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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

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in which a new relationship sparks up in the restaurant.

a/n: hi loves! i’m back with a new story, and this is for nat’s @harrystylescherry playlist fic challenge! the song i chose is ‘say it’ by maggie rogers, which is one of my absolute favorite songs! hope you all like it, please reblog and leave feedback!

WORD COUNT: 13.8k words of waiter!harry x waitress!yn

WARNINGS: angst and some smut

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘SAY IT’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share <3

It was eleven in the morning when Harry walked through the back door of ‘Spring,’ ready to start his long day of being on his feet while waiting tables.

He walked to the staff’s lounge that held their lockers and a bench before looking around to see if anyone else was in the locker room; he turned the dial of his lock pad to open his blue locker. His coworkers would always tease him about being so secretive when he knows that no one would actually steal from him, but better to be safe than sorry, and he couldn’t imagine how awkward that would be confronting one of his coworkers if they actually had stolen from him.

He put his white canvas tote bag that was printed in a brown text that said ‘Celestial Natural Foods’—a store in Hawaii—in his locker and hanging it on one out of the two hooks before grabbing his black waist apron and tying it around his waist.

The restaurant’s attire was a simple white or black button down with black trousers. The manager of the restaurant, Irene, told the staff that they could choose either color shirt whenever they pleased. As for jewelry, she didn’t mind when her waiters and waitresses wore jewelry, as long as it wasn’t interfering with how they held the plates of food, causing them to drop it. Harry was glad to hear that Irene allowed jewelry because his rings and necklaces made him Harry. Twisting his rings and fixing his necklaces, he took a quick glance at the small mirror that was stuck on the inside of the door with a magnet, and combed his hair back with his hands before closing his locker shut and locking it.

He washed his hands at the sink next to the locker room, and he smiled at the commotion and noise from behind him that came from the kitchen crew. They were prepping for the dinner hour, chopping up various vegetables, making the restaurant’s famous dressing and sauces, and baking the side dishes that usually took a while in the oven.

“Hey, Harry!” Jet, one of the sous chefs, greeted as he looked up at Harry with a big smile as he continued chopping up cabbage like the professional chef that he was.

Harry chuckled, amazed at his knife skills. “Hey, Jet. How are you today?” He leaned against the stainless steel countertop as he talked to Jet through the open space of the shelves, where the food rested under the heated and dim light when it was ready to be served.

“I’m doing great! How was your three day vacation?”

“It was okay. It went by fast, but I missed it here anyways,” Harry responded with a smile. Jet laughed, nodding.

“Well, we missed you too. Anyways, Irene told me to tell you that she’s looking for you.” Harry squinted his eyes slightly, not knowing whether Irene looking for him was a good or bad thing, and Jet seemed to notice what he was thinking. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing bad.”

Harry nodded, feeling somewhat relieved. Jet was his closest friend at Spring, ever since Harry started working as a waiter three years ago. He desperately needed a job because being his own boss and freelancing as a photographer could be difficult sometimes; and building up a client list when he first started out was even harder. But three years later, he was able to get his name around through his clients, and he earned enough where he could technically quit his job at Spring and focused purely on photography; however, Harry liked the restaurant too much to just quit—he liked serving people, believe it or not. His charms go a long way for respectful and kind customers, and of course, a great tip. Most of his friends always worked here as well, as he didn’t have quite a lot of friends since he moved from London, but his coworkers had become his very own friends, and he loved them too much to leave.

“Thanks, I’ll see you when we open!” Harry said as Jet waved to him, watching him walk around the counter to find Irene who was talking to a woman he’s never seen before.

He’s always loved walking through the restaurant because it had such a friendly and open vibe with white painted walls, trees planted in a line in the middle of the floor, and a big glass ceiling for a solarium ambience. His favorite part was that there were no walls to separate the dining area from the kitchen, so customers could see straight through the kitchen and watch the chefs work on their food with just a turn of their heads.

“Ah, there he is,” Irene said once Harry was close enough. “I’m glad you’re early.”

“Irene, I’m always early, what do you mean?” Harry breathed out a chuckle.

“I know you are. I’m just glad you’re extra early today because I need you to train this lovely woman next to me.” Irene stepped out of the way to reveal you to the waiter that was going to train you today.

Harry looked at you, and immediately, his breath was caught in his throat. The light that was provided through the glass ceiling cast down at you, giving you a glow that was ethereal, and he mentally thanked the interior designer of the restaurant from so many years ago for insisting on putting a glass ceiling instead of a regular, covered one. There you were, standing in the open light as you flashed him a smile that almost made him collapse due to how weak his knees were, and he physically had to place a hand on the brown wooden table next to him to keep himself up. You were stunning, to say the least.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered him a hand, smiling softly at him. He shook your hand, feeling the softness of your small hand and how it contrasted to his large and somewhat rough hand.

“I’m Harry. It’s lovely to meet you.” He smiled, two dimples indenting his cheeks. You noticed that his left dimple was more prominent than his right, but either way, you thought he was a gorgeous man.

Yours and Harry’s eyes had lingered a bit longer, and once you had caught yourself staring, you forced yourself to take your eyes off him, even though it was difficult to. And that’s when you knew it was going to be a slight problem working around him.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Irene interrupted. She turned towards Harry. “Harry, this is our newest addition to our waiting staff. You’ve been here long enough and it seems like you’re here everyday, so I’m going to leave her with you to train.” Once she was down, Irene turned towards you. “Y/N, you’re going to train with Harry for the rest of the week. It’s usually two weeks that are required for training, but since you’ve had waiting experience before, I’ll knock it down to one, and by the end of the week, we’ll see how you’re doing and where you are with everything. Sounds good?”

You nodded excitedly, giving her a bright smile before she clapped her hands and said ‘great.’ Harry looked at you the entire time, and he just knew that you were the type of person that could light up a room with your beautiful and bright smile.

Irene turned towards Harry once more. “Show her the ropes, introduce her to people, and just make her comfortable, yeah?” Harry nodded, teasingly saluting at his boss as he earned a laugh from her.

Irene left, leaving the two of you, but your attention was preoccupied with the restaurant as you eagerly looked around, getting familiar with the place you’d hoped to be stable at for a while.

Harry cleared his throat, to which you immediately looked at him. He gave you a smile before he said, “So, ready for your first day?”

“Ready!” You exclaimed, tone a bit too excited, making you slightly embarrassed, so you curled your lips into your mouth and looked around the restaurant again to hide your slight embarrassment.

Harry giggled. “Don’t look around too much—you might get tired of this place before you even start,” he teased, completely forgetting how shy and embarrassed you looked.

“I think I’m gonna like it here,” you confessed immediately, feeling a certain comfort once you walked into the restaurant. Hell, the moment you researched the restaurant, you loved the place.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Harry led you around the counter where customers could watch the chefs in action as they cooked their meals. “This is where you could get all the supplies needed—napkins, extra plates, utensils, place mats, everything should be here. If not, then it’ll usually be in the kitchen, right over here.” He walked over to the kitchen where there were more supplies under the table, and pointed below the table. “Here’s more if the ones behind the counter run out, and if they do run out and you just so happen to be there, please make sure to refill it.” You nodded understandingly.

Harry walked you through the steps of how the system of the restaurants worked as he imputed a demo order into the system on the touchable screen. There were five order screens, one in each corner of the restaurant, one behind the counter, and one in the kitchen; there shouldn’t be any collision or anyone waiting for one of the severs to finish with the screen because there were only about four to five servers working every shift considering it was a small restaurant. Harry then walked you along on where to pick up the order as every dish had its receipt with the order printed on the paper along with the table number. He told you that the table numbers are in order of how the tables are set up—number one starts with the countertops since it’s closest to the entrance, following along the walls, and the tables in the middle were numbered last.

You liked how easy their routine and system was that you were sure you’d have it down by the end of the week. Harry made sure to introduce you to the staff that you two passed by as he led you throughout the restaurant; he made you feel comfortable right from the bat, making sure to make a few jokes here and there that certainly released some tension in your shoulders from nerves. You were grateful that he made you laugh--you were worried that you wouldn’t like your coworkers or they would be mean and snarky because you’re the newbie, but with Harry, it seemed like you two were getting along quite well; he was polite, helpful, and kind.

“So, that’s pretty much it.” He looked at the time on his Apple Watch, reading a quarter to six in the evening, 15 minutes until Spring opened for dinner. “Do you have any questions?”

You tried thinking of anything that you could ask, but your mind seemed to have collected all the information Harry had told you and retained it quite well. “No, nothing I can think of at the moment.”

“Great. For now, do you mind checking the placemats and the table decor for me?” You nodded helpfully. “And then if you have any remaining time left, just chill out and take a breather for a second, and then come find me when we open.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” You smiled at him sweetly, making him smile back before he walked away and towards the kitchen.

You headed towards the dining room, making sure the woven placements were symmetrical and even; you also straightened out the utensils that made their way out of line or off the tablemats. You did this for the rest of the ten minutes you had of peace before you made your way through the restaurant to find Harry.

The entire time you were in the dining room, Harry was in the locker room, mindlessly on his phone to waste time. He was lucky that he didn’t have to do anything before the restaurant opened, so he had some spare time to relax for a bit. He tried cooling down to get the pink flush that painted his cheeks off, but that’s what happened when he was around you; immediately, you had already had this effect on him, making him blush and nervous around you, and he didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way you brightly smiled at him, practically gleaming; or the way you laughed at his jokes, which even he could admit are a bit corny and bad—a very dad-like joke, but you still laughed.

Whatever it was, he knew that he was fucked.

Dinner time was a rush. Spring was busy and full; the reservation booklet was booked with no space to cater to walk-ins.

You were shadowing Harry as you followed him around like a lost puppy, watching him interact with the customers, occasionally pulling out his charm so he would get a big tip. You couldn’t imagine if you were a customer and Harry was your server because your face would heat up instantly, and it would be difficult to contain a smile on your face. He had such a natural charm to him, making him naturally flirty as he flashed customers his smile and laughing at their horribly made jokes.

For half of the night, you simply followed him around, watched the paths he took when he got the customers’ food and his overall routine of things. With every table he got assigned to, he made sure to introduce you to the party, always glancing over at you once he said your name as you greeted the customers with a bright smile. Harry nearly had to stop every time he glanced over at you as it seemed like your beauty always distracted him.

You helped him with dealing with the plates, beverages, and getting extra necessities such as cheese, hot sauce, or extra utensils and plates for the table.

Once the restaurant died down a bit, you and Harry were able to walk a bit slower, relaxing each time a party leaves. When there was about an hour and a half left of your shift and till the restaurant closes, Harry asked you if you’d like to take orders, saying it’ll be best if he observed how you would talk and serve the customers, and you excitedly said ‘yes.’ Harry was only assigned to five to six tables during his shift, and since it was near closing time, there were only two that had just arrived.

Harry politely introduced himself, telling the parties that you were new and shadowing him, but you were going to take over for the rest of their stay at Spring. He watched you kindly talk to them, occasionally making small talk as you laughed with them; you talked about your favorite items on the menu, along with your favorite selection of wine. This time, Harry helped you with your tasks that you had done before you two switched off, and he immediately admitted to himself that the two of you made such a great team. It was only your first day here, and he already saw how naturally the both of you moved around one another, along with communicating so well with each other.

You were bidding the last party in the restaurant goodbye with a wave and telling them to enjoy the rest of their evening before you grabbed the mason jar that held the bill, along with the tips. You walked over to the kitchen where Irene was counting all the money and placed the mason jar besides her, giving her a smile before walking over to the locker room.

Harry was sitting on the bench with his phone in his hands, and looked up once you entered the room.

“How was your first day?” He smiled.

“It was actually really great. The energy here is amazing.”

“Well, I’m glad. You’re a natural, and it helps both of us that you already have restaurant experience.” Harry completely put his phone away into his tote bag, giving you his attention, which you really admired. Some people would make small talk and quickly end the conversation to go back on their phones. “Where did you work before, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I actually moved here from NorCal—San Francisco—just two weeks ago. But I worked at one of the restaurants at Pier 49. The restaurant was pretty small and we weren’t as busy as it was here, only on the weekends we would get a bit busy. So, this is definitely completely different than being outside and smelling the fresh ocean a few feet away,” you explained, chuckling.

“Wow, SF, that’s quite the trip. But we’re glad to have you. I think you’re fitting right in.”

“Thank you. I already like it here.” Harry gave you a warm smile, grateful that you had a great first day, and that Spring gave you a good first impression for you to stay.

The two of you chatted a bit, talking about the customers you had and laughing at the jokes they made or the conversations they talked about. It was kind-hearted and fun, and a conversation that made you feel light; it wasn’t anything serious. It ended when it was time for closing, cleaning up and making sure everything was in order for tomorrow afternoon’s shift.

Irene handed the staff their tips for the night, which you amounted for $120 for a Sunday night. It wasn’t bad for your first night of tips, and you knew you would be working a lot more since this was your only job and you weren’t doing anything else.

As everyone walked outside into the staff parking lot, everyone said their goodbyes to one another, spreading apart and walking out to their vehicles.

Once you opened your car door, Harry called out for you from the opposite side of where you parked.

“Yeah?” You raised your brows.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He offered a smile before getting into his car and starting it, but he waited until you were safely inside of your car and out of the parking garage, and then he would leave.

He couldn’t help but notice the smile that appeared onto your face before you got inside your car, and he couldn’t help but think about how incredibly beautiful you are.

The entire week went on just like your first day. You were getting more comfortable with the flow of the restaurant, and where everything was. You continued shadowing Harry, but some days, he would let you serve your customers for the entire shift.

Now that it was Friday evening, you couldn’t wait to relax the next day. You had told Irene that you were available all days of the week, and since you were new and still needed to complete training, she scheduled you for Sunday to Friday, getting Saturday off, which you appreciated. When you told yourself that you were able to work all day, you didn’t realize how exhausting and tiring that was until it came down to the end of the week as your feet ached, telling you to sit down for at least an entire day.

Once it was closing time, you were finally able to catch a breath as you cleaned up part of the dining room. Chatter and laughter was heard from the kitchen quite loud as it echoed against the walls; you smiled, enjoying the sound of laughter, especially when it came from people you knew.

As you were mindlessly wiping down tables, Harry walked up to you with two cocktails in his hands, smiling as he handed you one. You raised your brows, hesitant to take it from him as you wondered if it was allowed to drink since you were technically still on the clock.

“Irene made them for us, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said as if he read your mind. You breathed out a chuckle, taking a glass before thanking him and clinking your glass with his before taking a sip of the cold tequila drink. You sighed in relief, and Harry giggled. “Do you have any plans for tonight? I know it’s almost midnight, but I mean…you could still.” He felt his ears heat up, feeling a tad bit nervous when he was around you.

“No, I don’t. I don’t really have any friends in SoCal, but I can't wait to go home and sleep.”

“O-Oh okay, I was just gonna ask if you’d like to stay for a bit longer.”

“Here? For what?” You asked curiously.

“Well, the lot of us get together after night shifts to do a mini celebration at the end of the long and busy week. We only do it Fridays since that’s when most of us are working all together,” he said referring to the bunch laughing and talking in the kitchen. You did notice now that you had been working with the same group of people, and partially that was because you only mostly worked night shifts and so did the rest. “We usually stay for an hour—drink, eat, talk. It made us closer, actually, so I’d thought you might like to join since you’re new,” he invited.

You didn’t take long to think of an answer—to weigh out your choices of wanting to go to bed at a somewhat reasonable time or stay an extra hour and hang out with your coworkers.

“I’d actually really love that, thank you,” you accepted his invitation with a sweet smile, making Harry’s heart pound just a tad bit harder against his chest.

“Great! Well, come on into the kitchen when you’re done. The chefs are cooking up some food,” he said before he walked away, leaving you to finish up your tasks for the night, which didn’t take you any more than ten minutes to finish up.

You walked into the kitchen and Harry immediately handed you a plate that you gladly took. Jet excitedly waved to you to go over to the stove so he could serve you.

“Allergic to anything?” He asked to make sure you weren’t going into the emergency room tonight.

“Uh, shellfish when it’s consumed. I’m okay to be around it, though.”

“Oh shit, this would not be good for you.” His eyes widened as he immediately dropped the large silver serving spoon of the lobster risotto; it looked absolutely delicious. “Good thing I’m prepared. Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?”

“Love.”

“Great!” He started plating your plate with the food before handing it back to you with an ‘enjoy!’ as you thanked him.

Once everyone was satisfied, you all headed out to the dining table, settling on a large rectangle table comfortably. There were about twelve of you, and it seemed like everyone had assigned seats since they immediately went straight to their spot and placed their table or drink in front of it.

You were a bit lost, not knowing where to sit, and the only person you’re reasonably close to was Harry, but it seemed like he was a bit preoccupied chatting with Quinn, another chef.

“Y/N! Sit next to me, yeah?” Ivy, one of the waitresses called out for you. You smiled, thankful she was the one to ask you, and you gladly took a seat next to her.

Harry took the seat in front of Ivy, diagonal from you, and he really wished he was the one sitting next to you.

“Damn, I really should get a large circle table for all of us so we could see each other’s faces,” Irene suggested, and the group agreed, but everyone wondered where it would be placed since the restaurant had no space for another large table.

Everyone broke out into their own conversations, chatting with one another freely and as loud as they wanted.

“How was your first week here, Y/N?” Ivy asked.

“It was great! I really love this place.” Harry looked at you as you talked with Ivy. He really could get lost just looking at your beauty, and sometimes, he would have to knock himself out of his glare to prevent him from getting caught. He was just so captivated by you, and it didn’t take a lot of effort for him to be so drawn to you.

Ivy had definitely noticed Harry’s stare from the corner of her eye, and admittingly, she got jealous because she’s had a small crush on Harry ever since she started working at Spring four months ago. But it wasn’t like she was going to do anything about it because it seemed like he didn’t take interest in her, so she wasn’t going to force it. However, it didn’t slip past her that you occasionally glanced over at Harry as well—briefly averting your eyes towards him once he took a sip of his water or someone had pulled him out of his attention on you to make conversation.

Gently pulling you by the arm, Ivy leaned over to whisper into your ear. “Harry’s totally crushing on you.”

You pulled back, shocked. “What?” You mouthed.

“He can’t stop looking at you—it’s so obvious.” You simply chuckled, shaking your head slightly as your cheeks felt warm, not from the alcohol or how close everyone was sitting, but because you couldn’t even believe that Harry would have a crush on you. Sure, you two had spent the entirety of your shifts together, but you didn’t think that he would have a crush on you.

You tried not to think of Ivy’s words for the rest of the night, and you tried even harder to not look at Harry to catch it he was staring at you. Your thoughts seemed to make you more drunk when you were trying to sober up to drive back home. You only had three cocktails, which was quite mindless of you to be drinking when you had to drive home, but you simply wanted to have fun because you deserved it, and you were comfortable and making friends. And everyone seemed to be drinking as well as they were getting a ride from the more responsible ones who were driving and leaving their car in the parking garage during the night.

Once everyone was all out of their social battery with their plates and glasses empty, you all started to clean up, helping one another to make the process of going home quicke; there were two people washing the dishes and two people drying as the rest put those dishes away and cleaned the table.

Just like every single night, everyone said their goodbyes in the parking lot before going to their cars to head home for a good night's rest.

You were sober, but you didn’t feel safe enough to drive, and you don’t know if that’s the alcohol or the thoughts of Harry making you dizzy. So, instead of walking to your car, you took out your phone and opened the Uber app, knowing you’d be able to get a ride home quickly since it was past midnight on a Friday night.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” Harry asked, walking up to you once he noticed that you weren’t going to your car. He made it a habit to watch you get inside your car and leave the parking garage safely because anything could happen in the few minutes if he left before you.

“I’m calling an Uber. I don’t wanna drive back…” you replied before looking down at your phone again.

“Oh, I could drive you home, if you’d like?” He offered politely.

“Really? You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. I would feel better knowing that I was the one that got you home safely.” The corners of your lips couldn’t help but turn up into a smile as your heart fluttered against your ribcage.

“That’s really sweet, Harry, I’d like that,” you accepted. Harry grinned, leading you to his car as you followed; he walked over to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, which easily almost made your knees buckle in. How is he such a gentleman and so incredibly kind? You wondered, thinking about how rare it was to meet a man without anything leading to more than a conversation.

You thanked him before getting into his car; his car was very clean and he had a Saturn air freshener that hung on his rearview mirror, admitting a fresh lemon scent throughout his vehicle. Harry got in, handing you his phone to play some music and to enter your address before starting the car and driving out of the parking garage. You played Daniel Caesar, which you thought was the perfect kind of music for a night drive since your place was fifteen minutes away from the restaurant. The two of you sang along to ‘Hold Me Down’ as he watched you from the corner of his eye, adorably swaying in your seat to the song as you muttered the lyrics.

The sunroof cover was open, giving you an orange glow every time the car passed by a lamppost. Unconsciously, you both looked at one another every time the car stopped at a red light, both smiling at one another. You were thankful that it was dark out as it hid your big smile from how much you were giddy just looking at Harry.

Once the navigation told him that your place was on the right, he parked against the curb in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled your seatbelt before turning towards him in your seat as he turned towards you as well.

“Thank you for the ride, Harry. It was really kind of you to offer.”

“Not a problem. Don’t be hesitant to ask again. I rarely drink when we have our after-hours dinners, so you’re free to drink all you want and I’ll be glad to take you home,” he told you, and you smiled, nodding your head.

“I’ll keep that in mind. It’s just been a while since I drank and hung out with friends,” you explained.

“No worries. I’m glad you had fun, I assumed?”

“Yeah, lots of fun! I really like it there, and you made it bearable and fun as well as my trainer,” you admitted. Harry felt his cheeks slightly redden, and just as you were thinking, he was grateful it was dark out.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad. You’ll be on your own now. No need for me anymore since you’ve pretty much gotten everything done so quickly,” he chuckled, a dimple indenting his left cheek, making you hold in your breath.

“Can I still ask you for help if I need you?” You asked innocently, leaning your elbow against the middle console as you rested your chin against your fist. Harry pursed in his lips as his mind focused on the last three words that slipped out of your mouth--I need you. It was merely an innocent question relating to work that he shouldn’t think too much about, but he couldn’t help it.

“Of course. I’m always gonna be here if you need me,” he responded, keeping it friendly. At that, you smiled, nodding your head in acceptance. You gathered your belongings that rested at your feet before turning to face him again. Leaning forward, Harry thought you were leaning in to kiss him, which he wouldn’t mind whatsoever, but that dream was crushed when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, giving him a hug. He hugged you back, placing his hand against your back and slightly rubbing his hand up and down, hoping you couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his chest at the feel of your upper body slightly pressed against him.

You pulled away, giving him a shy smile. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Drive safe, okay?”

“Always do. Sleep well.” He bid you goodbye as you got out of his car, walking over to the entrance of your apartment complex. You turned around before you opened the door, waving at him before heading inside.

Harry drove off to his place, the opposite direction of your apartment, passing Spring. He could’ve honestly been home already in the comfort of his bed, but he didn’t mind taking you home at all. That only meant he got to spend a bit of more time together, but he noticed that with every passing second, minute, and hour, he felt himself falling for you just a bit more.

You’ve been at Spring for almost a month, and you couldn’t believe how fast the days went by. The more you worked, the more you started to feel a place at home with the restaurant. It was welcoming and fun, and all the credit was due to the people that you surrounded yourself with. You felt a difference in your attitude, your mood, and you liked the change that it brought you--you felt happy.

Being in San Francisco your entire life was great up until it wasn’t. It was a toxic place for you simply because of the people that you were surrounded with. You noticed that you were always on fight-or-flight mode, ready for someone to make one comment at you so you could snap at them. You hated being and thinking like that, so the best thing you did for yourself was to move away from the toxicity of your hometown, and you were glad that you did.

It was another usual Friday evening, after hours at Spring as you sat in your usual seat next to Ivy as the two of you and Harry were laughing about a story Ivy was telling about her ex-boyfriend in college.

Harry looked over at you, heart swooning as he watched you laugh, wiping your under eyes from the tears that had slipped out. It was a beautiful sight, he’d say; you had such a beautiful smile and contagious laugh that he loved hearing, whether it’d be from the kitchen as he was in the dining room or in the locker room—wherever it was, he always smiled to himself when he heard it.

The two of you had gotten quite close, making the work environment bearable and fun. When you would be in the same area at the same time, you had this thing where you would bump his hip with yours lightly, and he would bump yours right back—of course, when there weren’t any food or drink handling. There would always be light conversations within those hip bumps, comfortably getting to know one another, whether it would be asking quick-fire questions or a random story about one another’s lives that would come to mind. It wasn’t an ordinary setting or time to get to know each other, but it made things fun because the two of you would come up with more questions to come up with the next time he bumped into you. It was nice having a thing with you, he thought.

There would be moments during those little meetings when your fingers would brush delicately against his, sending shivers to his body. It was simply overwhelming in the best way possible.

Everyone called it a night, doing the nightly routine of tidying and cleaning everything up. Despite the long shift and being on your feet, you still had quite a bit of energy that you would like to use up so you could get a night’s rest. You looked at your friends, seeing if anyone was up for a late night adventure just based off of their posture and how often they yawned, and it seemed like everyone was exhausted, for obvious reasons. But you’d ask one person before you decide to go alone.

Once everything was clean and ready for the Saturday’s brunch, everyone walked out of the restaurant, walking over to their cars.

“Hey, Harry?” You called out, making him instantly turn around at the sound of your voice.

“Yeah, love?” The pet name had merely slipped out, and you felt your face getting warm, shyly smiling.

“Uh, you could totally say no and I would completely understand why because it’s Friday night, and we had a long shift, and you must be tired-”

“Y/N?” You stopped talking, raising your brows. “Breath, yeah? Take your time,” he interrupted the rambling that you hadn’t known you were doing.

Nodding, you took a deep breath. You didn’t know why you were nervous, but every time you were around Harry, he just made you feel a certain swarm of butterflies entering your stomach.

“I’m not as tired as I thought, and I wanna end tonight with some sweets. So, would you like to come with me to get some dessert? Again, you could say no.”

Harry smiled. “I’d love to,” he replied with no second thought.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Plus, we could finally talk properly. Hate always walking away from our unfinished conversations.” He breathed out a chuckle, running his clad ring hand through his curls.

“Great! Oh, uh, do you mind if we take your car? I took an Uber here, but I’ll compensate with buying you cookies and paying for your gas,” you suggested, keeping your excitement at bay.

“No worries, c’mon. But I might take you up on the cookie offer.” He smiled, opening your door for you, which never failed to make you swoon.

As he started the car, warming up the engine and turning the heater on, you two debated on where to go. You suggested going to Insomnia Cookies in Santa Monica, which was a twenty minute drive from Downtown LA, and it closed at two In the morning, but only if he was down to drive the opposite direction of where you two lived. And luckily, he didn’t mind the drive because he was always down for a late night drive and adventure, especially if it was with you.

The car speakers played Frank Ocean, he merged on the 101, tapping his fingers along with the beat against the steering wheel. You subtly studied him as he drove, just as you did when you would glance at him across the restaurant. He always mindlessly curled his pink lips into his mouth, a habit that he, assumingly, had for years. You noticed how he would always play with his rings; his thumb would reach over to his other fingers to play with the heavy, metal rings; not helping that your mind would instantly go to what else his hands could do, especially to you, to your body, but you had to immediately snap yourself out of your thoughts to prevent them from going any further. Not to mention, the way his eyes always lit up; they had a natural gleam to them, making them incredibly irresistible to not look in his green eyes.

He was captivating in all the right ways, and you felt yourself falling for him quite quickly, making that fear inside of you light up, inflaming your body with anxiousness.

Your thoughts soon vanished when Harry pulled into a parking space in front of your destination, and he turned off the car. He turned to look at you, giving you a small smile before getting out. You decided to buy Harry anything he’d like, which he got the same six pack of cookies as you.

Harry suggested eating in his car, which you agreed. Although the cold in SoCal wasn’t the same coldness as it was in NorCal, you didn’t want to stand around and freeze. The two of you make light conversation, talking about social media and enjoying the warmth of the fresh baked cookies. You then realized that you hadn’t followed him on Instagram, so you asked for his username, which was just his first and last name.

“Your pictures are amazing,” you complimented.

“Stalking me already?” He teased. A smirk on his face present, making you roll your eyes as you didn’t know if you wanted to slap or kiss the smirk off—always wanting to go for the latter. “But thank you. I, uh, I actually took those myself.” Your eyes brightened. The photographs posted on his Instagram were mostly portraits of beautiful people, some of them were landscapes of a field or the mountains, but most of them were portraits. You knew very little about photography, thanks to the ‘Beginning of Photography 1’ class that you took in college, but you could see the depth of the picture and the way they’re taken; the emotion was clearly there, making you feel intensity through the picture.

“Wow, you’re really talented, Harry.”

He blushed, looking down at his lap for a moment before looking back up at you again. “Thank you so much. I’m a freelance photographer.”

“Do you plan on leaving Spring to focus solely on photography?” You asked curiously. He softly smiled; he could hear the genuine tone in your voice, and he really appreciated that.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have an appointment, maybe, three or four times a month? But the restaurant brings in more money, especially the tips,” he explained.

You nodded. “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re extremely talented, and one day, you’ll be at the place you want to be. Everything will work out.” Harry smiled in appreciation of your words, not saying anything else.

Taking another bite of his cookie, he changed the subject. “So, do you miss any of your friends in SF?”

You raised your brows, not expecting that question, but you answered honestly. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t. A month before moving here,” you began to open up vulnerably; you hadn’t spoken to anyone about this. “I got out of a long relationship—quite toxic, honestly,” you said, looking at him. He had this look on his face that was so comforting, not a word coming out of his mouth, asking for details; it didn’t tell you that he was nosy or pressing you to tell him more. It simply told you that he was there to listen, whenever you were ready to tell him, and you really appreciated that.

You hadn’t realized how hard it was talking about your past relationship because it had been all bottled up until now. A deep breath came out of your mouth, and Harry immediately realized that it must’ve been a hard subject to speak about. Unexpected to you, he reached over to grab your hand, holding it gently as his thumb caressed your skin. He hoped he masked his nervousness well, making the smallest physical touch with you when, really, his pulse was hammering against his veins, heart pounding through his chest as his breathing began to feel erratic, but outside he remained cool, calm, and collected as if the touch didn’t drive him insane.

You tried not letting Harry’s thumb, caressing the back of your hand, affect your ability to speak a coherent sentence, so you continued. “Uh, my ex was cheating on me with someone in our friend group. He told me not to worry about her, but you know how that goes when you hear that phrase. It was with a girl that I used to date—my first relationship, actually. The worst part of it was when I found out, I took him back when he promised he wouldn’t do it again and claimed that he loved me, and then I took him back again, and again and again.”

Harry inhaled deeply, trying to not let the hand holding yours squeeze tightly so the blood circulation cuts off because he felt angry. He was so mad because how could anyone do that to you? Sweet, kind, and lovely you?

“When I told him I couldn’t handle it anymore—all the lies, cheating, and betrayal—I broke up with him. Our friend group turned against me, completely ignored me. Now that I think about it, I noticed they started to be cold and rude towards me once they started sneaking around, and I have no clue why because I didn’t do anything to them. Guess they were just covering up for them because everyone knew except me, and I just felt so stupid because I was so clueless to think he ever loved me to forgive him so many times.”

You started to sniffle as the bad memories that you lived through for the few months of the betrayal started to come up again. You were doing a good job not thinking about it when you started working at the restaurant, and you didn’t plan on telling Harry tonight, but you trusted him to let go of all the agony that you bottled up inside your mind.

“Hey, come here,” he said, opening his arms up. You gladly rested your head against his shoulders, wishing the middle console wasn’t there so you could press your body against his. He hands rubbed your back just as it did when you first hugged him, and to say that you hadn’t been craving for his touch was a complete lie. “You’re not stupid whatsoever. I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make you stupid. It makes them stupid for betraying your trust and forgiveness over and over again. You’re not in the wrong here nor was it your fault, love.”

You nodded against his shoulder, and you felt him place the side of his face against the top of your head, cuddling up to you, which immediately put a smile on your face. Harry’s comfort had immediately made you feel better—it made you feel safe. You hadn’t felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms in a very long time, and considering that you’ve only known him for a month, you’d say it’s quite unbelievable how comfortable you are in his hold, especially opening up to him like you did.

Pulling back from his hold, you looked up at him, giving him a smile. The weight on your shoulders suddenly felt lighter once you opened the bottle and poured out the contents in it. Talking to Harry was refreshing, a fresh breath of air, and you inhaled the crisp oxygen gratefully, knowing that being vulnerable and opening up had changed your friendship.

It was Sunday evening, and you were cleaning up to prepare for closing. It had been a long day, even though you only worked for four hours; it just seemed that you were running around more than usual.

But you were glad that the day was over, and you could take a long nice shower to end your night. Throughout cleaning, your coworkers had said goodbye, leaving through the back door, which you found odd because everyone usually heads out at the same time, but you didn’t think too much of it.

Once you were done in the dining room, you looked around, finding the restaurant completely empty, but everything seemed to be in order, so you headed over to the locker room.

When you rounded around the counter top and into the kitchen, Harry jumped up from his crouched position, startling you as you took a step back, gasping with your hand over your heart.

“Holy shit, you scared me,” you said breathlessly.

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I thought you still knew I was here.”

“I thought I was completely alone, and hiding behind the counter doesn’t help.” You and Harry laughed. You hadn’t noticed the two plates of food and wine glasses that were filled with sparkling soda sitting next to him on the stainless steel counter, and you wondered for a moment if that was for you and him. “What’s that for?”

“For us, if you’d like. I made it quickly once everything was slow and we were starting to close,” he said shyly, rubbing his tattooed forearm.

Your brows raised, eyes widening slightly. “You made this? For us?”

“Yeah. Today marks one month being here, so I decided to make dinner to celebrate.” You were quite speechless at the thought; it was so incredibly sweet and thoughtful that Harry went through that trouble of making a meal to celebrate a somewhat significant date. Tears started to well up in your eyes, making the man in front of you blurry. “Oh, wait, no. Please don’t cry. You could definitely take this to-go, if you want! I know you’re probably tired, but-”

Harry was cut off by your arms wrapping around his shoulders. He was taken back at first from the impact of your body crashing against his, but once he regained his balance, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly.

Your scent was impeccable—quite alluring for running around for a few hours. He knew he smelled like food, the smoke from garlic and onions sautéing, and vegetables cooking. He buried his head into your shoulder, holding you close. This had been the first time you two were ever hugging outside of the comfort and safety of his car—no middle console to interfere, no awkwardness in trying to figure out how to give a proper hug in a confined space. He enjoyed it a lot—the way your body was pressed up against his. It made him happy, it made him feel safe.

The intimate moment lasted for a few minutes, simply just hugging one another in relief in the kitchen, swaying slightly as complete silence surrounded the two of you.

Once you were satisfied (although you think you would never be satisfied enough if you’re not in his arms), you pulled away, coming face-to-face with him. Your cheeks were slightly damped from the few tears that had fallen out, but weirdly, it gave you a natural and happy glow, and you were feeling exactly that.

“Harry, thank you so much. This is the sweetest and most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me.” You looked up at him through your wet lashes, warmly smiling at him.

“You’re welcome. Shall we eat?” You nodded, and he unwrapped his arms from around your waist, letting you go, which he wished he hadn’t. He grabbed the two heavy plates that were filled with honey garlic chicken with sautéed spinach and mushroom on a bed of rice, and you grabbed the glasses, reaching over to place them onto the countertop before the two of you walked around to sit on the high stools.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, and you thanked and complimented him for the lovely meal. There was light conversation, asking questions about each other’s childhood. Listening to Harry talk about his life in England was so fascinating to you, and you wished that you had grown up with him because he seemed like such a fun and kind kid to play with. You learned that his sister and mom were back home in London, and they visited every six months, and he would occasionally go back home as well, if the bills weren’t stacking up and he was good with money. His words and mind seemed to get the best of him, slipping out about how much they would love you and that he’ll invite you to lunch whenever they visit to meet them; and he hoped he didn’t freak you out. You simply blushed, nodding your head, and not saying anything else.

The more you talked to him, the more you found yourself staring at him as you listened to what he had to say. You’d come to terms a few weeks ago that you really liked his eyes—how green they were, and how they stare into you, giving you his full attention. You liked his hands, his hair, his nose, his cheeks, and most of all, you liked his lips. You couldn’t blame alcohol for these thoughts because Harry replaced wine with sparkling soda, so these were completely sober thoughts racing your mind. His lips were something you glanced at often, trying not to glare at them too much as he talked as you didn’t want to get caught for admiring them. They were so pink, and he occasionally bit them and curled them into his mouth, making them pinker. You liked when he would take his fingers and pinch his bottom lip, a habit that he seemed to form throughout his life. You suddenly wanted to kiss him—really, really bad.

You shook off the thought immediately, being completely sidetracked with your infatuation with Harry. Was it an infatuation? No, you knew the feelings you felt for him felt much stronger than a simple admiration for your coworker.

Once the talking had died down and the plates were empty, you and Harry decided to clean up. You quickly took both of your plates, beating Harry to the sink to wash the dishes. He chuckled as he watched you fast walk towards the sink; he soon followed with the glasses, placing them carefully into the sink. He decided to dry the dishes, finding the dish rag on your right side. So, he leaned over, placing his left hand on your waist, chest slightly pressed against your back as he grabbed the rag. You turned your head to the right, dropping your shoulder to turn more of your body towards him. He was close and it made you feel flushed; you felt your cheeks heating up once he looked down at you, faces inches away from each other.

You turned back around, quickly placing the last dish on the counter before you turned off the water. Harry was still close in proximity, not making any effort to move away from you. Turning around, your back was now pressed up against the edge of the sink. Harry rested his hands against the edge, trapping you with his arms. Your breath began to deepen, heart beating quite harshly against your chest as Harry looked into your eyes, briefly glancing at your lips, and slowly trailing them back up into your eyes. He brought one hand to graze the side of your face gently, skin prickling with goosebumps.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented honestly.

“Thank you, you are too.”

“I mean it. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Listen, I-I really like you, and we haven’t known each other for long but I just…can’t get enough of you,” You smiled, averting your eyes to his lips before looking back up; your cheeks and neck felt incredibly warm from his confession. Bodily, you placed your hands on his waist, pulling him towards you to close the gap between you two; Harry smirked at your action, liking the way your bodies were pressed up against each other.

“Are you gonna do anything about it?” You raised your brows curiously.

“What would you like me to do?” His hands were rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

“Hmm…a few things actually,” you muttered—more to yourself but Harry definitely heard from how close you two physically were. Your fingertips were mindlessly drawing circles on his lower back where his slightly wrinkled white shirt was tucked into his black jeans.

“Care to share?”

You took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes that captivated you quite clearly. “Want you to kiss me.”

The corner of his lip turned up as he curled his lips into his mouth. “Can I please? Been wanting to for so long.”

“Tell me.” Harry raised his brows. “Tell me how long you’ve been wanting to kiss me.”

He curled his lips into his mouth, looking down at your soft lips before back up at your eyes. “Ever since I saw you for the first time. So, please let me kiss you. Do you want me to?”

Harry quite literally took your breath away, breath stuck in your throat before you cleared it. Nodding your head quite eagerly, you softly said, “Yeah, want you to.”

With that, he trailed his hands from your waist, up your spine, to your shoulders, and up to your face where he placed his hands on both sides, gently holding your face delicately as if it were a piece of art that was crafted for months, years; he didn’t want to drop or break the precious masterpiece that he cradled with his hands.

His thumb caressed your soft cheek, giving your lips one last look before he leaned in and connected your lips with his. You sighed deeply once you felt his soft lips touch yours, and your shoulder visibly relaxed, letting go of everyone that may have held you back.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him in closer. A spark ran through your body as your lips molded together so perfectly in sync, making the firework inside of you pop into a beautiful and magical scene.

Whimpering against his mouth, you suddenly wanted more of him; he was, in all ways, addicting. You unconsciously lifted your right leg, bringing it up to his hip, making Harry press himself against your core, holding your thigh. He started to feel himself harden inside of his pants from the way you’re kissing him, the way your hands gripped his hair, and the way your tongue effortlessly swiveled against his.

You pulled away from his lips quite breathlessly, lips swollen. “Want you.”

“Me too—want you so bad.” He leaned forward to kiss you again, and once he did, you pulled away, only leaving him with a small kiss to his lips. Harry pouted, making you chuckle.

“That was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” you confessed.

Harry smirked. “Well, I’ll be glad to do it again.”

“Wanna get out of here? C-Can we go to yours?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “You sure?”

“Absolutely positive.”

Harry gave you a smile and another kiss before he backed away, grabbing your hand to lead you to the locker room where the two of you grabbed your belongings from your lockers. Quickly after, you two were out the door of Spring; Harry locked up, and walked you two over to his car where he, yet again, opened the passenger door for you.

The entire ten minute drive to his apartment, his hand never left yours. It delicately sat on your thigh with your hand on top of his, palm against the back of his hand as your fingers intertwined with his. Harry found it difficult to drive properly because all he ever wanted to do was either kiss you or look at you, and since it was just a bit after midnight, he hit all the green lights, so there was continuous driving and less kissing and looking. But that just made it quicker for him to get to his place.

His apartment was on the second floor, which didn’t take long to get to, but catching up to Harry’s long strides as he practically dragged you up the stairs—no patience to wait for the elevator—was tiring you out.

Once his front door closed, he immediately pushed you up against it, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed you feverishly. You practically could feel him smiling into the kiss, happy to have his lips on yours, and it completely tied your stomach into knots as the familiar flutter you felt in your chest made itself present.

You’d come to realize, in the kitchen, that kissing Harry was everything you ever imagined. His soft lips molding and connecting with yours so perfectly made all of your dreams and realities come true. He just had a way with how he worked his lips as well as where to put his hands. But you were eager to find out what else he could do.

Harry was the one to pull away first, which he even surprised himself with, but he led you to his bedroom, which you were too excited about. He closed his bedroom door, taking your lips in with his again, backing you up against his bed as he gently placed you on top of it, hovering over you.

His lips trailed to your cheek, your jaw, and down to your neck where he lightly nibbled and sucked on your soft skin. You felt him lick your skin, soothing out the small love bite that he left on your skin before he pulled his head from your neck.

“You sure you want to do this? I’d be happy just kissing you.”

You smiled. “I’m sure, wanna touch you. You’re sure too?” You asked consent from him as well, making his cock twitch in his pants.

“Very sure, love. You have no idea.” He sat on his knees as you laid below him, and he’s sure he’s never seen someone look so beautiful as you do; he was completely enthralled by your beauty. “Can I take this off?” He referred to your shirt, playing with the buttons on the front. You nodded, biting your lip.

He leaned his weight on one side of you, placing one arm behind your head as you rested against it. He took your mouth in with his as his other hand began unbuttoning your white shirt, impressively with one hand. Once he got to the bottom, he sat up again, as did you to take off your shirt and your sports bra. You didn’t wear anything sexy to work because you wanted to be comfortable while waiting tables.

Harry looked at your bare torso, licking his lips before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking and licking the pebbled bud before switching to the other. His lips then placed small kisses down your body and to the hem of your pants, where he looked up to see you flushed from just his kisses.

“Harry…” you whined.

“What is it, beautiful?” He smirked.

“Please, take it off.”

“I’m getting there, love, don’t worry.” A breathy chuckle came out of his mouth before he unbuttoned your trousers. Your hips raised off the bed, and he swiftly took them off, leaving you in your nude seamless underwear. “Fuck, you’re so stunning, Y/N, I swear.” You looked at him and smiled; you were clearly at loss for words because of how Harry was looking at you. He wasn’t looking at you with complete admiration, like he was so lost in his daze of his sight. And that thought made you even more aroused.

He gave you another kiss to your stomach before taking off your underwear, situating himself in between your legs, lying on his stomach. Harry looked up once more to find you staring at him, eager to watch what he’s about to do; he placed a kiss to your inner thighs, gently nibbling on your flesh, making you squirm.

“Harry, please. Need to feel you,” you pleaded, brows crinkling.

“Tell me what you need,�� he teased, earning an impatient scoff from you, but Harry chuckled at your frustration.

“Need your mouth on me. Please, want you to eat me out already.”

Now, who was he to deny that request? So, that’s what he did—he slowly licked your clit multiple times before licking into your hole, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He used your wetness to lubricate your clit, completely assaulting your sensitive bud. Your back arched as the sensations ran through your body, hands gripping the sheets below you tightly that they practically wrinkled. Harry moaned against your clit, making you buck your hips into his face.

“Fuck, Harry…” you dragged out, throwing your head back into the pillows.

For a few minutes, Harry continued devouring your taste, not stopping until you came all over his mouth and you were completely shocked by his will to not stop until you’ve had your orgasm from his tongue.

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, slowly entering your wet hole as he fingered you. You moaned louder; the tips of his fingers curling up to meet the softness of your upper walls. His unoccupied thumb rubbed your clit in slow circles, something that he noticed you really liked based on your hips thrusting upwards and your hand gripping his hair harder that it felt like you were going to rip out his locks.

“So pretty, love. So wet for me.” The simplicity of his words had made you feel the familiar bubble in your lower stomach, and you wanted to release it so bad.

“Harry, I’m gonna…cum,” you groaned out, biting your lips.

He continued his pace on your clit, but added a tad bit more pressure, causing you to jolt a little. His fingers that were inside of you repeatedly brushed your g-spot, making you close your legs, but Harry pried them open, encouraging you to release.

“C’mon, baby. Want you—need you to cum for me. Can you do that? Can you give me what I want?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, mouth ajar as your voice was hitched in your throat. A few more thrust and rubs from his fingers, and you hit your high, releasing around his long fingers as he slowed his movements, riding out your orgasm while praising you for your peak.

“That’s it. There you go.” One of his hands rubbed your stomach, calming you down while the other hand gently played and cupped your pussy as you unconsciously and slightly thrusted your hips into his hand.

Once you had relaxed, you opened your eyes; Harry was kissing up your body before he kissed your lips so sweetly.

“Hmm, you’re so good at that.” He smiled, kissing your neck as he started to rut his hips on your thigh. You felt his hard on through his pants, and you knew that wasn’t comfortable whatsoever.

“Can I touch you?” You asked. He pulled his head from your neck, facing you as he was about to say it was completely fine if you didn’t, but you spoke up first. “That can’t be comfortable, and I wanna touch you—if you’d let me.” You were looking at him with innocent eyes, even though he knew what you were about to do was going against anything innocent. Plus, the way you were looking at him only made him more aroused.

“Course, let me just get out of these.” He got off the bed, but stayed closed; he was about to unbutton his shirt, but you stopped him quickly, replacing his hands with yours. Harry dropped his arms to his side once your lips were attached to his neck, giving him a small hickey on the underside of his jaw. The feel of just your lips on his skin made him bite his lips as a chill ran through him. You sat on your knees and started unbuttoning his white shirt, and with every button you undid, you gave him a kiss to every bit of his skin that was left exposed until you reached the hem of his pants.

You looked up at him on all fours, and he watched you press another kiss to his tattooed torso. “Mind if I take these off?” You toyed with the hem of his pants.

“No, please, don’t mind at all.” You smiled, looking back at his bulge, which outlined through the fabric of his pants. You palmed him, making him hiss through his teeth. He hadn’t felt another person’s touch in so long, so your lips and touch felt overwhelming in the best way.

You unbuttoned his pants, which he was fast to get out of, leaving him in his black briefs. You positioned yourself to lay flat on your stomach, thankful that Harry’s bed was the perfect height to where you don’t have to strain your neck to suck on him. Kissing down his happy trail, you left a prominent love bite in between his tattooed leaves that were so perfectly inked on his lower abdomen. You then kissed his hard length through his briefs, making Harry breathe heavily. He’s never felt so teased in his life, but you were making it all worth it because nobody had ever made him feel so aroused.

Finally, your fingers gripped the hem of his briefs and tugged them down so his cock could departure from the strained material. He was big, and you knew that from when he was driving to his place earlier as his cock was pushing against his pants, making you excited and eager. But seeing it right in front of you made you salivate.

“Holy shit, you’re so big.” All he did was smirk at your words, knowing that fact quite clearly. You grabbed a hold of him as you held his dick upwards before you licked the underside from base to tip. Harry breathed in through his nose once he felt the smallest bit of contact from your mouth.

Your mouth began to work on his tip, sucking and licking up the precum that had spilled out of his tip before you started to take more and more of him in your mouth. It was Harry’s turn to fill the room with his raspy and deep moan, and the noise he was making was triggering your arousal. Harry had a full view of your mouth on him as well as a great view of your entire backside, not missing the way he noticed how you started to subtly move your hips into the sheets.

As you sucked on him, taking him further into your mouth, Harry dragged his fingers from your shoulders, down your spine, and to your ass that was out in the open with no shame whatsoever. His hands kneaded your flesh before slapping on cheek, which made you moan around him.

“Like that?” He went back to his standing position, leaning back a tad bit to get a good look at you. “Tell me, do you like that?” You looked up at him, making direct eye contact with him as your cheeks hollowed and you sucked hard around him before letting out a ‘mhm.’ Your mouth was working wonders on him while your hand was fondling and playing with his balls, making him throw his head back and accidentally bucking his hips up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck, sorry, baby.” He moved your hair to check up on you, but all you did was place your hands on his ass and pulled him towards you until your nose touched his pubic bone. Harry let out a throaty moan, and your hands pushed and pulled his lower body until he understood what you were doing.

So, he took control, holding your head steady before he slowly started to thrust into your mouth; the tip of his cock brushed against the back of your throat. There was a string of spit that was dangling from your mouth and connecting to his balls—a sight so filthy but helped him get right on the edge.

“I’m gonna cum. Love your mouth so much. So beautiful for me, so perfect.” Harry’s hips began to jerk sloppily, indicating that he was close. With just a few more thrusts into your perfect mouth, he spilled down your throat as he stopped thrusting, keeping you halfway on him. A series of curses and your name came from his lips as he shut his eyes. You took every drop that he offered, trying to swallow every bit of content as best as you could, but some of it had spilled out of your mouth due to how much he overfilled your mouth with his cum.

Harry seemed to be in the middle of calming down from his intense orgasm, so you took the time to clean up. Pulling back, you wiped your mouth and licked your fingers as well as cleaning his cock with your mouth. What you didn’t notice was that Harry was watching you the entire time; he lowered his head, neck straining from looking up too much, and saw you eagerly cleaning and licking every last drop that had fallen from your pretty lips. The sight was enough to make him hard again if he wasn’t too spent.

He collapsed on his bed next to you, his head was next to your ass, to which he pressed a small kiss to your hip in gratitude. You moved to lay your head on his stomach, looking at him and giving him a small smile.

“Come here. What are you looking at me like that for?” He reached out for you, and you moved again, resting your elbow next to his head before giving him a kiss. The kiss didn’t deepen any further, just molding your lips with one another as he tasted himself on your tongue.

“Nothing. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself.”

“Very much did, thank you. Did you? You could be honest with me.”

You giggled. “Honestly…I had a really great time. You made me feel really good. The best I’ve felt in a really long time,” you told him honestly, and Harry smiled at that.

“Do you want to stay the night? I’m always in a cuddly mood after anything sexual—well, I’m always in a cuddly mood, period.” You laughed, nodding your head before kissing his cheek.

“I’d love to. Can I use your restroom, and do you have a spare toothbrush?”

Harry nodded, getting off the bed before leading you to his bathroom where he gave you a toothbrush and some of his face wash. He left you to do your business and told you that he would have a change of clothes.

Once you were done, you walked out of his bathroom, still naked, and was met with Harry in a pair of gray briefs and a change of his clothes in his hands, handing them to you. He gave you a kiss to your forehead before going off to the bathroom and leaving you to change.

You replayed the evening in your mind over and over again as you changed—you really enjoyed his company and him as a person. Harry was a more than nice guy, who seemed to like you for whatever reason, and you liked him too. Maybe a bit too much, and you felt like you liked him more than you projected—dare, you say that you were falling in love. But you couldn’t let yourself feel that way; you were beating yourself up for it. In all honesty, you were scared, so you had a habit of not portraying the entirety of your feelings out on the table so people could perceive it.

Your mind was racing with so many thoughts in your head, repeating and spitting out every insecurity that your previous ‘friends’ had told you in the past—calling you a slut and how you couldn’t keep anyone around because they both ended up cheating on you. Your head was telling you Harry would do the same, and as hard as you were trying to deny that because Harry was the kindest person you’ve ever met, it was all you could hear. You couldn’t do this, no, you couldn’t feel like this, you thought. You felt like you needed to protect yourself before you were in too deep.

Without even knowing, you were frantically grabbing your clothes and shoes that were all thrown across Harry’s floor. Your heart was racing, mind telling you to ‘leave’ and that ‘nobody is going to love you,’ so that’s what you were doing, leaving.

You made it out of his bedroom, so close to the front door until you realized you had forgotten your purse. Turning around to go back, you were met with Harry leaning against the frame of the hallway entry, holding your purse in his hands.

“Not planning on saying goodbye?” His voice sounded defeated, the complete opposite as to what it was prior. He looked down at his feet, not even able to make eye contact with you when he was always keen on making direct eye contact when talking to someone, but seeing you walk out his bedroom door when you were supposed to be waiting for him in his bed to cuddle was heartbreaking.

“Harry…”

“That’s all it was to you, I’m guessing? You know you could’ve said no to staying the night, I would’ve understood. But to say yes after we’ve been intimate, and getting my hopes up? I-I thought you liked me, that’s all, and I’m stupid for falling for it,” he ended with a scoff. He felt extremely vulnerable; he laid his feelings out on the table, let you see his body, and it seemed like you just picked and chose your cards straight from the deck to only have Harry fold.

“No, that’s not it-”

“Then please tell me what it is before I drive myself into the wall thinking what I’ve done wrong!” He raised his voice—not too loud where it startled you, but enough to where he simply let out his frustrations.

“I like you, Harry, I do. But we can’t be together.” You didn’t know how to put it into words, so that was the best you could come up with.

“And why’s that?” He furrowed his brows, walking towards you, but keeping a safe distance. “Give me a good reason why, and I’ll let you go—I’ll leave you alone. We’ll simply be coworkers who don’t talk to each other. I’ll-”

“I’m scared, okay! I’m scared because I cannot fall in love with you, even though I’m already in too deep. I’ve done it once and i-it hurt me.” You were on the verge of bawling, maintaining your emotions. “I-I cannot feel this way so soon—fresh out of a relationship…I’ve only known you for, what? A month? We barely even know each other, Harry-”

“See, now, that’s where you’re wrong. You think I don’t know you, but I bet that you know I know you quite well. Probably more than all of your bitchy friends back home who you’ve known for years.” You stayed silent, not knowing how to respond, but he was right, he did know you better than anyone you knew back in SF. “If I didn’t know you then I wouldn’t know that your favorite thing to eat while you were growing up was chocolate croissants. Your favorite color often switches every few days, but some of them are, and specifically: maroon, evergreen, mustard yellow, burnt orange, and beige. You love watching kids cooking competitions in your free time and often root for the one who is doing miserably and knows who won’t make it to the next round. You’re learning how to bake, which is what you said that you’ve always wanted to learn out to make proper pastries, and based on what you bring to work for us to try, you’re on the right path to being a baker.”

“I’m…” you were at a loss for words, tears lining your eyes. All of the questions and playful conversation you and Harry had during work had come around in his words; it showed that Harry really listened, and when he did, he didn’t forget every detail you’ve told him. Your heart felt like it was in your stomach, making your stomach flutter in giddiness and shock.

��I could go on, honestly, but it would be an entire list of things that I’ve remembered about you.” Harry softly smiled down at his feet. “All I’m saying is this: I like to think I know the basics of you, and I still have a lot to learn about you. But don’t run away from me, please. If you want to and you don’t want anything to do with me, that’s fine, but I can’t let you walk out without trying not to stop you.” He sighed, completely putting himself out there as he was practically begging you to stay. “I really like you, Y/N, I mean it. I don’t care if we’ve only known each other for a month. I don’t care that you just got out of a relationship. I mean if you’re still in love with him or have a bit of interest in him still, then that’s different-”

“I don’t,” you interrupted, shaking your head no. It was the truth; you hadn’t felt love for your ex in a really long time, and you simply stayed with him and kept forgiving him just because it was comfortable.

“Okay…”

“It’s just…I don’t want people to think I’m some kind of person who moves on from relationships so quickly. I-I mean, I didn’t come here just to find myself in another relationship, y’know?” Your tone was concerning, like all of your worries were piling up into one big stack that made your head hurt from thinking too much.

“No one’s gonna think that—I don’t think that. Besides, it isn’t any of their business.” Harry walked even closer to you, inches away as his hands grazed your upper arms. “Let me ask you something, does this feel right? Being with me?” You nodded with no hesitation. “Say it,” he instructed, wanting to hear the words come out of your mouth.

“This feels right.”

Harry smiled at you comfortingly. “Okay, then let it be right.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, looking down. He lifted your chin up with the soft touch of his fingertips, goosebumps littered your skin with just his simple touch.

“Me too, but I’m doing surprisingly well at hiding it. We’ll go slow, okay? No pressure into labeling; let’s just go with the flow, alright?” He suggested, and you softly muttered an ‘okay,’ reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, giving him a warm and grateful hug.

“I’m so sorry-” you said into his shoulder, but he quickly cut you off.

“No need to be sorry, I understand.” His understanding makes you even more soft as you hugged him tighter; a few tears slipped your eyes, streaming down Harry’s shoulder.

After a moment, the two of you pulled away, feeling so much relief from the hug and conversation.

“Is your offer on staying the night still up?” You asked hesitantly.

He smiled. “Yeah, it always is. C’mon.” He took you by the hand, leading you to his room and into his bed—not for the actions of pleasure, but for a nice and comforting cuddle.

You situated yourself on his chest, comfortably trailing your fingers up and down his skin as his arm was wrapped around your shoulder.

Lifting your head up to meet his face, he smiled at you before you gave him a sweet kiss to his lips. It didn’t lead to anything, it didn’t even deepen; just the feel of his soft, pink lips on yours was enough to make you feel bliss.

You pulled away. “Slow?” Harry chuckled, nodding his head.

“Slow.”

Your face warmed up as you smiled, cheeks aching; you positioned yourself back onto his chest for the night, taking up all of his space on the bed when your side was completely empty as you held him close. Even though you’ve only known him for a month, you felt yourself falling; because ultimately, it felt right.

please come into my inbox and tell me your thoughts, feelings, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles ff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles #hs

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becomewings · 3 years

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1k Milestone Celebration : Quote-Inspired Gifset Requests

Whether you’ve been following for months, weeks, or days, from the bottom of my heart: thank you for supporting this blog and my endeavor to map BTS Universe themes across all of its media. I never expected to make it this far, and the journey has not always been easy, so I am grateful that you are walking with me. ♡ (I’m afraid that I will accidentally leave someone out if I tag folks, so mutuals, enthusiastic taggers and commenters, and frequenters of my inbox: please know that I am sending you lots of love and a showering of flower petals.)

In celebration, I am open for special requests through the end of this month. Due to the nature of my blog and the research it often requires, I need to set some guidelines, so please read them below before submitting them to my ask box. I anticipate that I will be very slow in completing the requests due to real-life circumstances, but I promise that I will eventually get to all that I receive by the end of April 30th!

Option 1: Submit your favorite quote (preferably no more than a few sentences; not song lyrics) from any official BU media: The Notes, BTS Universe Story, narration from Highlight Reel, etc. I will create a gifset or edit based on/inspired by the quote. As I realize this requires close knowledge of or access to the texts, I also have…

Option 2: Surprise quote set! Send me a number between 8 and 229, and I will pull a quote from that page in The Notes (most likely book 1) and create a set based on that.

I will do my best to fulfill all original requests! Please bear in mind that there is very little visual content available now that matches The Notes 2. If I feel that I cannot represent the provided text in a quality on par with the other requests and the rest of my blog, I will contact the requester for alternatives. For this reason (and also because I would like to tag you in the post!), I would prefer that requests be sent off anon. But I respect your privacy and will complete anon requests too!

All posts created for this event will be tagged #milestone celebration.

Requests are closed now. Thank you to all who submitted! ♡

#milestone celebration #update

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 2 years

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Just a few things to say. The questions that require a longer answer, or more complex or I need to do some research for, will be answered during the weekend. But starting today and the rest of the week, I'll choose those which don't require much of my time and which are more on the fun side.

It's not really some new blog rule, but I'll be a bit more busy than before so I need to figure out how to add blogging to my daily schedule. But it will also depend if something significant with BTS happens, or I'm not too tired. The idea is, you can send whatever type of ask you want and in one way or another, I will get to it. I'm not ignoring it, I know it's there in my inbox, but I don't want to rush and give a half-assed answer on issues that deserve more attention.

Thank you,

BMT

#bmt blog approach

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Thirty Two

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

Logan was waiting for them back at the castle, and Roman groaned as he got out of the car. “Can I at least change before we start dancing until our feet fall off?” he griped.

“No,” Logan said. “You will need to practice dancing in a binder anyway, unless you want to change in between the wedding and the reception.”

“I can’t jump around in my binder, though,” Roman whined.

“Then we won’t teach you any dances that require you to jump around,” Logan said simply. “You and Damien will follow me. We need to catch up on lost time.”

Roman groaned but Damien just wrapped his arm around Roman’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Roman. We can have some fun with dance practice.”

“You’re just glad you don’t have to do any studying this week,” Roman grumbled.

“Damien, that reminds me, I will not be allowing that extension on your paper,” Logan tossed over his shoulder.

“You seriously expect me to turn in a paper on my honeymoon?!” Damien exclaimed, jaw agape.

Logan turned around and shut Damien’s mouth with a click. “You’ll attract flies if you keep your mouth open like that,” he said succinctly. “And you can always turn it in before the day it is due. But I will not be granting you an extension on that paper, seeing as how you’ve had two months to work on its thesis and research.”

“God, I hate you sometimes,” Damien growled.

“Another crack like that and your grade automatically drops ten percent,” Logan simply replied.

“Ten—?!” Damien cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “Right. I’m seriously regretting telling my parents I liked you in terms of private tutoring.”

Logan actually smiled at that and replied, “Thank you. If you wish, I can practice with Roman while you work on your paper for an hour?”

Damien hesitated. Roman nudged him. “Go study. I certainly don’t want you writing an essay on our honeymoon.”

“Fine,” Damien huffed, kissing Roman’s cheek. “But I expect no funny business with Logan while I’m gone. He may be polyamorous, but I have a tendency to be territorial.”

“No kidding?” Roman snarked. “Relax, Damien. I don’t have eyes for him, and if he had eyes for me, he would have helped me escape the first night I was here, and whisked me away from this life, which I am taking a shine to.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Say goodbye for now already.”

Roman laughed and kissed Damien on the cheek back, before following Logan to the ballroom. “You seem a little tense,” Roman noted.

“You obviously haven’t been watching the news, if you’re as relaxed as you are,” Logan noted.

Roman tensed. “Why? What happened?”

“Well, your country may be falling into Civil War if Remus cannot win the Parliament over in a meeting today,” Logan said casually.

“What?!” Roman squawked.

“Well, he wants the throne, your parents are unwilling to give up the throne, and it’s up to Parliament to kick them out. But from what I gather about your brother, he would gather up an army to storm the castle before he let your parents rule another day,” Logan supplied. “It won’t be easy to win over the more...conservative of the Parliament members, either.”

Roman swore under his breath. “I hate that it comes to this,” he sighed. “Why can’t life be easy?”

“Because, Your Highness, being queer automatically sets your settings to ‘Hard Mode’ when you’re born,” Logan said, shaking his head. “One day, that will not be the case. But that day is not today.”

“Tell me about it,” Roman griped. “So, are we doing the waltz or are we doing something else?”

Logan listed a few different slow dances they could try, none of which Roman could easily conjure images of. Every time he proposed a dance, Logan either vetoed it or went through the first eight steps and Roman immediately took it back. When fifteen minutes later, they could not come up with a single dance that Roman felt confident he could do, Logan sighed. “The waltz it is, then.”

They fell into formation and slowly began to move across the dance floor. It felt weird to waltz with someone who wasn’t Damien, but Roman, to his credit, didn’t have to look at his feet once. “So my brother may be interested in getting to know you,” Roman said.

“I have heard,” Logan said. “I have also heard that Patton and Virgil will be dancing at your wedding.”

“I have also heard Virgil may dance with you, in addition to Patton,” Roman said.

“Your brother better be prepared to acquire a harem,” Logan said, nothing changing in his facial expression or inflection as he said the words.

Roman guffawed and nearly fell over as Logan took their next step but Roman didn’t. “Oh, god! That’s certainly a visual!” Roman laughed. “The tabloids would go crazy over the King’s consort, and his consort’s consort, and his consort’s consort’s consort. Consort no longer sounds like a word.”

Logan smirked just a tiny bit and Roman narrowed his eyes. “You said that to make me laugh on purpose.”

“You need to focus on dancing more,” Logan simply replied. “Focus on the steps, or you’ll trip Damien up while talking. And neither of you want a twisted ankle or a broken wrist on your honeymoon.”

“You. Are. Evil,” Roman said, glaring at Logan.

“I do try to imbue chaos into my life that I can watch every once in a while,” Logan said smugly.

Roman sighed and they continued to dance. “You have any interest in my brother? Genuinely?” Roman asked.

“I believe so,” Logan said. “Even if that attraction is merely aesthetic at the moment, I would at the very least appreciate a friendship. I don’t know where his romantic attraction lies...nor do I want you to tell me. I’d rather hear it from him. But I can’t deny the interest I have at the prospect.”

Roman nodded. “Well, Remus could do worse than someone like you,” he said. “You may not be my top pick, but I don’t really...think about my brother in terms of who he should or shouldn’t date.”

“I find that people who actually do that are fairly miserable as they try to micromanage things out of their control,” Logan said simply.

Roman agreed, and they swept around the ballroom again and again until Logan could make Roman laugh and he could still follow the steps. When they took a break at the hour mark, Damien walked in with a pained smile. “Well, Logan, you have a new paper in your inbox,” Damien said. “I would recommend you not read it until I resend it on the plane ride to our honeymoon destination, however.”

“Cutting it down to the wire, as ever,” Logan sighed. “You disappoint me, Damien.”

“You gave me an hour, and I’m spending as much time as I can with Roman. Whenever we have time, I will go through it on the plane,” Damien defended.

“Sure you wouldn’t rather join the ‘Mile High Club’?” Logan asked.

Damien turned red. “Don’t ask that again,” he sputtered. “I am your prince, I expect a modicum of respect from you.”

“Only a modicum?” Logan asked. “You really need to set your standards higher, Your Highness.”

Roman snorted and Damien just sighed, hanging his head. “I’m done,” he muttered. “I am done with today.”

“Not yet you’re not,” Logan said, clapping his hands. “You still need to practice the waltz.”

Damien rolled his eyes but began to dance with Roman. Roman settled into step closer with Damien than he had with Logan, and felt content to let Damien lead the dance, while with Logan, Roman never relaxed quite this much. “How are you feeling, my love?” Damien asked.

“Better,” Roman said, and he honestly meant it. He felt settled, relaxed, good. And he couldn’t remember the last time he felt quite this way.

Damien smiled. “I am glad to hear it,” he said. “Dinner will be quieter tonight, I expect, and I, for one, am looking forward to being able to finish it without worrying about anyone starting to shout.”

“That makes two of us,” Roman said. “I haven’t really enjoyed sparring with my mother every night.”

“Nor I,” Damien said.

They swept around the ballroom once, twice more, and then Roman had to stop because his feet hurt and he was feeling short of breath. He slid to the floor and groaned. “I’m not looking forward to the whole night just being dance after dance after dance.”

“Even if they’re all with me?” Damien asked, putting a hand to his chest even as he grinned. “You wound me, my love.”

Roman shrugged. “I just need to give my feet some rest,” he said. “And Remus will probably insist on slinging me across the dance floor at least once.”

“You...you mean swing you across?” Damien asked, frowning.

“No, I do mean sling. He’ll get me on my stomach and fling me across the floor, destroying all in my path like a curling stone,” Roman laughed.

“I’ll keep him preoccupied, then,” Logan muttered. “We do not need complete and utter pandemonium, or wine spilled on your suit. Remy would have all our heads.”

“Oh, god, that’s a horrifying thought,” Damien said, swallowing hard.

The two continued to talk, but Roman let the words wash over him as he pulled out his phone, googling the news. Or at least, he tried to, before Logan snatched the phone from his hands. “Hey!” Roman exclaimed.

“No obsessively refreshing the page while your brother is in session with Parliament,” Logan said definitively. “You refreshing the results over and over will not change the outcome of the meeting.”

“Oh, he got them all off their asses this quickly? He means business,” Damien whistled. “I like him.”

Roman glowered at Damien and Damien furrowed his brows. “As a person, my love, and certainly not more than you.”

“I’ll allow it...for now,” Roman said, giving Damien a sideways glance. “Logan, my phone.”

Logan pocketed the phone and crossed his arms.

Roman grunted as he stood, holding his hand out. “My phone,” he said sternly.

Logan did nothing.

Roman leapt towards Logan, sending them both crashing to the floor. Roman tried to subdue Logan and get his phone back, but Logan was squirmier than he let on. “Hey! Gimme my phone!” Roman exclaimed.

“I’d sooner perish by the King’s hand!” Logan exclaimed.

Roman kept wrestling with Logan until someone grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him away. “Logan, give him the damn phone,” Virgil growled. “Half the castle could hear him yelling, and the King’s in a meeting.”

Logan scowled but handed the phone over. Roman proceeded to obsessively refresh the page five times in a minute, before groaning. “Another hour? Seriously?! I hate Parliament. Why do they take so long?!”

“The timeless question,” Damien said sagely. “No one really knows the answer.”

Logan huffed. “Perhaps the two of you should head to dinner,” he said, checking his phone. “We have been here two hours, after all.”

“Really?” Roman asked. “Time flies.”

“Especially when you’re wrestling with your fiancé’s tutor, apparently,” Damien grumbled. “When does Father’s meeting end, Virgil?”

“Fifteen minutes, Your Highness. He will be coming down for dinner shortly after,” Virgil advised.

“Then we really should get going,” Damien sighed. “Ah, well. I’m sure we can entertain ourselves for fifteen minutes, can’t we, Roman?”

“I suppose we’ll have to,” Roman sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Either that or we’ll have to call on your mother and she’ll have to help us.”

Damien hummed. “I don’t suppose she’d be highly amused. Usually around this time of day she appreciates calling her friends, or settling in with a book for the hour before dinner. To interrupt her is to ensure a slow, but certain, death.”

“Yikes,” Roman said, grimacing. “Yeah, not gonna bother her.”

The two of them walked to the dining room, and took seats at the lone table. “It’s nice and quiet,” Roman breathed, almost afraid to interrupt the comfortable silence with his thoughts.

“Indeed,” Damien said. “It feels like we only rarely get time for peace.”

Roman nodded, idly opening his phone and bolting to his feet. “Holy shit!” he yelped.

“There it goes,” Damien sighed, chuckling. “What?”

“Parliament is voting on Remus becoming King!” Roman exclaimed. “They said it was going to be another hour!”

“Apparently someone got sick of them talking, huh? Should we watch?” Damien asked.

“No need,” Roman said, beaming. “He already got the majority! He’s well on his way to two-thirds in favor!”

“Good,” Damien said. “I would have hated to have to go to war against your parents. I would have done so, of course, but it’s still rather unsavory.”

Roman laughed, sitting down next to Damien again, considerably happier. The Queen walked in, humming. “Good news?” she asked.

“Remus is gonna be King!” Roman said. “Parliament agreed! Well, technically they need to finish voting, but he already got over sixty percent in favor. He’s gonna make it.”

“Worth celebrating,” the Queen said appreciatively. “I imagine the first thing he’ll do when you two are back in the country is schedule his coronation.”

“Can’t wait!” Roman squealed. “This is going to be epic! And hopefully my parents will leave us alone!”

“I’ll make them if they don’t do it on their own,” the Queen laughed. Her smile dropped and she turned deadly serious. “Diana will quickly learn; when you mess with the Rose, you get the thorns.”

Damien groaned. “Mother, that was terrible.”

“But effective at gaining a reaction,” the Queen said with a little smile and a wink at Roman. “I have to teach your fiancé which buttons he can and can’t push, after all.”

Roman laughed while Damien rolled his eyes. “And the first lesson you are going for is puns?” he asked distastefully.

“I like puns,” Roman said.

Damien’s eyes widened and he blew out a breath. “Lord help me, I’m going to suffer so many dad jokes in the years to come,” he muttered.

“Yep!” Roman said, entirely unashamed.

The King walked in and looked around. “I see I didn’t miss dinner, at least,” he said. “How is everyone?”

“Pretty good,” Roman said at the same time Damien said, “I’m suffering immensely.”

The King laughed. “What did you do, dear?” he asked the Queen.

“I made a pun,” the Queen said with a pleased smile. “Someone was less than amused, while someone else took great enjoyment from it.”

“Ah,” the King said knowingly. “That explains everything.”

Dinner passed uneventfully, other than Patton making one pass at Damien’s clumsiness before Damien glared him into backing off. Roman enjoyed the meal (good old fashioned fish and chips—Patton must have known how to cook everything), but soon enough he was yawning at the table. “Dear, you should go upstairs and rest,” the Queen said. “You’ve had quite the eventful day.”

“I’ll be fine,” Roman insisted, even as he yawned again.

“No, my love, go and rest,” Damien insisted. “Besides, I have matters that I’d like to speak to my parents about without you around to hear.”

“What? Why?” Roman said. “Is there something you can say to them that you can’t to me?”

“It’s vows related,” Damien said simply.

“And I’m gone!” Roman exclaimed, standing up quickly. “Good night, everyone, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Everyone bid him goodnight and he walked out as he received a call from Remus. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked as he answered the phone.

“Just wanted to check on you,” Remus sighed. “I’ve been talking with my future advisors all day and could use a break.”

“I’ve been okay,” Roman said. “I’m exhausted, so I’m hitting the sack early tonight.”

“Good idea. I would, but I’m ordering our parents to move all essential items out of the castle before I return from your wedding, so. I have quite a bit of arguing ahead of me tonight,” Remus sighed.

“But you’ll be here tomorrow for the rehearsal?” Roman asked hopefully.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Remus assured. “Sleep well, Roman. I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Good night, Remus. I love you,” Roman said.

“I love you too.”

They hung up and Roman made his way to his room, stripping himself of clothes and slipping on a nightgown after coughing when he removed his binder. He was so ready for the whole wedding thing to be over and done with. He was sure he might want to savor tomorrow when Remus was actually here, but for now, all he wanted was to sleep, dream about nothing, and let himself relax before the chaos that would be the wedding rehearsal tomorrow.

#roceit #roman sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #royal growing pains #our creations

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 3 years

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Thank you for tagging me @gallavictorious ! 🧡 It’s been a bit since I had the time or energy for writing, but it was fun to go back through things for this.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,527,620

3. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Somnus Ultima (FFXV)

The Seven Soulmate Commandments (Shameless)

Royal Protocol (FFXV)

Unashamed (Shameless)

Lips Sealed (Shameless)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Ordinarily, I do. I have a bit of a backlog right now that I need to get to. I’ve always been of the mind that if someone took the time to provide feedback, I can find the time to thank them. Unfortunately, that sometimes means being…months behind now. There will be some surprised people when I get through my inbox who’ve probably already forgotten they read my work.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

World So Cold, the first story of a Captain America/Harry Potter AU trilogy that nobody asked for but I had a great time tormenting the five people who read it with.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Honor Bound, the one and only “fix-it” fic I have ever written and will ever write. This is what happens when you take a fantastic concept, grind it up over years of production team changes and company overhauls, and throw together the scraps that remain.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I’m not really a huge fan of crossovers, personally. I prefer to place characters in a different setting, like that Captain America/Harry Potter AU trilogy I mentioned. That said, my only crossover was Cabin Fever, which…may or may not count since dreams are involved.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I wouldn’t call it “hate,” but I’ve had a couple of people comment with criticism that I wouldn’t exactly count as constructive. I tend to ignore it and agree to disagree on our preferences.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Never. Not in this life or the next. Finding ways to avoid writing it in the Shameless fandom was difficult but, fortunately, I succeeded.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge, no.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, though someone did offer to translate into German once. (That Captain America/Harry Potter AU just keeps coming back to haunt me today…) I declined since I would prefer to have the opportunity to check and make sure none of the meaning was lost but don’t speak German.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

On three occasions, yes. There was one I sincerely hope has been lost to the bowels of the internet, Royal Protocol with @irregularrogue , and (How to Break the) Alibi Armistice with @gallavictorious . (She’s got the link in her post!)

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

…To write? Uh. Well. I honestly don’t enjoy writing ships very much… Romance isn’t as interesting to me as other relationships, so I think I’ll cop out and just say if there’s bromance, I’m game.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I…think that I am coming to accept that In Pieces may remain unfinished. I stopped at a point where I’d actually be comfortable making that the official “ending,” but I absolutely hate that…I’ve simply lost steam. That’s what happens when you write fifteen lengthy stories in just a few months, I guess. Ordinarily, having detailed outlines helps me stay focused when I start getting tired, but the content and rapidly deteriorating coherence of Ian’s perspective has really weighed on me to the point where I took a break and never really recovered the same energy I had for it. I’m still hoping to get back to it someday, but whether that will actually happen, I can’t say. Good thing it wasn’t really getting much traffic—I’d feel even worse if I was disappointing even more people than I may already be.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do well with keeping a story flowing. I tend to write from specific perspectives and make the narrative sound like an internal monologue, which can limit the amount of information a reader receives but makes it fun to only show what the character knows. I believe I’m also pretty good at making ordinary thoughts sound a little prettier by using different words. I just don’t like reusing the same phrases over and over.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

In connection with the previous question, I can get too wordy. What I could say with one sentence can take me a paragraph to get out. Sometimes that’s called for, especially if the character is in a position where they’re rambling to themselves, but sometimes it’s unnecessary.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If I have a character speaking another language, I’ll usually put it in italics and indicate that they’re speaking another language. (…Like all the Russian in my Captain America/Harry Potter AU. I haven’t thought of that series in YEARS, yet here we are.) I don’t trust that Google translate will provide an accurate translation that would stand up to scrutiny by those who actually speak the language, and it can really detract from a story as a reader to keep scrolling to the bottom to see what the footnotes say. To each their own, but that’s my system.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter back on good ol’ MuggleNet Fanfiction. They’re all still there, too!

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

My brain…doesn’t work that way, unfortunately. I only write for fandoms that I fixate on, so there really isn’t any casual fanfiction for me. I’ve wanted to write Kingdom Hearts fanfiction for years, but it’s so compelling and complex as it is that I can never think of what I’d write for it and have therefore done very little despite it being my first and longest-standing fandom. Typically, though, the desire to write smacks me in the face when I consume something new and have that “oh…I need more…oh no” moment.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I would say it’s a tie between Somnus Ultima and the Light in the Shadows series (you guessed it—the Captain America/Harry Potter AU). While the former can be wordy and the latter is obviously one of my older works, what they have in common is that they required the most creativity. The rest of my fics tend to be canon compliant (or had better be for the endless research I put into them) and feel like playing in someone else’s sandbox. Those felt like taking multiple sandboxes, pulling them apart, and creating a brand new sandbox from the various pieces. I’m more proud of them than I can say.

I don’t really know many fic writers on a basis where I’d feel comfortable tagging them, so I send this out to just @glon-morski , @gardenerian , and @mrs-monaghansblog if you so desire! 🧡

#tag meme #it me #fanfiction

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adventures-in-drabbling · 4 years

Note

can I get lacewoodshipping with #1 please and thank you

I haven’t written fanfic (or anything lmao) for at least a year and a half now, and honestly I don’t come on tumblr much anymore either. It just so happened that I caught the email about this ask in my inbox, and I was just like... oh, I forgot about that blog. What were those prompts I reblogged way back when? So I came and had a look, and for the first time in months and months and months, I actually feel inspired to write. So, thank you! <3 and also I apologise if this is really bad, because… haven’t written in a year :’)

Lacewood, minific prompt #1: things you said at 1 am

“You’re beautiful.”

The tip-tap-clack of a keyboard was the only reply to Augustine’s hushed murmur, and he found himself part-proud, part-relieved, and part-disappointed that Serena was so engrossed in the work on the screen before her that she hadn’t heard his unintentional admission.

Part-proud, because as her mentor, watching Serena flourish into a fully-fledged Pokémon researcher absorbed in her work made his heart swell.

Part-relieved, because he hadn’t actually intended the words to leave his mouth, even if they had been the only thing circling his brain for the past two hours. (If he thought about it hard enough, it had actually been circling his brain pretty incessantly for the past two years.)

And part-disappointed, because this… thing between them, the strange will-they-won’t-they, their undeniable chemistry, and the way they just fitted together, had been going on for far too long in his humble opinion. In any other situation, he liked to imagine he would have just taken the plunge and made his feelings known, but this… this was Serena. It was different, too important to risk messing up in the event that he had really misinterpreted what the past two years of her soft smiles and lingering gazes really meant.

He sat back in his chair, putting a little space between them where he had been leaning forward, his elbow on his knee and chin resting in his hand, eyes entirely focused on the woman before him instead of the work he was supposed to be overseeing.

His eyes flick to the clock: 1am. He hadn’t even realised the time and had barely registered in the back of his mind that everyone else in the lab must have gone home long ago. His gaze falls back to Serena, and again his breath is snatched away from him as he’s struck by the same thought.

She’s beautiful.

Objectively she was, of course. Long brown-blonde hair, confident, charismatic, sparkling eyes that could make anyone weak at the knees. But it was now, in a dishevelled labcoat, hair slowly falling from its careless bun (and framing her face beautifully, in his opinion), sat in the dim Pokémon lab and illuminated by the light of the computer screen before her, that made Augustine’s heart skip a beat.

“Do you think so?” Her voice was so loud against the silence that had surrounded them, that Augustine had to try very hard to mask his surprised jump as a stretch. Once he registered her words, however, he froze, arms half-raised above his head.

Had she heard him?

“Uh…” he replied intelligently, heart no longer skipping any beats but instead going at a million miles an hour and almost threatening to give out.

To his relief, she cast him a glance and gestured at the report on the screen.

“This, here. Do you think I’ve framed the hypothesis well enough?”

Oh.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he leans closer and scans the last couple of paragraphs, not really taking any of it in at all. “Bon travail, very good job, Serena!” She grins at him and he moves back out of her way as she triumphantly clicks ‘Save’.

“I didn’t realise the time,” she says with a slight groan, unfolding herself from where she had been sat tense and rigid for far too long, and it was all Augustine could do to watch her stand and stretch her shoulders and neck out.

“Yes,” he manages before his enamoured silence becomes too noticeable. “I should not have kept you here this late.” She shoots him a look.

“Like you could have stopped me,” she laughs, leaning down to grab her bag and switch off the computer and merde, Augustine has to avert his gaze because that lab coat is a little too form-fitting.

“Okay,” she continues once she straightens back up and Augustine can make eye contact with something other than the ceiling tiles once more. “I should probably head home.”

Augustine suddenly remembers his manners and springs out of his chair, placing a hand on her shoulder and encouraging her towards the elevator.

“You should have been home hours ago, I am a bad boss for letting you stay hunched up at a computer until the early hours,” he laments dramatically (and he counts it as a win from her good-natured smile and shake of the head at his theatrics). “Do you want me to walk you home?” he offers, although with how tonight was going he was unsure if his heart would be able to survive seeing Serena lit up by the soft golden lights of Lumiose City at night.

“Professor, I travelled the entire region,” she laughs, “some of which, yes, required travelling at night. I will be fine. Plus,” she adds, patting the bag at her hip, “I have Fennekin with me.”

Augustine nods in reply. She’s right, she’s more than capable of looking after herself – just another thing he loved so much about her, really.

“You can come in late tomorrow,” he offers as the elevator arrives, the doors opening with a soft ping. Serena scoffs.

“Absolutely not,” she steps into the elevator and Augustine tries his best not to focus on how much he misses the warmth of her shoulder under his palm as his arm falls back down to his side. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She pushes the button for the ground floor and steps back to smile at him.

“Goodnight, Serena,” he says quietly, his voice tender. Her face softens into a small smile at his tone.

“Goodnight, Augustine.”

The doors begin to shut, and there’s a strange moment of hesitation where Serena seems to make a decision, and in one quick movement she suddenly sticks a foot in front of the doors to stop them from closing.

“Oh- and also-“ she stops for a moment, and her cheeks pinken. “You’re pretty handsome yourself,” she says in a rush, grinning at his stunned expression before stepping back and allowing the doors to close her off completely.

Augustine can only stare, mouth open at the elevator, a million emotions coursing through him and finally landing on horror.

She had heard him.

#lacewoodshipping #hello i'm back #whether or not this is a long term thing we shall see #ask #averagebianimenerd #this might be utter trash in which case i apologise lmaoooo

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yellowmagicalgirl · 3 years

Text

sink down giantess

Fjor may have the company and Ran’s approval, but Saxa has Vidar’s files. She follows them to a cave hiding a secret.

Do I have WIP’s and requests in my inbox I should be writing for instead? Yes. Have I ever written for this fandom before? No, but for the past couple days I have been fixating on these two and wanted to get this fic written before I start school tomorrow.

The title comes from Henry Adams Bellows’s translation of The Poetic Edda, specifically this section. The fic is partially inspired by the story of Brynhildr, albeit heavily adapted to fit my fic.

CW: Non-consensual drug use, references to canon deaths.

AO3

FFN

Vidar had kept secrets from Saxa.

Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. She wasn’t his biological son, and she wasn’t his heir. Oh, she could have been his heir. She could have been so much, and yet Fjor came strolling up and took over the position she had put so much effort and work into.

Fjor and Ran were furious at Saxa, but they didn’t have all the power. And they didn’t have all the information. Vidar had kept secrets from them as well, and Saxa had files. She had (anonymously, of course) leaked some to the press, just to watch Fjor squirm. She had hoped that with the taxes, he’d give her more power, but he hadn’t.

Ran and Fjor had failed to kill Magne and Laurits, and Saxa still had files. It had taken her a few days to make her way through them before she found something interesting.

Project Brynhildr.

There wasn’t much information on it. Just expense reports for an experimental anesthetic called Hindarfjall and coded coordinates. She spent hours researching the drug; a single injection could apparently keep a human adult asleep for days at a time. It took Saxa another day to break the code. It didn’t matter much; she was grounded anyways.

Just like other family secrets, Project Brynhildr was kept in an unassuming cave. Saxa snuck out to go hiking. It wasn’t that hard, with Fjor in Vidar’s-and-what-should-have-been-Saxa’s office and Ran drinking away her sorrows. It was an easy hike, but it was a long one. Saxa glared at the ground as she turned on the flashlight of her phone. This had better be worth the time.

After three minutes of walking through the cave, Saxa began to wonder if Vidar had moved things and never updated the file. After four minutes, she was almost ready to let him keep this secret in his death. She could find another way to unseat Fjor.

And then she found the ring of flames. Saxa shrugged off her jacket; she liked it and even if she was invulnerable to the fire that didn’t mean her clothing wouldn’t get singed. She stepped through the flames, ignoring the feeling of them.

Saxa gasped in shock, suddenly thankful for one of the crates to lean on.

Laying in the center of the circle was Isolde.

But how? Vidar had killed Isolde. He had admitted to it himself. Her body had been found and buried. So why was a replica of her here?

Except, no. It wasn’t a perfect replica. Her hair was longer than it had been when she had died. Not by much, but it was long enough that it couldn’t quite be considered a pixie cut anymore. It was surprisingly pretty. Everything about this situation was surprising. More things about Isolde than Saxa wanted to admit were pretty.

Saxa crouched next to Isolde, inspected the body before her, and swallowed. Slowly, and shallowly, Isolde breathed.

Saxa turned and opened a crate. It was filled with Hindarfjall.

So Vidar was keeping Isolde alive. But why? What was so important about her that she needed to be alive? And why had he faked her death? While a missing person was a liability for people to go searching for her, if Isolde was ever found to be alive it would raise far more concern. Perhaps there was more pressing question: how had he faked her death? Vidar had never been able to create a corpse out of thin air, not for as long as Saxa had known him. Not unless this was yet another secret he had kept from her.

Saxa gazed around the room. Aside from the few crates, there weren’t any easy answers.

Saxa knelt besides Isolde. She took Isolde’s hand in her own, flinching at just how icy Isolde’s skin was. It was far too cold for a breathing human surrounded by flames, and as Saxa brushed her thumb over Isolde’s to feel her slow pulse, she tried to remember everything she could about Hindarfjall. Nothing she could remember said anything about such a reduced body temperature.

Saxa couldn’t remember if she had ever felt Isolde’s body be so cold, but she also couldn’t remember ever having touched Isolde’s skin.

Could that have been why Vidar kept Isolde here? But for what? Was he going to use her to regrow the glaciers she had been so concerned that and push away any suspicion over Jutul Industries?

Well, that’s one way to end global warming, Saxa thought snidely. That was normal for her. What wasn’t normal for her was the spike of shame for thinking of Isolde as a tool.

Gently, Saxa brushed her fingers down Isolde’s cheek before splaying her fingers so that two of them rested on Isolde’s jugular. It was the same. Slow pulse, icy skin.

And then Isolde’s eyebrows pinched together. Saxa quickly removed her hands as Isolde’s eyes began to flutter open. Had Saxa ever noticed just how blue they were?

Isolde blinked a few times before her eyes finally focused on Saxa’s. She licked her dry-looking lips before speaking, voice slurred. “Saxa? What’re you... I guess this is a better dream than the ones... they’ve been so weird...”

So Isolde thought Saxa was a relatively good thing to dream about. That sent a strange, warm feeling shooting through Saxa’s chest. “This isn’t a dream,” Saxa said, voice thankfully even and betraying nothing she was feeling.

“Oh.” Isolde looked past Saxa, and her eyes widened slightly. “Fire... where are we? I-I can’t move.”

“Vidar drugged you. He faked your death and brought you to this cave.”

Realization dawned in Isolde’s eyes. Realization and fear, and some of that fear was definitely directed at Saxa given the way Isolde was looking at Saxa’s eyes. Isolde began to shake slightly as her breathing grew faster, and if she had the ability to Saxa was sure Isolde would be running as fast and far as he could.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Saxa said in an uncharacteristically soothing voice. “Vidar’s dead; he can’t hurt you anymore.” And then, before Saxa could even realize what she was saying, “I’ll protect you from anyone else who might want to hurt you. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

“Why?”

That shouldn’t have hurt. Saxa had never liked Isolde before Vidar had faked her death. She hadn’t liked Isolde after she’d seemingly died, either. Why was she making promises she might not even be able to keep?

“I, I don’t know, but... but it feels right.” Well, that certainly sounded lame, except the answer calmed Isolde down.

Maybe Isolde could be an ally against Fjor and Ran. He was running the company like Vidar had, and even though Saxa and Isolde had very different reasons for hating that, they could at least agree it was terrible.

Of course, that would require figuring out how to explain Isolde’s apparent resurrection, first.

“You said your dad faked my death?” Isolde asked. “How long have I been missing for?”

“About three weeks.”

Isolde frowned. “I thought it took longer to pronounce a missing person as dead.”

“Vidar made a fake body. No, I don’t know how; I thought you were dead until I found you today.” Saxa sighed. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her promise on her own, anyways. “I wonder if one of Magni’s allies knows how.”

Isolde inhaled sharply. “Is his mom okay? He said that she wasn’t doing well.”

Huh, so she wasn’t surprised that Magni was involved.

Saxa shrugged. “She seemed fine last time I saw her, before Fjor fired her. I know you’re having a hard time moving, but I could carry you out if you wanted me to.”

“But, the fire. Will you be okay?”

“It won’t hurt me.”

Isolde’s head twitched, like she was trying to nod. Saxa walked around so she was behind Isolde and lifted her by the armpits. Her body wasn’t quite as cold as it had been, but it was still too cold for Saxa’s comfort.

“I thought you’d be carrying me, not dragging me.”

“Do you want me to test and see if you’re fireproof?” Isolde remained silent. Carefully, Saxa backed out of the flames, shielding Isolde with her body. She then propped Isolde up by the wall.

“I’ll be quick,” Saxa said, darting through the flames to grab a vial of Hindarfjall. If they revealed Isolde’s being alive soon enough, it would probably be a good idea to present the doctors with Hindarfjall. That way, they could help Isolde recover from its effects. Saxa placed the capped vial in her pocket and ran back to Isolde.

Saxa picked up her jacket and began putting it on Isolde. “To keep you warm.”

Isolde smiled as Saxa picked her up in a way that wouldn’t be dragging her. Saxa had no idea why, but she wanted to keep that smile safe.

A/N: Hindarfjall was the mountain where Brynhildr lived (and might’ve been trapped? I couldn’t fully tell), so I thought it was an appropriate name to give to the drug.

#saxolde #saxa jutul #isolde eidsvoll #ragnarok 2020 #valkyrie!isolde #my writing #ragnarok netflix

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butterfly-winx · 4 years

Note

Do the CT have uniform? I feel like they would bc they’re much more strict than Alfea is

No, not in my AU, but you guys really want me to throw one together, huh? I also got another design challenge ask sitting in my inbox with that in mind.

For sure Cloud Tower appears more strict than Alfea, but as witchcraft requires a lot of creativity and magic in most of its forms s about self-expression, I don’t believe they would have one. They would want the students to develop their own style and come up with their own solutions to magical problems - for this each apprentice witch*er has to carry around their tools and talismans of choice, so that makes it hard to regulate what items fit the uniform guidelines. (Not to say uniforms stifle creativity, but it does make the student body more uniform and in a competitive field where everyone wants to distinguish themselves from the rest, is kinda counterproductive)

If this allegory helps: I see witchcraft users as the kind of researchers and scientists of the butterfly fic verse. They always come up with unique solutions, in most cases have to because the spell books only describe the most basic trades, everything else is between the witch*er and the Flow itself to barter out. They make their own tools and spend a lot of time fine-tuning them.

Fairies are your humanitarian aid majors. They do disaster relief, charitable work, stuff that makes aunties at holiday dinners coo impressed. It also takes a lot of study, but also a lot more selfless devotion to essentially become Medicines Sans Frontiers, doing a lot of work and reaping very few of its rewards. Fairies essentially only get magic to spend it on others and feed it back to the Universe.

Sorcerers are your high scholars of the humanities. They read and write a lot of analyses and spend very little magic during their lifetimes, despite being the one stream that hasa potentially limitless access to it. Their focus is on collecting and curating knowledge and little on the practical application thereof.

#asks #butterfly fic #cloud tower #winx club #Anonymous

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Rejected Requests Part 1

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8).

Hey everyone! I hate to be making this post, but I unfortunately have reached the point where I think it’s in everyone’s best interests if I just... Start rejecting things I’ll probably never write. I’ll link this post on my Masterlist and, if I ever get around to it, a requesting guidelines post 😅

I understand this is very disappointing for many of you (especially those that have been waiting for a long time). If you are off anon, you will be receiving a message from me personally explaining why I’m rejecting sometime in the next week or so. I promise it has nothing to you, and mostly it’s just because my brain has decided it doesn’t want to cooperate.

As for the anons, I will post the rejected fics below the cut. I want to give you the opportunity to ask another Author (check the list of Authors currently seeking requests here!)

Otherwise, here is the list for anyone who might want to pursue the request with someone else, or for any writers that are looking for inspiration. If you do write one of these, PLEASE comment here so the original Anon might be able to find it!

1. Lies & Lila: Reader has a talk with her boyfriend about him kissing a literal movie star.

I unfortunately am just very uninspired by this request. I thought I might be able to think of something with cheating Reid, but I can’t. I’m not a fan of any cheating fic. That being said, I have heard other writers say the idea is interesting. You can probably find someone to write it!

2. Abnormal: Princess!Reader is going undercover and learning how to be “normal” from the worst possible teacher.

This is a cute idea, but for whatever reason my brain is just broke with it. I REALLY think you should ask someone else, cause I’d probably read it! It is more a series idea, so I’ll probably never get to it.

3. Flarpy Blunderguff

I’ve always found the idea of oil-based paints and fruit kinda icky. I bet an artist could come up with something good, but my drawings look like a chicken drew them.

4. Probably-Not-A-Request

I’ll probably never write this, and it probably wasn’t a request, but I kind of want someone else to write it, lmao. Write this for me.

5. Almost Lover(s): Reader has a different reaction than the rest of the team when she finds out about Maeve.

I’m rejecting this purely because I’ve seen it written at least a couple dozen times. I don’t think there is anything new I could contribute that would inspire me enough to write it.

6. New Orleans: Ethan/Spencer.

Sigh. I love these boyfriends so much, but I’d like to keep my fics as just Reader/Spencer at this point. That being said, I’m trying to do more Male!Readers!

7. Solidarity: Platonic. Spencer/Gay Male Reader

Same as I just mentioned above - I’d like to keep my pieces romantic Reader/Spencer for now. Platonic pieces do SO horribly on this site, so it’s really hard for us to feel inspired to write them.

8. Secret Weapon: Reader’s only smart when she sleeps, but she never really does that.

I unfortunately don’t really have a reason for this beyond it requiring a LOT of research from me, and I’m lazy, lol. I think someone should write it with a Reader who works the graveyard shift. It’d be funny.

9. Also-Probably-Not-a-Request

Another one I kept in my inbox in case it was a request but it’s probably not. I do want someone to write it, though. I think it would be a fun exercise of writing the different characters.

10. Application Anguish: Platonic. Young!Reader asks for Spencer’s help in applying for Uni.

Once again, I’m sorry that I am unfortunately trying to keep my fics majority romantic now since platonic fics do SO poorly. I’m also a bit caught on this because I haven’t filled out applications in a really long time, and I’m afraid I had a very different experience. I don’t think I could do it justice - but I know someone else can and would probably enjoy it!

11. Red String

I’m done with kidnapping fics. I’m so sorry, but they bore the ever living hell out of me. There are thousands of them and I cannot think of anything that hasn’t been done. Also, I asked this anon a question in a post before but unfortunately never heard back so - if you want this, go for it!

12. Mistakes and Memories: Spencer sees Nathan Harris again, still at the other end of a service weapon.

Again, I want to try and keep it Reader/Spencer from now on. Also, writing Anton makes me sad : (

13. Cinderella: Spencer talks Reader down from her traumatic event and reminds her that life isn’t a fairytale. But years later when they run into each other again, neither can deny it’s a little bit of fate.

There is a lot going on in this request. Unfortunately I think I would have to take it in a very different direction and I’m not sure you’d be satisfied with it. It is a unique premise, though, so I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone else to write it!

14. Cheating Fic

I unfortunately have been cheated on too many times to want to write this 😂 and even though Spencer canonically cheated on Max, it still feels so out of character for him. I’m POSITIVE you can find someone to write this, though. A lot of people like heartbreaking angst, apparently.

---

If you’ve read this far... Thank you! Sorry for all of you that I denied, but I hope that this clears you to ask some of the other authors here!

Thank you! I love you all.

#spencer reid request #reid request #requests #answer #answered

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ghoulciifer · 4 years

Note

Hi! I just saw your English exchange student headcanon and I was wondering if you could do a Irish exchange student headcanon? Like she's always messing, having a bit of the craic but one day the bakusquad accidentally eat a load of the food she was sent from her Nana and she just goes off because there's barely any Irish food in Japan and she misses it but bakuboy helps her out! Sorry if this is really specific! I think it would just be gas if that happened 🤣😂 Thank you so much!! 💕💞💗❤️

hc: the bakusquad eats irish!reader’s food from home, but Bakugou comes to the rescue.

tw: none

tags: irish!reader, bakusqaud tomfoolery, bakugou being the tsundere he is

notes: hi anon!! i’m so happy to hear that you enjoyed my british!reader headcanons. this request also required me to do some research because i honestly didn’t understand some of the terms you used AJAHSGAHAJJA again keep in mind i am VERY american so i apologize of any of this is off/inaccurate. also, this ended up being much longer than i intended so it’s not proofread :,) but i still really hope you enjoy!! i know i enjoyed writing it! thank you so much for your submission, and my inbox is still open for asks ❥

» just like i said in my british!reader hc, pretty much all of class 1-A befriended you at some point during your stay at UA, so when you decided to stay in japan it left you with some lifelong friends!

» ESPECIALLY the members of the bakusquad, literally cannot get rid of the fuckers (not that you want to, tho)

» and they absolutely love you! you’re an essential part of their group, they can’t imagine what their lives would have been like without you.

» they especially love that you still value your heritage, and they shut their mouths n’ open their ears every time you talk about it because they’re SO interested (especially bakugou but he won’t admit it ajdhsjahah)

» because you’re so in touch with your roots, you often talk about your family, your childhood, what it was like living there, etc.

» they lowkey feel bad when you get super homesick because they definitely begged you to stay after graduation, but you always reassure them you wouldn’t wanna have it any other way! they’re your home now!

» but it is especially sweet when you receive care packages from home, as much as you love it in japan you still like having a little piece of home with you

» so when your nana sends you snacks, trinkets, and all kinds of random shit she can stuff in a box? you CHERISH that shit

» every now and then you’ll share with your buddies but you NEVER show them your stash, bc you know they’re gonna be selfish especially sero n’ kaminari, stingy bastards

» they love the snacks almost more than you do, swear they’ve never tasted anything better in their lives

» even bakugou’s like “damn this shit IS good”

» but they’re yours! not theirs! it’s your own little secret taste of home that they wouldn’t be able to understand, so you keep that stash on LOCKDOWN

» but... what you didn’t account for was mina’s incredible snooping ability

» while you were on patrol one day, mina was cleaning up around your shared apartment with sero. halfway through doing her laundry she realizes she’s missing one of her favorite sweaters, which you borrowed about a week ago, so by that logic she takes advantage of your absence to go find it

» while she’s shuffling around in your closet something falls and bounces off her massive hair, landing next to her feet and as she investigates she instantly recognizes the packaging

» “SERO!! Y/N HAS MORE OF THOSE HUNKY DORY THINGS!”

» the speed in which sero reached your room rivaled iidas, istg

» “YOU MEAN THOSE GOD TIER CHIPS?”

» she frantically nods and immediately begins searching for more, finding the box you keep buried in the corner of the shelf of your closet

» their eyes are practically bulging out of their heads at the amount of snacks you’ve been hoarding; things they’ve had before, things they’ve never tried, it all looked so beautiful as their mouths instantly began to water

» the rational thing to do in this situation would be to put the box back and ask you about it later, right?

» nope

» they’re quick to call up the rest of the group and before you know it, they’re all surrounding the coffee table staring at a mountain of irish snacks

» bakugou and kirishima are surprisingly the ones trying to convince everyone to not eat them, because you probably had them stored away for a reason

» but after sero shoves a jam mallow into their mouth they’re definitely on board to chow down

» you finally come home after a long day of dealing with bs villains, feet aching, back sore, only to find your idiot friends devouring your sacred snacks

» apparently they never heard you come in because it takes a good minute before kaminari catches your fuming face staring right at him, arms crossed with your brows furrowed into a harsh V

» “so, uh... how was patrol?”

» you lost it

» “Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph could ye be any more stupid, ye feckin’ melter?”

» suddenly all eyes are on you after you begin spewing some very irish insults with very expressive hand gestures, slipping between the two dialects you were fluent in with every angry breath that left your body

» toward the end of your raging you can’t even bring yourself to look at your guilt-ridden friends anymore, so you stomp off to your room and slam the door behind you before locking it

» the silence that follows almost hurts them more than the words you threw at them, and it definitely nearly brought mina and kaminari to tears. but they knew it was because they fucked up

» bakugou eventually grumbles something under his breath before hoisting himself off the floor

» “I’ll be right back, you assholes clean that shit up.”

» about an hour and a half later, after a much needed shower and change of clothes, you finally emerge from your room to grab a quick meal

» you’re still upset, but you at least want to apologize for the not-so-nice words that came out of your mouth during your little fit, so you figure now’s as good a time as any

» so imagine your surprise when you pass through the living room to find a pile of all the snacks you were pissed about missing moments ago

» the bakusqaud is all sprawled out on your sectional in wait for you, and when they see your surprise they jump from their seats to tackle you in a group hug

» apologies are coming in left and right as you giggle between the tangled mess of limbs surrounding you

» of course you forgive them, how could you not?

» as happy as you are at the moment you couldn’t help but wonder how the hell they pulled this off

» everyone catches your confused look and simply points at bakugou, who stuffs his hands in his pockets with a harsh ‘tch’

» “There’s a market across town that sells imported snacks, Deku told me about it weeks ago.”

» you smile uncontrollably at the thought of bakugou being so considerate and being the one to take initiative to right your friends wrongs

» so of course you rush forward to smother him in a hug of his own!

» he pretends not to enjoy it, but the blush covering his cheeks says otherwise 😌

#bakugou katsuki headcanons #bakusquad #bakusquad headcanons #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha #hofortendou hc’s

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Flatbush & Atlantic: part i

Quick note: This is taking place in the 2020-21 season, as if the Islanders still play at Barclays; I know they won’t in actuality. In the story, I’m also going to be taking some liberties with what the duties of a team’s general counsel and legal team would actually be in charge of. My understanding, as a pre-law student, is that it’s more on the corporate angle, dealing with contracts and stuff — in addition to that, Cass will also be dealing with some more immigration and employment law as well.

part i

October 1

“Adiós, mamá. Hablamos pronto. Te amo.” Cassidy hung up, breathing out a tense sigh and rubbing her temples with the heels of her hands. Talking to her mom usually helped to calm her down, bring her back to Earth, but for whatever reason it wasn’t taking. She took a brief glance at the casebook open on her dinged-up Ikea desk. Federal Indian Law. She liked the class, genuinely, but her day had started off bad and gotten worse pretty damn quickly. First she was out of her favorite tea, then her advisor cancelled their meeting, then it started raining as she walked back to her MTA stop, so she had missed the train. Another came fifteen minutes later, but the damage was already done. The only bright spot in the day, aside from calling her mom, had been the cute guy at the Polish deli down the street who had put extra peppers on her Philly cheesesteak. She unwrapped the sandwich, taking a moody bite out of the end. A caramelized onion dropped to the floor. Sighing, she leaned down to pick it up, hurtling it in the direction of the trashcan but only half-looking to see if it reached its target destination. Despite the name, Cass had never had a cheesesteak before she moved to New York, and it wasn’t even because she wasn’t a sandwich person. No, Cass loved a good sandwich, but between her proclivity towards a good BLT and her mom’s homemade Mexican food, she just hadn’t gotten around to it.

Her laptop dinged with an email notification. What now? She swiped over to the mail page, taking another bite as she read the subject line. Experiential learning requirement - unmet. Her brow furrowed. Unmet? Clicking it open, she scanned the email, clearly something automated from the registrar’s office. Yet to complete Columbia’s experiential learning requirement...We suggest you connect with professors...You have until October 8 to submit...Cassidy never finished her sandwich. “Oh my God,” she muttered to herself, feeling her cheeks heat up. “How could you do this? How could you be so stupid, Cass?” She was normally so on top of everything, never missed a date, never forgot an assignment, so how could she have missed one of the only things left to do to graduate? Her law school required all of the graduates to complete some sort of experiential learning requirement — some kind of externship, clinic, summer associate position, anything to get them “out in the real world.” That’s when it hit her. She had coached her high school’s mock trial team the summer after her first year, and interned at the Hartford County DA’s the summer after. But they paid her. Her school had a weird ‘double-dip’ policy, where you weren’t allowed to take a position for class credit and get paid at the same time. It was a confusing rule, convoluted and bizarre and probably a little bit elitist, but it was a rule. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, and then somehow it did.

Turning to her laptop, she started searching for just about anything that could possibly help her. The school’s website, the Manhattan District Attorney’s, state offices, NGOs, federal prosecutors, anyone that might have a lead. Frantically dragging over her resumé and throwing together a cover letter that probably (hopefully) looked way more interesting than it actually was, Cassidy fired off email after email after email. Two hours later, she had sent off some twenty-odd applications, hoping that at least one or two would end up panning out. Glancing at her watch, she let out an exasperated breath. 12:22 A.M. Her classes didn’t start until nine, but it took almost an hour and a subway connection to get to Columbia, and she had to eat and shower before. So, really, it meant getting up at about seven. She needed to go to bed.

Stomach reeling and feeling more resigned than anything, Cass haphazardly brushed her teeth, flossed — it didn’t matter how tired she was, she’d never forget to floss — and clambered into bed, wearing a faded, way-too-big Rangers t-shirt. I’ll be okay. She took a deep breath. It’ll be okay. It has to be. Cassidy Cabrera Shaw was tough as nails and stubborn as hell, and she wasn’t going to let everything she had worked so hard for fall apart so easily.

Whenever Cass was nervous, or anxious, or afraid, she was never able to sleep well. She ended up waking up at ten past six, sitting in her bed for fifteen minutes praying that she’d fall back asleep, and finally accepting her fate that sleep just wasn’t going to come. Rolling over, she grabbed her phone from where she had left it charging on the nightstand. Nightstand was maybe a generous term for it; technically, it was a wooden milk crate that she had spray painted white when she and the other girls had moved into the apartment two years prior. She had a little bit of money set aside from college, but every penny possible was going towards tuition and those ungodly-expensive books that she had to buy every semester. The mattress and frame were from Ikea, and Cass had brought some things like bedding and a desk from her old room. The rest of it — rugs, lighting, and decorations like her six-inch ceramic peacock (his name was Charles) had come from a combination of Goodwill runs and senior citizen yard sales.

Wincing as she did so, Cass pulled up her email, bracing herself for the inevitable barrage of rejection. After scrolling past ten or so automated “no longer hiring” and “position has been filled” messages, one caught her eye. She had sent a few emails to professors of hers, not expecting to hear anything back for a few days. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but there certainly were advantages of going to school in a city as massive as New York. All of her professors knew someone and had some kind of connection from their own education, or days in the practice, or childhood summer trips to the Hamptons with someone who just so happened to be a judge on the Second Circuit Court — that last one was last year’s employment law professor. One particular subject line caught her eye. Thought you might be interested, Professor Murakami had written. David, as he preferred to be called, was her Sports Law professor from last year. She didn’t go into the class expecting to enjoy it all that much, if she was being honest. She had gotten a crappy registration time and most other classes were filled, so it had started out as a placeholder and nothing more. Over the semester, though, it had quickly become one of her favorites, combining pieces of everything else she had studied into one cohesive course. Cass also wasn’t in a position to be turning down any potential offers, so she opened the email and started reading.

I got your email, Cassidy, and think I might be able to help. Okay, so far, so good. I happen to have a contact in the counsel’s office of one of the professional sports teams in the city. That’s exactly what Cass was talking about — where do these people meet each other? Is there some kind of exclusive speakeasy you’re given the password to as soon as you’re admitted to the state bar? Chris Cohen works for the Islanders, and I remember you talking about how interested in hockey you are. Okay, true, but the Islanders? She had practically been born with a Ranger’s jersey on. Beggars can’t be choosers, she thought. I gave him a heads-up that I’d likely be sending a promising candidate his way, so just let me know if this sounds like something you’d be interested in and I’ll send along your contact information.

Cass couldn’t respond fast enough. Yes, please!

---

Wednesdays were her ‘easy’ days, if you could say that. She had Environmental Law and Human Rights back-to-back, but anything after noon was pretty much fair game. That being said, it certainly didn’t mean that she was any less stressed. There were at least a hundred pages to read before class the next day, she had a sample essay due for bar prep, and her mind was still racing about the email. Grabbing a gyro from the cart outside of her last class of the day, Cass stress-ate with one hand while continually refreshing her inbox with the other. Food wasn’t allowed in the library, so she ate the last few bites right outside the doors, throwing away the wrapper and squeezing past the hordes of clearly overwhelmed first-years running to get to class on time.

Popping her Airpods out of their case and into her ears, Cass briskly made her way up the stairs to the third floor, crossing her fingers that her usual spot, a big blue chair over by the research desk, was open. She was in luck, pulling out a water bottle and laptop and getting to work on editing. Four hours later, she had reached some semblance of satisfaction with her work, shutting off her computer and making her way to the subway. There was about half an hour before she had to transfer to the line that would take her to the apartment; squeezing into one of the last free seats, she tugged out a textbook and a highlighter. Why her professor insisted on assigning the entire text of the United Nations charter was a mystery to her, but she’d rather jump off a cliff than be cold called on without an answer. Transferring at Grand Concourse took about ten minutes — it was rush hour, so the first train to come was entirely full — and another twenty or so minutes later, she was letting herself into her shared East Bronx apartment.

Hanging up her denim jacket by the door and toeing off her sneakers, Cass let out a not-so-subtle exasperated sigh.

“One of those days?” Alicia piped in from the kitchen. Alicia also lived in the apartment, one of the four sorority sisters-turned-roommates who had made the move from Connecticut down to New York after graduation. Cass padded into the kitchen, where she was greeted by Alicia in front of a skillet and rice cooker, intensely sautéeing some vegetables.

“You have no idea,” Cass said, hugging her from behind. “Whatcha making?” There were obviously some nights when not everyone was home — most often either Cass or Ryanne, who was in med school — but they always tried to have a few nights a week where someone would cook a meal for the whole house.

“Japchae, it’s my mom’s recipe,” she replied. “I called her and asked how much sesame oil to use, and she just said ‘until it tastes right.’ Like, I love you, Mom, but that doesn’t really help my cause, does it?”

Cass snorted. “Oh for sure, it’s the same way with me. Do you remember the first time I made tamales down here?” Cass had grown up eating and making tamales with her mom and abuela, but she had never been allowed to really take the reins. She had the recipe, though, so the first night after they were moved in, she ventured down to the closest bodega, bought the ingredients, and decided to try her hand making them from scratch. The recipe, however, left out the key piece of exactly how much water to use for steaming — Cass didn’t know, and her mom had always just eyeballed it. So she had ended up putting in way too little and setting the stove way too hot, and to make a long story short, ended up setting off the fire alarm. The one saving grace was the extremely attractive police office that came to double-check the false alarm, but even he couldn’t wipe the mortified expression off of her face.

“How could I forget?” Alicia responded with a grin. “Go put your shit down, it’ll be ready in a few.”

Cass playfully rolled her eyes, heading towards her room in the back. “Yes, mother.” Their apartment was a three bedroom; while obviously it would have been amazing for everyone to have their own, it was still New York City and none of them were exactly rolling in the dough. Cassidy and Ryanne were obviously still students, and while Alicia and Stella had actual jobs — Stella worked international business down by Wall Street and Alicia did something with satellites in Queens — none of them were exactly inclined to set out on their own just yet. So Stella and Alicia shared a room, and she and Ryanne had their own. She shrugged off her jacket, slinging her backpack onto the bed before chugging the rest of her water bottle and checking her phone. Two new emails. A 20% off coupon to Lush, and one from Chris Cohen. Chris Cohen? It took her a minute to remember, but when she did, she couldn’t read it fast enough.

Honestly, Cass didn’t read the whole thing, but got enough information to know that she had an interview Friday afternoon at the office in Brooklyn, that Chris — he had said to call him Chris — said she came with a stellar recommendation from Professor Murakami (an old law school buddy, figures) and that there was no way in hell she was going to fuck this up. She wouldn’t let herself.

---

Cass was lucky her Thursdays were so packed; if she had any extra time to stress over her impending interview, she would have, but she couldn’t. She had two ‘free’ hours in between classes, but after she had scarfed down lunch (Alicia had, mercifully, made plenty of leftovers) it was the only stretch she had to hit the gym. Coupled with the time it took to walk there, change, and shower after, there really wasn’t much in the way of downtime. After classes was her bar prep group, and the day was so exhausting that it was pretty much all she could manage to take the train home, microwave dinosaur chicken nuggets, and stumble into bed. After flossing.

---

If Cassidy lived in any other city, she would have felt wildly out of place on her morning commute. Who shows up to school wearing a suit? She wasn’t an absolute masochist, so her heels were in her bag. But for once in her life she didn’t feel so out of place among the presumably-highbrow, presumably-making-six-figures crowd surrounding her. The suit had been her first big purchase for herself — she had scraped by without one in college, but invested as soon as she had a little saved up from her summer job at a boutique in town. Her mother had always told her that it was the woman who made the clothes, rather than the other way around, and Cass always did what her mom said.

Samaira, one of her friends and another editor on the Columbia Law Review, caught up to her as they both left the twice-weekly morning meeting. “You seem kind of jumpy, Cass. What’s up?”

Cassidy wrung her hands and shrugged her shoulders. “I told you that I missed the internship requirement thing, right?” Samaira nodded. “Well, I have an internship in,” she paused to look at her watch, “two hours, and I’m so nervous I’m going to mess this up. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t get it. There’s not time to look for something else, there’s no alternative, and I don’t know what to do if my own stupidity and forgetfulness is the only thing standing in between me and something I’ve worked so fucking hard for—”

Samaira cut her off. “I’m going to stop you there. That’s bull, Cass, and you know it. You are the furthest thing from a disappointment. You’re one of the kindest, sharpest, and most creative people I know, and you’re not going to let something as petty as a deadline stand in your way. Time gets away from all of us sometimes, and it’s nothing to beat yourself up over. I want you to be confident and have faith in yourself, because you deserve it, but if you don’t, it’s okay. I get it. I believe in you enough for the both of us.” She squeezed Cass’ hand.

She managed a watery smile. “Thanks, Samaira.”

“Any time,” she replied easily. “I’ve got to run to class now, but I want to hear how it went the second you get out, okay?”

“I will.”

Samaira rolled her eyes. “I mean it. You’re going to crush this, Cass. Love you!” She added, waving goodbye as she turned the corner.

There was half an hour before Cass needed to head over to the interview, and before she knew it her feet had taken her to her favorite spot on the north side of Central Park. Grabbing a bagel, she thankfully found the bench empty. After finishing the bagel — she would have preferred cheese, but they were out, so cinnamon raisin it was — and the better part of her Hozier-dominated acoustic playlist, it was time to catch the train. She jumped on with barely a second to spare, grabbing a strap and trying to avoid bumping into anyone.

A seat opened up about halfway to Brooklyn, and Cass took the opportunity to unceremoniously tug off her much more practical flats and switch into the much more professional ankle-strap heels that had been stuffed in her backpack all day. For a fleeting moment, she was worried what everyone around her would think; she was, after all, technically changing on public transportation. A man got on at the next stop who was dressed head-to-toe in neon orange while carrying a Pomeranian in his purse. Nobody batted an eye. She got over herself pretty quickly.

Getting off at the Barclays Center station, Cass pulled out her phone, opening up the camera to give herself a quick once-over. As much as she hated it, first impressions really were everything. Lipstick? Not smudged. Hair? Minimal flyaways. Teeth? No spinach to be seen. Triple-checking that she had the time right, Cass walked through the doors of the office building, Islanders logo emblazoned on the wall behind the secretary’s desk.

“Hi,” she said tentatively, catching his attention. “I have an interview with Chris Cohen at 2?”

The secretary nodded, smiling warmly at her. “No problem. I’m Josh, you can have a seat over there,” he nodded to the small waiting area off to the side, “and I’ll call you when he’s ready for you to be sent up.”

Cass didn’t wait for more than five minutes before Josh gave her the go-ahead, and she was soon headed up the elevator to Chris’ office. “Fourth door on the left. It should have his name on it,” Josh had added.

She raised her fist, knocking quickly on the frosted glass. It swung open a second later, a kind-looking man with glasses and salt-and-pepper hair answering. “You must be Cassidy. I’m Chris Cohen, so nice to meet you. Come right in,” he said, ushering her through the room, where several other associates sat at desks, and into his office.

“David’s always good at keeping an eye out for me in his courses, and I was happy he passed you along,” Chris said, pulling out her resumé. “And you’re a 3L, correct?” She nodded. “Good. So let’s dive right into it. What courses and work experience do you have that you feel best position you for success in this position?” Much though Cass was loath to admit it, if there was anything she was good at, it was talking herself up. There was a reason her high school superlative was “Most Likely to be Able to Talk Their Way Out of a Ticket.” She launched into a well-rehearsed response, making sure to lace in her love for hockey once or twice. If nothing else, it would hopefully at least get her some brownie points. He had a few questions about her resumé, asked about her work on the law review, a few hypotheticals about contract law. She was batting a thousand until he asked the dreaded final question. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Cass was wracking her brain, trying to come up with some intelligent-sounding thing to ask, but nothing came. “Uh—” she started, but was saved by the bell. Or, rather, saved by a frantic door opening and a panicked-sounding Mat Barzal bursting into the room. “Chris, I’ve got a problem.”

#hockey imagine #hockey #nhl imagine #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl #hockey writing #nhl writing #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #islanders #mat barzal imagines

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