as his cries took over.

“Why didn’t you take it all back?” You asked him.

You collected up the patience as you gave him time the time to think back on the breakup. “All of a sudden, she just stopped fighting,” he said sadly. “We were always fighting for each other, and she finally stopped. And I don’t know, I think it kind of cemented the idea that I did the right thing. It hurt, and it felt wrong, but she accepted the breakup and gave up.”

“Fuck, Jimin,” you held back your tears at the defeat in his voice. “She didn’t stop fighting for you, she just didn’t have enough fight left in her to take on your insecurities any longer,” you told him.  

“What’s even the difference?” He asked. “Whether she stopped fighting willfully, or whether I took the fight out of her,” he scoffed, “I became too much for her.”

“I don’t think you could ever be too much for her,” you assured him. “Look, do you want me to speak to you compassionately or truthfully?” You asked, the question being met with a dry laugh.

“You’re always compassionate, but I want the truth,” he told you, you nodding though he couldn’t see it.

“You fucked up,” you told him, “but also I don’t think this is entirely your fault,” you quickly added. With a sigh, you thought out loud. “How do I word this?” you pondered. “You two are two of the most incredible people I’ve ever known and yet, you guys can’t fucking see it.”

Jimin scoffed, making you roll your eyes. “I said I was speaking truthfully, so just listen to me and try to actually hear what I’m saying for once,” you told him, the man agreeing to listen by giving you his silence. “You see how incredible she is and that makes you insecure because you don’t see yourself living up to what she deserves. And it’s the same for her, she doesn’t think she can be what you need and what you want, despite you assuring her constantly that she’s everything to you. And that holds you both back from being exactly what the other person wants,” you paused for a moment, letting the words permeate Jimin’s brain. “If you two could just be who you are and give each other that version of yourselves, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you explained to him. “She fell in love with you, she just wants you.”

“Fuck,” he sobbed, the pained understanding echoing in his single expression. “But I fucked it up, I hurt her and I don’t think we can fix it this time.”

“I truly do not understand how you can be so wrong about this all the fucking time,” you groaned. “She is in love with you,” you told him, enunciating the words carefully. “You hurt her, and you hurt her bad, but she hasn’t given up on you,” you told him. “Whether she admits it or not, she’s waiting for you to fix it,” you informed the man. “So fucking fix it. Stop holding yourself back and just be happy, Jimin.”

“I don’t know if-”

“Be happy,” you interrupted him. “Stop being so idiotic and just fight for your happiness. Fight for hers,” you begged him, frustration over both of your friends’ moronic actions getting the best of your patience. “You both deserve each other because you’re both the best,” you went on, trying to convey to the man how strongly you felt he and the girl you both adored belonged with each other.

“She still loves me?” He asked, being met with another one of your groans. “Sorry, I just, she does?”

“Do you still love her?” You asked, knowing the answer but wanting him to speak it out loud so maybe he could truly hear it.

“With all of me,” he admitted sadly, a sniffle following the words, allowing you to visualize the tears running down his cheeks in that moment.  

“Do you really think that’s one sided?” You asked him.  

“I really don’t know,” he admitted, a small sigh leaving your lips.  

“It’s so simple but you guys make it so complicated,” you complained, the man giving you the slightest chuckle in the form of a single exhale. “You both lost the fight, but you didn’t lose the fight for each other, you lost it to yourselves. Does that make sense?” You asked.

“I think so?” He said, thought it came out as a question.

“You guys were defeated by your own insecurities. It’s not like you chose to give up on her, just like she didn’t choose to give up on you. You both just feel hopeless right now, that’s-”

“It’s not hopeless?” He asked, and despite the negative comment, there was a renewed optimism in his tone that lifted your lips into a faint smile.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s not hopeless.” You both sat in silence, nothing but your breaths sounding into the phone receivers. “I’ll talk to her,” you assured him. “If I get any sense that she doesn’t want you anymore, I’ll let you know and I’ll be full of apologies and you can hate me forever,” you told him.

“I could never hate you,” he scoffed.

“But if I’m right, which I know I am, Jimin, I know it,” you assured him, “then you need to find that hope and bring it back to her.”

With a sigh, Jimin agreed with a simple, “ok.”

“Ok,” you replied. “Fix it.”

“I hope I can,” he spoke softly, his voice still sad, but much less defeated than the start of the conversation.

“Hope is enough right now,” you told him.

“Thank you for finally talking to me,” he said, a hint of a smile evident in his voice.

“Thank Tae,” you corrected. “He talked me into it.”

“He really is the only one who can cut through your stubbornness, huh?” He asked teasingly, you chuckling lightly in response.

“I guess he is,” you agreed.

“Speaking of simple but making it complicated though,” Jimin noted, drawing upon your earlier words, and reflecting them back on you and your relationship with Taehyung.

“Tae and I aren’t complicated,” you negated Jimin’s observation, only to be met with a disbelieving laugh. “We aren’t,” you remained firm. “I know it seems complicated but, when it comes down to it, it’s the simplest thing ever.”

“Ok, break it down for me then,” Jimin asked for your elaboration. “How is it simple?”

“Because at the end of the day, we just love each other. So much so, that we’ll do anything to keep one another in each other’s lives,” you explained. “And that makes my relationship the simplest, easiest relationship I’ve ever had.”

Jimin hummed in return, thinking over your words. “That does sound simple, I guess,” he agreed. “But are you happy?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the question. Were you? Were you fulfilled with Tae’s role in your life as you went and dated other people, finishing each escapade craving for more, anxious for the night to be over so you could call Taehyung and hear his voice as he expressed whatever was on his mind? The truth was, no one was or ever would be Taehyung. No matter how great they were, no matter how smart, kind, funny, genuine they were, they would never be him. But Taehyung was in your life, and maybe that was enough. So, were you happy? Turns out that’s the most complicated question you could have been asked.

“This isn’t about me,” you told Jimin with a small smile.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy,” you said assuredly. That was true, for sure.

“But is that happy?” Jimin pressed, causing you to sigh in annoyance.

“It’s happy enough,” you told him. “But one of us has to be happy, right?” You turned it back on him.

Jimin breathed out your name, but you dismissed him. “This is about you right now,” you told him. “If you fix things on your end, then we can entertain a discussion about my happiness, ok?” You asked him, though it wasn’t really a topic up for debate which he understood.

“Deal,” he agreed with a light chuckle.

Happiness, you thought. What was it? You were sure it was different for everyone. Just as you were sure it comes from many different sources. For you, though, your main source of happiness was seeing Taehyung smile. His happiness mattered most in terms of your relationship. And if he was happy being your friend and having you as his, then you were happy. Happy enough.

If he wasn’t happy… well, something would have to be done about that.

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 3

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

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

word count: 19k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” Y/N says softly into the phone.

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

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

“Did you get them?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

“Uh, yeah-”

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

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

“I guess so,” she mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never would have guessed,” she teases him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you need help?” She asks him.

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

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

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

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I just get Mark’s stuff and go-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N felt overdressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/N smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love your top, it’s so stylish,” Jenny comments, causing Y/N to look to her left at Jenny’s dazzling smile again.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, “this may not be the place to wear it, seems more like a casual band tee kind of place,” she notes, narrowing her eyes while looking around at the bar around them. Noticing now just how many neon signs there were in the dark space. The biggest was on the wall behind the small stage, which every table was facing. The bar was at the back of the bar and there were booths lining the wall closest to the door, then a couple of pool tables and gambling machines in the far right of the bar. Y/N had spent too much time in high maintenance bougie bars to find any of this remotely normal - but she didn’t hate it.

“Rubbish, you look hot, definitely got people in here questioning their wardrobe,” Jenny states, gaining Y/N’s attention again, “hell, next time I’m stepping it up to match this energy,” she adds, waving her hands at Y/N’s outfit. 

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “well thanks, but you look incredible already! There’s no need.”

“Y/N,” Harry interrupts the girls suddenly.

Y/N lets out a small breath before turning to face what she’s been ignoring. The flirtatious red head and Mitch’s strong stare. Y/N raises her eyebrows at Harry. She completely ignores how the waitress now stood facing both their chairs, but she did notice how her hand was resting on the back of Harry’s.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Harry asks her, lips turning up into a smile. He can’t help himself, he finds himself smiling so much around her he’s sure he has wrinkles already.

“Oh,” Y/N says, finally looking at the waitress now. Her dark makeup made her blue eyes pop, it was a bit smudged but Y/N assumes she’s too busy working to notice. The waitress, Amy - Y/N reads her name tag, pinned on her tight black v neck shirt that has the bar's name on it - is staring at her, clearly forcing a smile while waiting for Y/N’s answer. “I’ll have tequila and soda water, bring a few lime slices on the side too,” Y/N orders, knowing exactly how Upper East Side she sounds, “please,” she adds with a forced smile that she mirrors from Amy.

“Coming right up,” Amy nods before turning away, not without a lingering gaze on Harry though.

Her obvious fake customer voice was rather annoying, Y/N thinks as her eyes follow her walking back to the bar. She takes note of the crowd around the bar, many waving at the one bartender stationed behind the bar. He looks older and is struggling to keep up with the rush of people. When Y/N turns back around, to face the table again, she catches Harry eyes on her. She scrunches up her nose at him and he chuckles before their attention is taken away by Adam’s deep voice.

“So, Y/N, you're this bloke’s neighbour, huh?” He questions, nodding his head to Harry. Y/N smiles and nods, sitting back in her chair while folding her hands between her thighs.

“Yeah, we just met in passing and ended up becoming friends,” she states, catching Harry nodding in the corner of her eye while he rests an arm on the table and faces towards her as he leans slightly into Mitch. To which Mitch responds by pushing his shoulder gently, making Harry’s smile widen at how he manages to bother his friend so easily.

“Give us the tea. How shit of a neighbour is he?” Adam asks, causing everyone at the table to chuckle.

“Hey,” Harry playfully whines at his friends.

“He’s fine, great even,” Y/N tells them, earning another smile from Harry as he watches her.

“Surprising considering he’s a shit roommate,” Mitch comments after taking another long sip of his beer. Harry turns in his chair and glares at Mitch, earning a smirk from him in return.

“I am not,” Harry grumbles.

“When were you two roommates?” Y/N asks, finding herself bringing a hand up to adjust her necklaces. Anything to keep her nervous hands busy. Suppose making new friends wasn’t her biggest strength, it was a rather nerve wracking experience to be honest.

“We just room together when we travel for any work stuff,” Harry answers, meeting her eyes for only a brief second before he’s looking back at Mitch. “Mitch here just likes his beauty sleep, while I have a pretty set morning routine I like to stick to,” Harry explains, looking back at Y/N as he finishes talking.

“Yeah, that starts at like six in the morning like a crazy person,” Mitch huffs jokingly.

“Six is way too early,” Y/N agrees, nodding along with Mitch. “At least give the man till nine,” she adds.

“He’s just being dramatic,” Harry states. Mitch mumbles something under his breath before taking another sip of his beer. Sounded a bit like “say’s the drama queen himself” but Y/N isn’t sure. Regardless, the interaction makes her smile. Just as she’s about to make another comment, Amy returns with hers and Harry’s drinks. Setting his down first with a smile before turning to Y/N and placing the glass of tequila and a small dish of limes too.

“Thank you,” Y/N says. Doesn’t matter if she thought Amy had an attitude problem, Y/N had manners.

“Anything else for the table? Another refill for you boys before you head up on stage?” Amy asks, ignoring Y/N completely and instead turning her back on her and looking at Mitch and Adam. Y/N notices how she leans her body into Harry a bit, her arm resting on the back of his chair again. If Harry notices, he’s oblivious to her motives. It almost makes Y/N laugh at how Harry’s ignoring her. 

“Please,” Mitch nods, lifting his glass to finish off the rest of his beer. Y/N tries to hide her facial expression as she is impressed with how Mitch manages to gulp down the beer so fast, instead bringing her focus to her own drink - which she was looking forward to downing herself honestly.

She picks up a lime wedge and squeezes it over her glass, watching the juices squirt out and into her glass. After she stirs it with her straw, she brings it to her lips and gulps back nearly half of it. Y/N suddenly feels her phone buzzing in her jean pocket. She sits up slightly in order to slide it out of her pocket and looks at the screen. It’s Mark’s number again. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she declines the call and sets her phone screen down on the table before grabbing ahold of her drink again and having another sip. He sure has some nerve to continue to call numerous times, Y/N thinks as she zones out from whatever Harry and his friends were talking about.

“Y/N grew up in the city, actually,” Harry states. Y/N raises her eyebrows and looks around the table to see everyone’s looking at her now. She’s missed what they were talking about prior so she just spit balls it here and smiles.

“Um, yeah, born and raised,” she nods, “I noticed you all have quite a jumble of accents, where are you all from?” Y/N asks, looking towards Tom and Jenny as they begin to explain where they were separately from before meeting in London.

Harry watches Y/N while his friends speak, mostly because he already knows everything there is about their lives, but also because he likes watching Y/N. Taking in her small mannerisms like how she talks with her hands quite a lot, and how she rubs her ankles together under the table as she listens to Adam talk about his wife and kids back home. They all chat amongst themselves, making jokes and laughing too, for nearly thirty minute before Mitch and Adam are whisked away to the stage. Harry feels his chest bursting as he sits back and watches Y/N interact with his friends as if they are her own. He smiles when she looks his way, her cheeks howling as she sucks on the straw of her second drink - nearly finishing it while staring at him. Harry has to break the gaze as his thoughts run a different less innocent route, causing him to readjust how he’s sitting and clearing his throat just as the lead singer of the band introduces them.

“So, why aren’t you in the band?” Y/N asks as the beginning chords of their opening song play out. She’s leaning her elbow on the table, resting her head in the palm of her hand while turning her head to Harry - shutting out Jenny and Tom completely but they’re too busy watching the band to care.

“Bold of you to assume I have enough talent to be in a band,” Harry says with a smirk. Y/N rolls her eyes and reaches for her glass, bringing the straw between her lips and finishing off the tequila and soda water with three squeezed lime slices in it - Harry watched her prepare her drink both times, finding himself intrigued by her drink of choice.

“You are definitely talented enough,” Y/N says, “from the bit I’ve heard through the walls, you’re great with a guitar and I’m assuming I’m right considering that your job revolves around music.”

“Well, they already have a guitar player,” Harry notes, nodding his head towards Mitch who’s strumming away on his guitar. “And he’s one of the best in the business so if I did have any talent, he wipes me out without a question,” Harry insists.

Y/N is about to respond but then the band is starting to really get into the song. She turns her head, sitting up straight again, and watches the band perform. They’re really good, she thinks and starts to bob her head along to the song. Harry tries to not be obvious, but he stares at her for a few moments before facing the stage to watch his mates as well. He smiles as he watches her get into the music, nodding along with the bass line and tapping her foot to the drums. They’re performing one of Harry’s songs. He had written it a couple years back when he had finally settled into New York, hence the title ‘Ever Since New York’. He didn’t sell the song to any big artist, instead he kept it within his personal folder and when Mitch asked if his and Adam’s band could borrow it Harry said yes. It was one of the few personal songs he would let his friends borrow, others were too much of him to let someone else sing.

Y/N is seriously enjoying herself. The tequila has hit her, settling into her body with a constant buzz, and this band was so good. She’s shamelessly swaying her body in her chair and nodding her head back and forth with the beat. To be fair, so was everyone else at the table. Jenny matched her energy perfectly, even throwing an arm around her shoulders as the course of their third song picked up - Jenny knew the lyrics and sang along, causing the two of them to erupt into laughter afterwards. After Jenny turns her attention back to her husband, Y/N looks at Harry and notices him lightly singing along while bobbing his head too. She smiles and ends up watching him instead of the band for maybe a little too long. He turns his head and catches her stare, raising a brow but she just shakes her head and leans closer to him to ensure he can hear her before speaking.

“They’re really good,” she compliments, “like a lot better than some of the mainstream artists I’ve seen recently,” she adds on just as the band finishes up another song.

“Yeah, they are,” Harry nods in agreement, “but the bands really just a hobby for all of them since they are all involved within the industry already.”

“Oh, that’s sick though,” Y/N says, “not everyone’s hobby includes filling up a dive bar in New York City every weekend with people singing along to your songs,” she exclaims. She had looked around the room earlier during the last song to see it wasn’t just the bandmates' friends that knew the words to their songs. Majority of the people in the bar were singing too, clearly being regulars to their sets.

Amy arrives at their table again, setting down everyone's refills in a rush, thankfully being too busy to stop and flirt with Harry. Is that jealousy, Y/N? She questions herself in her head. She ignores her thoughts and brings her new drink to her lips, not even bothering with the lime slices this time as she’s feeling a bit drunk now and honestly could care less. As the band opens their next song with some strong drums and an incredible electric guitar melody, the crowd goes a bit crazy. Y/N furrows her brows and looks at the people at her table, Tom and Jenny are also hollering at the band while Harry is chuckling. He meets her eyes before echoing the crowd and cheering on his friends. Y/N’s eyes widen and she huffs out a laugh before she grabs her phone quickly and opens her Instagram.

Just in time, she opens her Instagram stories as the song picks up and the small crowd that had formed overtime at the front of the stage starts to dance around. Everyone is cheering and singing along, causing Y/N’s jaw to drop in pure amazement. She holds down the button to record and gets a quick ten second video of the band rocking out while the bar sings and goes nuts as the bass line played by Adam kicks in and their drummer flings his body around to play one of the most addicting beats they’ve played so far. Y/N shakes her head and swipes a filter on before tapping on the screen, turning to face Harry - who’s already watching her, of course.

“Does the band have an Instagram?” She asks. To which Harry just shrugs in response, because he really isn’t too sure - he’s not hugely into social media himself.

“They do!” Jenny says with excitement, Y/N turns in her seat and grins at Jenny as she spells out the bands Instagram handle. “I keep trying to get them to stay active on it but they barely do,” she states.

Y/N slips her drink that she holds in one hand and taps ‘post to story’ on her phone that in her other hand. “Well, they might get, like, a few notifications flood in since I tagged them in my story,” Y/N tells her.

“Oh yeah?” Jenny questions. “Are you big on Insta?”

“It’s kind of grown over the years, I just hit half a million last week actually,” Y/N states. Her words cause both Jenny and Tom’s jaws to drop. Suppose it’s quite a big number, Y/N thinks.

“That’s insane, oh my god,” Jenny says, “is social media like your job then?” She asks. Y/N notices how both Tom and Harry are more interested in hearing about her Instagram than the band’s next song, to be fair it is a slower tune, but still it shocks her a bit.

“Um, not really,” Y/N licks her lips, “I have a career at a fashion studio in the city, we style the city’s elite and some celebrities, do their personal shopping and all that. But the social media thing is really just a little add on, I guess,” Y/N explains, pausing a few times as she feels a bit nervous telling them about her following. Some people saw it as a clout thing, asking for shoutouts and tags so her followers would get their follower count up. While others thought it was childish and weird that she was kind of like an influencer in a way.

“Wow,” Harry says, his voice gets Y/N’s attention as she looks towards him now, “how didn’t I know this?” He questions with a chuckle.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “it’s really just like a hobby, barely even that.”

“Like how the band is for Mitch and Adam,” Harry nods.

Y/N smiles and nods with him, “exactly.”

“You’re definitely the coolest girl Harry knows, by the way,” Jenny states, bringing Y/N’s attention back to her left where she sat. Y/N laughs and brushes her hair back over her shoulders.

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N disagrees and shakes her head, reaching for her drink again to take a few sips.

“No, you definitely are,” Harry corrects her, having a sip of his own drink as well. Y/N puts down her glass and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back into her seat.

“I mean, if you say so,” she says in a joking tone. Jenny, Tom and Harry all chuckle, which makes Y/N laugh along with them. The band is talking to the crowd now, mentioning that their weekly gig will not be happening next week due to the holidays. Then they’re explaining something about their next and final song, thanking the crowd before the song starts up.

“This was their first song as a band,” Tom tells Y/N. She smiles and nods, appreciating the insight from him.

The song is catchy, still fitting the bands vibe but definitely isn’t as good as some of the other songs they had played already. Y/N decides to take a final snap of the band on stage on her Instagram story. Mitch’s head is down, his hair falling forward that she can barely tell that it’s him, while Adam is grinning at the crowd which makes Y/N smile as she swipes on a filter to lighten the picture some and types out ‘new fave band alert’ as her caption, finding a red siren gif quickly before posting it to her story. As the song comes to an end the bar erupts into a roar of cheers. Y/N brings her hands to her mouth and hollers along with the bar, grinning as she watches the four boys of the band come together and bow. As they bend down Harry whistles, having both his hands at his mouth, to show his support to his friends.

Y/N widens her eyes and turns quickly to look at Harry, surprised by the loud whistle that came from him. He matches her look, widening his eyes and playing dumb as he slowly lowers his hands from his face. Y/N laughs, slapping a hand on his arm and leaning back, immensely entertained by his actions. Harry laughs along with Y/N till they both calm down and shake their heads. Just as Y/N is about to say something her phone starts to buzz on the table from an incoming call. She looks down at the screen and sees it’s Mark - again.

“Ugh,” Y/N groans and hits decline, unlocking her phone to go to her phone app. “How the hell do you block a phone number?” She asks aloud to no one in particular.

“Is it Mark?” Harry questions in a low voice, leaning towards Y/N to keep his words between them. Y/N frowns but nods her head once. The tequila in her system starts to mess with her, her screen becoming fuzzy as she thinks about all the crap she learnt about Mark earlier today. And now he was ruining her fun out with Harry and his friends.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Y/N asks, turning to Jenny since she would know the location of the women's bathroom over Harry.

“Down the hall in the back corner over there,” she points in that direction and before anyone else can say something Y/N is on her feet with her phone in hand and heading to the bathroom.

Harry looks over his shoulder as he monitors Y/N’s move across the bar. He’s worried about her, obviously, but he’s also watching to make sure no douche bag makes a grab for her. Although he is sure that she could handle it herself. As he turns back to the table he sees both Tom and Jenny staring at him. Harry furrows his brows and brings his drink to his lips, having the final sip of his third drink tonight. Jenny just shakes her head and looks down at her phone, he’s pretty sure she’s looking up Y/N’s Instagram. Tom’s still staring at Harry though.

“What?” Harry finally asks, setting his glass down with the few other empty ones at the centre of the table.

“So,” Tom pauses, “what’s going on here?” He questions, being annoyingly vague.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, trying his hardest to not roll his eyes.

“Well you just show up with this bombshell of a woman, who is beyond anything you could’ve described her as by the way, and we’re all just supposed to forget she’s in a relationship?” Tom questions, tilting his head just slightly to the side as he stares down Harry.

“Firstly, I’m insulted you don’t think we could just be friends,” Harry says, he’s about to continue but Mitch and Adam join the table again. They get a round of ‘good job’ from everyone before Mitch is turning to Harry and furrowing his brows.

“What were you saying before?” He asks.

“That it is just possible for Y/N and I to be friends, but also not that it’s any of your guys business cause it’s not even mine, but her and her boyfriend broke up, like, recently,” Harry informs his friends, dragging his fingertip along the condensation of his empty glass in front of him. He feels silly, having to explain himself for simply bringing along a friend to hangout tonight. But he can’t deny it feels good to know that she is single now. Only to feel bad a second later as he knows that Y/N must be hurting, judging by her drowning herself in tequila drinks and getting upset over Mark calling her.

“Well, shit,” Mitch breathes out. Harry lifts his gaze to find his best mate with his usual smug look on his face. “What are you waiting for then, loverboy, make a move,” Mitch coaxes him.

“Did you not hear me when I said they broke up recently? As in maybe I should just let that settle for a while before I try and make any sort of move,” Harry says.

“Well if you don’t eventually and you let this one go, then you’re a bloody idiot,” Adam resorts, “Y/N is a prize, one evening knowing her and I understand your little crush, H,” he adds with a smile.

“Trust me,” Harry huffs out a breath and shakes his head a bit, “I’m well aware. But seriously guys, I’m just going to let it play out and not force anything. I’m happy to just be her friend, honestly,” he explains. Everyone nods, seeming to understand where Harry is at now with Y/N. Perfect timing, Amy shows up with refills for everyone to get the attention of the group off Harry.

“So, Harry,” Amy says after setting down everyone glasses, turning her body away from Jenny and the empty chair for Y/N to completely face him - her boobs practically in his face. He gives her a polite smile, leaning back in his chair in order to get some distance from her. “Who’s this new girl you brought with you? A cousin or something?” She asks, her body seeming to lean even further towards him as she speaks.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to let Amy know her ridiculous assumptions were wrong. When he hears Y/N’s voice from behind where Amy stood. “Classy,” she mutters under her breath.

Amy rolls her eyes rather dramatically before she turns away from Harry and looks at Y/N as she’s pulling out her chair and returning to her seat. “What did you say?” Amy asks, her voice rather snarky in Y/N’s opinion.

“I said, wow you’re hair colour, it’s like, so classy, I love it,” Y/N resorts, putting on a smile just as fake as her words.

Amy’s lips part, her eyes narrowing at Y/N’s bored stare. Whatever bitchy response she has lined up for Y/N is cut short as Amy’s name is being yelled by the bartender. Her gaze falls behind Y/N, looking at who had called for her, before she meets Y/N’s eyes again. She glares again, huffs out a short breath, and then is nearly stomping away from the table like a child who didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted to play with - or rather the Ken doll. Y/N’s lips turn up slightly into a smug smile as a feeling of pride flushes over her.

“Yup, it’s official,” Jenny says, bringing Y/N back to reality as she looks away to her left. Jenny is grinning as she brings an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into her side. “You’re one hundred percent the coolest girl Harry knows,” she states, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“You handled Amy like a pro,” Adam notes, then jutting his chin towards Harry, “H is always too nice to let her know how annoying she’s being.”

Y/N smiles and looks at Harry in the corner of her eye, noticing the slight tint of pink upon his cheeks. She flips her hair over her shoulder and shrugs, “I grew up dealing with the snobby Upper East Side kids, Amy is harmless, believe me,” Y/N ensures the group before grabbing for her drink and sucking back a few good gulps.

The group around the table begins to talk about the performance, compliments and praises to Mitch and Adam all around of course. Even a few strangers come up to give them a pat on the back and ask for a picture. They’re like royalty in this dingy little bar.

Y/N is enjoying sitting back and simply being around people, letting herself push away any thoughts of Mark. She had blocked his number while she waited in line for the washroom, then responded to Sammy’s million texts asking where she was and with who - when she told him she was with Harry he just replied with ‘#TeamHarry for the win’, which she rolled her eyes at but ended up smiling down at her phone and texting him a thumbs up back.

When Y/N finished with her business in the rather dirty washroom - the sink barely even worked, it was not ideal - and she saw Amy at the table beside Harry again, Y/N let her jealousy fly. Then when Amy started leaning so far into Harry that her boobs nearly touched his chest, Y/N just couldn’t help it. It was like her vision turned red suddenly, her chest swelling up as she tried to bite down on her tongue. But she couldn’t, she was too annoyed by Amy’s less than classy actions towards her customer.

“Hey,” Harry’s low voice snaps Y/N out of her own world. She blinks and focuses on him, feeling herself melt at the sight of his smile. “Are you okay?” He asks, more than likely referring to her quick departure to the bathroom after Mark called.

“Yeah,” she assures him with a smile and a nod. “I blocked his number, I don’t want to hear his excuses. I could really care less,” she explains to Harry. He nods in response and is about to say something else, about how Mark is a real idiot for whatever he did to hurt her. But Y/N sits up, places a hand on his arm that was resting on the table between then, and gives him another smile. “But enough about him, seriously, I’m feeling a little drunk and having way too much fun here with you to be bothered anymore,” Y/N tells him.

“Alright,” Harry smiles, peering at Y/N as his heart beats wildly in his chest. He’s pretty sure his skin’s tingling from where her hand rests. But it doesn’t last long before she moves, reaching for her glass - that she then raises into the air.

“I would like to make a toast,” Y/N announces to the table, gaining everyone’s attention and smiles, “to Mitch and Adam’s absolutely amazing performance, new friends, and to having a lovely holiday season,” Y/N beams as Harry and his friends cheer in agreement and everyone lifts their glasses into the air.

The group ends up buying shots after, then another round of drinks, and then more shots. Y/N is laughing so much her stomach hurts. She hasn’t been this happy while enjoying others' company in far too long, outside of work of course. Harry makes another joke, teasing Adam, but Adam dishes it back right away. Y/N finds herself letting her hand slip to Harry’s thigh as she throws her head back with laughter at Adam’s absurd comment. Everyone else is too focused on the banter to notice, but Harry does of course. He’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels her delicate fingers spread over his thigh. He gulps, unsure if he wants to break whatever drunken trance that Y/N may be in. Does she realize that she’s put her hand on his thigh? He wonders. But his thoughts are quickly answered as she caresses her thumb along his pants before lifting her hand slowly off of him altogether.

Y/N’s leaning on her elbow again, her chin propped up in the palm of her hand as she looks at Harry. He’s so hot, her drunk self thinks as she watches his Adam's apple bob up and down for a second time since she had placed her hand on his thigh. It happened by accident to be honest, but she wasn’t sorry about it. God, she was just itching to touch Harry. His thigh, his arm, maybe rub gentle circles on the back of his neck as he talked amongst his friends, but she wanted to touch his lips more than anything. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty pink lips as he replies to whatever whoever said to him.

Harry catches Y/N’s glossy eyes staring at him in the corner of his eye. He rolls his lips into his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He likes how she can’t seem to keep her eyes off of him, because he does the same thing maybe a little too often. Harry turns his head and meets her gaze, giving her a smirk as she playfully narrows her eyes at him. Her cheeks are rosy from the amount of liquor she’s consumed, while her eyes truly are a bit glossed over from her being more than tipsy. She’s so hot, he thinks, as his eyes shamelessly roam over her appearance. Even hours later at this shitty bar and she still looks breathtaking. Harry’s gaze lingers a little too long on her chest, admiring the way the top fit her breasts; was she wearing a bra? Oh how he wishes he could find out.

Y/N adjusts her position in her chair, letting her left arm fall into her lap while she lays her right arm beside Harry’s. She is liking this game they seem to be playing with their eyes. She sits up straight, knowingly sticking out her chest just a bit as she watches Harry’s eyes fall to her breasts. But she keeps it classy, of course, unlike some people. Y/N lets out a breathy sigh as she looks at Harry’s hand mere inches away from her right hand. Those rings, she thinks, they could do some real damage. Her thighs clench involuntarily, her mind falling into a fog as she imagines them leaving red marks on her bare bottom or how cool they would feel against her throat.

“I really like your rings, have I told you that before?” Y/N’s voice is hoarse, but she doesn’t care as her pinky reaches over to touch the large gold ‘S’ that rests on his pinky. The metal is cool to her touch, just as she imagines. Feeling brave - thanks to her good friend, tequila - she lifts her hand slightly in order to comfortably drag her fingertip over the ‘S’ shape a couple times.

“No, you-” Harry clears his throat, feeling it become dry at the sight of her doe eyes staring at his fingers. His mind goes somewhere dirty, thinking of somewhere else his fingers could go. Tangled in her hair, wrapped around her throat, inside of her. Harry licks his lips before he speaks again, “you haven’t, but thank you.”

“Which is your favourite?” Y/N questions, her finger still lazily tracing the ring on his pinky finger.

“Quite like the inicals,” Harry answers, smirking as she glances up to peer at him through her lashes. She mirrors his smug look easily.

“A very narcissistic answer,” Y/N hums, teasing him. Harry playfully narrows his eyes at her, which she returns but ends up giggling after a moment as he sticks out his tongue at her. These inappropriate thoughts have got to just slide away for a moment, Y/N thinks with a deep breath.

“We’re going to head out,” Tom announces to the table suddenly, helping Jenny out of her chair. Jenny’s beautiful dazzling smile is on her husband as he helps her into her coat. They’ve both had quite a bit to drink too and Harry notes how Jenny latches onto Tom’s side after they’re in their coats.

“I’m still shocked you two both came out tonight,” Harry says.

“We paid big bucks for this babysitter, so they better keep it together for at least another four hours,” Tom exclaims with a wink. Jenny gasps and smacks her husband on the chest as she realizes what Tom is insinuating.

“Don’t go acting like you last longer than ten minutes, bud,” Mitch taunts jokingly to his friend. Everyone laughs as Tom glares at Mitch across the table. Y/N covers her mouth with her hands, finally bringing her finger away from where it laid on Harry’s ‘S’ ring, in order to cover her chuckles.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Y/N,” Jenny gushes, letting go of Tom in order to put her arms around Y/N and hugging her tightly.

Y/N smiles into her bleached hair, squeezing her back just as tightly, “you too, Jenny,” she says.

“Don’t let H keep hiding you away now,” she says, pointing a stern finger at the two of them. Harry laughs and shakes his head at his friend.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jenny,” he tells her.

Then they’re all saying goodbye to the couple as they walk out of the half empty bar. Y/N glances around the place, noticing how it feels less scary now. Maybe it was the tequila that helped, or how comfortable she felt around Harry and his friends. A yawn suddenly makes it’s way past Y/N’s lips, she brings the back of her hand to cover it but ends up squinting her eyes closed as her whole body feels drained. She meets Harry eyes after the yawning stops, he shows her a small soft smile that makes her return it right back.

“Ready to go home?” He asks. She contemplates it for a moment, because she truthfully doesn’t want the night to end. But she decides to not fight it and nods to Harry.

Harry does practically the same thing as Tom just had. He announces his and Y/N’s departure, helps her into her coat, and lets her say her goodbyes as Adam opens his arms up for a big warm hug. Mitch only nods, waving to them both before Harry leads the way out of the bar. The cold night air blasts Y/N’s hair back, the sharp wind taking her by surprise as she blinks back tears from the cold. She puts both her hands into her coat pockets and zips it up all the way, snuggling into the warmth it will provide her on their walk home.

“I feel like Mitch doesn’t like me much,” Y/N admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence between her and Harry.

“What?” Harry shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together. “No, that’s just how he is. He’s quiet and looks all moody. Give him some time, he’ll warm up, promise.”

“I think he’s just protective of you,” Y/N says, looking up at Harry after they cross the road, “thinks I’m a threat or something.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head again,“well, it’s definitely not like that with Mitch and I, plus he’s seeing someone. Her name’s Sarah, she plays drums on a lot of tracks we write.”

“If you say so,” Y/N sighs. She looks around at the sights before them. A few other mildly drunk people wander the streets, and she notices a few homeless people too, that tore Y/N’s heart apart, as they were bunkering down in the alleyways. Harry keeps pace with Y/N the whole walk home, letting her control the speed they walked and what they talked about. She would jump from subject to subject the entire time, but Harry thought it was kinda cute that she was so drunk she didn’t even realize how quickly she changed the topic.

And all too soon, they’re in the elevator in their apartment building. Harry presses the number six button and joins Y/N on the back wall. They both lean into the railing, comfortable silence falling between them once again. But it was obviously their thoughts were anything but silent. The elevator doors open on their floor, and Harry lets her walk out first as always.

“Well this is me,” Y/N says dramatically as she approaches her apartment door. Harry chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly and letting his eyes fall to the floor for a second before meeting Y/N’s stare again. “I really did have a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells him.

“I’m glad, I did too,” he agrees.

Y/N wants to kiss him. She really really really does. But they’re both a little drunk, and she literally just broke up with Mark yesterday - or maybe technically two days ago now since it’s past midnight. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be that girl. Plus she wanted to really get to know Harry and take this slow and see where it went. That didn’t stop her gaze from falling to his pretty pink lips though. Harry’s thoughts are running laps too. He wants to kiss her. But he knows she’s more than likely still hasn’t recovered fully emotionally from her break up Mark, hell not even ten hours ago she was crying because of her shitty ex boyfriend. Didn’t mean he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her though, especially when her gaze falls to his lips.

Just as quickly as they seemed to fall into some dream like state as thoughts of kissing each other float around them, they snap back to reality. Y/N blinks a few times and takes a step back, bumping into her front door. Harry clears his throat and steps back as well, towards his own front door.

“Polar Express,” Y/N says suddenly, earning a look of confusion from Harry. “We’re watching the Polar Express tomorrow, and you’re going to play me something on that guitar of yours.”

Harry lets out a chuckle and gives Y/N a smirk, “yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“You will,” she singsongs as she focuses on unlocking her door. It takes a few extra tries to get the key in but once she does she unlocks it and opens the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry smiles.

“Goodnight, H,” Y/N says softly, smiling as well, as she leans against her door to look back at him. Harry’s smile deepens at her using his nickname. She must’ve picked it up from his friends using it earlier during their time at the bar.

She gives him one last look over, knowing very well that she’s going to dream about him in that cream and blue plaid jacket - and maybe only wearing that jacket - before she shuts her door and presses her back against it as it closes. Today was a lot. But she’s beyond grateful that Harry invited her out, introducing her to his wildly unique group of wonderful friends, and letting her get a little bit drunk too. Her chest flares up as she remembers their close moment at the bar, her touching his rings, placing her hand on his thigh-

“Oh god,” Y/N all but moans out as her thoughts go right back to the place they were at before.

She shakes her head and heads to her bedroom. Harry wouldn’t be able to hear a vibration from the other side of the wall, would he? Y/N shrugs and opens her bedside table drawer to grab her vibrator, knowing just how much she needed it tonight as she imagined Harry’s hand between her thighs. Fuck, she’s so screwed, she thinks, biting her lip as she realizes, she really really really likes Harry.

>> part four <<

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

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[mashep23]

Blame it on the Rain

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Modern!AU. A surprise rainstorm changes the course of your day.

Warnings: Like one cuss word? Pure fluff

A/N: My endless thanks and love to: the incredible @river-soul for her beta work and guidance, and the wonderful @whisperlullaby for her support and feedback. 💖💖💖

Disclaimer: image not mine

Oh no. You groan in dismay. The skies open and fat rain droplets splatter darkly onto your clothes and coat as you dash down the sidewalk. You spot cover ahead and dart directly to the storefront with a blissfully wide awning.

You gracelessly slide under the shelter of the canopy, your haste for cover hindering your ability to slow down. Your flats abruptly catch traction on a patch of dry pavement and you pitch forward. Barely managing to stay upright, you have just a moment to breathe in relief when you're jostled from behind. Stumbling slightly from the jolt, you feel hands on your hips steady you from behind as you hear a man's voice swear quietly.

"Oh shit - er, shoot, sorry - I didn't realize you'd stopped! Are you okay?"

You're both breathless and laughing softly as you step apart. You take a moment to straighten your jacket and hitch your bag higher onto your shoulder, reassuring him before you even turn around.

"Oh gosh, yes I'm fine, thanks. Are you...okay…" Your voice trails off as you turn and face a broad chest, eyes travelling up and up. Good heavens. What were you saying? You blink to focus, your eyes taking in a startlingly handsome face before your brain catches up and you rush to cover your faltering speech.

"H-here let me move underneath a little more so you have some room," you offer as you shift to stand deeper under the awning.

He grins in thanks, following you under the canopy, and stepping further away from the rain dripping overhead from the edge. He looks down to check his clothing, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it after your sudden, albeit gentle, collision. You follow his gaze down, realizing he's dressed in some kind of uniform under his open coat, and you have to make yourself look away before he notices your stare.

"Sorry for almost causing you to fall, but thanks for catching me," you say after a moment, smiling as you chance a sideways glance at him. He's mid-peek, looking in your direction too and you catch his eyes, a surge of warmth filling you at his sheepish expression.

He clears his throat before replying, "I saw you make a break for it so I followed you. I should have been paying more attention." He gives a self-deprecating huff and shakes his head, shoving both hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I'm the one who needs to apologize for almost knocking you down."

"No need, honest. It’s all good." You deny sweetly, reassuring him.

You're rewarded with a cute half grin and you have to purse your lips to keep your smile small as you look out through the raindrops. You both stand there in a companionable silence, watching the street as the world seems to slow down.

It's soothing, relaxing, and makes you feel peaceful. Soon, you’re taking slow deep inhales of the fresh, clean air and enjoying the experience, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders. You hear a quiet, measured exhale from your companion and you both seem to realize at the same time that you’re doing the same thing. You share a shy grin before quickly looking away.

You spend the next couple minutes surreptitiously exchanging sideways glances with him, trying your best to make it seem like a natural move. You’re feeling ridiculously obvious, constantly biting your lip to contain your smile when you get caught looking. At the same time, however, if you’re getting caught then that means he was looking too...right? You're giddy at the thought and take one last long deep breath as you notice the rainstorm begin to lighten.

When the rain slows to a light misting sprinkle, as much as you’d like to be brave and say something to him - introduce yourself, anything - you lose your nerve. Sighing inwardly at yourself, you start preparing to set out from under the safety of the canopy. Pulling up the collar on your jacket and securing your bag to your shoulder, you smile and bid him farewell.

"Looks like it's letting up - better make the most of the break!" You say chipperly. "Thanks for keeping me company."

You give a small wave before heading down the sidewalk. He returns your wave and gives a small nod, a slight furrow to his brow, but otherwise a friendly expression on his face. As you turn away, you can't help but think maybe you should say something else, something to prompt another smile from him, just once more. Feeling a tiny rush of confidence and holding onto that feeling, you turn suddenly and call back to him.

"I hope you have a great day!" You allow yourself a moment to truly admire and appreciate the stunning smile you get in response. He really is just too pretty.

His lips spread a little wider before he returned the sentiment with a sincere, "Thank you! I hope you do too!"

You knew, just knew, that your answering smile was blinding, but you couldn't have toned it down if you tried. In an attempt to seem less obvious (moot point, really), you give him a quick nod before turning and heading back down the sidewalk.

You can't deny you have a little bit more pep in your step as you make your way to your meeting. As you come up to the company entrance, you pause to look through your bag, checking to make sure your portfolio is still dry. As you shift the bag back onto your shoulder, you feel something snag and pull on your jacket.

Your brow scrunches in a frown as you use your hand to try to correct the fabric, wondering what you could be caught on. Looking down as you pull your bag away from your body, you hear something hit the pavement. What the…?

After a quick glance around your feet and then behind you, you see an identification badge laying on the ground. As you stoop to retrieve it for further inspection, you realize you had inadvertently taken a souvenir from your fellow shelter-seeker under the canopy.

His handsome face looks solemnly back at you from what is obviously his work badge. Stark Technologies emblazoned across the top, S. Rogers under his photograph, SECURITY is in large print along the bottom.

He must have been headed to work! Oh man, he's gonna need this. You check your watch. There's no time. You'll have to return it to him after your meeting. Standing up and stashing the badge safely into your pocket, you enter the beautiful brick building to attend your meeting.

Luckily it's brief, your client wants to peruse the contents of your portfolio with his financial team before contacting you to finalize details. Expecting this, you graciously thank him for his consideration and within a half hour, you've concluded your meeting and are striding toward Stark Technologies. The trek isn't more than a few blocks, so you decide to walk it and enjoy the sun filtering through the clouds, the rainy morning a distant memory.

When you enter The Tower, you have to take a moment to get your bearings. Looking up and around, it's easy to spot the gleaming information desk positioned in the center of the bustling lobby. As you approach, you think of how you're going to phrase your request. Not wanting to get him into trouble for not having his badge, especially as a part of the security staff, you decide to just ask to speak to him.

The pleasant lady behind the desk sends you a sweet smile as she speaks into the phone to relay your request. After a quiet exchange, she directs you to a cozy waiting area situated to the side of the bank of elevators.

You sit stiffly on the edge of a plush couch and admire the décor as you wait. The building interior is predominantly glass, making the whole space appear larger, but also quite bright and open. You've got a silly smile on your face, thinking about the amount of Windex they must go through, when a throat clearing pulls you back to the present.

"Well, hello again."

You startle and stand quickly, flustered as you turn to face him. You watch his eyes flick down to your feet then back up to your face, a pleasant and patient smile in place. You lick your lips, trying to settle your nerves.

"Hi! Uh, so I know it probably seems odd that I'm here but um, I actually have something of yours. Came to return it - figured you might need this." You give him what you hope is a winning smile before reaching into your pocket and withdrawing the lost item. Your eyes stay on the badge in your fingers as you hold it out to him.

"Oh! Hey, thank you!" He takes the badge gently from you, fingertips brushing yours. When you finally lift your gaze, you find him grinning boyishly. He swiftly fastens his ID to his crisp shirt, completing his uniform.

You give him an appreciative once over and murmur a quiet, "You're welcome," as he continues.

"You know, you just saved me from so much paperwork and hoops to jump through to replace this stupid thing. Where did you find it?"

"It was stuck to me," you share with a laugh.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, an open mouthed grin in place. Shaking your head and shrugging one shoulder, you continue.

"It must have happened when we bumped into each other. I wanted to get it back to you as soon as I realized I had it but I had to make my meeting first," you finish apologetically. "I hope you didn't get into trouble."

"No, not at all," he quickly assures you. "I should have noticed I didn't have it. Thank you again for bringing it to me. You didn't have to so I really appreciate it." That heartstopping smile he aimed at you was going to kill you.

You lick your lips again before you reply and notice his eyes drop to track the quick movement before flitting back up. For half a second, you suddenly feel emboldened.

"It was my pleasure, trust me." Unwilling to let the opportunity pass you by yet again, you jerk your chin toward the badge pinned to his chest and ask, "So, what does the 'S' stand for, Rogers?"

"Steve. It stands for Steve." He says, eyes crinkling as his lips spread into a wide grin. You give him your name and can't help but laugh as he holds out his hand. As you shake his hand, you both murmur, "Nice to meet you," and you're certain that you have matching delighted expressions on your faces.

You realize you've taken up a considerable amount of his time while he is on the clock and you give him a regretful smile as you release his hand.

"I'd better let you get back to it. Don't want to get you into real trouble." Quirking a corner of your mouth up, you grip the handle of your bag on your shoulder and tilt your head as you step back.

Steve starts slightly as he looks around, almost as if he'd forgotten where you both are. He looks back at you and nibbles on his lip before taking a small step closer.

"I do have to get going. But before I do...would it be too forward to ask you for your number?" He searched your face earnestly and you could swear he was holding his breath.

"Not at all. I was kinda hoping you would," you admit, beaming up at him as you hold out your hand for his phone. You draw your lip between your teeth in a slow pull, eyes travelling over his face as you wait. The look in his eye and the slow spread of his lips is slightly less boyish and a touch more sinful as he slips his phone from his pocket and hands it to you.

You enter your number into a new text thread and send yourself a simple message before relinquishing his phone back to him. You watch as he eagerly takes it back and saves your contact information. When he looks back up, he has a breathtaking smile on his face, eyes focused on yours. You have to blink a couple times to focus before drawing yourself up a little straighter to bid him goodbye.

"I expect to hear from you soon," you say confidently, smirking and winking as you turn to leave. His surprised but pleased huff of laughter makes you grin just a little bit wider when you peek back over your shoulder.

"Yes ma'am. You will." He's beaming, eyes tracking you as you give one more small wave before pushing through the door.

-------------------------------------------

Tagging my discord family:

@buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

[spacecatchako]

i don't want to be alone anymore (sfw)

you and daichi have been best friends since your first year of high school. now that you're in love (and adults) where will you go from here?

pairing: sawamura daichi x reader

wc: 3,373 words

contains: seemingly unrequited love, confessions, covers the nationals arc, friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort towards the end, fluff, reader literally has a breakdown and daichi comforts them, reassurance, cuddles, petnames (baby, princess, doll)

a/n: no, i didn't have any idea how to tag this. this fic is a little all over the place and there are several timeskips. the reader is implied to have issues w family and friends so keep that in mind lol. also i marked diff sections of the fic with ✨ this emoji so if u want to skip over certain parts and go straight to the hurt/comfort feel free babey

you were used to being lonely. sure, you worked hard and you had dreams, but there was some part you that remained unfulfilled. it was like a void that gradually dragged you down. you'd managed to supress it for most of your life up until high school, until all of a sudden something changed.

you met sawamura daichi. he was cute, a first year player on the volleyball team. daichi was kind to you. the two of you became fast friends after meeting on the first day at karasuno. during your breaks in between classes the pair of you would talk about anything and everything- volleyball strategies, your latest sketches, even other classmates that were giving you a hard time. you could be silly with daichi. there was no pressure with him, no need to pretend to be perfect.

but there was something scary about this too. by your second year of school you'd been friends with daichi for about a year. it was then that the realization hit- you had never felt this safe, this accepted, or... this loved by another person. when you'd get anxious because of classes or have issues with your family daichi became a shoulder for you to lean on. he'd go out of his way to send you check up texts and leave you little handwritten notes. the first one that you received was a little post-it note that said "you'll do great on your test today! i believe in you- daichi." he'd blushed like crazy when you confronted him about it. it was new to see your usually sturdy and level-headed best friend blush over a silly note that he'd left. there was something different between the two of you after that first note. instead of walking you home like usual he started to keep a hand on the small of your back.

you hadn't been looking. you'd been talking about how awkward your family was when a stray cat slunked into front of the two of you. you almost walked straight into it before the cat bounded away, crossing the empty street and looking back once to meow at daichi and you.

"sorry, is that too much? i just... want to make sure that you don't trip."

you were confused until you realized what had happened. daichi had steadied you by putting his hand on the small of your back. it felt good, for some reason, to trust him to steady you. trust wasn't an easy thing to come by.

you smiled a tad awkwardly before steadying yourself on your own two feet. "not at all daichi. i don't mind."

daichi smiled and the pair of you kept walking. his hand had stayed where it had been. you felt... guilty for being so touch-starved. and for your best friend, of all people?

"how ridiculous" you thought to yourself. when you came home you knew that no one was there. time to start dinner before your family came home. you'd probably retreat to your room and text daichi when that happened.

daichi was so good and so nice, and by your third year of high school the tiny, lingering bit of attraction that you had had for him flourished into a full-blown crush. you felt embarrassed and guilty. never had you let someone get this close to you. never had you ever let anyone write you notes, check in on you, give you genuine-sounding compliments. it was the little things like "are you okay y/n? you seemed a little quiet this morning. are you getting enough sleep?"

graduation came and went. the notion of parting with daichi and your other friends- asahi, suga, and kiyoko- left a pang of grief in your stomach. you were attending a local university and daichi planned to join miyagi's fire department after nationals. you'd still be close to him and he'd still be living at home, but it was weird to think that you'd be seeing one another a lot less.

nationals was when everything boiled over. you'd promised daichi that you'd be in the stands at every game of the competition, cheering him on.

"id love it if you were there, don't get me wrong. but don't feel like you have to jump through hoops for me! it's a bit of a long trip, i don't want you tiring yourself out." he confesses sheepishly. but you really wanted to go- his mom and siblings couldn't because of school and work, but they'd given him their best wishes.

"I'll hitch a ride with saeko and the crew. she and i work at the same restaurant on the weekends. we already talked and she said she'd be more than happy." you chirp. daichi seems a bit less worried about you after this, but then he remembers.

"um. y/n. you know that saeko drives... well, not badly, just... scarily?" he only seems to be partially joking.

you laugh at his worried expression. "I'll be okay pal. we'll make one of saeko's taiko buddies take the wheel."

daichi mock sighs in relief and you laugh together. this was the last moment that daichi had before nationals where he wasn't laden with anticipation over whether karasuno would succeed or not. he felt relaxed, with you. he thought you were cute, and awkward sometimes, and smart, and... good. so good. you didn't always look to him like he was an authority figure and you were small. he didn't feel the pressure to make sure you behaved or kept you in line because you were good at putting up a front and keeping yourself "in order." sometimes daichi wished that you would let him take care of you, let him listen more often. he wished that you would let him love you.

oh.

oh shit.

"daichi? um, daichi?"

daichi blushed and was snapped back to reality. he... loved you? that's what that care for you was all of these years. that's why he wanted to know if you were taking care of yourself, if you weren't burning yourself out with pleasing your family and school and work. sure, he thought you were cute. he picked up on all of your idiosyncrasies, even sometime pointing them out to you. he had had an inkling that *maybe* he had a little crush on you... but the care that he had come to find that he had for you was so great. he had to do something- everyone was leaving for school and the championships would be over and then when would he see you again? there was this great, big fear of losing you due to confessing. but that fear was minuscule compared to you, his studious and independent friend, pushing him away and forgetting.

"sorry. i was just lost in thought."

✨

yes, you, saeko, and the taiko group arrived a *tad* late and missed the tokonami match. yes you felt guilty for missing it. but when karasuno won against inarizaki and you saw daichi and the team celebrate the win, it was all worth it. you cheered as loud as you can, and once the players cleared from the court, you scrambled to greet daichi.

you see him in the lobby and almost leap into his arms. he laughs. "aaa, hey y/n." he croaks.

you giggle. "hey daichi. congratulations. you were amazing out there."

he's smiling through the sweat and fatigue. you notice, out of the corner of your eye, asahi and suga slowly backing away to leave the two of you alone. suga clicks his tongue, making daichi whip his head around, and he gives the captain a thumbs up." daichi sighs and sets you down, and the two of you are left in the stadium lobby. volleyball players and spectators mingle around, getting food and shopping for merchandise. daichi runs a hand through his hair and turns to you.

"do you want to go outside? there's something that i have to tell you."

anxiety shoots through you. if it's daichi, it can't be bad. of course not. that's one of your best friends. right?

the two of you make your way to the front doors of the stadium and get some fresh air. the sky is blue and the wind is refreshing against your skin. daichi, still sweaty and tired from his game, seems to enjoy it too.

you giggle as he stretches. daichi sits on a nearby bench and gestures for you to do so too. you notice a little shake in his hands as he does so. he's fiddling with the zipper of his karasuno jacket in that cute way that you know he does.

there's a sense of unease, and it's up to you to break the silence. you're alone with sawamura daichi, your best friend and longtime crush.

"daichi? what's wrong?" you ask, concerned.

daichi looks to you, a flush on his cheeks and a light in his eyes. he looks so cute, even when he's tongue-tied and tired from a game.

he takes a deep breath, and the words come out.

"i like you a lot, y/n"

you blink, confused. then it hits you. your crush, sawamura daichi, likes you. like, the boy that you think about way too much, the boy that you feel safe with, the absolute gentleman who cares about you and respects you instead of walking all over you, likes you.

you realize that you haven't said anything before you stutter.

"i-i like you too, daichi. so much."

he's blushing. your face is growing hot despite the winter air. the two of you, literal adults, are reduced to awkward messes because of this confession.

"o-oh. that's... good. i think that that's good." daichi awkwardly says. he laughs a little, then it turns into a full-blown bellow. you can't help but laugh too at how ludicrous the situation is. two friends who have known each other for years, caring about each other, eventually falling for each other. who knew?

"also suga made a bet and told me to confess to you if we won against inarizaki. he told me after the tokonami match. i agreed." daichi huffs after the laughter subsides.

"of course he did. im glad that he did it though." you joke.

"yeah. because then i wouldn't have you." he smiles, getting up. he extends a hand to you, helping you from the bench

"let's go back to the group. i don't want to miss lunch."

✨

it's been months after nationals. you and daichi are in a relationship, happy to be with one another. he's taken you on so many wonderful dates and his family seems to love getting to know you more. but there's still something that's missing. you've always struggled to open up to people completely. even daichi doesn't know what you're like when you completely break.

that changes one day when you have to travel from your dorm, to your parents house, then to daichi's for a date. it was supposed to be casual- just you and him in your pajamas, watching movies and eating takeout. but after being berated by your family for your career choice it triggered something in you. you felt like a little kid again, being told that you're not enough, being slowly manipulated by your family into burning yourself out. dachi helped the loneliness subside, but you knew that, inside, you were still the same little kid. that thought made something inside you recoil, but you pushed it down and made your way to daichi's.

you settle into his bed, your partner beside you. you take a good look at him- your man, sturdy and stronger from work at the fire department. suddenly, you can't help but break for some reason. tears flood your eyes and they won't stop for some reason.

"baby? baby what's wrong?"

you didn't deserve him. why were you even friends with him? someone this nice, this gentle with you, this kind? you wanted him to kick you out for crying. you wanted him to break up with you, because good things don't last.

you were so embarrassed and you'd felt so weak and stupid. you'd never been allowed to cry before, you'd always been told that it was a sign of weakness. good children didn't cry, so now that you were grown up you shouldn't either.

daichi hadn't judged you. he just set the tv remote down and moved in to hug you. other people's touches usually made you flinch and swat them away, but it was never like that with him. not when he supported the small of your back when you fell, not when you jumped into his arms, not when he took your hand after your mutual confession.

the two of you were hugging now, your chin on his shoulder and his head tucked into your side. you could stay like this forever. he was so warm. you could feel the two of your heartbeats almost sinking into one as your sobs quieted down and your breathing slowed to normal. this was the effect that he had on you. it was in this moment that you realized that you loved him- you truly did. the brown-eyed, sturdy, kind, careful, gentle boy that you'd met on the first day of high school had become your friend. then he was your crush. now that you two were adults, he was your first partner. the first person that you had ever fallen truly, deeply in love with.

you felt weak for desiring a love that was this tender. pessimistic you has you thinking that maybe all of the bad things that happened when you were growing up- your family being distant, friends leaving, you feeling alone all of the time- were a sign. a sign that you didn't deserve love. but if you were undeserving, if the pessimistic side of you was right, maybe you could have this moment to keep instead. is that it? if a whirlwind kind of love was too much to ask, you could just keep these moments with daichi close to your heart. if it was possible to take this feeling and keep it in a bottle, you would.

in between sobs, you vent.

"everything sucks, daichi. my family has always been so critical of me. i never get to see any of our friends anymore. im trying to succeed at school but my family won't get off my back. i feel so alone."

daichi pulls away to look at you. his palm is cupping your face and uses his thumb to wipe a tear away. you sniffle. you struggle to meet his beautiful brown eyes, averting your gaze. but you can feel his gaze on you, and when you do finally find the courage to make eye contact, he looks at you with nothing but affection. for some reason you don't feel judged by him. you don't feel... bad for crying in front of him anymore. he's looking at you with nothing but acceptance, nothing but care.

"hey." he starts in a small, gentle voice. "i know how you feel about crying, doll. but it's okay to cry. no matter what your parents say about you, you're a good person. a lovely person, even. you're a good friend too. what they think is stupid." he smiles a little. you love that smile- the way that his eyes crinkle a little and his cheeks dimple. he holds one of your hands in both of his. "i love you. you're good, and smart, and kind, and hardworking. you forget to take care of yourself sometimes, but i think that that's okay. while you're learning how to show yourself more compassion I'll take care of you in the meantime. whatever you need, doll. you're safe with me. no matter what. okay?"

you're crying again. great. you don't stop yourself this time and you throw yourself into his arms. he's there, waiting for you. you let yourself sob into his chest while he gently rubs your back. he holds you in his big, strong arms and hugs you closer. you don't feel suffocated and you don't feel humiliating to be crying. you feel safe. it sucks to cry over what your family thinks of you and it sucks that you don't feel like enough. it sucks that you've felt alone for most of your life. it sucks that you feel guilty for wanting love and it sucks that sometimes, you feel guilty for loving daichi so much. but as he holds you and presses a kiss to the top of your head, nuzzling your hair, all of the pain is tinged with something warm. something safe. something so, so safe. a feeling that you'd never felt before.

it's in that moment that you know- daichi isn't a whirlwind. he isn't a storybook prince that will whisk all of your problems away. no, he's somehow better. he's a pillar of support, a source of comfort, a prince in his own right. no, he won't save you- you still have to take care of yourself. but he'll support you, fill in the gaps, love you unconditionally. maybe a fix-it-all is too much to ask, but you couldn't care less about that now. all that you want his daichi. he takes care of you. he respects you. he loves you, despite your flaws and your feelings of weakness and those moments like now when you just need to be held. he loves you.

when you've stopped crying your voice is croaky and you feel gross. you look up at daichi and he hands you a box of tissues from the nightstand. you're an ugly crier, you know that. but daichi doesn't seem to judge as you dab at your eyes and look to check your reflection in his room mirror. it feels wrong to leave the comfort of his arms, but it also feels like instinct to check your composure. when you're done you turn around to face him, eyes tired.

"do you want to talk about it doll?" you're about to object, in a prefunctory sort of way, but he cuts in. "baby, i don't mind. really. i just want to know that you're okay. i just want to know that you feel safe. you've endured a lot and the way that you feel matters."

you sniffle. "im fine not talking for now daichi. im... tired. just tired. from crying. i just want to sleep." when he shows you nothing but understanding, you stutter out one last request

"ww-will you hold me?"

"of course, princess. ive got you."

you clamber back to bed. daichi and you shift positions so that he's laying down and you're against his chest. he smells like that nice, crisp soap that he always uses. you bury your face in his chest once more, before laying on your side to the sound of his heartbeat.

you sigh. "i love this sound. it lets me know that you're here with me. it let's me know that you're real."

daichi chuckles warmly. you can hear the sound reverberate throughout his chest and it tickles your ear. he's so sweet. it's then that he promises something to you.

"im here, darling. and i am not going anywhere."

your eyes water a little at that. "i love you, daichi. you're my best friend."

he sighs, and it's like you can feel his warm, gentle smile from where you're resting. "i love you too, doll. so much. you are the most precious thing in the world to me."

you know in that moment that you are loved- genuinely, indellibly loved. the roughness and loneliness that you once endured is no more. despite everything, you're learning how to love yourself and to take care of yourself. it feels so, so lonely sometimes and the work seems endless. but whenever you need someone to catch you when you fall, you know that your love, daichi, will be there. forevermore.

his heartbeat relaxes you as you snuggle deeper into his chest. the last words that the two of you utter to one another are ones of love before you both drift off to sleep. you love him- so, so much. and he loves you.

tagging some folks in the longest fic that ive ever written because aaaaaa. if u want to be added to my taglist or taken off plz send me an ask!

@ceo-of-daichi @honeybunny-sawamura @daichis-kitty @goldenshoyo @daichidaichidaichi @kingtamakimurder

[passionate-reply]

What would Great Albums be, if not for defenses of albums lots of people hate? SPK’s Machine Age Voodoo is, of course, one of those albums, being the attempt of a noisy, drony early industrial group to make synthy disco magic. Did they succeed? Well, maybe not--but at least it’s interesting. Find out more by watching the video, or checking out the transcript under the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! This time, I will be once again be coming to the defence of an album that’s been very divisive: Machine Age Voodoo by SPK, first released in 1984. Earlier in the 1980s, SPK had distinguished themselves as one of the most prominent figures of the nascent “noise music” movement, alongside acts like NON and Throbbing Gristle. Just two years before Machine Age Voodoo, they released their arguable magnum opus: Leichenschrei, an album that eschewed a traditional tracklisting, featured the mutilated visage of a victim of napalm burns on its cover, and sounded something like this:

Music: “Seite ((Klono))” / “Napalm (Terminal Patient)”

With their follow-up to Leichenschrei, SPK would take their sound in a very different direction. They abandoned the harsh, buzzing textures and nauseous, whirring drones of their earlier work, and set out in a remarkably more pop direction. While Machine Age Voodoo features verses and choruses, brighter synth textures, and winsome slap basslines, it still maintains a certain “industrial” identity, tying it into the same overarching web of related styles that SPK’s earlier work fell under. This album reminds me a bit of Depeche Mode’s mid-80s output, such as Some Great Reward, in its incorporation of both synth-pop structures as well as some accents of mechanistic clangs and bangs. Depeche Mode and SPK were, of course, passing by one another after coming from opposite directions on this spectrum, but the end results remain comparable.

Music: “Junk Funk” / “Machine Age Voodoo”

Listening to the album’s stomping opener, titled “Junk Funk” on most releases but made into the title track for the US market, I’m struck by just how upbeat of a track it is. Where many industrial acts are keen to portray modern labour as a punishing, soul-sucking, miserable endeavour, “Junk Funk” seems to make it into something of a party. Given that even Depeche Mode were penning tracks like “Everything Counts” with a dour outlook on capitalism, the seemingly playful aura surrounding this single really sets it apart--though not necessarily in a good way. As I mentioned earlier, *Machine Age Voodoo* has consistently been panned by fans of the group’s more aggressive earlier work, and I think the album’s affinities with light-hearted, and perhaps even silly, post-disco pop make it all the more easy to write off as ridiculous and asinine. But much like simply being in a style you don’t care for isn’t a reason to lambaste a work of art, simply being lighter in tone is no reason to reject something. Not all great art needs to be stone-serious, after all! While Machine Age Voodoo may not be a continuation of the classic SPK sound, I think it’s an album that has plenty of appeal for fans of lighter synth-pop, and one that I wish had managed to achieve a bit more renown among those who might be a bit more receptive to its style.

Naturally, the title of the album and the themes of its sometime title track invite us to consider the role that appropriation of “primitive” themes has to play. Ever since industrialization and colonialism began to create large separations between the lifestyles of “the West and the rest,” Western artists from Picasso to Gauguin have found themselves fascinated by so-called “primitive” ways of life, found among communities of colour whom they believed to live closer to the natural or archaic state of humankind, uncorrupted by capitalism. But followers of the religion sometimes known as “Voodoo” are living in the modern world as much as anyone else is, and the use of their faith as a symbol of barbarism or the unrestrained id here is presumptuous at best, and bigoted at worst--particularly given the reference to “funk,” a music style that, like Voodoo, is strongly associated with Black culture. The love for things “primitive” has served an important cultural role in the West, offering an apparent alternative to the crushing death spiral of capitalism, and serving as an outlet for questioning the assumed status quo and the truth of human nature--but at the same time, I think we can fairly criticize it for offering a stereotyped and tokenized view of cultures outside of the West. Machine Age Voodoo offers another, very different, perspective on the Other on its second track, “With Love From China.”

Music: “With Love From China”

Compared to “Junk Funk,” “With Love From China” is distinguished as one of the album’s more plaintive and less dancefloor-oriented tracks, and, in contrast to “Junk Funk”’s joyful embrace of “high technology hoodoo,” “With Love From China” portrays the titular Communist power as something quite sinister. While a simple read of the lyrics suggests that it may be a triumphant hymn to the state, the track’s plodding, dirgelike melody makes it hang like an ominous cloud instead. Arguably the most successful state to be built upon Marxist ideals, China is a prominent feature of lots of early 80s synth-pop, where it and other Communist states saw varying portrayals as anywhere from dystopian to utopian. Like the appropriation of “voodoo” earlier, the dread romanticism applied to China by SPK on this track says more about them than it does about China itself. I think both tracks, taken together, paint a picture of a sort of “anywhere but here” ideology, defined less by any strong feelings for these particular cultures, and more by a desire for an escape to the exotic, and an abandonment of all that is sick about the West. Overall, though, “With Love From China” isn’t necessarily a fair representation of the average track on Machine Age Voodoo, as the album consists mostly of higher-energy tracks, like “Metal Dance.”

Music: “Metal Dance”

Perhaps the track most clearly aimed at nightclub rotation, “Metal Dance” feels like a logical choice for the album’s first single. Less of a pop tune and more of a floorfiller, “Metal Dance” still hums with industrial touches, propelled by clunking metallic percussion and chant-like shouts that prefigure the synthesis of machine music and club fare that EBM acts like Nitzer Ebb would achieve later in the 1980s. With its succinct title and a compelling hook that implores us to “synthesize our dreams away,” “Metal Dance” almost feels like a love letter to the sheer concept of electronic music for dancing to--a consummate paean to the discotheque, even if it comes from what may seem like an unlikely, and perhaps dishonest, source. A similar embrace of dance music qua dance music is found on “High Tension.”

Music: “High Tension”

If “Metal Dance” sounds like a preview of later industrial dance genres like EBM, then “High Tension” feels like a throwback to the first attempts to “synthesize” an electronic disco, with its dense, complex production style, prominent bass, and lyrics that promote “danc[ing] ‘til you drop” as a response to “bad times.” Despite its compelling use of a well-textured vocoder, “High Tension” veers away from the worship of the machine that was central to “Metal Dance,” and its straightforward celebration of dancing itself makes it feel like the most likely genuine crossover hit on the album--not that it really had any. It’s also worth noting that the track’s bridge contains an early reference to “hip-hop,” back when artists like Man Parrish were freely using the term to describe club-friendly electro that didn’t necessarily include rapping. Times have changed, of course, but I think “High Tension” fits right in with other works in that style--even if, again, it comes from a group that nobody would have expected to make music like this!

On the cover of Machine Age Voodoo, we see a fantasy cityscape, defined by a massive tower crowned with the band’s name accompanied by a Communist-inspired red star. It’s as firmly removed from the vile and shocking imagery of Leichenschrei as the music contained within. But, just as the music has retained some degree of industrial sentiments, the cover is not without its own sense of subversion--it is, after all, apparently enshrining the ostensibly dangerous, foreign ideology of Communism!

It’s tempting to compare this image to the futuristic imagery of Fritz Lang’s classic silent film, Metropolis, particularly given that there’s also a track on the album that shares that title. But I think that the visual style employed here, with its blocky, cubistic rendering of form and lively use of diagonals to enrich its composition, is perhaps more reminiscent of the work of the Russian avant-garde of the 1910s. Even before the Russian Revolution, pioneering abstract artists, like the “Rayonist” Natalia Goncharova, were looking towards the exciting potential of the future, and making art that celebrated the beauty of machines in motion. The early abstraction of painters like Goncharova would go on to influence the abstract art associated with the early days of the Soviet Union, which makes it a particularly fitting affinity given the themes of Machine Age Voodoo.

After Machine Age Voodoo, SPK never returned to making more melodic music--perhaps unsurprisingly, given the album’s simultaneous failure to achieve crossover success, or retain the interest of their existing fanbase. They returned in 1986 with Zamia Lehmanni: Songs of Byzantine Flowers, an album of dark ambient music that avoided slavishly copying earlier works like Leichenschrei, while still feeling like a worthy continuation of the spirit in which they had begun their career.

Music: “Invocation to Secular Heresies”

My favourite track on Machine Age Voodoo is “Seduction,” which is easy to overlook as it actually only appeared on the US release of the album. “Seduction” is striking for its blatant, wantonly sexual lyricism, which, when combined with SPK vocalist Sinan Leong’s competently sultry vocal style, recalls the best work of the experimental disco outfit Gina X Performance. And much like Gina X Performance, there’s a bit of subversively queer gender-bending to be had here, as a male backing vocalist repeats Leong’s line, “you call yourself a man?” I think that may be unintentional, a sort of happy accident, but I love it nonetheless. That’s all I have for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Seduction”

[mystic-oneshots]

Video Games ( Jumin x MC) (Juminweek - Day 3)

I know at the time of this post Jumin week is officially over but I haven’t been able to post in time as I haven’t been very well. I also had ides for what to write and changed them half way through! However, Here’s day 3! I got heavily inspired by Animal Crossing as that's what I've been playing when I’m not playing Jumin’s route on repeat! I can imagine Something like this happening so I had to write it. I hope you enjoy!

(Video games vs soap operas)

My head rests against the soft feather pillow as I adjust the linen bed sheets around my body. I snuggle in wiggling my toes and ankles around the covers to get warm. It doesn't take long to get comfortable.

A warm glow faintly lights the room from the lamps positioned on either side of the bed. The door to the on-suite bathroom is left open ajar, letting the light from that room sneak out into the dimly lit bedroom where I lay. My husband's phone occasionally brightens up as either a message or an email gives him an alert, although he isn't able to see them right now. The last spot of light comes from what is sat in my hands.

Each night since receiving the gift from my husband, I have been spending some time playing on my 'Nintendo Switch'. Specifically to play 'Animal Crossing: New Horizons'. I am often off before my husband comes and joins me in bed, so we can spend some time in each others arms before drifting off to sleep. Tonight however, I have been informed that I would be having a meteor shower in the game, and I don't want to miss it!

Jumin emerges from the bathroom. He tugs gently at the collar of his pyjamas as he walks towards his side of the bed. His eyes don't leave me despite mine being glued to the small screen of the console. The sheets are lifted and his body soon comes to join me under the duvet. His eyes still don't leave my presence.

"Can I ask a question?" Jumin says, bringing his body in closer to mine and placing his arm underneath my head. The heat of his body gives me a sense of stimulation, however, it's not quite enough to bring me out of my trace the game has caught me in.

"Uh-huh" I respond, not taking my eyes off the screen as I move my thumbs around the control buttons. I can feel him frowning in response to me not looking at him.

"Can you explain what makes this game so special to you?" He curiously asks. His eyes drift away from me and onto my screen as I move my character round the environment. Seeing him take an interest in something that is way beyond his expertise is an entertaining yet welcome thought. It was at this point I divert my attention to him instead. I crack a smile at him and I place the console down on my lap. I wonder why he'd ask that?

"Are you interested in it?" I tease. Jumin's eyes lift to meet mine. His ash black locks fall effortlessly in front of his eyes. His expression is warm and gentle but I can see curiosity sparking in his smile with a faint smirk.

"One could say so. I just want to know why you're so invested in it! It seems like it's all you're doing in you're spare time now." His free hand tucks a loose wisp of hair behind my ear and his thumb delicately rubs across my cheek. Through his touch he I could feel that he's somewhat disappointed. It breaks me a little. I didn't realise I was that invested and it was secretly affecting him.

"Have I been spending too much time on it? I'm sorry! Ugh, why didn't I realise that-"

"Don't be ridiculous, princess!" He laughs. "I must admit, I wish to have some more attention, but then again, I can see how happy it makes you so that is enough to satisfy me. I want you to show me what you're playing so I can understand why you love it so much!"

Hearing him say that makes my heart flutter. He's genuinely curious. That's adorable!

My head turns to fully face him. A joyful sigh escapes my lips before I pull my body in closer to his. I rest my head on his shoulder and his head falls to lay on top on mine. His free arm wraps around my waist as I bring the Switch up to my face again. I tilt the console enough so Jumin has a clear view of the screen in between my hands. It's so nice to be able to share this with him!

"Will I need to explain everything to you?" I question him.

"No, I've seen advertisements for this game before so I get the base idea of the concept. If I have any questions I'll ask." he responds. I hum back in content.

I show my husband my island that I have spent hours on to make perfect. The first place I decide to take him to is the airport to show of the creativity of my island entrance. Cliffs littered with flowers, small knickknacks, and the odd waterfall stand before my character.

He remains quiet as I tour him around the cliffs and pathways, pointing out my villagers homes and the areas I've decorated to resemble different community places. I know his silence is a good thing. He's not bored nor not paying attention. When he's like this, I can tell he's invested. It was something I had to learn to get used to, however, that's how he's always been apparently.

"Was that a cat?" He quickly exclaims. He sounds excited! I let out a light-hearted laugh as I make my character retrace her steps. Indeed it was a cat. Someone who I spent a lot of time and dedication to find. A cat named Raymond.

"It took me weeks to finally find him! He's one of, if not, the most popular villagers in the game but that's not why I wanted him..." I tell Jumin. My voice trails off and I feel his grip around me tighten.

"Why did you want him?" He softly asks. My cheeks flush red. I'm thankful that he can't see my face properly right now for I'd be rather embarrassed if he did. I hesitate to answer at first, trying to laugh it off and hoping he wouldn't notice my awkwardness.

Truth is, I wanted him because he reminded me so much of Jumin. For a start, he's a cat! He wears a little suit and talks in a sophisticated way which is very typical of Jumin too. I doesn't help that his house is designed to look like an office either! It was like Jumin was in mind when they made him!

"It's a silly reason really..." I mumble under my laughter. It's not really silly but it's just a bit cringe worthy.

"It's because he reminds you of me isn't it?" He speculated. My cheeks only flush more. How on earth is he so good at figuring me out? It's like he can read my mind!

I move my head from his shoulder and turn my body to face him. His eyes are drawn to the peachy hue of my cheeks which trigger a chain reaction in his own. Seeing him become flustered makes me feel less embarrassed. It also makes my reasoning feel less child-like and more meaningful.

"I think that might be enough for tonight." Jumin's arm reaches for the console in my hands and carefully plucks it from my hands. He places it on the bedside table before bringing his hand back around my body. He pulls me in closer for a tender cuddle, holding my head against the warmth of his chest.

"What do you think of my island?" I gingerly ask. His fingers run through my scalp relaxing me as my eyes start to slowly become heavy.

"It's very creative, darling. You certainly have an eye for detail, although I already knew that and wouldn't expect anything less from you." A tone of flattery runs through his voice. "Seeing what you've done has now made me consider about getting one myself! I'm sure there's a way we can connect on it to play together right?"

"What really?" I jolt my head up to look at his face. A huge smile bares his lips as he nods and hums in reassurance. I giggle as I settle down again against his chest.

This happy feeling is exactly what we need to sleep well tonight.

[writinginthedarkwood]

"If I Killed Someone For You" by Alec Benjamin reminds me of Yanderes! Kaminari, Kirishima, or Deku. Would you do a writing piece of them based on this song?

I love this, hopefully it’s what you were looking for. :) I chose Denki because I don’t see a lot of yandere stuff for him.

Warnings: blood, typical yandere shenanigans. 

Denki pried his fingers off of the edge of the sink and reached for the faucet with shaky hands. The water trickled out cold, he filled his palms and let the water run over them, the blood hadn’t started to dry yet. It ran down the drain dark and dirty against the white porcelain. “It never gets any easier...” He turned his head and looked at the mess on the floor. That pathetic mess hadn’t moved in a few minutes, but he never liked to have his back turned on a body too long. He laughed and kicked his stomach. The body slumped forward with more blood oozing out of his mouth, but it didn’t make a sound. “Yup, still dead.” 

Yeah it never got any easier, Denki thought. 

The cleanup, that is.

 The young man filled up the bucket of water with soap and scrubbed at the walls. The blood came off easy, the difficult part is getting the blood out of the rags. He’ll probably burn them, that seemed to work pretty good last time. “Your honor, I had a moment of weakness, but it will never happen again. My service as a hero should prove that I love this city...” Denki muttered to himself as he ripped the rubber gloves off and tossed them into the trash bag with all of the bloody cloths. The body was wrapped in a plastic tarp, out of the way for now, but he had to hurry and get it on the street before too much of the leaked out. 

 Kaminari caught a moment of himself in the reflection of the metal bucket, he bent down and studied his face. He hooked his lip and pulled on it to look at his teeth. He touched his hair, fixing it back in place and smiled at his reflection. “You need some sleep Kaminari, you barely look like yourself.” He smirked again and winked. 

His phone beeped in his pocket.

Her

Would she be devastated when the police call to tell her the news, or will she be relieved he’s finally gone? Denki wondered and checked the text. “Hey can I call you after work? I’m having a rough day... :(” Denki thought he could cry, reaching out to him after a long day? She really must love him, maybe she knew somehow that he’s been her protector, the one she can always rely on. 

Would you love me even more if you knew it was me who got rid of that scum bag?

“Another body on this side of town, a serial killer?” Denki’s old friend touched her cheek and chin as she asked the chief of police. Denki shook his head in disbelief. “Absolutely disgusting, but I don’t think so Headphone Jack. It doesn’t look like it was well thought out, maybe a robbery?” 

Jiro nodded her head in agreement. “He’s dressed like he was carrying a lot of cash, I’m not sure what he would be doing all the way over here. I mean, he just looks out of place.” The police had the entire street blocked off with flashing lights. The ambulance is moving the body in a bag, the sirens on and blaring. The detectives approached the hero pair. “Thank you for calling us you two, if you hadn’t called I doubt anyone would have reported this for awhile. Things have a tendency to just disappear out this way.” The detective fixed his hat on his head to tip at the heroes. “I think you’re right Chargebolt, a mugging gone wrong. This case will probably turn up cold, his wallet is empty but all his belongings are with him. Nothing to really trace to a pawn shop around here, so unless we find prints on the murder weapon, we don’t have a lot to go off of.”

Good luck finding a print on that crow bar, you won’t.

“Just a mess sir, I’m so sorry. Do we have an ID on him?” Denki asked the detective with another shake of the head. “His ID was still on him, so was his office card. He works on the other side of town.” 

“Where at?” Jiro asked with a stern face. “Maybe we can dig around and find out what he was doing out here.” 

“He worked at the Law Firm by that one sushi bar...” The detective thought for a moment. “Don’t get too involved in this, you know those big office types. Always hiding something. He probably was over here for something shady, and got caught up in a mess. Let us handle it, you two head home.” 

Denki turned the keys in his car over and felt the air conditioning hit his hot cheeks and took a deep breath. Such a rush every time, nobody would ever suspect sweet, kinda ‘dumb’ Kaminari for anything so heinous. He drove out of the bad side of town wearing his favorite disguise.

His hero costume.

He hummed to the radio as he headed for your neighborhood, you should be getting home from work any time now. 

His phone rang, right on time. He waited a second so you wouldn’t think he was staring at his phone waiting for you to call. “Kaminari.” He said casually into the phone. 

“H-hey Chargebolt, it’s me... Y/N.” 

Your voice was so sweet, so gentle. You sounded tired. 

“Hey you! You know you can call me Denki, I told you that!” 

You laughed a small giggle and trailed off for a second. “Oh yeah, sorry. How was your day?” 

Denki talked for a little bit, saying there was a few weird things at work but nothing he wasn’t used too. “But enough about me, why was your day so rough?”  

“One of my bosses never showed up to work today, and they threw all of his work load onto me. I had to give a presentation I knew nothing about, and meet with a client who wouldn’t talk to me because I’m not a lawyer yet... I don’t even work with him often, I don’t know why I had to pick up his work.” You sighed into the phone. “I guess I’m just tired, I don’t even feel like cooking but I haven’t eaten all day.”

Denki grit his teeth and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. That bastard is messing with her from the other side, he smashed that bug to make things easier for her, not worse.

“You know what you need?” Denki asked, forcing his tone to be pleasant. “What’s that?” You asked sweetly into the phone. “Some takeout. Want me to swing by with some food?” 

“Oh no, you’re so busy I could never ask you to do that.” He couldn’t see you, but your face blushed profusely. THE Chargebolt wanted to come to your apartment? 

“I’m never too busy for such a good friend, I’m not far, I’ll come by.”

You looked through your peephole, surprised. You barely recognized your friend. You swung the door open quickly and gasped. “What happened to you!?” 

You touched his face, he looked pale and exhausted. He held up a brown paper bag and a bottle of wine. “Aw come on, I can’t look that bad!” You grabbed his jacket and quickly pulled him inside. “Come sit down, you look like you just saw a ghost.” You took the food from him and set it on your coffee table. He plopped down on your couch like he had been there a million times. 

Because well, he had. He loved spending time here with you. You had never invited him inside, but he didn’t think you would mind if he slipped in for a bit while you slept. You’re such a sweet person, you’d want him to be comfortable. 

You sat down beside him and opened the bag, the two of you talked and ate together. He had you laughing so hard a noodle almost came out of your nose. Things got quiet for a second after the both of you yawned, I guess it was getting a little late. You turned the T.V. on and a breaking news segment caught your eye.

“We’ll increase our patrols of the area to try and increase the safety of all the cities residents, for now, don’t walk alone at night and keep your smarts about you.” “Hey... that’s you!” You looked at him in shock. Your bosses face popped up on the screen next to the news reported who was interviewing the electric hero. “Wh-why is my boss on there?” 

Denk sat up and put a hand on your back. “That’s... that’s the victim I found on the south side of town today.” Your eyes teared up and you gripped onto Denki. He pulled you into a hug and you shook in his arms. “Why would somebody kill him? I mean he could be a jerk to work with, but nothing to murder someone over.” 

Denki tensed up a bit. The fact that you were in his arms, this should be the best day of his life but you seem... upset?

You pulled away from him and looked up with puffy red cheeks. “Denki I’m scared. A woman on the third floor is missing, and- and the mechanic from IT was found with his throat cut a month ago.” You stood up and paced the floor. “Not to mention my-my...” You stopped talking and crumbled back into Denki’s arms. “I can’t do this, I know this sounds ridiculous but I feel like I’m in danger.”

“You can’t be alone right now...” Denki rubbed your back and cradled you. “I think you should come stay with me for a little while...” 

“Wh-what?” You asked confused. Denki touched your face softly and gave your side a playful shock. You giggled and he hugged you again. After a moment he touched your shoulders firmly and looked you in the eye. “If you think you’re in danger, you should come stay at my place. It’s in a nicer part of the city, and I can keep an eye on you.” 

You thought for a minute. Your boyfriend has only been dead for six months, but in that time you and Denki had gotten really close. Like he was sent by an angel to help you. “I really appreciate it, but I should probably stay here. I think it would silly for me to pack everything up and run, I mean nothing is going to happen to me, right?” 

Denki smirked, but he wasn’t happy. “Are you serious right now Y/N?” 

His tone change surprised you and you stepped away from him in reflex. “What’s wrong?” You picked up your glass of wine that you had been neglecting and took a big sip. You’ve never really been a huge drinker, but the bitter taste gave you something to focus on.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong!?” Denki gripped his hair and smiled at you. “You don’t understand what I’ve been doing for you. I really stick my neck out for you, and you never seem to care about how it makes ME feel.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “I- I’m sorry I know you’re busy but I thought we...” You didn’t know what the two of you are. He mostly kept your relationship a secret, he didn’t want you to be in the press at all. But you felt like the two of you are really close, you’d never take advantage of him.

“You still don’t get it do you? Everything I do is to make you happy. Make your life easier, and you don’t even seem to notice.” 

He took his jacket off and threw it on the couch. You took another step away from him and gripped your wine glass harder. You’d never seen him act this way before. You took another gulp.

“D-denki there’s something on your shirt.” He looked down, he hadn’t noticed but a few specks of blood had gotten on his ribs. You stepped closer and grabbed it, gently touching the blood stain. “I-is this from work?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper. Denki said nothing, he reached out and touched your shoulder. 

His hands smelled like bleach.

“I think you... you should go.” You said trying to sound firm, swallowing the rest of your wine. 

“I think I should stay the night, you look tired.” He said in a soft voice. 

Your head was swimming, your eyes feeling very heavy all of a sudden. 

You looked down at the table and saw that he hadn’t taken one sip of his drink, which wasn’t really like him.

“Denki what did you do?” You stumbled backwards and dropped the glass onto the floor.  You reached for your cell phone but dropped it before losing control of your legs. He smiled and caught you in his arms. He planted a kiss on your forehead. “Denki did you kill my boss?” You tried to cry out but you couldn’t move, he lifted you into his arms. “Oh honey, shhhhh.” He laid you on the couch. He didn’t have long to pack some of your things up and scrub any trace of him ever being here. “I was hoping you’d be more understanding, happy even that I removed all of these messes from your life.”

You choked on your words and fought to keep your eyes open. “All of these-?” 

No he didn’t mean... 

Denki crouched down beside you spoke softly. “That boyfriend of yours? He didn’t even yell out for you when he was dying on the sidewalk. He said that other girls name... my blood boiled, how could he not see that he had the most perfect woman in the world waiting for him at home?” He scoffed. “That’s when I stomped out his teeth. He didn’t deserve to ever say your name anyway.” Denki stuck his tongue out at you, showing off his teeth. You wanted to scream, but your eyes shut. 

You felt his lips touch yours, before everything was black.

I didn’t put the lyrics in here but I definitely alluded to just about all of them. What did you think?? I had fun writing this one. 

[connorspiracy]

Santa Paws Is Coming To Town || Connor & Miriam

Timing: After Mim’s Solo Setting: Your normal White Crest neighborhood Parties: @connorspiracy and @meflemming Content: N/A Summary: Connor has an unexpected encounter with a bleeding heart vampire.

After a long night of petting Penny’s fur as the dog slumbered by Miriam’s side, the vampire finally decided that she needed to take the dog somewhere safe. Pets were not for people like her, especially sweet dogs that had it in their stupidly big hearts and tiny heads to be comforted by their owner’s killer. She found the dog’s leash, and led her to the door. It was still early, too early for the sun to be out yet, but Miriam knew it was less than an hour away. She’d need to be quick about this. The shelter was quite a walk away, and she wasn’t as familiar with it as other locations that she’d frequented in her youth. She could only hope that she could make it there in time and not end up stuck under a bush or in the sewers until sunset. Walking along with Penny at her side, Miriam was surprised to see someone else out at this hour. “Hello?” she called out, unsure what someone who looked so young was doing outside at such an early hour. 

The winter night bit Connor with its chill. He wore a padded, fleece-lined panel coat over a cozy hooded sweatshirt, hat, gloves, scarf, and still his hands trembled and his breath frosted on the air. He’d hoped to catch something interesting happening during the winter solstice, but either he was in the wrong place at the wrong time or White Crest had decided to be quiet for once. He’d put his camera away and was getting ready to head to his Jeep when he heard the stranger’s voice. Connor turned, looking towards the voice. “Oh, hey,” he said, a jovial smile on his face. He held up his camera bag for her to see. “Don’t mind me. I was just doing some night filming.” His eyes fell on the beautiful Golden Retriever at her side and he had to hold himself back from gushing. “Gorgeous dog,” he said, smile widening a bit. “Can I pet her?”

The way the boy in front of her was dressed reminded Miriam how ill-fitted her clothes were for the weather, and how she was just as cold on the inside as the temperature was on the outside. Oh, well. She hadn’t expected to have to put up appearances so early. Instead, she gave the young man an easy smile. “Night filming? Do you often do that in below freezing conditions?” Kids these days seemed to enjoy such reckless behavior. Then again, she had been no different, there were, no doubt, videos of her being silly and reckless in college, though they were likely hard to find. Anyone that would have had such videos was long dead. Miriam blinked, looking down at the dog, and then back to the boy. “Oh, well, thank you. She’s not mine, actually, but you’re welcome to pet her. She’s quite friendly.” A bit too friendly, truly.

Connor gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle. “Well, I think it’d be lying so say I don’t. But the below freezing part isn’t exactly ideal. I’m just trying to get good footage.” Of what, he didn’t say, but he wouldn’t lie if she asked. Connor was never one to resist the opportunity to pet a dog, and even his most skeptical brain cells wouldn’t fight this opportunity, so he smiled, leaning in to gently ruffle her ears and scratch the back of her head. “Oh yeah? You pet sitting?”

“Well, do be careful. It’s rather dangerous out so late. It’s always darkest before the dawn,” Miriam said. Then, she raised a careful eyebrow. “Did you? Get any good footage?” She shifted a bit on her feet, watching the young man as he petted the dog. “Her owner passed quite recently, actually.” By Miriam’s own hand, though that wasn’t proper to say. Penny, for her part, seemed to be eating up the young man’s attention, making happy little noises that dogs tended to make. She was the reason this dog would never see her owner again. Miriam was the reason that some family would never see that man again. She was-- “I’m just here to make sure that she ends up in a good home,” she said, stroking one of the dog’s silky ears.

"I'm always careful," Connor lied. Although since he now had both Jasmine and Rio on his case about the whole hospital thing, he'd play it mildly safe, at least for a little while. Or unless something really exciting happened. "Nah, nothing exciting tonight, unfortunately," he said with a shrug. Connor narrowed his eyes sadly at Miriam's proclamation that the dog's owner had recently passed away, and he fussed under her muzzle. "Aw, I'm sorry. Right at Christmas too?" He kissed the dog on her little fuzzy forehead. "Nobody should lose their family right around Christmas.” He looked up at what he assumed was the kind woman trying to find this poor little sweetheart a new home. “That’s really nice of you, to help. Did you have someone already?” 

“I’m sure,” Miriam hummed out. “People your age are always so careful.” Humans. For such fragile creatures, they tended to do the most dangerously stupid things. It was as endearing as it was concerning. She couldn’t remember a time when her bones did not right themselves and her skin did not sew itself together quickly. She did not remember what it meant to have to be careful. “Perhaps that’s a good thing, for a night like tonight.” It would be a cold, miserable holiday for some. “Yes, it’s quite unfortunate.” And she was the cause. Because she lashed out. Because she couldn’t take the thought of someone telling her what to do, even if it had been something she was planning. “I owe her as much,” she said softly, looking at the dog. “I don’t have anyone in mind. I was taking her to the shelter, actually.” She was going to force them to ensure Penny went to a good home. Someone would want a sweet dog for the holidays. She just knew it.

“Well, I’m older than I look,” Connor laughed. He didn’t catch the hidden meaning behind her words, but that was probably just as well. He didn’t really want to know that this nice lady who was so concerned about the poor dog had just spent her night murdering its owner. “That sucks,” he said, pursing his lips. “She’ll be alone at the shelter for Christmas, all confused and upset…” Yeah, she didn’t know it was Christmas but that didn’t make it any better. “Bloody breaks my heart, man. Are you sure there aren’t any family or friends who can take her?”

“You do look rather young,” Miriam said with a smirk, especially when he was all bundled up like a child on a snow day. “It’s-- It’s awful, yes.” She swallowed hard, feeling something wretched knotting itself in her throat before she forced it down. No, stop it. She was doing a good thing. She could at least do a good thing. The owner (Thomas Klein; his name was etched into her brain, now) was inconsequential. He was dead. But she could at least help the dog. She was an innocent. “I intend to do everything in my power to ensure she’s well taken care of and brought into a loving home as soon as possible,” Miriam stated. She’d compel every damn worker in the shelter if she had to. “No, no I don’t believe there is,” she lied easily. The owner had friends, had family, but she didn’t know if any of them would take the sweet dog in. What if they didn’t give her the kindness she deserved? Miriam had to make sure she was taken care of.

“I’m almost twenty-four.” Yeah, it was still young, but most people assumed Connor was in his late teens. Twenty-one at the oldest. He’d been denied beer even with his ID more times than he could count. This really sucked. This dog and the owner had probably been each other’s only companions, and now they were both alone, the owner in one life and her in another. “Do you work for the shelter or something?” he asked, genuinely curious, still fussing the dog while they talked. “I don’t know how they manage it. I’d probably end up wanting to take home every single dog,” he laughed sadly. “I don’t think they rehome over Christmas though. To discourage people from giving them as gifts.”

Miriam’s eyes widened a bit. “I… wouldn’t have guessed that. Sorry, sweetness. You’ve got a bit of a babyface.” She wondered, briefly, if he was fucking with her, but age was a rather ridiculous thing to lie about to a stranger in the middle of the street in the early hours of the morning. The early hours when the sun would be rising, and soon. Miriam couldn’t linger here for long. “No, no, I’m just… a very charming and persuasive person when I’m inclined, and I’m usually inclined. I have no doubt I can make them see my way.” She gave the young man a pleasant smile, but it quickly faded to worry. She hadn’t thought of any of that. “Oh. That’s-- I wonder when they’ll start rehoming. I don’t want her to be alone.” She bit the inside of her lip. “I live a bit of busy lifestyle, wholly unsuited to care for a dog properly, and I have someone living with me and don’t want to burden her with the upkeep of a pet. She deserves better than that. Otherwise I would take this sweet girl in a heartbeat.” One of his, not one of hers. She’d be waiting a long time for that heartbeat, were that the case.

“It’s fine, I get that all the time.” Connor shrugged it off. He made plenty of jokes about his own babyface. It didn’t matter if someone else did, too. He didn’t think to wonder what Miriam’s motive was. Why should he? Helping to rehome a dog was something almost any decent person would have done. He had no idea of her nefarious reasons, of the guilt she was trying to mask, the crimes she was trying to atone for. “I think some time in January,” he shrugged. “I only know because I checked the website recently. I’ve… kinda been thinking of going there, actually.” He almost kept his next words to himself, but it wasn’t like Connor to hold back. He rubbed the back of his neck with a small chuckle. “Do you want… I mean… I could take her.” He immediately shook his head. “That’s stupid. You don’t even know me. Sorry.”

“That’s such a long time,” Miriam muttered, clenching Penny’s leash tightly in her hand as she thought about the poor creature being stuck at a shelter for weeks all because she was cruel. You’re a monster and a liar! Morgan’s voice rang in her head like a damned bell. She was. She was. She should own it. She should… She should find this dog a home. She narrowed her eyes at the boy. “You would take her?” He seemed sincere. He mentioned that he was looking for a dog and had been for sometime. This could be good, but she needed to make sure. “It’s not stupid if you’re sincere. Are you? Dog’s are a big responsibility. They mustn’t be dragged out into the cold to go videotaping things because they might be interesting,” she said sternly.

Her gaze felt penetrating. As if she was the type of person who you couldn’t hide anything from. Connor looked at the dog, a happy, innocent, loving creature who hadn’t done anything wrong, who needed somewhere to call home. “I mean, yeah. I love dogs. I live alone. I work for myself. I make my own schedule, and one of my best friends has a dog, and we go hiking and stuff together all the time.” As much as Connor might not have wanted to leave the dog at home, the stranger was right about taking her out filming. He ran into dangerous things far too often. What if one of those bugs had got her? “Yeah, totally.”

The sun was going to start rising any minute now. Miriam needed to figure this out. Here was this boy, earnest and seemingly kind, standing in front of her and willing to do what was necessary. This was a better option than a shelter. It had to be. She gave a quick nod. “Right.” Smiling charmingly, she compelled the boy. “You will make sure that this dog receives the proper amount of attention, care, and love that she needs to be happy. It is of the utmost importance that she is well loved.” She dug around in her pocket and frowned when she found it empty. “I would give you my card, but I don’t have one on me. My name is Mim. Mim Flemming, owner of Flemming Leather. Should you need anything, you only have to reach out to the store and have my assistant patch you through to me or contact me online. If the dog needs anything, anything, you will let me know, understood?” She should get going. She didn’t even know this boy’s name. “Take care of her. She responds to Penny, but she’s quite young, I believe. I really must go.” She handed the boy the leash and patted his gloved hand. Bending down, she gave the dog a reluctant pat goodbye. Again, she repeated, a bit more gently, “Take care of her. And, well, Merry Christmas, I suppose.”

Connor had always been impulsive and big-hearted, so why should tonight be any different? He was still sort of processing what had just happened when the woman handed him the leash and practically disappeared into the night. White Crest really was a strange place, but this was far from the strangest interaction he’d had. “Uh, okay. Thanks? Bye?” he called after her, turning back to the dog and giving her more pets. “Guess we’ve got some shopping to do as soon as the stores open in a couple hours, babe,” he said, patting the side of her neck. “Okay, let’s go, Penny.” Hm. That didn’t sound right. He didn’t want to disrespect her old owner or anything, but she just didn’t feel like a Penny. But then, what was he going to call her? He started walking her back to his car, securing her in the back and taking her home. He unloaded his things, and as he did so, his eyes fell on the logo of his Nikon Z 50 Camera bag. “Hm,” he pondered, taking her leash again. “Nico, you like that?” he asked, smiling. “Yeah, sounds good. Let’s go inside.” 

[wheresmynaya]

Two Ghosts Ch.21 | Brittana

Yes, you’re seeing that correctly LOL. I’m determined to turn 2020 around, at least through writing fics! I will also (try very hard to) update weekly. 

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

The wheels of the plane from New Haven barely hit the tarmac before Quinn is texting Santana and Brittany to ask if they want to grab a coffee. Santana figures Quinn must be dying to know what happened with Alex because she sure didn’t call Quinn up to tell her. She also highly doubts Brittany had the time to do it either.

They’ve both been…busy.

Not like that, they’ve just had their own things to deal with. You know, private feelings.

Like knowing Britt still loves her after all these years and Santana wanting to do things right this time. Brittany had teased Santana about being courted, but Santana kind of liked the idea of taking things slow. There were still so many things about Brittany she didn’t know and the thought of learning her all over again sounded nice.

Brittany P. – You free to meet up with Q?

Santana sees the text from Brittany and it makes her smile. It’s so reminiscent of their high school days when Quinn would message the Unholy Trinity group chat but Santana and Brittany would text each other on the side to confirm what they wanted to do first before replying. They’ve grown so much over the years, but the text just shows Santana that some things never do change. Do they?

Santana L. – Yeah, hbu?

Brittany P. – Yup!

Santana swipes into the group chat and sends a text agreeing to meet up which is closely followed by Brittany saying the same. Quinn’s all too quick to provide the when and where before Santana sets off to get dressed. She’s nearly made it to her closet when her phone goes off again. It’s a private text from Brittany.

Brittany P. – I’m glad you’re free. I’ve kinda missed your face.

Santana feels a heat rise up the back of her neck and cover the apples of her cheeks upon reading the text. She quickly types out a reply, trying to keep her cool.

Santana L. – It’s only been like…2 days?

Brittany P. – 2 days too long!

And just like that, Santana feels like a silly school girl again blushing over a cute text from Brittany. She remembered at time back in high school when Brittany would make it her mission during class to break Santana’s bitch face with an onslaught of cute texts that she would totally make fun of if they had come from anyone else but Britt. Sometimes she’d send corny pick-up lines or puns are just straight compliment the crap out of her. Either way, Santana never stood a chance.

She was like putty in Brittany’s hands.

Apparently after all this time, she still is.  

She ruffles up her hair and positions the camera towards her. She gives it a cheeky grin and snap the selfie before sending it off to Brittany, followed by a text.

Santana L. – Don’t want to deprive you of this beautiful mug.

Brittany texts back almost instantly.

Brittany P. – hubba hubba!

A picture of herself sporting the cheesiest of grins accompanies the new text and Santana laughs at the combination. She makes a point to set the picture as Brittany’s new Caller Id later.

\\

When Santana steps outside, she’s surprised by how cold it is. With years of having to wear a Cheerios skirt no matter the weather and 5 years worth of living in New York, Santana was pretty immune to the cold but today seemed to be a dramatic drop in temperature.

Then again, now that it was December could she really be that surprised? She let that thought sit with her for a moment as she slid into her Honda. December already? Time was flying by, the school years was nearly halfway over!

What is she going to do after?

She hadn’t really given it too much thought. She figured she would head back to New York, but things were changing. It wasn’t just her future anymore, it was Brittany’s too. And maybe she’s jumping the gun a little, fast-forwarding that far ahead after she told Britt she wanted to take things slow, but that talk would have to come up eventually, wouldn’t it?

Santana shakes away the thoughts, they’re too heavy for the lack of caffeine in her system, and sets them on the back burner for now before she goes to start her car. She twists the key in the ignition and surprise surprise it doesn’t roar to life.

“Seriously?” Santana frowns and tries again but it’s no use. Her little Honda refuses to start up. She lets out a sigh and glances over to the empty spot in the driveway where her mom’s SUV is usually parked if Maribel didn’t happen to be at work right now. Santana rolls her eyes and tries to start the car one more time before giving up.

It feels a bit like déjà vu; Santana’s car refusing to work right before the first Unholy Trinity meeting at the beginning of the school year which ended up making her late. She had felt so bad for making her friends wait for her and here she was about to do it again. Back then she had to figure out her useless car on her own, but again, things were different.

Santana heads back inside for warmth and fishes her phone out from her purse before making the call.

“Hey Santana!” Brittany greets enthusiastically, albeit slightly out of breath. The sound makes Santana’s mouth go dry, remembering other times where Brittany sounded just as breathless.

“Hey Britt! Are you…running?”

“Kind of,” Brittany answers through a chuckle, “What’s up?”

“Do you think I could catch a ride with you to meet up with Quinn?” Santana asks a little nervously, “My car is being a piece of shit again and refusing to do the one thing it was built to freaking do.”

“It’s probably just mad at you for still not taking it in,” Brittany teases her, “But yeah, I can totally pick you up! Be around in 10?”

“Thanks Britt,” Santana grins, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Kay bye!”

It’s ridiculous to think how all of a sudden Santana’s heart starts beating a little faster and her movements become more fidgety in anticipation for Brittany to come over. She really wishes she could get a grip, but after everything that happened on Thanksgiving and their talk after seeing Alex it’s hard to control. She couldn’t get over the fact that Britt still loved her and they still had a chance to make things right. She couldn’t believe it, after all the years of struggling and pushing away those feelings, there was still something there for them.

Britt had said that her body wakes up whenever she’s around Santana and now Santana totally gets it.

Santana’s body wakes up around Brittany too and she has missed that feeling so much.

\\

There are a couple knocks at the front door, but she doesn’t have to check to know that it’s Brittany. Other than the fact that Santana knew she would be coming, Brittany still taps the same signature rhythm with her knuckles.

“Hey, I would’ve-“ Santana’s words get caught as her eyes land on Brittany.

Her blonde hair falls from her messy bun in cute tendrils, something that’s prone to happening whenever Brittany breaks a sweat. In fact, she glistens and steam rises from the top of her head against the cold air. Santana wonders how the hell she isn’t freezing, but she can’t comprehend much as her eyes start to rake up Brittany’s body on their own.

She’s dressed in baggy red sweat pants and a black sports bra that’s damp with sweat and it’s barely covered by the pathetic excuse for a t-shirt. The material is so thin it’s practically see through and Santana can literally count each one of Brittany’s abs.

Santana’s swallows dryly because woah.

Brittany’s still got it. Then again, did she ever really lose it? Apparently not, she just got hotter.

There’s a muffled chuckle that brings Santana’s eyes to meet mischievous blues. Brittany smirks and adjusts the strap of her duffle bag on her shoulder. Santana didn’t even realize she was carrying it.

“Hey Santana.”

“Sorry, hey Britt. Come in,” Santana gestures, not wanting Britt to catch a cold with the lack of clothes she has on, “Why are you so…sweaty?”

“My dance class ran a little late so I didn’t have time to get ready there,” Brittany explains, “Could I change here?”

Santana begins to picture Brittany’s lithe body breaking it down in dance class and god since when did she become such a desperate mess? She blames the lack of sex and Brittany.

She thinks how they kind of go hand in hand, but she quickly pushes that thought away.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead. Did you want to shower too?”

“I should,” Brittany says, “Class was really intense today.”

“I can see that,” Santana comments without thinking but covers it with a smile, “Go shower. I’ll tell Quinn we’ll be late.”  

“Thanks,” Brittany grins and presses a kiss to Santana’s cheek as she walks by.

Santana turns and watches as Brittany head up the stairs, a dopey grin filing her face as her eyes land on Brittany’s perfect ass.

\\

That dopey grin is replaced by something of annoyance as Santana and Brittany sit across from Quinn at Starbucks a little later. Brittany is busy talking about her class and how they can incorporate some of the elements into their set for Sectionals since it’ll be coming up soon, but Santana can’t focus with how Quinn keeps glancing between her and Brittany so analytically.

Quinn’s itching to say something, Santana can tell, but she won’t interrupt Brittany when she’s speaking so passionately. She stays engaged and listens intently, but Santana knows the minute Brittany stops it’ll be fair game and she’s not ready for all that.  

It makes Santana nervous; not because she wants to hide whatever is going on between her and Brittany, but because it’s too new to hash out over lattes. It was literally a day ago that they were even suggesting picking up their thing again, so Quinn would just have to wait until they sorted everything out themselves.

Santana holds out a little hope though. Quinn’s a lot more mature now than she was in high school, softer even, but she’s still the same ole’ Quinn in some aspects and Santana really doesn’t want to lure her out with talking about relationships.

But of course it’s a difficult topic to dodge when Alex is brought up. Santana and Brittany explain everything that happened at Frank’s and where Alex is now. It was already hard to miss the similarities between Alex and Santana, but it’s even more so now. It’s common knowledge so Santana’s glad that neither Quinn nor Brittany decided to delve into that. Instead Quinn says how thankful she is that Santana and Britt were around to help Alex and she’s a little upset that she missed out.

Quinn talks about being mentors and wanting to have a positive impact on the squad, something that was hit or miss when they were all in school because Sue could be so horrible and it wasn’t a secret that Mr. Schue had his favorites.

They could all agree that they wanted to do better if they could help it. When Quinn says she thinks Santana and Brittany did a great job with Alex and would make Ms. Holliday proud, Santana nearly gets choked up if she weren’t so badass. Ms. Holliday helped her and Brittany through so much so to be compared to her is a lot for Santana. If it weren’t for her, it would’ve taken her way longer to come to terms with her feelings. Maybe she never would’ve?

She owed Ms. Holliday everything.

Brittany thanks Quinn for them though and nuzzles into Santana’s side for a hug like she can sense Santana’s struggle. Santana’s grateful but she can’t help but smile at the scent of her shampoo wafting from Brittany’s hair, reminding her further of their new closeness. She catches Quinn’s analytical eye again and quickly turns up the snark.

“Who knew the holidays could turn you into a big softy, Quinnie.” Santana comments as Brittany pulls away. She already misses the warmth but she miraculously keeps from frowning about it.

Quinn just rolls her eyes and smirks, “You’re one to talk, Satan.”  

\\

After a refill, Quinn goes on to ask how everyone’s Thanksgiving went. Santana really feels like Quinn is trying to set her up here. Or maybe, Santana’s just feeling a little paranoid because Quinn always has that look like she knows something you don’t.

It seems that Santana’s the only one that’s trying to make it a bigger deal than it is, because Brittany easily fills Quinn in on how great it was to spend Thanksgiving with Santana and Maribel. She excitedly goes over the events of the night, but thankfully leaves out the more intimate details.

“I’m glad you didn’t have to spend it alone, Britt,” Quinn comments genuinely then looks to Santana, “It sounds like you guys had a lot of fun. I knew including Britt would be a good idea!”

Santana bites her cheek and narrows her eyes. She knows Quinn isn’t trying to be a pain in her ass on purpose judging by her tone, but the way she’s always silently rooting for them is embarrassing and makes Santana feel jittery. But more importantly, Brittany wasn’t aware of the fact that Santana had been considering inviting her to dinner and she doesn’t want to that to hurt Brittany’s feelings or for her to misunderstand.

Santana just wasn’t brave enough at the time and if Maribel didn’t invite Brittany over, then she and Santana wouldn’t have had such a great time and they would’ve never had the chance to reconnect like they did. There was no way of knowing Thanksgiving was going to have such an impact on their progress, but it doesn’t keep her from regretting her lack of bravery.

She hates that it still has the ability to dictate how their relationship pans out and unfortunately, that’s just another thing that hasn’t changed.

Santana scowls at how fast her thoughts are moving and she’s about two seconds away from saying something witty to take the attention off of her when she feels Brittany’s hand slip over her knee. Her knee twitches at the unexpected move, but she soon relaxes at the gentle squeeze Brittany gives her.

The gesture instantly softens her up and she glances over at Brittany who remains looking at Quinn like nothing’s happened, but it’s all the reassurance she needs for now.

“Oh no, Maribel invited me.” Brittany clarifies and squeezes Santana’s knee again, “We ran into each other at the grocery story. Not literally, but she did need help reaching something from the top shelf. She invited me over, but I didn’t want to impose. Santana was the one who convinced me to stay.”

When Brittany puts it that way, it eases more of Santana’s nerves. She didn’t even consider the amount of courage it took her to ask Brittany to stay. She always loved Brittany’s ability to turn her negatives into positives and she ducks her head in a quiet thanks.

Quinn smiles at them, but it’s more loving than her usual Queen Bitch Smirk. It makes Santana roll her eyes although her stomach flips from the fluttery feelings brought on by the feel of Brittany’s hand on her. She’s sure now that Quinn is on to them, but she doesn’t want to get into that right now.

“Shut up, Q.” Santana grumbles as she subtly overlaps Brittany’s hand with her own before taking a sip of her latte with her free one.

Quinn just laughs and waves her off, “I wasn’t saying anything.”

\\

They spend the rest of the time talking about Sectionals and developing a game plan. They’ve been preparing for awhile now, maybe just before Thanksgiving break let out because they knew the squad would start to get less focused the closer the break came. For the most part, they felt ready and were confident that the squad felt it too.

“The Cheerios have placed first every year since 2003,” Quinn said, “At least, that’s what Sue said. I’m not sure how accurate that is.”

“I believe it,” Brittany replied with a shrug.

Santana just inhaled deeply and said sarcastically, “No pressure or anything.”

“We’ve got this in the bag,” Quinn answered confidently, “For one, we’re the only squad with 3 coaches.”

Brittany wagged her finger at Quinn, “True. That’s 3 times the awesomeness.”

“And we’re probably going to be the only hot coaches there too,” Santana shrugged nonchalantly.

“Also true,” Brittany nodded then sent a wink Santana’s way, “The hottest.”

Santana felt her cheeks flush, but she just smiled back smugly and dusted off her shoulder, “You know it.”

“Not really important,” Quinn chuckled causing Santana to screw up her face in disgust.

“Are you kidding me?” Santana looked astonished, “Looks are everything in the Cheerleading world, where have you been? Remember all those ridiculous diets Sue put us on?”

“Santana’s right,” Brittany added, “Our squad is a reflection of us, we have to set the example. Although, those diets were really unhealthy so let’s not tell the squad about it.”

“Oh we won’t,” Quinn clarifies, “These next couple of weeks are going to be pretty intense. Our girls are good but we can’t let them get too comfortable.”

“Let’s make them do wind sprints tomorrow,” Santana suggests devilishly, “Make them run off all that food they had over Thanksgiving.”

“Greens, beans, tomatoes, potatoes,” Brittany starts rapping and it makes Santana and Quinn laugh.

“This is our first competition as coaches and it’s important we make a good impression,” Quinn adds after their laughter dies down, “Afterall, we want to make it to Nationals, right?”

Santana briefly remembers Sue’s tape and the arrangement that brought them all together and the bonus that was promised if the squad were to place at Nationals. She had almost forgotten the real reason she was back in Lima, that it had nothing to do with Brittany, and it made her sit a little straighter.

She needed to stay focused too. She and Brittany both needed to.

“Of course,” Santana says and she’s surprised to hear Brittany’s voice in time with hers, mimicking the same words.

Always in unison, even without meaning to be.

“We have to be on point then,” Quinn adds a little more solemnly, “For Coach Sylvester.”

Santana can see the storm clouds rolling in above Quinn’s head and she wonders what that is about. She knew this was a job and they had to meet certain expectations in order to get paid, but she didn’t think Quinn would take it that seriously. Then again, she and Sue had always had a different dynamic. Maybe she really did want to honor her legacy by winning.

“We will be,” Santana replies anyway and gives Quinn an encouraging nod, “We don’t know how to be anything else but flawless.”

\\

After saying their goodbyes to Quinn, Santana and Brittany are back in the car on their way to Maribel’s a little while later. Brittany had passed Santana the aux cord upon settling in and they decided on taking the long way home since the queue was so good. Santana had missed many aspects of Brittany, but being able to ride around in the car with her as they bobbed their heads to songs they use to sing for Glee Club is probably something she missed the most.

Brittany really was the easiest person to get along with, they just fit together so perfectly.

“You know, I don’t mind driving you around while your car gets fixed. You have great taste in music and your car dance moves are the best,” Brittany says after belting out the final note of a Whitney Houston song. She’s a little breathless again from the dramatic runs and the bellyaching laughter, but that’s when Santana finds her the prettiest.

She’s so wrapped up in staring that she nearly misses the words that follow.

“You are going to get it fixed, right?” Brittany asks and chances a glance at Santana to find her biting on her bottom lip. She might’ve forgotten to call Burt’s shop while she was waiting for Brittany, mostly because she was too busy running upstairs to touch up her make up before she arrived.

She smiled guiltily, “Yes?”

“San,” Brittany sighs as they come up to a red light. It was meant to sound frustrated but it was more endearing than anything. Santana hasn’t heard Brittany call her San in years and it makes her heart flutter wildly. Brittany gives her that you’re exhausting but I love you look and it has Santana’s guard instantly dropping.

“What?” Santana laughs as Brittany lifts a brow, “I will!”

“You better,” Brittany warns and her voice dips low.

The rumble of her tone has Santana biting her lip again and she presses further, edging over the middle console.

“Or what?” She asks challengingly.

Santana lingers there and she knows the exact moment Brittany’s head starts to cloud with thoughts, she can see it in darkening blue eyes. The glow of the red light illuminates them both, masking flushed cheeks, but Santana is confident they’re there. Suddenly, the heat coming from the vents is way too hot but it only seems to increase the longer Brittany stares heatedly back.

Santana remembers this look a little too well considering how long it has been. It was the same look that led to many spontaneous make out sessions in a dark parking lot when they were meant to be on their way to somewhere important. Back when they were young and reckless and couldn’t keep their hands of each other. The windows of Santana’s little Honda would be so thick with fog that she’d have to turn on the defroster afterwards just so she could see.

Brittany would just sit topless and doodle love hearts until it went away.

“You don’t want to know,” Brittany manages to reply in a whisper as she leans in and it’s like she’s daring Santana to close the distance.

And she would, she totally would! Their lips are so damn close now and the scent of her cherry lip smackers and peppermint gum is just so Brittany and it’s flooding her senses. All Santana has to do is lean just a little bit further and they’d be stopping traffic. She would give not one single fuck if it meant having Brittany’s lips on hers again.

But then their faces illuminate in green and Brittany’s the first to break the trance as the car behind them beeps their horn.

Santana settles back in her seat, tossing shy glances in Brittany’s direction, crossing her legs a little tighter as they continue their journey to Maribel’s.

She waits a few minutes before clearing her throat a little, “Maybe I’ll get Burt to have a look at it tomorrow before practice, see if it’s worth repairing…or whatever.”

She’s thankful that Brittany’s success in getting her all flustered can’t be detected in the tone of her voice and takes that as a small win.

“That’s my girl,” Brittany teases lovingly and reaches over to squeeze at Santana’s thigh.

Santana just about melts into a puddle on the spot because she wasn’t expecting Brittany to say something like that. Brittany can be so smug sometimes, but trying to fight from swooning at Brittany’s words is hard. She knows she can’t give Britt the satisfaction no matter how right she is in wanting Santana to take her car in, but being her girl?

Santana hasn’t been anyone’s anything in so long, at least not to anyone that mattered. She had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted in that way, even if Britt only said it as a passing comment. It makes Santana feel whole in a totally different way and she loves it.

She loves being Brittany’s girl.

[panharmonium]

stranger things 3, a visual summary:

more coherent thoughts under the cut, because wow.

......okay.  that was a Trainwreck.  an absolute mess.

i remember when my coworkers were watching S3 (and still urging me to start season 1) and they were saying how amazing the latest season was, and honestly i think there must just be a difference in people who watch tv just to be entertained and people who watch tv and automatically evaluate the story (aka fandom veterans and English majors, lol - cue Me twice), because WHO could watch this critically and praise it that way?

it's honestly hard to know where to even begin; i've been sending frustrated notes to @brambleberrycottage ever since episode three and now that i'm done with episode 8 there's just......so much more to say

first, good things:

erica is a great character.  she's what max should have been (aka, uh.......interesting!)  i liked the realization moment where dustin was like "you're a NERD!"

that entire sequence where will is so upset with lucas and mike for not being engaged with the dnd game was very well done, especially the conversation he has with mike out in the rain.  i loved that moment where mike asked him "did you think we were just going to hang out in my basement playing games forever?" and will said, "yeah.  yeah, i guess i did."  i really felt that.  [edit, now that i've finished: this was never resolved.  will giving away his dnd books at the end was not an actual resolution to this conflict.]

steve is still a good dude, and robin was pretty cool.  i'm down for them being super friends.  but i'm still mourning the steve+nancy+jonathan trio that was a thing for like 5 seconds and then never returned.

i loved how genuinely excited steve was to see dustin when dustin came back from camp.  that was adorable.  "HENDERSON!!!!"  "how many children are you friends with?"

and uh. yeah.  i had more problems with this season than praise-bestowing moments, so.  here goes that bit.

OVERARCHING PROBLEMS:

1. keep it simple, stupid

remember in the office when dwight quoted the above advice to ryan as michael's rule for making a sale?  the same advice applies to storytelling.

season 1 of stranger things is so simple.  there is One Monster.  that is the danger.  and somehow, that single monster manages to be a thousand times more terrifying than all of these new "bigger, scarier, more epic" threats crammed into the second two seasons.

how goofy is the stranger things season 3 plot, seriously?  russians are blackmailing a small-town mayor so they can buy up land to steal power from the town while operating a secret lab under the mall to open a gate to the Upside Down (WHY?), while simultaneously a remnant of the malevolent force that was "defeated" last season has reanimated itself and is making people scarf chemicals (WHY?), and then it possesses one of them and uses that person to possess a bunch of other people in order to build itself a body made out of melted people, in order to kill el, whose only story this season is breaking up with her boyfriend, and we have to infiltrate this russian base in order to close the gate (same endgame as last season - BIG NO-NO) to kill the goo monster, except last time the "mindflayer” survived the gate being closed, so why would this even WORK, and -

the fact that there are so many "round-up/info dump" scenes where characters summarize what's going on and make implausibly accurate connections/guesses about what it all must mean is a red flag.  the characters shouldn’t have to tell your story to the audience.  if it's too complicated for us to keep straight on our own, it's too complicated.  

the amount of energy that goes into trying to lash together a Chaos Plot with too many shaky legs leaves nothing left over for nuanced character development or mood establishment.  you're constantly running to catch up to your own flimsy story before it collapses on top of itself.

2. the horror!

S1 of stranger things was the scariest thing i'd ever seen.

granted, i don't watch a lot of horror, because i don't like it.  i get scared too easily and then i legitimately can't sleep.  i watched a horror movie five years ago that i still think about every time the lights are off in my house.  but still, ST1 was something i had never experienced before.

it wasn't creature horror, and it wasn't just suspense.  it was the UNSETTLINGNESS of it all.  it wasn't really about the monster.  it was about the Upside Down.

the reason ST1 is so successful is because of how much we don’t know.  it's the horror of not understanding what is happening, and the terror of knowing that nobody thinks it’s real.  feeling like you're going crazy and being cut off from all assistance.  the conspiracy and the cover-up.  and the sheer unsettlingness of the whole parallel worlds things just tipped me over the edge - the idea that you can take one wrong step and then be suddenly and without warning completely off the map, simultaneously right next to the people you want to get to and also utterly beyond their reach.  that was fucking scary!!!!  

and they do it all with so little.  i have literally never been more scared in my life than when i would see those christmas lights start flickering.  and they're just LIGHTS!  yes, we see the monster later, but it's the uncertainty that's most frightening.  we don't understand how it arrives in our world, and we don’t know where it will show up next.  it could be right next to you - on the other side.  you could be standing on top of it.  you just don't know.  it’s like what jonathan says to nancy in her bedroom - “it can’t get us in here.”  and she says, “we don’t know that.”

the later seasons of stranger things, by comparison, did not scare me at all.  season two was like a zombie movie - hordes of weak enemies that you can just shoot with a gun.  and season 3 was even less frightening - upping the ante and making things gorier, more explosive, and bigger just isn't the vibe they set in S1.  i'm not scared of that giant goop monster.  it's like godzilla.  it's not horror; it's just a lot of noise.

the unsettling, "creep" factor that made season 1 so effective was gone.  it just turned into a regular old monster movie, and i didn't find that particularly interesting.

3. illogical, captain

a while ago there was a wave of pushback against people complaining about plot holes, but you know what?  there is, in fact, an appropriate place for us to talk about plausibility, as well as the point at which our suspension of disbelief collapses.

ST3 is a bona fide plausibility disaster.  i did not believe half of the story, because it was not unfolding in a believable way.

half of the plot points in this season would not have happened if the characters had been behaving with any kind of sense.  it is absolutely impossible for me to believe that none of these children IMMEDIATELY went to joyce or hopper the minute they knew something weird was going on.  it makes no sense.  after the shit they've seen?  it makes sense in season 1, because the kids are still so young that they have that kind of magical thinking that makes all of this seem kind of like an adventure.  but they're teenagers now, and developmentally, they’re past that stage.  they know the evil creature is back and they're pretty sure it's possessing billy?  for some unfathomable reason, they don't go to an adult, but try to trap billy in the sauna and just see what happens.  the other group has actual proof that russian soldiers are up to something shady in the mall?  they don't tell an adult; they send a TEN YEAR-OLD in through the AIR DUCTS to investigate the secret room guarded by MEN WITH GUNS.

this is ridiculous.  none of this should have happened.  none of this WOULD have happened.  it breaks the boundaries of disbelief.  it completely sabotages the audience’s engagement with the story - joyce and hopper's whole detour with alexei and murray is so dull, because its entire purpose is to bring hop and joyce up to speed on something that we, the audience, already know.  the other characters already found out this stuff, but did not communicate it - the gate is being opened again in a russian lab underground.  there's no suspense for us.  nothing new is revealed.  we're just waiting for them to hurry up and finish finding out so we can move on to the next thing.

moreover: there are so many other problems besides just "these characters would have talked to each other."  why on earth would murray, whose sole characteristic is extreme paranoia, take alexei wandering around the festival for hot dogs and carnival games.  why would hopper be so virulently against the possibility that weird shit might be happening again?  does he remember the past year or what?  how on earth would the kids be able to fight off that massive monster with an ax and a hunting rifle?  it's made out of dead guts and bones; why does it care if they shoot it?!  how in the WORLD is this russian facility so penetrable?  i'm sorry, it's just - beyond believable.  it doesn't have cameras?  the russians guards really can't tell that murray isn't a native speaker?  they don't check his id when they don't recognize him?  joyce and hopper really just got that lucky, to be asked a question and have “smile and nod” be the right answer?  nobody ever got shot?  it's silly.  it's just silly.  so many things - erica uses the "Open" button to open the elevator door in order to let steve and robin and dustin inside, but once the elevator is at the bottom of the shaft, robin explains the door's inexplicable non-opening because......you apparently need a keycard to use the buttons????  THAT MAKES NO SENSE; ERICA JUST USED THE BUTTONS A SECOND AGO.

even the entire endgame of this season is a contradiction!  if the mind-flayer survived el closing the gate last time, it doesn't make sense that closing the gate this time would kill it.  literally the entire plot of last season was "we need to get this thing out of will, because the creature will die once the gate is closed, and we want to make sure will doesn't die with it."  but apparently the creature didn't die upon closing the gate; it just got trapped in our dimension.  but now apparently it WILL die upon closing the gate.  for whatever fucking reason.

i'm sorry, but that’s a mess.  that’s a bona fide mess.

4. watch your tone

i honestly think the tonal change is the thing that made me the most frustrated about this season.  it's possible to have a terrible plot and still stay relatively true to your characters - you'll still have a bad season, but at least you didn't bastardize your characters in the process.

i had issues with S2 and i definitely was not as impressed with it as i was with S1, but at least in S2 joyce and hopper were recognizable.  in S3, i felt like i was watching strangers.  the tonal shift was bizarre and off-putting, more so with hopper than joyce, but it affected both of them.  

even as early as the very beginning of this season, i was feeling weird about how often hopper was being used for comedy.  and as the season progressed, this trend only became more pronounced.  almost every scene we had of him felt silly - and not like there was just something funny in the scene for me to laugh at, but like the audience was almost being asked to laugh AT him.  like he was constantly the butt of the joke.  

this really bothered me.  from that incredibly sincere and heart-wrenching portrayal of him in season 1, when they kept him rooted in the trauma of losing his daughter and the breakdown of his marriage, and then how that same trauma made him so driven to save will and protect the kids - what a change.  even in season 2 i was frustrated how the throughline of his daughter wasn’t touched again until the very last episode, and now in season 3 we’ve left that part of him so far behind that he's just there for us to laugh at.  we're supposed to laugh at scenes of him being drunk and a mess.  every scene he's in is either him arguing with joyce for comedic relief or being way over the top with alexei or the mayor.  he was like a caricature of himself, and i didn't recognize him.  

joyce suffered from the same thing, just by virtue of proximity.  she spent almost all of her time in this season with hopper, and virtually all of that time was taken up with silly shenanigans or comically overblown arguing.  what a departure from the desperate mother of season 1, who was maligned by everyone in town and only taken seriously by the audience.  now it’s the audience who are supposed to be chuckling at her.  

i dunno.  the tone shift was very dramatic, very obvious, and it impacted the entire season.  are we supposed to be taking this seriously or is it supposed to be a joke?  a little bit of humor to break tension can be a good thing, but when it's constant, it confuses the mood.  

and i personally don't think it was appropriate or respectful to either of these characters, in this case.

SMALLER THINGS THAT BOTHERED ME:

this show has 100% hit maximum character saturation.  by the end of this season there were 13 core characters onscreen at the same time, in the same scene!  it’s too many people!  they cannot reasonably develop that many people in the space allotted.

i still am not interested in max.  i don't feel anything for her.  she doesn't feel real.  i don't hate her, but she's just an empty vessel, and i really do think she's superfluous to this show.  i think you could remove her with very little reworking and the show would be stronger for it.  (they TRIED to do something interesting with billy, and i might have cared if we had been given literally any reason to care about him previously, but there was no investment earned there.  they didn't do the front-end work to make him somebody we were interested in.)

weird relationship sunderings from previous seasons.  i felt very strange about jonathan barely even seeing will this entire season.  i felt very strange about steve having almost zero contact with nancy.  i felt very strange about joyce hardly ever interacting with her kids.  all of these were core relationships - the characters were BUILT on those relationships, and they don't feel real outside of them.  not seeing these characters devote time to these relationships makes it feel like i'm watching a slightly different show.

the VIOLENCE.  apparently this is a beat-em-up now???  i really felt like every other scene somebody was getting beaten to a bloody pulp.  there was SO much smashing and bashing and throwing people into walls and fistfights and head trauma like - first of all, i find that stuff pretty boring, and second of all, all of these people should be in the hospital.  

the GORE.  other people’s mileage may vary, obviously; i just didn't like that.  i looked away at the scene with the rat, and all this...goopy dissolving human shit, and the stabbings, and just...general grossness level - season 1 managed to be bloodcurdlingly terrifying without any of this stuff.

i know this borders on nitpicky, but yet more medical malfeasance - another example of someone receiving an injection via the mysterious 90 degree angle neck route, plus - was anyone else losing it at the fact that steve and robin “puked up” a drug they received……..via injection??????  IT’S NOT IN THEIR STOMACHS, FOLKS!  THEY CAN’T PUKE IT UP!  IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!

the complete lack of follow-up to last season.  the whole S3 plotline (such as it is) feels like a weird side quest.  last season seemed to be furthering the mythos and setting us up for "there are other children like el/brenner is alive" - but this season, that fact appears to have been forgotten by everyone (even el!!!) and has nothing to do with the story that we're given, which is a goofy and redundant story about russians opening a secret lab under the mall which requires us to solve the exact same problem as last season (closing the gate).

this show's inability to keep certain throughlines in its headlights/keep things visible on the periphery instead of dropping them completely and then bringing them back whenever they feel like they need it again.   i already talked about hopper’s daughter as an example of this (done well in S1 and poorly in S2 and S3).  another example is that scene with nancy and her mom - it’s such a good scene, and yet it misses out on so much resonance, because they completely dropped the plotline of karen feeling locked out of her kids’ lives and desperately wanting to connect with them.  if they had continued to reference that throughout season 2, then this scene would have been so much more powerful.   as a third example, season 3 starts with a clear context/premise, and it’s INTERESTING - the town landscape changing because of the mall, business slow to non-existent, small town discontent over big corporations moving in, hopper pressured to break up the protest against mayor kline when he should have let it proceed - and then the show just drops that entire context.  you expect season 3 to stay rooted in the "our small town is being strangled by this mall" and then to eventually deal with the revitalization of hawkins, but nah.  it's never mentioned again.

LASTLY:

i'm not really gonna get into hopper "dying," because he's, like...clearly not dead.  but the whole situation was stupid and contrived (i was so sick of that arnold schwarzenegger lookalike by the last episode, god that whole thing was so dumb) and it's even cheaper knowing that he'll obviously be back.

what i AM gonna say is that i was livid that they brought back that peter gabriel cover of "heroes" to end this season.  their use of that song in S1 blew my mind - it had me stunned with how GORGEOUS it was and just, the way it worked in that particular scene - absolutely incredible.  floored me.  gave me chills.  to recycle it at the end of such a poorly constructed season made me so mad.  yOU CAN'T MAKE ME FEEL THINGS JUST BY REUSING THIS SONG.  I REFUSE TO HAVE EMOTIONS JUST BECAUSE YOU PULL OUT THIS BEAUTIFUL TRACK THAT YOU ONCE USED TO GREAT EFFECT; YOUR STORY WAS STILL TERRIBLE THIS TIME AROUND; DO NOT TRY TO TRICK FEELINGS OUT OF US THAT HAVEN’T BEEN EARNED.  

and that's it.  i’m sure later i’ll think of other things i neglected to mention here, but...yeah.  i was not impressed.  

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Suspend Your Disbelief

Note: Does this make sense? Unlikely. I wrote it instead of doing prep work for my finals. But I’m still posting it. Summary: Logan just wanted to eat lunch, not have some crazy hotshot sit down and start pushing the magic agenda on him. Good thing he was never going to see him ever again. Right? Warning: Non-consensual kissing (they both end up fine with it but it does happen), a few swear words

   Logan hated him. Utterly despised the smug bastard that was Roman whatever-his-last-name-was. Logan didn’t catch it and he currently didn’t care.

   “You have absolutely no proof of anything you’re saying.” Logan said angrily, gesturing around him. “I, on the other hand, have a plethora!”    “You only think you do.” The cocky arse replied with what Logan refused to describe as a winning smile. “But I can explain everything with one word.”

   “Don’t you dare.”

   “Magic.” Roman said with jazz hands, as if he were offering a movie option and not attempting to drive Logan mad.

   “Gravity?”    “Magic.”    “Plant growth?”

   “I’mma have to say magic.”

   “Rainbows?”    “Gay magic.”

   “Atoms!?”

   “You won’t believe me… but… magic.”

   Logan slid his seat back to faceplant in the table. Three science degrees, for this? To fight with some hotshot who recognized his face from his lectures and decided to ruin his lunch with this nonsense?

   “If you’re going to tell me you honestly, seriously believe this, this, insanity then why, pray tell, did you come over to talk to me?” Logan tilted his head to glare at Roman. “I’m a scientist. I actually use my brain.”

   “Not properly, clearly.” Roman replied, infuriatingly. Logan couldn’t even tell if he was joking or not.

   “I-”    “Oh, sorry Microsoft Nerd, but my ride’s here.” Roman interrupted, picking up his phone as it dinged. He patted Logan’s elbow with a smile. “Think about what I’ve said, would you?”

   “You’ve spoken only gibberish about magic.”

   “Only gibberish to some.” Roman replied while he got up, pulling a twenty out of his wallet and throwing it on the table. “Whatever you’re getting’s on me.” And with that, he twirled away from the table and headed off towards the parking lot.

   Logan resisted the unprofessional urge to growl as the near stranger wandered off. Sitting up in his seat, he crumpled the twenty in his hand. He hadn’t ordered anything yet, and after that conversation, he decided he’d prefer to eat at home. At least there was someone rational there.

   As he pulled out his own wallet to put the money in, he stopped when he found a white note coupled with the cash. He squinted at the excessively swirly writing.

   If you ever care to free yourself from the lies of big science, give me a call; xxx-xxxx

Prince of Magic, Gay, and Truth- Roman

   Logan frowned at the note as if it was Roman’s face and he was still blabbering about the world all being run by magic and nothing else. He was sorely tempted to rip it to shreds and let it blow away in the breeze.

   “Sir, are you ready to order?”

   Logan stuffed the twenty and the note into his wallet instantly, looking up to answer the waitress, “I’m just going, thanks.”

   Slipping his wallet back into his pocket, he headed in the opposite direction of the parking lot, trying not to think about the stupid note from the stupid man in his pocket.

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   “And you know what he said?”

   “Lemme guess.” Virgil deadpanned from where he was lounging on his bed, swiping through his phone. “Magic?”

   “Magic!” Logan rubbed his forehead. “Honestly, Virgil, he was the most infuriating person I’ve ever met! You two would get along splendidly, I’m sure.”

   “I’m insulted, Logan. I’m supposed to be the most infuriating person you’ve ever met.”

   “He’s an extremely strong contender.” Logan huffed. “Besides, you’re annoying simply because you’re annoying.”

   “Aw, thanks, Lo. I didn’t realize I meant that much to you.” Virgil cooed.

   “Just like that.” Logan said. “But Roman? He’s just wrong. Or pulling my leg. Or perhaps both. And he’s so cocky about it, like he knows everything, smiling the entire time, stupid winning smile and bright teeth he doesn’t deserve to have-”

   “Lo, have you considered you have a crush?”

   Logan jerked out of his position of existential crisis on the floor to face Virgil. “Are you mad?!”

   Virgil rolled his eyes. “God, Logan, you gay disaster, when’s the last time you had a crush that you can’t recognize one?”

   “I’ve not had a crush since first grade.” Logan responded. “And even then, really, he was just very good at drawing scales. Even with crayon, really, it was masterful-”    “I thought CIL-D (Classmate of Interest Letter- D) was just a good artist?” Virgil said with a shit-eating grin.

   Logan glared at him. “Shut up.”

   Virgil looked like he would not be shutting up about this for the foreseeable future. “Sure. That aside, I hate to break it to you, Logan, but you’re totally head-over-heels for this ‘prince.’”

   “I despise him with every fiber of my being.” Logan responded.

   “And yet, you still have his number.” Logan scowled at the white scrap Virgil was toying with in his hands. Showing him that was a mistake, apparently. “And despite the fact that he is, allegedly, an absolute fool, you won’t stop talking about him. Or thinking about what he said, even though it’s bullshit. And you just spent like a solid minute describing his smile.”

   “It’s a stupid smile.”

   “You called it winning and his teeth bright.” Virgil responded, flopping over on the bed to look at Logan while he taunted him. “You’re gay for him, Lo.”

   “Even if you’re right- and I am admitting on zero levels that you are- what does it matter?” Logan asked. “He just wanted to taunt me with his silly ideas. I highly doubt he’s interested.”

   “I’d say he’s super interested.”

   Logan leaned back on the nearest wall, which wasn’t very near, leaving him with just his head propped up as he met Virgil’s eyes and said, “Really? Virge, buddy, I know it’s hard living with a genius when all you do is dance-”

   “Now is not the time to mock my job and you’re just trying to avoid the real topic at hand.”

   “-but this is just getting to be a bit too far of a reach, don’t you think?” Logan finished, ignoring the interruption.

   Virgil rolled his eyes. “Logan, you’re one of the top scientists in the country, and yet, you refuse to talk to practically anyone.”

   “I speak with those who can stimulate my intellect.” Logan responded. “And you.”

   “Ha ha. Logan, those who stimulate your intellect are down to about five other scientists and people who ask super weird questions to frustrate you.” Virgil waved the phone number. “This Roman guy probably thought you looked cute and knew the only way to catch your interest was to be so incredibly stupid you couldn’t let the matter drop.”

   “I disagree entirely.” Logan replied, offended. “I don’t continue interactions with crazy fools for the sake that they’re incredibly foolish.”

   Virgil raised an eyebrow. “The concept of the sun is just a lie that the government uses to convince us that the ‘sun’ warms us, and not the radiation they leak into the atmosphere.”    “...There are so many things wrong with that, just to start with ancient peoples beliefs and sun gods before the government could exist to do anything about it,”

   Logan went on for a good three minutes before he recognized the grin on Virgil’s face. “I’ve been played.” He said immediately, cutting off a rant about how does one even fake the sun.

   “Yep.”

   “I hate you.”

   “Sureeee.” Virgil replied, swinging his feet off the bed and dropping the number on Logan’s lap. “Listen, Rem and me’s dance number starts in fifteen, so I’ve gotta go, but you should call the cute idiot while I’m gone.” Virgil winked as he reached the doorway. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll be the right one for once.”

   And with that comment, Virgil was out of the apartment. Logan frowned, turning back to look at the paper.

   He did not have a crush. Roman was infuriating. He didn’t have a nice smile, he didn’t look cute when he mocked Logan, he didn’t walk with a perfectly exaggerated swagger, and he wasn’t at all deserving of the princely title he had given himself.

   But it was Logan’s duty to at least and try to crush ignorance. And if Roman was going to be the most ignorant fool of them all, than Logan was practically legally responsible to properly correct him.

   With a deep sigh, he picked up his phone.

   ~~~~~~~~~

   Logan kicked another pebble. He was slightly (read: extremely) early for his meetup with Roman. Only because it worked better for him to take the earlier bus. Not because he was nervous. As he had pointedly told Roman multiple times via text, this was an informational conference to discuss his awfully flawed view of science and the natural world.

   Roman had eloquently responded with, “So, a nerd date?”

   Logan told him to come to the park if he cared or not before promptly turning off his phone. He felt foolish immediately afterwards, and turned it back on to check Roman had confirmed he’d be coming.

   Not that Logan cared if he came or not. He just didn’t have that much time in his life to waste.

   Logan realized he had been glaring at the poor kicked pebble for a few minutes at the same time he realized a car was entering the parking lot. It was a bright blue minivan. Logan wasn’t one hundred percent it was Roman’s style, per say (not that he cared what Roman’s style was), but when the idiot himself bounded out of the passenger side, he was forced to accept this was his ride.

   Out of the driver’s side came an equally energetic person wearing an oversized sweater and a ridiculously large smile.

   “See, Pat, I told you he’d beat us here.” Roman said while looking at Logan. Logan rolled his eyes.

   “I like to be punctual.”

   “If you say so.” Roman said, same stupidly egotistical etched on his face. “See you in a bit, Patton!”

   Patton waved at both of them. “Okay, Ro! Have fun on your date!”

   “It’s not a date!” Logan protested immediately.

   Patton giggled. “My mistake. Bye you two!”

   Logan turned his glare upon Roman while Patton drove off. “A date? Really? I thought we went over this.”

   Roman shrugged. “Patton gets the most absurd ideas in his head.”

   “Why do I have a sneaking suspicion you’re the reason he had that idea in his head?”

   “No clue, I’m sure.” Roman replied. “Now, shall we stroll gayily through the park and discuss matters of magic and fake science?”

   “Gayily?”

   “You know, happily?” Roman said, arching an eyebrow smugly. “What? Haven’t heard the definition?”

   “You’re a twat.”

   “So I’ve been told.” Roman started heading into the park. “Onwards!”

   Logan huffed before hurrying to catch up with him. As they walked past the flower beds that were planted at the park’s entrance, Logan took in disdainfully the casual dress Roman was wearing. Not that there was anything wrong with dresses, but the light pink-and-white colours with golden crown designs splattered across it were about as professional as a picnic.

   Roman apparently caught him staring, smirking at Logan as he said, “See something you like?”

   Logan immediately fixed his gaze forward, replying, “You’re dressed quite casually.”

   “It’s a walk in the park, literally.” Roman replied. “Unlike someone here, I don’t enjoy taking those in pressed slacks and ties.”

   “I had a meeting before this.” Logan lied. He didn’t have a meeting beforehand, he just refused to in any way, shape, or form play into Roman or Virgil’s fantasy that this was a date. “We don’t all have time on our hands.”

   “I’m insulted.” Roman said with an exaggerated gasp. “Us actors as very busy.”    “You’re an actor?” Logan said before mumbling to himself, “That explains a lot.”

   Roman caught the whisper. “Does it?”

   “I see now your imagination has run away from you, as I’m sure it’s prone to do living in the land of make-believe, and has given you the foolish idea that magic rules the world.” Logan explained.

   Roman rolled his eyes as he moved off the path to stand on the small observation deck sticking out of the park land and over the little lake that bordered it. “You know, I’m not the only one with these ideas.”

   “The world is sadly filled with a lot of weirdos.” Logan said, not minding the stop on the deck. It was slightly humid and he was starting to regret the slacks, anyways.

   “Well not everyone who believes it is a weirdo.” Roman responded. “Ever heard of Dr. Emile Picani?”

   Logan waved a hand. “Pretty top notch psychologist, yeah. Don’t tell me you think he believes this nonsense.”

   “No, I don’t think so. I do know so, however.” Roman grinned as if he had won the whole argument. “Talked to him a few days ago.”

   “Listen, I respect Emile. The fact that he’s so heavily incorporated Disney into everything he does is great. But it only stands that if he’s willing to be so deeply invested in such silly tales, then he might be swayed to believe in a world of magic.”

   “Silly tales? I’m sorry, are you insulting Disney?”

   Logan raised an eyebrow. “What? Irked they’ve yet to pick you up for roll of Evil Stepmother, Princess?”

   “An insult and a complimentary nickname?” Roman winked. “Careful, Teach, I might start thinking you’re flirting.”

   “That wouldn’t be very professional.”

   “That was a weak excuse.”

   “It’s not an excuse.” Logan corrected. “It’s the reason why I cannot currently be flirting with you. That’s not even getting into the fact you’re a self-centered, egotistical, half-brained fool who thinks he can prove any stupid idea with a nice smile and confident attitude-”

   Virgil had always said Logan ranted enough the only way anyone would ever be able to shut him up was by kissing him, teasing that would be his first kiss. Logan would roll his eyes and point out that no one these days had that type of confidence or desire to kiss a talkative nerd. Besides, slapping people was much more fun.

   Apparently, Roman whatever-his-last-name-was was part of the small percentage of people who had that confidence and possibly the only person who wanted to kiss a talkative nerd.

   Logan had just barely became aware of the fact that lips were pressed to his when Roman pulled back, lacking, for the first time around Logan, confidence.

   “I shouldn’t have done that.” Roman all but stuttered, blushing as he apologized. “God, I’m such a-”

   Logan wasn’t completely processing everything at this point but he had figured out not kissing Roman had left him feeling very put out and, hey, turnabout’s fair play, right? Roman seemed just as surprised as Logan was but neither of them pulled away before they needed to take a breath.

   Logan had instantly turned crimson before he turned to face the lake. Roman was the first to speak, with a light chuckle, saying, “Not flirting with me, eh?”

   “You kissed me first.” Logan responded, still not facing him.

   A beat of silence before, “Want to do it again?”

   Logan faced him once more, the front of his dress crumpled from where Logan only realized now he must have pulled him down to kiss him back (it wasn’t fair, really, Roman being a head taller than him) and that smug smirk back on his face.

   “You really are insufferable.”

   “You realize I did make up the whole ‘everything is just magic’ thing, right?”

   Logan pulled Roman down by his dress again, stopping right before the third inevitable kiss to ask,

   “Then what do you call this?”

   Roman’s mouth was immediately too preoccupied to answer this question, but to Logan, this time magic might have been the only realistic answer.

[blushing-kenji]

Kat had never thought of herself as a lucky person. Every time her and Shane would hunt for four leaf clovers she came up empty handed. Every guess made on the number of jelly beans in the jar was always wrong. Every competition entered she never even placed top three.

But Kat had learned a lot of things in the past few months of her life, mainly that her luck dispenser must have been pretty clogged up for 22 years because all of a sudden she was getting lots and lots of it.

Within a week she went from your average every day girl in a banana costume working her ass off to sell smoothies to Karen's and Chad's, to being mentored by her role model, Avery Wilshere, and winning One in a freaking Million.

It really was insane to look back on all the progress she had made within such a short amount of time.

One of the biggest milestones she had overcome due to her rise to fame was getting all of her firsts out of the way. Her first kiss, first boyfriend, first time... Her relationship was supposed to have been a fake one, but nothing she did with Raleigh Carrera was fake, not to her. And it turns out, it wasn't fake for him either. He was the first person she ever fell in love with.

And now, after the American portion of her world tour, things were starting to set in a bit. She still loved the performing and music writing, but it had become an obligation rather than a passion. Meeting fans and being able to inspire people was a dream come true, but the invasiveness of it all made her a bit uncomfortable sometimes. She loved Raleigh with everything in her, but the fact that they couldn't really be together was getting to her.

Like on one of the supposed best nights of her life here she was getting upset over a post of Raleigh and Yvette, his newest "girlfriend" and also runway model, kissing in front of the car he just bought her. Kat told herself not to let it bother her, she knew that Raleigh really did care for her and that being a playboy was sort of his thing.

She bit her lip in annoyance, leaning against the bathroom sink and staring into the mirror. Kat definitely wasn't as skinny as Yvette as the haters she had managed to collect very kindly pointed out to her. It was also brought to her attention that her teeth weren't as white as Yvette's, her hair not shiny like Yvette's, her skin not flawless like Yvette's...

"Katherine?" the posh voice of one of her closest friends (and also an extremely famous singer/ her ex-celebrity crush) Avery interrupted the critical inspection.

She turned, shoving her phone in the pocket of her black corduroy jeans in what she hoped was a subtle way, and quirked an eyebrow at him as he walked into the girls bathroom without any sort of reservations.

"Avery," Kat folded her arms across her chest an put on an over exaggerated british accent, "I'm not quite sure if you've noticed, darling, but this is the ladies restroom."

The accent elicited the usual reaction of the eye roll, head shake, and smirk which brought Kat a little joy. Even though she wasn't pretty like the girl her boyfriend was spending all his time with, at least she could make international pop-star Avery Wilshere laugh.

"Kat, darling," he replied with an equally obnoxious british mockery, "I'm not quite sure if you've noticed, but the party you're currently hiding from is missing its hostess."

She inhaled and counted to ten nice and slow. Fiona had an "end of American-start of European tour" party thrown and Kat could not feel any less festive if she tried. All she wanted to do at the moment was pout about her boyfriend making out with the hottest girl in the world.

Avery put a comforting arm around her shoulder, "there's two options here. One, you tell me what's bothering you and I do my best to comfort you. Two, you don't tell me what's bothering you and I pester you until you do."

"There's nothing wrong, Avery." Kat sighed, half trying to convince herself.

He replied with a disbelieving scoff. She planned on being offended by this but the second she met Avery's eyes she knew that there was no way she was going to be able to lie to him, his blue eyes saw straight through her.

"Okay okay," she held up her hands in surrender. "I just... I'm am feeling a little self conscious after seeing this." She slid the phone out of her pocket, not having to do anything more than turn it on for the post to be on the screen.

Avery took the phone, brows quirking up as he took in the picture. When he glanced back up at her, Kat just shrugged. She couldn't help her feelings of inadequacy, but she also couldn't help but feel a bit silly in them when she saw Avery's face.

"Katherine," he muttered, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You know as well as I do that Raleigh and this Yvette girl are in a contractually beneficial relationship. It's not real like what the two of you have."

The bit of confidence in her relationship brought tears to her eyes. At least someone had some confidence in it. She certainly didn't at the moment.

Avery hummed disapprovingly and wiped away a tear with his thumb. "Why don't you head home for the night. It's your last night in New York for a while after all."

The simple display of kindness brought the opposite response of the intended one, Kat leaned into Avery's embrace and let of a choked sob, wrapping her arms around his middle and nuzzling into his chest. She was glad that someone was here for her.

She wished it could have been Raleigh that was rubbing a gentle pattern on her back... but he was off with Yvette, probably breaking into abandoned buildings and racing together on his motorcycle through the streets of New York. Avery was next in line as her assigned emotional support while Raleigh was off with his true love and Shane was back home visiting family.

The bathroom door swung open, a drunk partygoer with hot pink hair and a gold slinky dress stumbled in, her heavily lined eyes went wide at the sight Katherine Fairfield crying in Avery Wilshere's arms.

The two made their quick escape after Avery made a show of being charming and polite as usual. Fiona sent Kat home the second she saw her puffy eyes and mascara tracks. Zadie was mad that Kat let said mascara track all the way down to the white cashmere turtleneck sweater she had so carefully picked out.

None of that mattered though. Once she was in the back of the limo she was free from the pristine appearance she was supposed to be upholding as a rising star. Hank was probably one of her biggest supporters and he knew when she needed a bit of privacy so he had the divider up. She was alone for the first time in a while in the back of that limo.

She cradled her head in her hands as she tried her best to rationalize her feelings. Avery acted as if she was being ridiculous, but Kat did have some self respect! Why was she letting herself believe in love when the boy who gave her that belief was running around with a different stunningly beautiful girl every other week! Sure, they face timed a lot and whenever fate allowed it they spent actual time together, but didn't she deserve better!?

But so did Raleigh...

He deserved to have someone in his corner offering him genuine love and support. Every part of his life was fake but at least he had her.

Kat wished she could believe what she was telling herself, but hadn't she and Raleigh gotten together after a fake relationship!? What was stopping him from liking one of these other girls better than he liked her!?

She was just so confused...

"Shit!" Kat jumped at the shrill sound of her ring tone.

She wiped at her eyes as she brought the phone the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, realizing how dumb it was to not check caller id first. She was a celebrity after all. It could be a stalker, or someone calling to point out all her flaws, or demand money, or-

"Katherine what's wrong?"

Her racing mind was brought to a stop by Raleigh's worried voice. She wanted to be relieved, she had thought that maybe talking to him would bring her some sort of peace but all it did was make her feel nauseous.

"Princess?" Raleigh asked, still concerned.

Kat cleared the sadness out of her voice. "I'm okay Raleigh. I just really want to know how your date with Yvette went? A brand new car. That's pretty big."

Although she was able to keep the sadness out of it, she was doing an awful job of keeping the bitterness away.

It was silent on the other end of the phone.

"It's just... if I'm going to be your girlfriend I want to feel like I am. Right now I feel like a complete idiot while you're off with a new model every week."

The silence persisted for a moment, well, until Kat sniffled trying to keep herself from crying.

Raleigh sounded surprisingly panicked for someone quite as unflappable as himself when he finally spoke. "Kat, I'm on my way to your apartment right now. Let's talk about this face to face. Please don't cry." A note of desperation rang out near the end, making Kat cry even harder.

"Raleigh I can't keep feeling like second best to you. Every time you get with someone new, everyone compares me to them. And how do you think I come up? I'm always the uglier one. How do you think that makes me feel!?"

"Kat, you're not making any sense right now! Let's wait to talk about this till I'm there!" Raleigh practically begged.

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, thought it didn't do much to fix the mess of makeup. "Raleigh I-"

"Please," he whispered, his voice sounding strained. "If I've ever been good to you, even just once, please just wait until I'm with you."

Kat took a deep shuddering breath. She knew that she loved Raleigh and that she shouldn't allow her insecurities to get in the way. She would be home in ten minutes and then she and Raleigh could talk in person. And even if it was just for them to break up, it would be better to do that in person rather than on the phone.

"Please."

She brought her phone away from her ear and looked down at Raleigh's contact photo. A rare moment where the camera didn't catch him smoldering. He looked completely carefree, his thick brown hair sticking up in all different angles as he sat perched on the end of her bed, a goofy grin on his face because she caught him in the middle of putting his shirt back on. Kat smiled softly at it despite her confusion.

She really did love him.

"I'll see you in bit, Raleigh."

She let her phone drop to her lap as she ended the call. She didn't even know what she wanted when all of this was over!? It was clear to her that she still loved him, that picture of him on her bed brought back the warmth and pure joy she felt when she was with him. Did she even want to break up with him or was that just her insecurities talking?

Fiona would tell her to drop his ass. That she deserved someone who would understand her busy lifestyle and who would take it like a women. Hank would tell her to do what was best for her, that she deserved to feel like the queen she is. Zadie probably wouldn't care too much, though Kat knew that definitely wouldn't take shit from anyone.

But what would Shane tell her to do? Or Avery?

Shane would support her with whatever she decided to do, that her feelings are valid. Avery would do the same of course...

But what was she going to do!?

Kat jumped as the car door opened and took a second to collect herself before taking Hank's hand and stepping out of the limo. She scanned the street for Raleigh's motorcycle and sighed in relief when she couldn't see it.

"Here kiddo." Hank held a tissue out to her and she took it, not meeting his eyes as she dabbed at her face.

"Word of advice Katherine," Hank said as he held out his hand for the used tissue.

She shoved it in the pocket of her jeans, placing her hand in his rather than the tissue. Hank smiled softly at her and squeezed her hand as he moved to rest his sunglasses up on his his head.

"Do what's right for you. Not him. Not the fans. You. You're all that you have at the end of the day, and when the right person comes along, you'll have them too. Don't force yourself to be with someone who makes you cry like this."

Was Raleigh the right person? Or was he the wrong one? She just didn't know!

Hank put a comforting arm on her shoulder as the roar of a motorcycle made its way up the street. Kat felt the pit of dread in her stomach grow at the sound.

There was no putting off this conversation. She had never been this close with someone and so, naturally, she had never felt the heartbreak she was inches away from feeling.

Time seemed to slow as she turned to watch Raleigh drive up to her. The limo driving off was just white noise behind the motorcycle engine. Funny. She didn't even realize Hank had walked away?

Everything was a blur but Raleigh as he rushed over to her, her heart pounding a mile a minute in her chest. Of course he hadn't been wearing a helmet. She really should force him to wear one.

He stopped short in front of her, reaching out for a moment as if he wanted to touch her before forcing them to stay at his sides. Kat's heart hurt at his desperate look but she was feeling too dizzy to dwell on it.

She placed a hand on his wrist, shaking as she did. “Can we go inside?”

[nonbinaryresource]

long question

I’m in my 30s so that’s how long my parents have been misgendering me. It’s been two years since I’ve identified as a nonbinary transdude and have just started taking T. Yet my parents still have a very hard time to not misgender me. My dad, a mostly retired English tutor, scoffs at the idea of ‘they’ pronouns, insisting it’s ridiculous to be singular, sometimes makes jokes about calling me an 'it’ making comparisons that if we want to be so silly to use 'they’ how about 'it’ too. He’s still ok with the masculine though, but he just keeps on forgetting, I still have to remind him 80% of the time. He’s the one who comes with me to places where IDs are required he absolutely will misgender me because that’s what my ID says and doesn’t want to cause confusion. He does have a point, as it does cause confusion when I am the one to correct people and telling them my ID has the wrong gender because I haven’t changed it yet, they always wonder if it’s me. My dad claims it’s wasting time and they don’t know you, they look at your ID. He likens it to correcting them to say your nickname when your full legal name is on your ID. My mother’s native language doesn’t differentiate he/she so I’m talking about words like son/daughter. Such words aren’t used often but I still have to correct her most of the time. But when speaking English tbh she has a pronoun issue for anyone but she usually corrects quickly. But I still rarely hear her correcting she to he and it’s still easy for her to incorrectly correct he to she. Anyway, this has been going on for TWO years. I am sick of it. No matter how many times I have given them lectures, even had to yell at them. They keep citing, especially my dad, that they forget and it won’t come easy because it’s been too long. It’s a little bit better than 2 years ago, but still.

- meme

Please read the ask posted just before yours because my answer to that ask is pretty much exactly what I’m going to outline for you here.

First off, I’m so very sorry that you’ve had to put up with this for so long. How your parents are treating you is not okay. It is cruel and hurtful and wrong. Your dad does not have any valid points. He has only empty excuses and a lack of sympathy and compassion for his child. He also, apparently, wasn’t too good of an English tutor.

I know that sounds harsh, and I can hear in your ask how much you care about your parents and want so badly to just have a good, happy, healthy relationship with them and have been willing to make yourself smaller and harm yourself for their own comfort laziness to make this happen. Saying your parents have not had compassion for you probably made you feel instantly, instinctively defensive, and perhaps even physically pained on their behalf.

I’m sorry. That should not be your pain, nor your burden to carry.

And no longer should you carry this weight of “being the bigger person” with your parents. Because what you’re doing isn’t being the bigger person. As you’ve seen, what you’re doing is only hurting you.

Stop lecturing your parents. Stop trying to teach your parents. Stop yelling at your parents. Stop putting in absolutely all the work in your relationship with your parents.

It’s time to create boundaries and begin enforcing them.

Decide on your boundaries. These might be anything from “my parents cannot have a real relationship with me until they apologize and make an effort” to “the first time my parents misgender me and argue with me instead of correcting themselves when I point it out, I will walk away” to “my parents will keep misgendering me, so I’m done fighting it, but I will only spend one hour a month giving them a ring to talk and absolutely nothing else as a result”. Edit these at your own will and comfort level. Remember that you can set boundaries now and change them later if they’re not working for you.

Your priority, first and foremost, should be your own mental health. At the very least, I think you need to take a small break from your parents. Tell them that you’re busy and will be rather unavailable for the next couple of months, but you’ll let them know when things have calmed down and you have more time to talk. This will give you the space to be able to define your own boundaries and begin actually implementing them with your parents. Please, please give yourself space. You will need the time to calm down and to fortify yourself.

It’s really, really, really hard to uphold boundaries like this, especially with our parents. Even as adults, we never really grow out of feeling like we need our parents to approve everything we do to act as sort of permission for us to do it. We still feel like they are authorities over our lives. Implementing new boundaries like this changes the relationship, and that’s tough, especially when your parents will react like you are being cruel or malicious.

You aren’t being cruel or malicious or hurtful or unfair or unreasonable or overdramatic or oversensitive, though. You’re being a human with needs who is finally doing what you need for yourself. It is good to have boundaries. It is good to take care of yourself. It is good to care about your health and safety. You have been neglecting these things for far too long.

So take a break, define your boundaries, and then put into action enforcing these boundaries. It is honestly not that hard to learn someone’s new name or pronouns or titles or genders if you put in a little, tiny bit of effort. If your parents cannot afford you this basic respect and courtesy, then they are only depriving themselves. When you start cutting down on time with them and effort into the relationship, it will be up to them to put in just a little of this effort in return and show that they can handle having you in their lives. You have been doing all the work in the relationship with your parents. It’s time for you to pull back, take care of yourself, and let your parents do some thinking and put in some effort themselves.

You need to be consistent in upholding your boundaries, though. Do not bend to your parents excuses. Do not fall for your parents whining. Do not listen to your parents complaining. “Sorry, but I have to go” is your new anthem with them when they get that way. There is a simple solution for them to fix the rift they are causing: listen to what you’ve been saying and let go of their own, stubborn hang-ups.

If you need help with these boundaries, I suggest looking up “Captain Awkward”‘s advice column. She goes over creating and upholding boundaries with anyone of just about any relationship in detail in many of the asks she gets.

It is time to take care of yourself. This is not selfish or rude or undeserving. It is time. You matter.

~Tera