#me listening to you freak out about pretty girls in starbucks

[ezzydean]

@notsuchasecret

A hitman could kill me through making tall women surround me and I'll die of an asthma attack from being so flustered

[ellecdc]

hello my sweet girl!!! how i've missed you! it seems we've both been frequent passengers on the struggle bus for the past couple weeks (hence my absence, this bus has shit wifi) :( i'm sorry that shit's been tough lately, and i hope you are being extra kind and loving to yourself, taking special care to listen to what you need <3. (this goes for everyone, all of you sexy beautiful people in this wonderful community).

anyways time for some random thoughts about our lovely wizards!! that's a need for sure lol.

it's so weird to me that prongsfoot/starbucks/whatever you wanna call james x sirius is such a rare ship? like i love strong male friendships (and also wolfstar b/c duh) but prongsfoot is right there in canon. like the inherent need to always be together. the i will literally die and kill for you mindset. yeah come live at my house please please please. james hates this dude? i do too. i get that they are both a lil hyper but as someone who is also pretty adhd (and also a little shit like they are) i feel like that kind of relationship works really well together, the other person is always able to keep up with your nonlinear train of thought. and sirius x james x lily would be an unstoppable throuple so... heehee (plus reader? ugh).

i also love this recent discussion at how smart all these freaks are. they are all lil geniuses and i would love to be in a room with all these insane brains and talk about nerd shit like physics and the universe and how the mauraders map works etc. dream friendgroup/polycule for real. you think there's a universe where the slytherins and gryffindoors have lil smoke seshes and socratic seminars because i can totally see that shit lol.

lastly, evan supremecy!! i love the slow but steady entrance he has been making (as opposed to the absolute bang of an entrance barty made, kinda fitting for their personalities lol).

anyways i loveee you baby girl! have a lovely rest of your day <33

-ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hahaha hi baby!! Sorry to hear you’re not doing so hot rn.

Also re: prongsfoot, this is an interesting perspective I hadn’t thought of before! I have to admit I’m not sure why I struggle with them as a pair when I sit here and write poly!marauders fics lol! But I hadn’t considered this before that 1) Sirius is probably the only person who can keep up with James and 2) James is the only one Sirius was willing to accept love and help from! Maybe I need to do more playing around with prongsfoot…��

Also, sunlilypad???? Love it; I’ve seen thoughts of them raising Harry together and it just melts me every time

The nerdiest bastards around, James is so intuitive and a strategist, Sirius is stupid smart for no good reason other than his brain just holds onto the most random information, Remus searches for knowledge like it’s a lost art like, Barty and his 12 fucking O.W.L’s, Evan looking at everything like it’s a puzzle and his analytic mind, Lily just being the smart beautiful goddess she is, ubdbajdnwisfbwks

Also you’re so right: barty just body slamming into my works and making himself present vs my careful constructive analysis of Evan as a person 😭🤣😭🤣😭🤣😭🤣😭🤣 idk why I’m so afraid of him! I think cuz there’s even less out there about him than there is Barty so I have less to go off, but I’m afraid to write for him cuz I don’t want to get him wrong!

Glad to have you back babes, hope things settle down for you 🫶

[starryevermore]

isn’t she lovely ✧ marc spector

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Hi! This is my first time requesting and I love how you wrote for our moonboys. I notice a lot of fics have Steven meeting reader working at the museum. I was wondering if there could be a situation for Marc or Jake that has a fluffy meeting the first time because I feel like they deserve that. There could be eventual smut but doesn’t have to. - anon

summary: marc has a crush on the girl he always sees at the café.

pairing: marc spector x fem!reader

word count: 1,204

warnings?: fluff, meet cute, not proofread

Marc wasn’t fond of spending time in London. He respected it, knowing that Steven loved the city. Steven had a job he loved, a home he loved. He had a reason to stay, and so Marc didn’t push about moving elsewhere. The one time he brought it up in passing, talking about maybe moving back to Chicago one day, Steven got so tore up that Marc dropped it without a second thought. So, Marc kept his thoughts to himself and tried to figure out a way to make London a tad more bearable. 

That’s how he found this little 24-hour café just around the block from Steven’s flat. It was a quaint, little place. It had plush chairs that you could sink into and take a nice, long nap in (which he sometimes did, when he got back late from a mission for Khonshu). The ambient music that played was oddly comforting. The coffee wasn’t half-bad, either. A tad overpriced, but better priced (and better made) than the shit he could get at the nearest Starbucks. Plus, sometimes, he’d get to see the pretty woman who sat in the corner booth, typing away at your laptop, completely engrossed in your work. 

You weren’t there all the time. There really was no rhyme or reason to when you’d be at the café. But when you showed up, you were there for hours, drinking the same drink. A white chocolate mocha, every time. Always just the one that you’d drink the entire you were there. Some days, you finished it. Other days, you tossed a half-empty cup in the trash on your way out. 

Marc felt something like a freak when he watched you. He didn’t mean to. It’s just…You looked kind. You looked like the kind of person Steven would fall head-over-heels in love with. (And, if he was being honest, you looked like that kind of person to Marc, too.) He couldn’t help but wonder about you, about what it would be like to actually know you. He hoped you didn’t notice. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was some creep. 

He didn’t expect you to come in tonight. You hadn’t come in for over a week. (He was more than a little bit concerned, but he wasn’t sure how to check in on you.) But when he walked in, he saw you sitting in your little corner booth, typing away at your computer. Your head lifted when the bell above the door jingled. Your entire face lit up, a smile stretched across your face. You lifted your hand, waving at him. 

Marc looked around, trying to make sure you were motioning at him. It had to be. It was only you, the barista, and him. 

“Yeah, you!” you said. You had a pretty accent. Marc wished he could listen to it all the time. You waved your hand, motioning for him to walk towards you. “C’mere!”

Marc stumbled forward. His feet felt oddly heavy. What the hell was happening? What…What were you doing? Was this real? Was he stuck in a dream world right now? He slid into booth, sitting on the opposite end of you. A thousand questions were on the tip of his tongue as you pushed a drink toward him, but he didn’t get to ask a single one. 

“Americano, right?” you asked. “I’m pretty sure I heard you order that a few times.”

Marc nodded. “I—”

“Oh, good! I was worried that I got the wrong drink for a minute there. One of my friends always gets an Americano, and I thought maybe I got your order switched with hers. I’d buy you another, of course, if it wasn’t right. Wouldn’t be fair of me to make you drink something you hated, would it?”

Steven would love you. Maybe he should introduce you to him. Or would that be weird? He didn’t know you. He had no right to introduce you to anyone. (Besides, Marc loved you more. When was the last time someone thought of him like this?) 

“And then I worried you weren’t going to show up. I haven’t been here all week, so I wasn’t sure if you were in town. Holiday season, you know? People travel, wasn’t sure if you were that type of person. And then I thought, well maybe he is in town but this is the one night he doesn’t show up. I mean, just because you happen to be here the same days and times as me doesn’t me today would be the same, you know? Anyways, I’m so glad you’re here and—”

“What’s happening?” Marc finally managed to say.

Your brows pinched together. “What? Oh, I’m sorry! Got ahead of myself, didn’t I? I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Marc.”

“Nice to meet you, Marc. Anyways, I got it in my head that since we’re always here at the same time, it would be nice to actually get to know each other, you know? Fellow insomniacs unite, or something.” Panic washed over your face. “Oh, shit. I’m not being too presumptuous, am I? Oh, I shouldn’t have assumed anything! I’m so sorry, if you’d like to go back to your regular business and forget this all happened, that’s totally okay! I’m so—”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Marc said.

Your mouth slammed shut. 

“I’m, uh, terrible at small talk, but uh…What do you do? You know, when you’re not hiding out in a café at half-past midnight.”

Your mouth twitched up into a smile. “I think about the cute guy who’s also hiding out in a café at half-past midnight.”

Marc’s heart stuttered in his chest. Okay, Steven may love you if he ever met you, but Marc wanted to keep you to himself. If there was anything that was going to be wholly Marc’s…He wanted this to be it.

“Funny. I think about the cute girl who comes here.”

“A cute guy and a cute girl walk into a café,” you started. “…and, I don’t know. Some funny punchline, I guess. The girl freaks out about his coffee order and the guy totally thinks she’s a freak.”

“I would never think you’re a freak. It was endearing, actually.” Marc swallowed again. He lifted his drink, taking a long sip. “I can’t remember the last time someone just…did something for me. No strings attached.”

“That’s a sad life to live.”

Marc shrugged. 

“Well, every time I come here, I’m gonna get you a drink. Okay? No strings attached.”

Marc paused, a thought popping into his head. He wanted to ignore it, but…Well, it was so tempting. “Actually, I’d like one string attached.”

You raised a brow, waiting for him to continue. 

“I’ll let you get me a drink every time you come in, if you let me to take you out to dinner.”

Your smile grew wider. “Like a date, you mean?”

“A proper date. Fancy restaurant, flowers and chocolates. Maybe a horse and carriage, if I can find one. I mean, this is London, isn’t it? All historical and shit. Someone’s gotta have a horse and carriage business.”

“You know, that would be lovely.”

“Almost as lovely as you.”

[pwblogarchive]

January 2006

January 2, 2006

It was strange being outside of chicago on new years. If anyone remembers our apartment shows.

But the confetti was pretty and I think a girl from miss seventeen tried to kiss me on the mouth but kind of missed. Oh yeah and apparantly andrew john hurley is a dreamboat. Check the scoreboard. Tommorrow letterman and then I’m gonna buy some more heinous gear. Do you love it when I wear clashing colors as much as I do?

And why didn’t anyone tell me how amazing the movie the squid and the whale is? I told you about panic…

Over and way the fuck out.

xoxo

January 4, 2006

my top ten (er top seven) of 2005 - no records included.

bonnie dillard - she is always around to tell me how wack i am - she uses the the word "totes" and "just sayin" way too much - and actually types them! she named her dog roxie wentz and she has given me exactly two compliments in my entire life - one of which was on an outfit that she picked out for me. but she pretty much is the glue for clandestine and sometimes pete wentz. editor of filthy magazine.

nick scimeca - this kid makes the craziest faces i have ever seen in my entire life. the first time i met him we got in a snowball fight. pretty much we are in this gang together forever. he does infect, foe, and some clandestine stuff. pretty much whenever i am bummed i can call him up on the phone and hell tell me some hilarious story.

demar hamilton - i have pulled this kids underwear off every time he is around me and totally wasted. its awesome. he also has a dog living in his basement that looks like a 100 yearold teddy ruxpin. oh yeah, his band is rad.

leslie simon - me and her talk about our crushes all the time. we have a mutual love for the music of ashlee simpson and kelly clarkson. when i tell her insane stories i dont even have to say "off the record" she pretty much knows. she thinks of bright eyes and fob in the same way which blows my little mind. she is editting rainy day kids. oh yeah and writing a book about boys in tight jeans that wear eyeliner as far as i can tell but its pretty hush hush.

jonathon cecil miller/dirty - pretty much this kid is made of snakes, snails and puppy dog tails. i have nothing else to say but he is the new pauly shore - even if he always punches me for saying that. pretty much he looks like a cheeseburger with toothpicks for legs but i wouldnt trade him for the world. pretty much he is the best kid ever.

jim sevcik (or however you spell it) - this is the guy who goes and digs the little youth medium shirts out of tiny boxes in the 100 plus degrees on warped tour or freezing temp on NFT - and then takes the money out of your paws. he is definitely most underrated.

andrew simon/buck - when on the westcoast these guys function as my mother. they take us out to dinner, help me find a house or apartment, look up movie times, get screenings, help me find tours, starbucks, have the cutest baby on the planet, oh yeah and they even book shows every once in awhile.

oh well i ran out of steam. ill finish later. pretty much people that i hang out with every single day are not included on this - you know who you are.

- petey

1/04/06 Q&A

question

Pete, I really need some advice. I was a virgin until I slept with this guy. I didnt tell him I was a virgin until 2hrs. after we finished nad I told him online. Then I started freaking out because I was scared I had screwed everything up between us, which I think only made everything worse. this all happen yesterday. Did I screw everything up?

answer

the best part about when things like this happen is that eventually they become the past- if you really like this guy you could probably explain yourself to him- how you just got scared and were nervous to tell him certain things. if he is worth it, i am sure he will take the time to listen and tell you how he feels too. and if he doesn’t give you the time to do that, than he isn’t worth it anyway. you can be through with the past but that past isnt always through with you.

question

Pette what type of bass do you have?

answer

fender just made me my own- its pretty rad- red and black- super light maple neck- customized electronics and pick-ups- check out a picture of it over at: www.clandestine.buzznet.com - they say they are gonna make a real cheap version of it for people to learn on

question

the background on the site finally changed. who does that?

answer

it changes with mother nature.

question

Do you have any scars. Not like emotional scars (you can include them if you wish) but good-story-scars. Like stuff involving armadillos or something interesting like that.

answer

ive got this amazing one down the palm of my hand from when me and robby windgator (sp) climbed a fence in his back yard and my hand got stuck on a nail. it slid down the entire length of my hand- i was like 8. i have two on my right hand from when i fought a car the week before the VMAs. trust me i definitely beat the car up.

January 6, 2006 

notes on black clouds and underdogs - see also: cast all your fears away:

1. tickets will not be 50 dollars. haters are spreading this on the internet. if you buy your ticket ahead of time (not through some wack broker or on ebay or from a scalper)- average ticket price will be between 23-28 dollars - not going over 35 anywhere. we picked the venues based on how cheap we could get them.

2. the bands- we didn't want to have a tour where you had to see five bands that sounded exactly like fob. we went for variety. all of the bands are really nice guys as well. there will be special guests through out the tour and some suprises to make each show more exciting.

3. this is going to be fob's biggest show ever. we will be playing our longest set and will be including some special secrets.

4. did you expect us to just dump the dates in your laps? we are nerdy and weird and different. so we created a game. we thought it would be fun. the points will be weighted so a small town will have the same chance as a huge city to win a small suprise show. we want to play in front of kids that are excited and we know this is a chance to do this. there will still be other secret shows randomly happening.

5. close your eyes and just click. youve got it. dont worry just come out. andy will be running a kissing booth - it will be a blast.

more later.

January 6, 2006 

8:11 pm

i am just a hot mess. i woke up to the feeling of myself throwing up today. pretty much put a damper on the entire day. i ate about 50 stomach pills and then threw them all up- it was a pretty color in the toilet. my toungue is black on the top right now. i am pretty sure thats a bad thing. i watched way too much gastinaeu (however you spell it) girls today. i think it made me sicker. it took me awhile to realize that they were mother and daughter and not sisters- but the mom is kinda hot in pissy kind of way. my mom is out of town so there was noone here to take care of me- my brother was around but hes pretty much always bongzilla'd. so i waited for back-up caretakers to arrive- one of them was busy cutting hair and the other has like a "real" job besides being dad. the best part about vomitting alone in the morning is the way the bathroom tiles feel kinda cool in a pleasant way so i took a nap there for a bit. i want to see hostel tonight but the problem is all the vomitting- see its not that i mind so much its just what if i run into someone in my sicky gear and puke on them? wow. i am glad i did this update. arent you? im gonna leave the comments open cause i never do- just write down the first thing that comes into your mind when you see that reply button- heres mine: i am just a hot mess. 

January 6, 2006

I have to say it makes me feel safe and some kind of comfort to look at the clock in the corner of the screen and know that you are awake too.

posted by: peterpumpkineater

1/12/06 Q&A

question

whats your view/opinion on racism?

answer

i love it. i mean what opinion would i have other than it is terrible. i hope thats what you expected.

question

So Pete, I have been wanting to learn how to play bass for a long time. Any idea when that HOT Clandestine bass will be available for the public? Thanks.

answer

its going to be available as a fender squire some time in the (near i hope) future. squire is fenders cheapest bass line - very affordable and a good bass to learn how to play on.

question

college dropout or late registration?

answer

“highschool graduate” its the mixtape he put out awhile ago- its pretty sweet.

question

okay crazy dream last night.. you [pete] and me making out after a show in a bed? yeah just thought id share.

answer

im pretty gross after a show. itd be better to just highfive i think.

question

pete. please stop licking the shoes of the island CEOs. i am getting really tired of turning on a tv and seeing a commercial for you guys playing at the fucking arena or a WHOS NEXT IN MUSIC? PANIC AT THE DISCO and THE ACADEMY IS mtv shit which was was totally all your -for lack of better word- fault. sometimes i think it cant get any worse but im always wrong. when is this going to end pete?!?!?!?

answer

i am kind of confused by this one- we are on island defjam records but the advertisements for our tour were made by our booking agent not island. academy is on atlantic/fueled by ramen and P!atd are on decaydance neither of those are island related. but i think i understand the gist of what you are trying to say. i understand that its hard to feel like you are losing a band you loved to “the mainstream” or to a bigger media. i want you to know how much fob turns down because we dont believe in it or agree with it- at the same time would you rather see the academy is on trl or limp bizkit?- id rather see sincere music up there. anyway, i know we’ll all still be here after this ends. hope you are there with us.

question

Peter do you ever get mad at us?

answer

sure. just the same way you sometimes get mad at me/us- but thats okay. neither of us ever seem to stay mad very long…

question

choose one: paramore. cartel. the academy is. or acceptance.

answer

the academy is. i dont really know the others too well.

question

Petey, what have you been up to this past week? xo

answer

training for the new video and working on/editting release the bats two (http://www.findthescene.com/Videos/RTB2_Trailer.mov)… oh yeah and sleeping some.

question

So what do you think of Brokeback Mountain?

answer

good love story. kind of depressing- it makes me think about how much i do not want to go camping.

question

ryan seacrest called you “heartbreaker wentz.” how does that make you feel? it made me giggle…

answer

i never broke that mofos heart.

question

I was wondering if any of you guys are superstitious

answer

i kiss clocks, make wishes on take offs and first kisses, hold my breath on graveyards - yes.

question

Im really upset because i have friends who like me have been FOB fans for the longest time and have met you guys numerous times but are really angry about the ticket prices and are complaining your just sell outs. Im mad because i dont think this and now they are boycotting your CT show.You guys were bound to get famous so why do people have to get like this? Whats you opinion on all this?

answer

our primary concern with this tour is: having a huge general admission floor space and keeping ticket prices as low as absolutely possible. we are doing our best- if you compare this tour with other tours with bands of the same size you will see the difference in ticket price.

question

so much for teh huge general floor space. i cant get decent tickets.

answer

if you get tickets early you should have no problem getting floor tickets. ask your broker when they will be releasing floor tickets as they are often released in bunches. i promise you every venue we are playing has a huge floor space- and if not me and my friends always used to just sneak down onto the floor. the security never tries to hard to stop you.

question

Have you ever had sex with a groupie?

answer

nope.

question

So after they finish the tour that they are on now Mest is breaking up. I sort of cant believe it but I was wondering - do you guys plan on sticking with us for a while longer? It is actually pretty hard to deal with bands just stopping for good…so I am hoping that you guys can be there with us for at least a while longer. Much love.

answer

honestly? some days i think fall out boy will be around for 20 more years and some days i think it might end tommorrow.

January 13, 2006 

first jt. now mr. frey. i fear that we are next.

it may just be the hour of the night or the song stuck in my head or some strange mix of it all.

i can't shake it. 

the chemists called it crossed signals.

the poets called it magical.

nowyousayimabird.

- petey

January 14, 2006 

i love how i never care about anything you say except how i always do.

that doesn't even make any sense.

late at night everything about you is an orchestra. and i am the conducter.

January 14, 2006 

4:14 pm 

"noones ever been this good for this long"

this is everything i am thinking right now with out transition. i apologize for my brains lack of linear thought processing: i hate the way it gets dark so early here this time of year. i guess "seasonal depression" kind of falls under "ADD" and "post tramatic whatever disorder" for me. i feel like its science from the madhatter down the rabbit hole. not too real. but lately i just wake up blue - my only thought is- how soon will the day be over so i can get back into bed. i open my eyes just a tiny bit and blur the numbers on the clock with my eyelashes. every word you say rolls off of my back - the praises and the barbs. i don't hear either, ever. sometimes the tips of my fingers itch from the back of my head- just to get the chance to tear someone to pieces and just barely let them off the hook. i swear to god, i was asleep alone. quick text me an alibi and oh god please don't dust the keyboard for prints. sometimes i stare out of the frosted window and make up stories as people walk by. the bottled blonde, park ave. princess walking whichever dog matches her coat. you know how i could turn your world upsidedown. its not love if a day goes by when you don't think about dropping it. its not the world keeping you on the outside, its you not wanting to be on the inside. everyone wants to be the first. buts its okay to be the second if you understand it better, if you make it look prettier. worn down doesn't even touch this. and theres nothing worse than when someone acts like they have you figured out, when you haven't even figured yourself out. nice boys don't write good stories or sing good songs. and his songs are boring. and his stories are just personal ads set to background music. i found the skeleton key for wedlock but i am holding off on telling her. on telling anyone for that matter. consistent inconsistency. thats all you ever have to remember and you'll do okay with me. dancers are always strippers. and paying their way through college is the BE VE. oh and hey pete do you remember the way the world used to trick you with fifty degrees in january and orange leaves in june? button your jacket tight, don't believe everything you read... don't even believe everything you wrote. i'm tired of always leaving. i'm tired of the way things always/never change. swim upstream until your gills bleed just because thats what genetic encoding commands. there aren't any trophies that are really worth it in the end. they can put you in a box when you are very young, so you'll be a pretty corpse but there are too many pages filled with too many words to lie beside you forever. intelligent design is the last great joke i heard. but honestly, no one will ever stay where i tell them, least of all the years. they keep moving. worlds greatest liar and how do you know i'm not lying when i tell you this right now? and thats coming from the king of one-liners. copy and pasted - long live the away message. kiss the monitor. fast asleep baby.

1/16/06 Q&A

question

Thanks for deleting me off your myspace friends. Youre different than who I thought you were Peter.. : (

answer

i do not have nor ever had a myspace account… the only sites outside of this one that i use are friendsorenemies.com and livejournal. fall out boy has a myspace account but i dont even know how to work it.

question

PETER! maybe that got your attention this time :)! My question, Did your parents or siblings ever say your “stupid” or “gay” for wearing girl pants, or tight shirts..because i go threw alot of crap for wearing tight clothing and i go to a city school so either its gangsters, or me left out..please help me with gettin threw this..Also cant wait to see you guys in Hersey!

answer

kanye west wears pink polos. rob halford wears black tshirts. not that any of it matters. but how you dress should only be an amplification of who you are inside, it should not be all you are… i get teased about alot of things but you know, at the end of the day its okay to be me. im pretty sure its okay to be you too, as long as you arent like hitler or a serial killer or something insane.

January 18, 2006 

these pictures make me think of me and you before i got so crazy.

the hippo lost its momma in the tsunami. now the he hangs out with this super old turtle and follows it around. from what i've read they have developed their own form of communication.

this is insane.

these parts of life are amazing.

i will try and not forget them next time.

- petey

January 18, 2006 

the band is in chicago preparing their new homes to be moved into. mine is still in my parents cause i am a loser like that: see also why i am hanging in nyc by myself. but ive got some schemes that i am working on.

how i have been (barely) living: the hippo and the turtle, hanging out with minkus from boy meets world in north carolina, going to the mtv studios in nyc to see baby bros all growed up on trl, eating every single thing in this hotel minibar, writing, you. writing you.

- petey

January 19th, 2006 

1:55 am 

wahahahahaha. i laughed for like a million hours at the shittalking over at: www.friendsorenemies.com its way fun to see your friends make fun of you. it keeps you levelheaded. it has gone live.

January 19, 2006 

yesyesyes-ya'll. newyorkcity. hung with patd and tai backstage at TRL and tried to make them unnervous. but i was butterflies inside. but they couldnt ever let me down. the rest of the day was spent listening to the new gymclassheroes songs and working on the new video. the gch songs are insane: i can't describe them "we gotta take our clothes off to have a good time". insane. new octfall: youve probably never met these kids but they are the nicest. always calling and asking how im doing. then the hush sound: all i can say is "sweet tangerine"- 6 months from now, you will agree with me. anyway, this isn't just some preachy post. i just love watching my friends suceed and i will believe in them until the day i die. its so great to watch everyone grow up. hopefully, somewhere someone says that about me.

we contributed a song to the breast cancer one tree hill episode/compilation. we just thought it was a great cause and couldn't pass it up. we actually thought it was a really personal cause to alot of people involved so i wanted to give a really personal song to me, so we used "dark alley".

its late and alot of the things i have been working on and thnking have stalled out. but i am trying oh so hard. got some smaller shows coming up in las vegas and l.a. for the diehards so keep your eyes out.

i am in new york city but it feels so fucking foreign. the band is in chicago but there is too much to be done out here. i know there needs to be breaks but i cant get away. maybe ill see you on fuse or trl tommorrow. maybe not cause it'll be weird with out the guys- i dunno. this hotel room doesn't make any sense. my lights are on and i am in bed knowing i will never fall asleep. i am realizing people in all the buildings outside i can see lit up can probably see in here on me. but thats okay cause i am wearing some sweet pj's.

wwwilliambecketdotlove

turn me inside out.

swoon. make me easy on the eyes. it aint hard in this light. read it. write it. throw it away and come back to the phone. light up text king.

oh yeah a little bird named mouth told me: friendsorenemies.com is up - my profile is actually me over there ... yay! let's hate eachother and/or get sexy.

January 20, 2006 

dear ireland- thank you for your pretty accents and your amazing show.

dear home- i miss you

dear you- what the fuck happened to this

a real update later.

the whole world loves it when you dont get down.

January 21, 2006 

12:17 pm 

i hate you and i hope you die. yes. i realize that you will make fun of me/take stabs at me/post ridiculous pictures of me. i realize that because of this band i have given up some of my privacy and personal life. i accept that. i can laugh at myself. i realize i will get called a douchbag. i get what i get. i have begun reading things about my friends and family. that i will not accept. i read things written by people who kiss my ass to my face. i remember who you are. fuck you. bring it on me. please leave my friends and family alone. it is extremely hurtful to me. if anyone is a friend of mine out there please tell your friends. i on the otherhand am open game. i have a good laugh at all of the stuff written about me. i am silly, i realize that. thank you. 

peter

January 24, 2006

I am an arms dealer.

I sell words you could only use as weapons.

This isn't a scene it is an arms race.

I am a con artist.

A door to door salesman.

A snake oil seller. Cures for whatever ails you.

Somehow I don't hear the violins playing.

Not really the leading man type.

I am a cadaver deep frozen. Waiting for reanimation to beinvented.

Wrote "fuckoff" on my hand to remind me to call you tommorrow morning.

What do you do when everything they say about you is true?

Do you expect me to just roll over and die?

My skin has made promises.

Whether the rest of me has or not.

Writing off tommorrows every time my fingers touch these buttons.

Putting all the comforts and closeness in reverse just for you.

I think its time to re-asses some of the policies of the wentz administration.

Our approval rating is at an all time low.

In case you haven't been informed you have to take a ticket to be disappointed by me.

There's a fucking line.

Well have some goddamned order.

Its a posh and exclusive club.

I have a lifetime membership.

Make it glamorous.

Make the rumors true.

Read the sign next to the bridge "giveupallhope..." and just tie down the gas pedal.

Lie in the back.

Haven't you heard, sorrow is in.

You are the beaches of normandy the night before.

And a girl with such a sweet drink should never sit in the corner and cry about anyone or anything.

The kids on the net had it right sometimes we should fuck off and die and break up and stop ruining art.

But the kids had it right sometimes when they sit waiting in line with hands frozen out waiting to get into a room first.

The only thing I can admit is this is no masterplan. I'm trying to figure it out.

"Without the sour the sweet wouldn't taste so sweet (tangerine)".

Its 3am in leeds. This is what just crossed my mind.

Love, the fancy kid.

January 26, 2006

live via manchester holiday inn express:

first and foremost. these shows have been amazing. i think it is quite possibly because we don’t get over here often or maybe because we are playing smaller clubs… but i am thinking we need to make a stop over here more often.

i wanted to congratulate p!atd the disco on making it to number 10 on the TRL countdown. and i just wanted to put this out there: there is no way it was paid to happen. of all the bands on “new bands week” panic was the only that didn’t put up big pushes to have the video voted on. if anything this band wants to do things their own way. hence picking the song they did for the single- that was the bands choice and in my opinion they have songs on the record that could easily be bigger. it was also the bands choice to create a darker video…. as a label i can tell you that we definitely don’t have the money to spend on a “big budget” video right now- not to mention having any left over for anything else- you’d laugh if you saw the budgets we filmed the new panic and gch videos on. but i couldn’t say enough about how nice these kids are- they don’t even get how big their band is and thats a good thing… i personally would rather see great bands on the forefront of music… and yes there are lots of other bands that deserve to make it there as well- so maybe on our messageboard tell me about some great (unsigned) bands that we should check out.

other than that we’ve just been writing new songs and working on the new video. pretty soon its going to become time focus all attention on a new fall out boy record again.

got some big news for you coming up very soon…

peter lewis kingston wentz

ps 'hater dudes marry hater bitches and have hater kids’

1/26/06 Q&A

question

hey, what kind of books are you and the rest of Fall Out Boy into? p.s. tell patrick he is spectacular

answer

andy is into comics and books on anthropology/human civilization i dunno what books joe reads patrick is into reading about music i am into a bunch of different authors lately hemingway still. before he went and hung out in africa. i haven’t been reading as much as id like lately. ps the book panic has in their book club this month is a great book. its the first thing i gave ryan after reading his lyrics, it kind of reminded me of him- so if you like panics lyrics head on over and check out their book club

question

do you watch that show roseanne on nick at night. i love that show!

answer

me and my friends used to hang out with becky in evanston, il in highschool. she was not to fond of me or my friend jody.

question

ok i know this is nobodys business but yours but there is alot of stuff going around on the boards saying that the big news is your engaged just to get things straight is that it? because those people are starting to annoy me….

answer

me being engaged is most definitely not the big news.

question

in the song calm before the on take this to your grave, there is a line that says :Well theres a song on the radio that says lets get this party started, lets get this party started. did you write that line because of the song by pink called lets get this party started. just curious.

answer

yes.

question

Hey Pete. My grandma is dying (and she doesnt care) and I for real dont feel anything towards her. My mom is seriously upset, my dad is just about the same and my sisters dont know. I am suppose to tell them but how do I do that when my grandma wasnt a grandma for me but for them she was a great lady? I just want this done and over because I am kind of tired of waiting for her to die since she has been making suicide references for the past two years.

answer

that is one of the hardest places to ever be in. i remember seeing thoughts of my grandfather in my head when he died i was on tour. and i couldnt really feel sad unless i thought of it as my dad and it really freaked me out. it made me feel like i wanted to see my dad right that second. id be completely lost with out him. i think that people handle grief in different ways and the best thing we can do is try to be there for them. im sorry to hear about that though.

1/30/06 

question

my roommates and i almost got into a brawl at 4am with some drunk kids who wanted to fight us because we did not appreciate the hint of lime in their tostitos. is it just me, or is your life this ridiculous as well?

answer

it is . we were thrown out of another fob afterparty after nearly fighting the staff who was berating dirty.

question

Peter, I just got the “Panic! At The Disco” cd and I love it! could you recomened any others?

answer

the hushsound “so sudden” - myspace.com/thehushsound october fall “season of…” myspace.com/octoberfall dangerradio “party foul” myspace.com/dangerfall the academy is “almost here” myspace.com/theacademyis armor for sleep “all” myspace.com/armorforsleep shiny toy guns “all”

question

do any of you have brothers and siters? (like any single younger brothers…:) if so, who and how old?

answer

um come on this question is kind of insane. but my one dog marley is super hot for a dog. hes a good kisser though.

question

I read somewhere that Patrick was a vegitarian. Is that true?

answer

he was he eats fish and likes to talk long walks in the park with hot babes.

question

Why does patrick wear a hat all the time and why does the drummer never talk?????

answer

just to drive your pretty little head mad with these questions.

question

Okay, heres a question: Has someone you superly-duperly adored gone away? And by adored we are talking like, lets-run-away-to-isreal -and-get-hitched-without-telling-anyone adored.

answer

yes. the sinking feeling in your rotten gut is your reminder. cool sheets on your bed are your antidote.

[shen-the-hopeless]

Listen, I don’t even know where to start. Maybe with the fact that every day I wake up knowing I’m going to see him. Freaking Kai. My alt goth co-worker who looks like he walked straight out of the kind of Tumblr aesthetic board that destroys the self-esteem of every woman under five foot five and over 150 pounds. Which, guess what? That’s me.

How can someone be so perfect and so unattainable at the same time? It’s like God—or, I don’t know, Satan—crafted this man to ruin my life. First off, let me paint you a picture. He’s not just hot; he’s unfairly hot. Like, his face belongs in some K-pop music video where he’s smirking at the camera while the rest of us peasants are crying into our Starbucks cups. Even with that stupid COVID mask he always wears, I’ve caught glimpses of his face, and oh my god. It’s almost cruel how symmetrical it is. His jawline could slice through my depression, but it doesn’t. It just deepens it.

And don’t even get me started on his hair. Messy? Sure. But not messy-messy like mine after three days of dry shampoo and regret. It’s the kind of messy that screams, “I spent two hours casually looking this good without even trying.” Whether it’s loose, framing his stupidly pretty face, or tied up in this devastatingly nonchalant ponytail, it’s perfect. How does he do that? It’s infuriating.

And his fashion? Jesus Christ. He wears these loose black sweaters that slide off his shoulders like he’s trying to kill me. Who even does that? Exposing just enough shoulder to make you think about biting it—sorry, what?!—but not so much that he’s trying too hard. Then there are those choker necklaces, the Hot Topic chain pants he literally DIYs, and his knee-high boots with all those buckles. Every time he walks past me, it’s like he’s stomping on my last shred of dignity. He looks like a goth anime husbando brought to life, and I can’t even function in his presence.

And the kicker? He’s quiet. He doesn’t talk to anyone unless they talk to him first. He just sits in the break room reading Tomie or My Dress-Up Darling, minding his own perfect little business, while I’m over here shaking like a chihuahua on a caffeine drip. He’s the literal embodiment of “speak softly and carry a big aesthetic,” and it’s driving me insane.

But here’s the real problem: I’ve never spoken to him. Not once. I can’t. Because every TikTok, every stupid Reddit thread, every piece of content I’ve consumed has drilled into my brain that men like him don’t want women like me. And honestly? They’re probably right. I’m not delusional. I’ve seen those videos where guys dodge eye contact with girls who look like me, scared they’re about to be asked out by someone “below their league.” I’ve heard the stories of men freaking out because some unattractive chick dared to confess her feelings. I can’t risk being another one of those cringe compilation clips.

And let’s not even talk about logistics. Even if, by some miracle, Kai found me attractive—which, let’s be real, he wouldn’t—I have nothing to offer. I wear the same ratty clothes to work every day because I’m $10,000 in debt and can’t afford new ones. I don’t shower every day because what’s the point when your dream guy doesn’t even know you exist? I don’t brush my teeth every day because, honestly, it feels like a waste of time. I don’t even have a car! What am I going to do, ask him out and then take the bus to our date? Yeah, that’s hot.

So instead of trying to talk to him, I just… stew in my misery. And the more I see him, the more I realize something horrifying: I actually kind of hate him. Like, how dare he exist in the same space as me and look that good? How dare he make me feel things I haven’t felt since I discovered Astarion romance fanart on Tumblr? How dare he remind me, every single day, that I’ll never be good enough for someone like him?

It’s not fair. I probably love him more than I love Ezra Miller or Timothée Chalamet, which, judging by my Pinterest board vibes, is saying a lot. And yet, I’m stuck here, just existing in his orbit, unable to do anything about it because I know—I know—that the moment I open my mouth, it’s over. He’ll see me for the desperate, broke, ugly loser I am, and he’ll never look at me the same way again. Not that he looks at me now, but you know what I mean.

And the worst part? I can’t stop obsessing over him. It’s like a sickness. Every time he walks past me in those stupid boots, or adjusts his choker, or flips his hair, it’s like he’s adding another layer to this toxic little fantasy I’ve built around him. I don’t even know if he’s a good person! For all I know, he could be a total asshole. But does that stop me from imagining us bonding over Final Fantasy VII or co-oping Baldur’s Gate 3? No. No, it does not.

I hate him. I hate that I love him. I hate that he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy, but I’m nothing he’d ever want in a girl. And I hate that I can’t even blame him for it, because if I were him, I wouldn’t want me either.

So yeah. That’s my life now. Trapped in this purgatory of unspoken lust and self-loathing, all because some goth anime god decided to grace my crappy workplace with his presence. I hope he’s happy. Because I sure as hell am not.

[riverthebooknerd]

I LIED IT DOES NOT GET BETTER

y'all are in for a BIG FUCKING VENT (and by y'all i mean my octopus squishmellow and maybe one mutual)

so yesterday my family was planning on having a big thanksgiving dinner (because my brothers weren't able to on thursday, so we decided to have it yesterday instead).

i had to work yesterday, but i got off around dinnertime and my parents said that we'd have dinner when i got home.

and so i got off work, right? said adios to my coworkers, and i was actually off a bit early so all i had to do was drive home. easy.

except.

when i got in my car i realized that i was almost out of gas. i had enough to get home, but i figured since i was off early, i had enough time to stop by the gas station and fill up my tank real quick. hell, there was even a gas station on the way to my house! i had it all planned out nice in my head- grab some gas, get home right in time for dinner, annoy the shit out of my brothers.

...except.

listen. listen. i ain't the greatest with directions on a good day. so, even though the gas station was pretty close, i decided to pull up the directions on my phone. BUT my phone was fucking dead. so i was like yeah, okay, y'know what? i can probably find my way there without the map. it's not even that far, so i should be fine, i thought.

like a dumbass.

...i got lost. i got very, very lost. i took one wrong turn, and then another, and then another, and the next thing i knew i was in a completely unfamiliar area.

at night. with a nearly empty tank. and a dead phone.

and so i start freaking out, right? and so i decided to just pick a random direction and start driving, praying that i find a gas station or something before i ran outta gas.

also- fun fact about me! i am slightly nearsighted. not enough to the point where i legally need to wear glasses while i'm driving, but i usually wear them anyways because i can't see too well far away or when i'm driving at night. except, yesterday, i accidentally left them in my other bag. which was at home.

so, imagine you're me, right? you don't know where the fuck you are, your tank is dangerously close to empty, your phone is dead, you're driving in an area where there's nothing in fucking sight (not even a MCDONALD'S- just a bunch of farmland), your family is waiting on you to have dinner and they're probably freaking out since it's been over half an hour since you said you'd be home, and on top of it all you can barely see a thing (i could hardly see the street signs- probably part of the reason why i got so lost in the first place).

needless to say, i was close to fucking tears.

but i couldn't cry because that would make it even HARDER to see, so i just kept on driving. and thankfully, eventually, miraculously, i found a frys with a gas station!! still had no clue where i was, but i filled up my tank and then walked inside.

i tried to find a charger, but the place didn't have any, so then i just walked around aimlessly, trying to work up the nerve to ask someone for help.

finally, after like ten minutes of battling with social anxiety, i went up to the help desk. hands shaking, voice wavering, extremely close to sobbing, i looked at the lady behind the desk and said in one breath, "this-is-gonna-sound-kinda-weird-but-i'm-lost-and-my-phone-is-dead-and-i-don't-know-how-to-get-home-so-could-i-borrow-your-phone-real-quick-and-just-make-a-quick-call?"

the lady was understandably confused, and i started rambling and explaining what happened, probably sniffing and wiping my eyes a couple of times. after a few minutes, once i managed to explain my predicament in a comprehensible manner, she asked me, "oh, so you need a phone charger?"

and yes. yes i did. i needed to call my parents and look up directions on the map. i nodded and she took pity on me. she pointed to the starbucks inside of the frys and said, "the girls over at the coffee shop have a charger you can use. don't you worry, i trust them. here, i'll walk you over."

and so the lady walked with me, explained to the starbucks girls that i needed to borrow a charger, and then went back to the desk. there were two girls, and they appeared to be closing up shop. the taller one grabbed a charger that was plugged into the counter. it wasn't very long, so i basically had to lean over the counter to plug my phone in. i glanced at the other girl, and that's when i realized something. you want to know what it was?

i realized that that girl was my childhood friend that i haven't seen in years because we parted on unspeakably bad terms.

the horror was indescribable. we made eye contact and i swiftly looked away, veins turned to ice. i prayed she didn't recognize me. my appearance is vastly different from the last time we'd seen each other.

while i was waiting for my phone to charge, i had nothing to do except just stand there silently. the minutes ticked by unfairly slow. people kept staring at me- probably wondering why this random teenager with bright hair and watery eyes was just standing next to a closed starbucks all alone, tense as fuck and more awkward than a middle school dance. my ex-friend didn't say anything, barely even looked at me. she either didn't recognize me or was actively ignoring me- and i'm not sure which is worse.

i kept staring at her- which was creepy, i'm sure, but she looked... well, she looked like she was doing okay. i had actually been wondering about her a few days ago- just, like, what was she up to, whether she was alright. we may have parted on bad terms, but i didn't hate her. anymore, at least, i wasn't fucking twelve anymore.

but she looked okay. she no longer had constant bags under her eyes, and she chatted with her coworker as they cleaned the place up. i even heard her giggle a coupla times. it was good to know that at least one of us was having a somewhat decent night.

after what felt like an eternity of waiting, i checked my phone, and- it hadn't been charging.

the charger didn't fucking work.

i only had one option. i waited until my ex-friend had walked away a little bit, and then i timidly called out to the other girl and told her that my phone wasn't charging.

she grabbed another charger, one that actually worked, and i thanked her. and promptly returned to waiting for my phone to charge.

once it had enough battery to turn on, i called my dad. the cable was too short to bring up to my ear, so i had to put it on speaker.

ring.

ring.

ring.

ring.

ring.

ring.

ring.

ring.

i'm sorry, the person you're trying to reach-

it went. to fucking. voicemail.

so then i called my mom. i did not particularly want to call her. my dad would've been the better of the two for this kind of situation, but i figured i should let her know that i wasn't dead.

she picked up on the first ring. she wanted to know where the fuck i was. i tried explaining- it was difficult when she was interrupting me every two seconds, but i managed. the starbucks girls were kind enough to pretend they weren't listening.

"why didn't you just-"

"i know, i'm sorry, i-''

"you worried everyone! your dad left, he went out looking for you!"

"i didn't mean to get lost, i'm-"

"well, hurry home! we've all been waiting on you to eat! this dinner is really important to us, you know!"

my throat clogged at the sharpness of her words. i gave a weak response, something like a shaky okay. my phone was at four percent.

i jerkily unplugged my phone. as fast as i could, without looking at anyone, i marched out of the store. talking to my mom broke something inside me, and i started to cry. my mom was one of the few people who had that power- because most of the time, it's very, very hard to make me cry.

as i was walking out the doors, i passed by a family, pointedly not looking at them whilst trying to wipe my face. the dad said, "you doin' okay, kiddo?" and my lower lip quivered. i bit it, and nodded, walking even faster, speed-walking to my car with tears pouring down my face.

with a blurry vision and hands that were trembling far too much, it was difficult to pull up my address on my phone, but i managed it. turns out, i'd accidentally driven to another goddamn city. i started driving home, trying to breathe deeply to calm myself down. it worked, for about ten minutes. until, despite the map, i took a wrong turn.

that's when i started sobbing.

and i don't mean crying, by the way, not the pretty cryin that they do in movies. not the crying i was doing before.

i mean fucking sobbing.

snot running down my face, screaming, hyperventilating, the whole bitch ass shebang.

it was bad. and i was still driving.

i heavily considered not even going home. my relationship with my family is complicated at best, downright shit at worst. i love them, of course i fucking love them, but i knew that they would bring me no comfort. i really wanted a hug. i wanted to go to my friend's house- because she'd hug me and talk to me softly and tell me that i'm okay, and that it's okay to be scared.

because i had been scared. i'd been fucking terrified.

i knew that i couldn't, though- i was already over an hour late for dinner, and they were all waiting on me. so i drove home as fast as i could; my phone died again, but by the time it did, i was back in an area i recognized. i was sobbing the entire time, until i parked in the driveway and forced myself to calm down. i used some napkins i kept in the glovebox to wipe my face. glancing in the mirror, i looked like absolute shit. puffy eyes, red nose, snot stuck on my septum piercing. i rubbed my face, got out of the car, and walked inside.

i sat at the dinner table. everyone was looking at me. quickly, and with as little emotion as possible, i told them what had happened. they moved past it surprisingly fast. everyone was hungry. my dad said a prayer, and everyone dug into the dishes.

i made it as far as piling mashed potatoes on my plate before i quietly excused myself and went to the bathroom, where i promptly began sobbing again- quieter, this time, though. i'd mastered the art of crying silently years ago.

i don't know how long it took me to compose myself again. probably around ten minutes. nobody mentioned it when i walked back into the dining room. my dad started telling a joke, and then my brother did, and then we were all going around the table sharing riddles and it was a normal, happy family dinner.

i had a glass of wine, debated whether i could get drunk without my parents noticing before deciding it was probably best not to. then we ate some pie- my mom made pecan, which is one of my favorites. by the time dinner was done, i was feeling better.

my brother gave me a hug. i wanted it to last more than two seconds.

I THINK THAT IF I AM UNDER ANY MORE STRESS I JUST MIGHT GO INSANE

BOY oh boy life sure is fun when you're nearly crying on a plane because you have to be at work in three hours and you have an essay due tonight and nobody is picking up your shift and you accidentally had a meltdown at your grandma's birthday party and your parents are trash-talking your relatives because thanksgiving was TENSE and you still have a million things to do and people keep asking you about where you want to go for college and your cousin was being creepy to your little sister and you really want to fucking quit your job but you need money for gas and christmas presents and you chugged two mountain dews and you think you have the beginnings of a migraine and your phone is about to die and you didn't sleep last night and aaceijciueanicneaimkxsmnxijasnidnu

EIGHT HOURS LATER: okay fam i wrote that on the plane and WOWZA ahaha don't worry i took a nap on the plane and then i ate a little snack and i called in from work and i got my homework done on time. still not doin great but hey life does get better. pain is temporary and all that jazz

bonus:

me, typing all of this while i'm trying not to cry on a plane: i can feel my bones and it's fucking nauseating

me, a few hours later when i'm feeling better: woah! that was kind of a lot. sorry guys 😊

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 1

a/n: oh my god guys it’s finally here!😬 i really hope i didn’t hype myself up too much and that you guys actually like it. overall i just wanted to put out a story that revolved around christmas and this is what i came up with! so without me babbling too much, i hope you enjoy part 1 of my new story and as always any feedback/reblogs are very much appreciated.

and of course, thank you to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading this part for me and giving this rusty old writer the help i needed lol

word count: 17k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some sexual tension, and an over consumption of starbucks holiday drinks.

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

“What floor?” Harry asks, eyes stuck on the many buttons in the elevator instead of seeing who had entered the small space with him. He can tell it’s a woman, and they smelt lovely.

“Six please,” her soft voice replies.

Harry looks over his shoulder in what he hopes is a smooth motion to get a quick peek at who was behind that sweet voice. Her eyes were squinting slightly as she smiles at him. She must be my new neighbour, he thinks as he hits the number six button and it lights up before the elevator begins to move. He steps back, standing in the opposite corner of the young woman. Harry assumes that she is maybe a few years younger than him, but one thing he knew for sure was that she was very pretty. He may even say she was stunning. She's all bundled up with a long coat and a thick scarf as he guesses she had just gone out for some shopping, judging by the few large white paper bags hanging off her arm.

“Did you just recently move in?” He questions, catching her eyes switching from gazing at the wall to his own instead.

She smiles again and nods, “yeah.”

“I thought I heard someone move in beside me,” he exclaims. He was certain that someone had moved in beside him. It caused him a bit of a headache hearing all the moving around. And then on top of that, his new neighbour had decided to get right to hammering in on the wall they shared. Little did he know, there was a determined and beautiful girl on the other side.  

“Oh you’re my neighbour then?” She says, bringing Harry back from his memory of a few days ago.

“Harry,” he introduces himself, reaching a hand out into the space between them. She switches her Starbucks holiday cup into her other hand in order to shake his. Her hand is warm from holding the drink and it causes Harry's stomach to erupt with little bitty butterflies.

“Y/N,” she says in the same gentle voice as before. He wanted to hear her talk more. There was something about the soft tone of her voice, like he could listen to her speak into the late hours and early mornings and never once get tired of it. He blinks a few times and drops her hand at his intimate thought.

Harry didn't believe in love at first sight per say, but he was known to develop an infatuation of sorts very quickly. A crush as some would call it. Well, to be precise, Mitch teases him the most of his little crushes. There was that one time that Harry fumbled over his words over and over again when they had gone for dinner and had a rather attractive waitress, having asked for her number at the end of the night too. Mitch mocked him for days about it, asking if she had ever texted him back - she didn’t. And Harry didn’t even want to think about the time he spilled an entire blended margarita on his white vans when a certain handsome lifeguard had winked at him during their trip in LA last summer. Mitch still doesn’t let that incident go either.

The elevator doors open, and Harry gives her a smile and motions with a hand for her to walk out before he does. His mom must’ve raised him well, Y/N thinks at her new neighbours mannerisms. First holding the elevator for her, then offering to press the elevator button, and now letting her exit first. Suppose it was just minor things, but growing up in this lovely city that is New York meant she was used to the rudeness of people and sadly the simplest of gestures can make her heart beat just a bit faster in her chest.

“If you uh,” Harry pauses as Y/N stops at her front door but looks back at him as he speaks. Harry slows his steps to keep eye contact with her. “If you ever need anything, don’t feel shy to knock on my door.”

Y/N smiles again, nodding at his offer while she twists her key in the lock and opens her front door. Harry's walking backwards now, just a few steps to that same door he’s saying she can knock on. His eye contact is intense, but addicting, like every word she had to say to him mattered. His eyes are green, just green, nothing crazy and yet she found them very endearing. Would it be cliche of her to say she swore she saw them sparkle?

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” she says and before she can say anything else, she steps into her new apartment and shuts the door behind her.

Y/N finds herself standing there for a moment, remembering every word Harry had spoken to her as she slips out of her shoes. She then remembers his facial features while undoing her coat and hanging it up along with her scarf. The bit of facial hair he was sporting, how it seemed like it may have taken a while to grow so he kept it minimal. Or that little mole by his mouth, she even took note of that in their short time together. He had a cute nose too, she thinks. Harry takes up every inch of space in her mind for over an hour before she’s brought out of whatever dream state fog she was in. She lets out a deep breath and shakes her head a little before going about wrapping the presents she had bought earlier in the day while sipping her Christmas Starbucks drink, falling back in love with the holidays all over again.

“No, no, no, no,” Y/N groans as she twists and turns the knobs for her shower, and yet, nothing happens. Only a few drops fall to the tiled floor causing her to let out another string of curses. “This can not be happening,” she says.

But it was. Y/N’s hair was a mess, beyond greasy and a bit matted from her sleep last night. Not to mention she smelt like sweat from bringing up the box that held her new fake christmas tree this morning. She had been tempted to walk down the hall and knock on Harry's door, but she didn’t want to be annoying and fall into the stereotypes of the helpless young female living on her own for the first time. So instead she grabbed a cable knit sweater, tugged on her old dirty ugg boots, and went down in the elevator to meet with the Amazon delivery person. Little did she know that the box was way too tall for the elevator. So, she ended up bringing it up herself. All six flights of stairs, Y/N pulled and dragged that box up to her floor which caused her to break quite the sweat. Thankfully, it wasn’t so heavy, but she couldn’t help but think that she went through all of this just so she could get her new fake christmas tree up. Freaking fake! Not even a real one because apparently that wasn't allowed at her apartment building. Oh, how she was going to miss the smell of a fresh christmas tree. And oh, how she wanted to get rid of this disgusting smell of sweat she embodied now.

“Why me?” She winces, looking up at the ceiling and letting the glass door for her shower close as she gave up on the water magically appearing.

Is this the most appropriate time to not be shy and knock on Harry's door? Suddenly, her Apple watch vibrates, and she brings her arm up to see the reminder she had set before to tell her of the tight schedule she’s on for the day. With only 45 minutes left to get ready, she needed to get moving quickly. Y/N curses herself for wasting the past fifteen minutes on her phone, reading over her newest Instagram comments and aimlessly scrolling through her feed. So she tugs both sides of her purple robe that she had changed into anticipating a shower in her own home. Y/N pulls it tighter and ties the belt around her waist into a bow, and before she can give it a second thought, she’s out the door of her own apartment and starting down the hallway.

Harry didn’t know when he thought Y/N would eventually knock on his door. A part of Harry was hoping that she would have knocked sooner than a week later. But nonetheless, when there was a frantic knock on his door, he didn’t miss how his heart skips in his chest as he imagined Y/N standing on the other side. Peering through the peephole in his door he saw her standing there - in a bathrobe? Harry's brows pull together in confusion as he unlocks the door and heaves the door open.

“Is your water working?” She asks, her voice sounding as panicked as her knocking had been. But before Harry can answer she starts talking a million miles an minute. “Cause mine’s not, like not a single drop and I need to shower. So badly. And I know it’s probably super weird and rude of me to just bang on your door and ask to use your shower. Honestly, I can’t even believe I am but I am in such a hurry and I have the busiest day ahead of me with work and going to the-”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off abruptly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and blinks up at him. “You need to use my shower? Is that what you’re getting at?”

Harry is a bit thrown off, not once did he think she’d come knocking for this reason. He glances down the hall awkwardly. He hopes that that noisy neighbour of theirs across the hall wasn’t peeping into their conversation, or seeing Y/N in this bathrobe. Mr Matthers can be a bit of a creep, Harry thinks. At the thought he hears a creak come from behind the door that’s across the hall.

She nods, “I know it’s like super strange to ask but mine is not working and I don’t have time to figure it out.” When Harry looks back at her, he notices she’s staring down at the ground between them, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she’s realizing what she’s gotten herself into. Harry didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

“S’alright, really, come in,” Harry says while opening the door to his apartment wider.

Y/N gives him a smile of appreciation before stepping into his home. The layout of Harry’s apartment is really just the opposite of hers, but the interior design he’s gone with is a lot better.

He’s gone for the classic monochrome look with blacks, white and greys. But with pops of colour where it matters, like a blanket over the back of his large L-shaped couch that looked handmade. She wonders if a family member made it, quite liking the light blues and pinks blended together. He’s got the same hardwood flooring like her own apartment and the plain off white paint on the walls - but with a few very unique paintings hung up on them. There’s two tall shelves, full of vinyls and novels and some picture frames too, that are on either side of his large flat screen tv which he took the time to hook up on the wall. It’s got a TV show paused on the screen, in her quick glance she can’t tell what show he was watching before she knocked but it looked like a cooking show. The corners of her lips twitch up into a smile at the thought of Harry being into cooking or baking maybe. He’s got a matching chair to his couch in the living room too that looks like she could fall asleep in it within a second. Overall it simply seems more grown up than her apartment - more put together and clean, that’s for sure.

To give her some credit, she has just moved in while she’s sure Harry’s been here for a while. Harry steps away from the door after locking it again, taking a few steps in order to be in her line of sight. With an arm thrown up, finger pointing down the hall, he gives Y/N another smile. He can’t help it, she looks rather adorable in that purple bathrobe. Was that all she was wearing? He thought to himself. He clears his throat as his mind goes on to imagine what’s under that plush purple material she’s wearing.

“Bathroom’s the first on the left,” he states, “did you bring your own soap or anything?”

“Honestly, no, I just kind of ran out of my place in quite a hurry and didn’t think twice as I got the sudden nerve to come over here.”

“Well, lucky for you I care about hair care, so there’s some good shampoos and even a nice hair oil to put into your hair afterwards when it’s damp. It’s in a small clear bottle with a white and gold label, by my toothbrush,” Harry explains. Y/N nods and starts towards the bathroom. With each step further into Harry’s home, she realizes what exactly she’s done. She can’t believe it really - just asking a complete stranger to let her shower in their home. She could be a murderer for all Harry knew, and he just opened his home up so freely. She steps into the bathroom, switching on the lights and the fan, she shuts the door and sighs. Lifting her arm up her Apple watch lights up to show the time. She had twenty minutes tops to shower, that’s all.

The bathroom is clean, very clean actually. Y/N lets her gaze wander around the space for a moment. There’s matching hand towels and all his skin and hair care are placed neatly on the small counter space too. She assumes he’s a bit of a neat freak. Turning to the shower, she opens the glass door gently and instantly reaches for the silver knobs. As she turns them water falls from the showerhead above her.

“Thank God,” she whispers while looking up at the water.

Y/N adjusts it to her preferred temperature and then she works on untying the knot of her robe. Words can’t describe how grateful she is that it held together in front of Harry. Him seeing her in the robe and with her hair in the state it’s in is embarrassing enough. Honestly, she can’t believe she even knocked on his door in it, and without any clothes to change into afterwards too. Stupid, she thinks while opening the glass door once more and stepping into the shower.

As Harry had said, there’s many bottles littering the built in shelves of the shower. Her fingers lazily turn the bottles so the labels face her. They’re all scented lavender of some sorts, helping with curly hair and volume. Well that explains why his hair looks so lovely, Y/N thinks as she opens a bottle of shampoo and squeezes it till a good amount falls into her other hand. As she hums ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ she lathers up her hair and massages her scalp. Rinsing it out after and then doing the same with the conditioner. While she lets the conditioner sit in her hair she scans the few other bottles on the shelves for a body wash. She didn’t want to come out of the shower smelling like a pre-teen boy, but she also did not want to smell like sweat. Goats milk and lavender infused, Y/N reads the label of what looks to do a locally owned product. She can’t help but smile as she reaches for it and pours some into her hands before rubbing it over her skin. There’s something so sweet knowing that Harry supports local businesses. He really doesn’t seem like the guys that Y/N is used to.

Three sharp knocks on the door startle Y/N, bringing her out of her day dreams. She quickly brings her arms up to her chest, trying to save herself some modesty if Harry did walk in. Because of course she didn’t think to lock the door. God, what if Harry is a murderer? Y/N thinks. She doesn’t know him, he could very well walk in here with a large kitchen knife and stab her multiple times in the chest while the water begins to run red and she dies right here all because she thought his dimpled smile and green eyes were enduring. Didn’t she learn anything from the whole Ted Bundy thing? Hello, hot guy doesn’t immediately mean nice!

“Y/N?” Harry calls out from the other side of the door, raising his voice just slightly so she could hear it over the running water. She shakes her head from her ridiculous thought - no more Criminal Minds at night for her, she takes the quick mental note.

“Yes?” She responds.

“I just realized I didn’t give you a towel,” he says, his voice sounding strained as he closes his eyes and tries to not imagine his neighbour naked in his shower. Harry’s fist tightens around the towel as his mind ignores him and thinks of how the water is dripping down her skin.

“Oh, yeah,” she breathes out. Looking around the bathroom beyond the foggy glass. There weren't any towels that she could see. Maybe they were under the sink.

“So I uh, I grabbed one for you. I can just open the door really fast and drop it in, I wouldn’t look in I swear, I’d face the hallway and just reach through,” he clarifies, “wait, you locked the door didn’t you?”

“Actually, I didn’t,” Y/N says, “so yeah just drop it in, please and thank you,”

Harry nods, regardless of the fact Y/N can’t see him. He takes a deep breath before turning the doorknob and opening the door just a crack. The towel doesn’t quite fit through, so he opens it a bit more. His eyes are on the towel as he makes sure it gets into the bathroom. He notices the steam pillowing in the small space and just before he looks the other way, he sees Y/N’s purple bathrobe on the floor. Only her purple bathrobe. Harry swallows and drops the towel to the floor and quickly shuts the door again. Y/N jumps at the sudden slam of the door, her heart having been beating out of her chest as she stood under the warm stream of water and listened to Harry deliver the towel.

He spins around and walks away from the bathroom in a brisk walk, making it to his kitchen in record time. He takes a few breaths and blinks at the view from his kitchen window above the sink. It’s beginning to snow. Something tells him this will excite Y/N - just a feeling he has. He hardly knows the girl and he’s been conjuring up versions of her in his head these past seven days. He’d heard her play music through the walls Tuesday night, he recognized the artist after a few moments. Van Morrison, one of his favourites. What were the odds? He had thought. But then he quickly shut that thought down because many people liked Van Morrison, and just because his very cute neighbour liked the same music he did, that didn’t mean she was meant for him.

Then on Thursday in the middle of the day he had seen her running across the street from his apartment. One thing he loved about his apartment facing the front of the building is how he got to see people coming and going. That day it looked as though she was carrying a take out bag from his favourite restaurant. Again, what were the odds that she liked the same place? But again, he had another hard conversation with himself saying that it was a rather popular place in this area and lots of people liked to go there. Y/N was still a stranger to him. A naked and attractive stranger who was in his bathroom right now.

Harry breathes in deeply and leans both hands at either side of his sink as he watches the large snowflakes fall over New York City. He still couldn’t believe he lived here sometimes. Having grown up in a rather small town in Northern England, where the most exciting thing was the bakery he used to work in as a young teen or maybe the fun graffiti on some of the walls downtown, living in NYC always seemed a bit unrealistic to think of. But this was always a dream of his. To be in one of the biggest cities in the United States and doing what he loved the most.

“It’s snowing?” Y/N’s voice full of irritation catches Harry off guard. He turns around to see her standing in the threshold between his kitchen and living room. That purple robe, which would be making an appearance in his dreams he’s sure of, is back on her now clean body while the towel he had given her is wrapped around her hair atop of her head.

“You don’t like the snow?” Harry questions, both of his brows raised high at how off he was about his instinct of her loving the snow.

“No, I mean, yes I do,” she shakes her head slightly, “I just don't like driving it in. New York drivers already freaking suck and the moment snow starts falling it’s like they forget how to drive altogether.” Y/N explains, crossing her arms at her chest.

“It’s the same in London, nearly got into a few accidents in my early years of driving thanks to it,” Harry reveals. Y/N smiles at the knowledge about himself he had let slip, regardless of how irrelevant it is.

“Anyways,” she sighs, “thank you for letting me barge in here and use your shower.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Harry assures her.

“No seriously, you saved me a lot of trouble.”

Harry’s chest swells at her words, mirroring her smile as he stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his trousers and leans back against the edge of the counter. Y/N takes this time to look over Harry’s outfit. He’s got on a cream collared ribbed t-shirt, a beaded necklace adorning his neck, a pair of brown pants that flare out and nearly hid his white sock covered feet. He doesn't dress like the men Y/N sees day to day. It's different, kind of old school, but she likes it. Suits him, she thinks, despite the fact that she barely knows him.

“You’ve got to drive somewhere?” Harry questions, unsure if he’s prying.

“Yeah, JFK unfortunately,” she frowns.

“That’s going to be a nightmare,” Harry says.

“Thanks for the reminder, yeah,” Y/N teases him while fighting back the smile pulling at her mouth.

“Sorry, I just meant that it’s sort of a long drive and airport terminals are a pain, that's all.”

“I’m just bugging you. It most definitely is going to be a nightmare,” Y/N agrees with a chuckle, “and I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.” She adds while jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her own apartment. Harry nods and notices how her robe’s a bit looser than before as she drops her arms and it falls a few inches down her shoulder - exposing more of her soft looking skin. Harry has to look away and walk towards his front door with Y/N before his imagination gets the best of him.

Harry unlocks the door and holds it open for Y/N to walk out of his home. He liked having her in his space. Harry internally curses himself for yet another intimate thought about his neighbour fogs up his mind. Just as she steps over the threshold of his apartment, Y/N spins on her heels quickly and reaches up with both hands to grab the twisted up towel around her hair. Harry nearly comes undone right then and there. The sight of her wet hair falling down effortlessly around her freshly washed face causes Harry’s mouth to feel dry suddenly. But as she makes the move to reach up, pulling it off of her head, and then holding out the towel in front of her, all of this causes her robe to fall even more off of her shoulders. Now both of her shoulders were fully exposed for him to see. Which Y/N notices right away and blushes, rushing to try and readjust herself, then only holding the towel with one hand while she bares her other arm over her chest to keep the robe from falling open completely.

“Nearly stole your towel,” Y/N breathes out.

She’s distracted by how her robe is slipping apart and how Harry’s eyes are falling with it. Harry clears his throat and takes the towel from her, giving her a chance to fix her robe, and he leans against his door for support as his head spins from the scene he has played out in his head. Her robe falling apart, seeing the swell of her breasts, how her nipples must look. He imagines they’re hard from the chill in the hallway, pebbling into little buds. Then he’s imagining how he’d pull her back into his apartment, kissing and touching all over her skin till she’s left breathless and begging for more.

“Thanks,” Harry says and drops his arm to hold the towel down at his side.

“I owe you one,” Y/N states, “for letting me use the shower,” she adds. She’s not sure what else he would think she’s talking about, but she just felt the need to clarify. And she really needed to get back to her own apartment and finish getting ready. “See you around, Harry,” she says with a smile before walking away and hurrying into her home.

Harry thinks of how he should've wished her a safe flight, or even said goodbye. But instead he heard her door shut and followed suit by closing his own. Harry walks into his living room - discarding the towel on the back of his large arm chair, before moving his acoustic guitar from where it was laying on his couch and taking a seat. He then reaches for his cell phone that was left on the coffee table. Opening his contact, he finds the building's maintenance number and calls them.

“Hey Phil, how are you doing?... Good, I’m good yeah, uh, I’m just calling because the water in 602 isn’t working...Yeah Y/N, she actually had to leave in a bit of a rush, so I just wanted to make sure someone got in there as soon as possible to check it out,” Harry explains the situation to the building’s head maintenance man. “I’m not entirely sure when she’ll be back home, maybe you could give her a quick call and double check... Just being a friendly neighbour, Phil… Thanks Phil, have a good day and say hi to Georgia and the kids for me… Bye.”

Harry hangs up the phone and sets it back down onto the table, looking at the open notebook beside it. He hadn’t written anything all morning. Just had a few good cords stuck in his head. Harry picks up the guitar once more and plays the cords.

“Tangled wet hair, soft silk skin, looking so good it should be a sin,” Harry sings softly. It’s not his best and it’s not even that good, if he’s honest with himself. But it seems that Y/N sparked some inspiration inside of him. He grabs his pen, and starts scribbling down the words that now flow through his mind. Finishing with writing ‘Plush Purple Robe’ in capital letters before dropping the pen and going back to strumming the guitar.

He wrote nearly an entire song, thanks to how Y/N looked in that damn bathrobe standing in his apartment, and he just knew this would result in some teasing words from his friends when he brought it into their studio session next week.

Y/N was tired and her third Starbucks of the day wasn’t helping her out at all. She brings a hand up to cover yet another yawn that escapes her. Her eyes feel heavy, drooping as she blinks slowly a few times at her screen. She feels as though she might doze off if it wasn’t for the loud bang of the mail cart smacking against the elevator doors signalling it’s arrival for the day. It jolts her upright once again and she takes another big gulp of coffee, and sends a prayer up above, before she begins clicking away again at her laptop trying to finalize her schedule for the upcoming month of December.

Fittings, photoshoots, buyers meetings, and more fittings, there was rarely any free time in the first two weeks of the month. But thankfully her boss isn’t a complete Grinch and gave her minimal work during the last two weeks. Plus Y/N really did love her job. She lived for the magic world of fashion. The way her bustling office just meant that the designer’s creations were coming to life as A list celebrities and New York's elite fell in love with the pieces she’s gone through lengths to get for them.

She also loved Christmas just as much, if not more, as her job. Even thinking about everything she was looking forward to this holiday season made her feel all giddy inside now. Growing up in the city meant she knew the thrill of skating in Central Park and seeing the Rockefeller Christmas tree being lit up. Her smile was as bright as the lights. She loved going to the annual Christmas markets that were held; walking around with hot chocolate in her hands as she browsed the many homemade soaps and ornaments, and even clothing too. Y/N even enjoyed shopping at the Macy’s down the street and gasping at their holiday displays, and found herself buying a few too many decorations for her home while there. Over the past few days - with any free time she had off work - she had gone into full blown decorating mode in her apartment. It was like Santa’s village and it filled her with so much joy as she set everything into its rightful place in her new home, smiling from ear to ear at the twinkling lights and tinsel lining the perimeter of every room.

“Earth to Y/N,” her co-worker, Sammy, sings while leaning back in his desk chair to try and make eye contact with her.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, zoning back into reality and turning her own chair away from her desk that was up against the large floor to ceiling windows.

“Daydreaming about that hot new neighbour of yours?” Sammy teases her with a smug look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“No, I was not,” she says, “I’m regretting telling you about him already,” she adds. Sammy returns the eye roll.

“There’s no shame in having some eye candy as a neighbour you know,”

“Yeah there is when-“

“Y/N!” Her name suddenly being yelled across the room cuts her sentence off and makes Sammy and herself look over to where it came from. They both see their boss, Amanda, standing in the doorway of her office with both hands up in the air and a look of annoyance across her face. Y/N’s watch vibrates just on time to remind her of her meeting with Amanda. She’s always at least five minutes early; suppose daydreaming about the holidays - not her hot new neighbour - had put her behind schedule a bit.

“Better not keep her waiting,” Sammy says as he rolls his chair back over to his own desk while Y/N closes her laptop, taking it and a notebook with her quickly before slipping her feet back into her black heels. She always took them off when she sat at her desk to give her poor feet a break. As she broke into a speed walk across the office space, nearly avoiding the mail cart, she internally went over what today's meeting entailed.

“Sorry Amanda,” Y/N apologizes as she steps into the office, closing the glass door behind her quietly.

“It’s alright, you’re rarely even a few minutes behind that schedule of yours, so I was more surprised than anything,” Amanda states as she smooths her dress out and takes a seat at her desk. Y/N takes a seat in the chair across her desk, setting her laptop on her lap and then the notebook on top of it while she keeps her favourite pen in hand. It had a cheesy Christmas sweater snowflake pattern on it, which Y/N had bought a whole set for her and Sammy at Target last week.

“I wanted to quickly talk about your time with Miss Woods a couple days ago,” Amanda says, referring to one of the clients from North Carolina that had visited recently. “She said you showed her great hospitality and were a true New Yorker in her eyes, her words exactly.” Amanda gives Y/N a proud smile. “So, great job. She ended up purchasing those Gucci purses we had bought in hopes she’d like them even though she didn't ask for them. All thanks to you putting her in such a good mood, really.”

“Well she was a blast to be around, age really didn't slow her down,” Y/N and Amanda share a laugh. “She turned up my radio every time we got in my car, ordered doubles at dinner and brunch, and even talked about boy issues with me. It was a great time,” Y/N explains while adjusting herself in her seat and crossing a leg over the other casually.

“I think it’s your energy. Your love for this city can be infectious sometimes Y/N,” Amanda says. Y/N’s lips pull up into a smile at her words, they made her feel warm inside.

“Thank you,” she says softly with a nod.

“Now, onto what’s happening over this next week, let’s see how our schedules look,” Amanda starts as she opens her large planner than was always either on her desk or brought home in her large Louis Vuitton purse.

“I got an email from the lovely Mrs. Archibald this morning,” Y/N states. Amanda shakes her head as her face twists up at the mention of one of their bigger clients who happens to be married to the richest man in New York City. It’s just too bad she’s a real bitch sometimes because her attitude could make doing their job a bit harder at times. But Amanda and Y/N loved a challenge, and Mrs Archibald was just that. “She has a last minute dinner party tomorrow and she needs the newest item from Gucci that we can find immediately,” Y/N explains.

“Shit, our new stuff from Gucci doesn’t come in till next Monday,” Amanda curses, eyes roaming around her desk as if the answer to her problem would pop up somewhere.

“I know, which is why I went ahead and called Greg at the store on Fifth and Fiftieth, he said they just got a handful of exclusive holiday pieces early and would gladly have one of us pick a couple items up for Mrs Archibald,” Y/N says. Amanda’s sour look fades instantly and is replaced with a wide smile.

“What would I do without you, honestly!” Amanda exclaims. “Head over to Gucci after lunch today, and then we’ll get Mrs Archibald in first thing tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Y/N says while jotting down her after lunch plans onto a blank page in her notebook.

“How’s your influencer work going for you?” Amanda asks, her eyes on her planner in front of her instead.

“It’s been good, getting closer to five hundred thousand every day. I think the holidays will push me over the mark soon enough,” Y/N states.

“Great, make sure you’re getting close up shots of the dresses Greg shows you. Tease the people of what an exclusive holiday gown looks like,” Amanda suggests. Y/N smiles and jots down the note.

Having an audience was never the goal for Y/N. In fact, she thought of suspending her Instagram account all together once she got the promotion at work. She was worried that it would cause a conflict of interest, but Amanda and the rest of the team saw it as a plus. Having so many people follow Y/N’s life, being interested in what she’s interested in, wanting to get their hands on what she had, all lead to good publicity for the company. It even got them a few A list celebrities because of her account as they saw the company’s name in her bio, which led to contacting the company about setting some fittings up.

And with that set up, they settle into the rest of their itinerary for the week, making note of who needed to be involved with what, and who would be coming into their offices. Jennifer freaking Aniston was scheduled for a fitting this Friday and Y/N was praying she made it back from picking up an order of Louis Vuitton scarfs in time to see her in her custom grown that their team's seamstresses had been working tirelessly on with Prada’s team.

By the end of her and Amanda’s meeting, it was time for lunch. Sammy was waiting by her desk with his black Gucci backpack in hand that Y/N was sure held a Kardashian sized salad. Y/N was glad she meal-prepped teriyaki chicken and rice, so she didn’t have to eat yet another salad seeing as Sammy had gotten her into the over sized salad eating last month; she’s had enough of it.

“I’ve gotta head over to Gucci on Fifth Ave after,” Y/N states with a smile as her and Sammy walk into the conference room that they used for lunch sometimes, shielding themselves away from work a bit - even if the walls were glass and they could still see everyone working around them.

“Lucky bitch,” Sammy grumbles, “Greg always hooks you up with some free pieces when you go there, I swear.”

“Hey it’s only been a few items, nothing crazy,” Y/N defends herself before taking a bite of her lunch.

“Oh I’m sorry, two rings and a pair of tights are nothing crazy? Every other influencer would kill someone for those tights. Firstly, they’re so cute. And secondly, those rings cost my monthly rent.”

“I’m not complaining about any work perks. Maybe you could come with and get to know Greg a bit and get your own ring or two?”

Sammy chews his mouth full of salad, “no thanks, it’s so freaking cold out there. I’ll stay inside where it’s warm,” he says.

“Then don’t complain when I get another pair of tights and you don’t,” Y/N scowls playfully.

“I’d look so much better in those tights, you can’t even deny it,” Sammy says and pokes his fork at Y/N. She raises her hands up in surrender.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare to deny it, ever,” she smiles. They eat a few bites in silence. Y/N starts to feel a bit more energized by the protein she’s eating, thankfully. She now had a long journey to the Gucci store and back as well as a ton of emails to filter through too - which she’s sure will follow her home till the late hours of the night.

“What are you planning to wear for the Christmas office party?” Sammy chimes in, his eyes still on his phone.

“I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs and brings up her Pinterest app on her phone. “I found this outfit and am dying over it every day but I really should just find something in my closet and restyle it, I'm getting more broke by the day.”

“Blame your excessive christmas shopping habits,” Sammy deadpans while glancing at her phone screen.

“I’m aware of why I'm broke, thank you,” she deadpans back, narrowing her eyes at him. “Maybe Greg will have it in his heart to lend me a special piece for the party,” Y/N taunts Sammy with a smile on her face.

“Shut up,” he groans. Y/N laughs and is just about to shut her phone screen off when a phone call comes through from her apartment building maintenance.

“Hello?” She answers. “Hi Phil… Oh that’s awesome news thank you so much for getting it fixed so soon… Yes, I’m glad Harry called in about it right away too…” Y/N notices how her friend's eyebrows fly up at the mention of Harry’s name. “Lovely, thanks again Phil… Have a great day… Bye,” she hangs up the phone and sets it on the table in front of her.

“What did Harry do now?” Sammy questions without a second to spare. Y/N rolls her eyes, but can’t stop herself as she smiles.

“He called in about the water in my apartment like right after I made a mad dash out of his place to go pick up Mrs Woods in time. I hadn't even thought of calling about it and then I got a call on my way to the airport from the head maintenance guy saying Harry told him about it and asked for verbal permission to enter my apartment while I was out,” Y/N explains to him. She was still shocked by Harry’s kindness. Not only did he offer his shower to her, but he then got hers check out that same day. She probably wouldn't have called about it till the next day, if she was lucky to have any free time to stop by her house between entertaining Mrs Woods.

“What a neighbourly thing to do,” Sammy says smugly.

“Shut up, he’s just a nice guy.”

“Mhmm,” Sammy hums while stabbing his salad again for another bite.

The two of them continue to enjoy their lunch break and catch up on what’s been going on in the office. Their fellow associate Kate was trying to sleep with the mail cart boy. He seems freshly twenty one, if that. Just seven years younger than Kate, but she’s a well known cougar - it’s been a thing for, like, two years now. And Julianne was sick again, for the third time in two months. That was the extent of the office drama, sadly. Y/N packs up her bag with her left over lunch, notebook, and laptop before heading back to her desk with Sammy to get her coat and bundle up to brace the cold weather.

At least it wasn’t snowing.

The snow is coming down like a blizzard, making it hard for Harry to see in front of him. It was a colder day, his weather app had called for cloudy skies and a chance of some light flurries - but that all changed  in a split second and had Harry racing home from the coffee shop a few blocks away. He’s just praying his notebook full of new song ideas, based off his people watching this afternoon that’s now in his tote bag, doesn't get wet in the short trip he has to walk. Just as he’s about to turn left down the last block till his building, he sees a young woman struggling to walk along the sidewalk in her heels just in front of him. She’s carrying a large beige garment bag, having it folded over her arm as she tries to maneuver around the busy sidewalk and everyone is rushing to get out of the storm. Harry’s just behind her now, that’s when he recognizes the jacket and scarf.

“Y/N?” Harry says, trying to not startle her. But of course, as Y/N turns around to look behind her at whoever had just called out her name on the busy streets of New York, she slips.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, trying to keep the garment bag up so it doesn’t damage the dresses inside, but that means she doesn’t have any hands to throw out to catch herself. Harry sees her begin to fall and reaches out without hesitation. “The bag,” she says, trying to get Harry’s attention to saving the garment bag rather than her. But of course he manages to wrap his arms under hers and hold her upright, standing straight to get her back on her feet once more.

“Shit, I’m sorry, shouldn’t have scared you like that,” Harry says.

Y/N squints at him through the thick snowflakes, he’s standing so close though that she doesn’t have troubles staring into his enchanting eyes. She smiles, adjusting the dresses and her bag before motioning to their apartment building only a couple blocks away. “Let’s get out of this snow storm,” she suggests.

“Right,” Harry agrees and lets her start the walk - that way he can stick close behind in case those death heels of hers cause her to slip again.

Y/N regrets her decision of wearing heels so much right now. She’s sure her cheeks are still red from embarrassment of nearly falling on her ass in front of so many people. Harry’s seen in her purple bathrobe, which is already  embarrassing, but falling in heels in this snow storm would’ve only added to her list of making a fool of herself in front of him.

When she arrived at Gucci it was  just cloudy, but then after nearly two hours inside the store - mostly chatting with Greg and his associates, she walked outside into the blizzard. Her office was too far of a walk, she knew getting a cab or an Uber during the storm would just be a nightmare  and she didn’t want to wait around. There was no way she was going to risk taking the subway while carrying the garment bag that said Gucci right on it and have some lowlife steal thousands of dollars of designer clothes from her. So, she went with the most obvious option of getting these pieces out of the snow storm and headed  to her apartment building that was only a few blocks away, thankfully.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” Y/N says with a sigh as Harry uses his key to let them into the building. They both brush the snow off themselves as they walk across the lobby and to the elevator. “I would've been dead if this fell into a puddle or something,” she states while lifting the garment bag.

“Does that say Gucci?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised as he looks at the label on the bag.

“Yeah, I just had to pick up a few things for work,” Y/N explains vaguely. Harry has followed Gucci on Instagram for years, he loves their pieces and finds what they make to be so wonderful. He wishes he had the money to spend on a shopping trip there and yet here is his neighbour - who he may or may not be crushing on - with a large garment bag with Gucci items inside. “I can’t even imagine what Mrs Archibald would've done if I messed these up, god she'd have a fit,” Y/N says with a chuckle, looking at the floors lighting up as the elevator moved.

“Your boss?” Harry questions.

“No, a client, super rich and super bitchy,” Y/N answers, emphasizing both times she says super to really get her point across. She moves the garment bag from one arm to the other, leaning back against the elevator wall.

“Client? What kind of work do you do?” Harry tries to ask casually, not trying to seem creepy or invading in any way.

Y/N smiles, “I’m a part of the, oh so lovely, fashion industry.”

“You don’t like it?” Harry questions, eyebrows furrowed together.

“No, I do,” she corrects him.

The elevator opens then, Harry motions for Y/N to exit first as he had before. She smiles and walks down the hall to her apartment. Just as she fishes her keys from her coat pocket she turns back and looks at Harry when he walks past her. “I owe you, again, for saving my ass, literally from falling,” she says. Harry stops walking and looks at her, she smiles and tilts her head to the side. “And for calling the maintenance guy for the issues with my water,” she adds. Seems Phil spilled the beans, Harry thinks.

“I um, I wasn’t sure how long your trip was, and I just thought it’d be the nice thing to do by making sure they could get it fixed as soon as they could,” Harry explains.

“I actually didn’t go on a trip, I just had to pick someone up from the airport. But regardless it was very nice to know you thought of it for me. So thank you, I owe you, Harry,” she says again, giving him yet another one of her dreamy smiles. Harry’s heart did a little pitter patter in his chest as he looked over her face, taking in how her wispy hairs were wet from the snow that had melted on her head and how her eyes seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting of the hallway. But her lips, he’s been imagining those lips for two days now. Along with that purple bathrobe being on his floor again - his bedroom instead of the bathroom though.

“How about dinner?” Harry blurts out. Y/N had turned back to her door, having it unlocked and open as he had fallen into one of his daydreams about her. She pauses mid step and looks back at where he had stood still, her eyebrows are furrowed together as she thinks he misheard him. Oh shit, abort! Abort! Backtrack and say nevermind before she flat out rejects you, Harry thinks while he waits for her response.

“I, uh, I,” Y/N stops her stuttering and closing her eyes for a moment. She lets out a sigh and opens her eyes again to meet his nervous stare. “I have to hang this up, and change these shoes first,” she says.

“Of course,” Harry nods.

Y/N ponders over it for a moment before coming to the realization that the weather outside was truly frightful and they shouldn’t go out anywhere. “Honestly we shouldn’t go back out there. What if I just ordered something in and you came over? You like pizza?”

“Love it,” Harry smiles. Y/N nods and opens her door further, stepping in to survey the state of her apartment. It’s not messy, thank God. She had time this morning to put away her clean laundry that had taken up her couch over the past few days. There’s a couple hoodies draped over the back of the couch though, a half full glass of water on the coffee table and her kitchen has a pile of dirty dishes beside the sink that she hadn’t gotten to putting in the dishwasher yet. She quickly bends down to put away the few pairs of shoes that were kicked off in whatever direction they went, and turns on the two light switches by the door to light up her living room and hallway.

“Well, come on in,” she says as she turns back to Harry. He smiles as she lets out a deep breath and opens her front door for him.

He should’ve guessed that it would look like Santa had thrown up in her apartment. It was traditional, which Harry loved opposed to the new all white or all gold themes some people went with, but there was a lot of it. A red and green checkered throw blanket over the back of her grey couch, a decent sized tree filled with lights and tinsel and ornaments that all matched, a family of snowmen in one corner of her living room, and many little vintage looking nicknacks along her tv stand, and few shelves around the space. Not to mention the priceless looking tiny christmas village that was set up on top of the desk by her front door, fake snow laid on top to really pull it all together. So much Christmas, and he was only looking in one room. He imagined this festive feeling went throughout her entire home.

“It kind of seems like a lot whenever someone new sees all of my Christmas crap,” Y/N says, breaking Harry’s stare away from her living room and back to her now. She had hung up the Gucci bag on the closet door to her left, and had slipped out of her shoes and was now undoing the buttons of her coat. Her eyes are on the decorations around them though, looking unsure as she takes it all in.

“It’s lovely, honestly, not crap at all,” Harry assures her. Y/N turns back to look at him and mirrors his smile.

“I just have a big soft spot for the holidays, I can’t help myself from buying four Christmas themed throw pillows if they make me feel all warm inside,” she explains, motioning to the couch that did in fact have four pillows on it.

“If it makes you happy, you don’t have to have any reason for buying ‘em.”

“I suppose so,” Y/N hums, finally taking off her coat and hanging it up.

Harry quickly takes his off too as she reaches for it, to hang it beside hers. He gives her a small thanks and then takes his shoes off, setting them beside hers . Y/N has walked into the threshold to the left that led to her kitchen. He notices the tinsel hanging from the beam and smiles before taking a quick peek into her kitchen. As he guessed, it’s all decked out in Christmas stuff too. Towels and nicknacks that seem to replace everyday things like salt and pepper shakers and her soap dispenser that was spaced like a snowman.

“I’ll order a pizza right away. Hopefully this weather won’t slow them down. Have you ever eaten at Sal’s down the street?” Y/N questions.

“Tons,” Harry says. He leans against the threshold to the kitchen and watches as Y/N sets her purse on her small kitchen table and fishes through it for her cell phone. She’s got this crease between her brows as she can’t seem to find it, but it instantly goes away and is replaced with a smile as the iPhone is in her hands.

“Do you like anything on your pizza?” She asks, eyes on her phone screen and she brings up the menu. She typically just gets a cheese, sometimes spices it up with a vegetarian pizza cause she likes the green peppers and red onions.

“I’m actually a vegetarian,” Harry states. “Well, I eat fish on occasion so I guess I’m a pescetarian.”

“Oh cool,” Y/N says, looking up to see Harry’s watching her from the space between her kitchen and living room. The way he’s leaning against the small space of wall, arms crossed at his chest and head tilted to the side - he looks good. He’s dressed in a pair of beige trousers, straight and baggy as his last ones were too, and has a white tank top tucked into the waistband while he layered with a fun patterned button up shirt. She can’t quite make out what is printed on the shirt, but the little squares seem to each have a picture in them.

“Where did you get that shirt?” Y/N can’t stop herself from asking, the fashion lover in her wanting to know.

Harry glances down at the short sleeved shirt on his body, then shrugs, “I think I thrifted it back home in England a few years back,” he says.

“I like it,” she says, then brings up one shoulder in a shrug to make it seem more casual. It’s not weird to compliment your neighbours clothing, Y/N thinks as she glances back down at her phone. “I’m going to order a cheese and they have a great vegetarian pizza too that I like,” she tells Harry while punching in her order on her delivery app.

“Yeah, I’ve had it before, it’s pretty great,” Harry agrees. Y/N can’t help as her body reacts to how low and slow Harry’s voice is. How she gets small chills throughout her body, as if threatening to pebble goosebumps along her arms, and how her mind feels foggy almost as she listens to him speak. She rolls her lips into her mouth and stuffs her phone into the pocket of her fitted black pants. He could tell her the most pointless story and she would let him, just to hear his voice and that accent that went with it. Moving to her fridge, she finds the bottle of red she had opened last night. It’s such a normal thing for her to have a glass or two after work that she doesn’t even think of her guest. He might not even like wine.

“Do you drink?” Y/N asks, looking over her shoulder to see Harry still in the same spot but his hands now in the front pocket of his trousers.

“What are we drinking?” He asks with a smile.

Y/N smiles back, as she always does, and reaches for the wine she had her eye on. “I opened this bottle of wine last night, it’s red. Would you be interested in a glass?” She asks, holding the bottle up for Harry to see.

“I’d love a glass, thanks.”

“Perfect,” Y/N nods and sets the bottle down on the counter beside her fridge. “You can get comfortable on the couch, I’ll bring our drinks in a moment.”

“Sounds good,” Harry nods. With one final glance up her body as she reaches high in her cupboard for two wine glasses for them, he shakes his head and turns around. He has to stop checking her out, he has no idea if she’s into him or not. She’s simply being a nice neighbour, and here he was, fancying her so much he’s checking her out like some horny teenager.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, walking around the back of the couch to take a seat on the corner furthest from where the Christmas tree lit up Y/N’s living room. He really did like all of her joy that she’s put into decorating her home. There’s no doubting her love for the holiday, not a single space feels like it was forgotten as she must have spent all day setting it up. He especially liked the framed photo on the side table to his right, where there was also a rather plain lamp and a Santa spaced coaster too. Inside the frame was a small child who he knew immediately was Y/N. There was no mistaking that smile of hers even at such a young age. She’s sitting on a man’s lap, a man dressed as Santa, but it’s truly the most realistic mall Santa he’s even seen. Harry thinks back to his home in that moment, imagining the many photos of him and his older sister with many variations of mall Santas that must be littering his mum’s house by now. Truthfully, many of them didn’t leave the shelves during the year.

“Here you go,” Y/N says as she holds out a wine glass nearly half full of red wine to Harry. He takes it from her, his fingers brushing hers for a moment and sending those childish tingles through his body.

“Thanks,” he nods and brings the glass to his lips to have a taste. If he wouldn’t be so infatuated by Y/N, he would have told her that he typically didn’t drink red wine. He typically doesn’t drink at all, except for the occasional night out with his mates. But he saw that look on her face that said ‘I need a glass or two’ and he couldn’t say no, knowing it’d make her feel awkward and  end up not having a glass herself.

Y/N lets out a long sigh as she takes a seat on the other side of the couch, relaxing alongside Harry as if they aren’t complete strangers. He liked that she felt comfortable around him. She did in fact enter his apartment the other day in a bathrobe and use his shower after all. After she takes another long sip of wine, she sets it down on a matching Santa coaster that sits on the coffee table - Harry notices now that she had brought the bottle of wine with her too.

“Long day?” He questions. Y/N nods, tucking her legs under her as she gets comfortable on the couch beside him. She clears her throat softly before answering him.

“Uh, yeah, work’s just been a lot lately and I’m actually looking forward to some time off,” Y/N says, running a hand through her hair, and then leans her arm on the back of the couch. Harry watches her movements, bringing his glass of wine to his lips to have a small sip, which he notices she watches him do. He likes her eyes on his lips, he thinks before turning his body slightly and setting his wine on the side table. When he turns back and looks her way he notices the slightly tint of pink flushing over her cheeks. Harry fights the tug at his lips to smile at how she seemed to catch on that he caught her staring at his lips.

“That’s always the worst, feeling as if you’re counting down till the days off,” Harry exclaims.

“I typically don’t, to be honest. I love my job,” Y/N states. “It’s my career so I better,” she adds with a chuckle.

“So you’ve already found your career at such a young age then, that’s awesome. Have you always known you wanted to be involved in the fashion industry?” Harry asks, his eyebrows pulled together as he does find himself very curious of how she herself a career so young.

“First off, twenty four is really starting to not feel young anymore so let's not label me as a youngster or anything alright-“

“Um, twenty four is young but okay,” Harry cuts her off with a playful look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and chooses to ignore his teasing. He’s always hung out around people older than him and typically dated women older too. But Y/N doesn't seem young. From what he’s seen from her, she doesn’t fit the mold of any twenty four year olds he’s known before - most being rather rude and partying their youth away while it’s obvious that Y/N worked hard during those years. Y/N looks as though she's got the whole world figured out already, and he admires that a lot.

“And secondly, yeah, I guess I sort of did know, not at first, of course, but it was always an interest of mine,” Y/N states, bringing Harry back to their conversation.

“What did you want to be when you were a youngster then?” He questions, using her choice of words back at her which makes Y/N chuckle. She shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling for a moment as she falls back into memories of her childhood. She remembers being emotionally attached to a pair of plastic pink princess slippers and how she slept in her matching tiara for nearly a year before her mom put a stop to her fantasy.

“I wanted to be a princess-“

“Me too,” Harry says.

“Stop interrupting me,” Y/N laughs and reaches across the couch to smack his arm. Harry's head feels light, his cheeks hurt from grinning at Y/N so much. He hasn’t felt like this in quite a while. Being able to have a light conversion with a pretty girl. How she makes him smile and laugh so easily too, it’s a really nice feeling.  “But you’d make a much prettier princess for sure-“

“Not at all,'' Harry disagrees, managing to cut her off yet again. She glares at him but can’t help the smile that's still on her face.

“Anyways, I wanted to be a princess and then I wanted to be one of Santa’s elves-”

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says as he’s not so surprised to hear her say so - seeing as it looked like Santa’s village inside her apartment.

Y/N chooses to ignore his short interruption this time and continues on. “But then as I got older and got ahold of the internet, I wanted to be a model cause I thought it was the most glamorous thing, but I wasn't as beautiful or skinny as Candice Swanepoel so that was out of the question-“

“This is the last time I'll interrupt you I promise,” Harry says, Y/N presses her lips tight together and gives Harry another look as if to say yeah right. “But I cannot let you sit here and say you aren't pretty or skinny enough to be a model, Y/N, because you are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen and your weight is nothing to ever question,” Harry pauses as he looks down at the sofa between them, realizing that he had said all that out loud. He was slightly embarrassed as he’s not sure how she’d take her neighbour saying all that to her.

My heart needs to calm down like now, Y/N thinks as she wets her lips and fidgets with her own hands as she watches Harry. “Y/N, don’t ever think less of yourself,” he adds in a gentle voice that sends chills down her spine.

Y/N doesn't respond right away, because honestly she's speechless. No one has ever said something so kind and so genuine to her. Sure, she’s gotten compliments from people, but the way Harry immediately stopped her from talking poorly of herself had made her stomach stir and her heart race. They had only just met, only had a few interactions - they were all good, great even - but Harry wasn’t like most people she’s met before and she’s beginning to realize that. She looks up to see Harry's watching her, his green eyes staring back at hers. Something switches in the air between them as Harry feels like he should lean in. Should he lean in? Would she want that? Does she want him?

“Thanks,” she smiles, bringing Harry back to their conversation. She clears her throat and sits up straight again, flipping her hair over her shoulders and snuggling into the couch some more. “If I ever feel down about myself again, I’ll be sure to knock on your door and demand you shower me in compliments,” Y/N teases.

“I’d be honoured to,” Harry says. There's another beat of silence, but it's not quiet inside his head. All he’s thinking about is how he should've made a move. She felt it too, right? Harry stops himself before he can go too far inside his head again while thinking about Y/N. “I won’t cut in again. Continue from the dreams of being a model - which you’d be a great model, by the way, don't count that one out just yet.”

Y/N smiles again, not even sure if she’s stopped smiling honestly. “Right, well, modeling led me into the world of fashion. Not that I hadn't known about Vogue or any of the high fashion houses since I did grow up in New York; fashion week had always been a highlight for me. But I actually started to look into the other sides of it. Designing wasn't an option, I just didn't feel original enough. So I did some personal assistant stuff during my high school years at fashion week, working behind the scenes at shows.”

Y/N pauses to lean forward and grabs her glass of wine again, needing liquid to coax her throat before she continued. Harry noticed that she was talking so passionately, probably not even realizing how much she was using her hands while speaking or how her eyes lit up at the world she painted for him. “And then I got a scholarship into FIT, the Fashion Institute of Technology. I was lucky enough to get an internship at my current workplace but quickly got offered a position on my graduation day, and now I'm one of our senior associates.”

“And what does your job really entitled to exactly?”

“We do a lot of things, but we’re really a personal shopper and stylist company. Working with many of New York's elite, even some of the east coast’s elite really, as well as celebrities too, which is always fun to see the dress you styled at the Met Gala or the Grammys. I just do a lot of running around, it feels like,” Y/N explains, “like how I had to rush to the Gucci store on Fifth Ave in order to get some pieces for Mrs. Achibald for tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds like a real tough job,” Harry taunts. Y/N returns his smug look and narrows her eyes at him playfully.

“Right, well what do you do then? You always seem to be home, I’m starting to think you don’t even have a job. Maybe you’ve just got a sugar daddy, hmm?” Y/N jokes. Harry lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back. Y/N laughs with him before taking a sip of her wine that she had almost forgotten about.

“Definitely not a sugar baby, although that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, totally,” Y/N nods in agreement. They both chuckle again. Harry reaches for his wine to take a sip before answering her question for real this time. Blame the wine, he thinks, for any longing looks or laughing too much at her jokes just blame the red wine in his glass.

“I’m actually in the music industry, kind of,” Harry states.

“How are you kind of in the music industry?” Y/N questions curiously, her brows pulled together as she takes another sip of wine.

“I am a studio rat, as people in the industry would call it,” Harry says, Y/N’s face scrunches up at his words utterly confused at the term. “I pretty much live in music studios most of the year. Most of my time is taken up by writing. So I guess I’m a songwriter, but I also make demos for my songs with a few people I’ve grown close with in my studio, so I end up doing some instruments for artists' studio versions of songs. I do a bit of producing too, but I mostly leave that to my buddy, Tom.”

“Wow, that sounds like a really cool job. And here I was jabbering on about my job when you’re a songwriter? That’s so cool,” Y/N repeats, another sip of wine going down her throat as she stares at Harry. His cheeks are starting to turn red, eyes avoiding hers as he fidgets with his rings. “Have you written any songs I’d know?” She asks, trying to get more information out of him.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Y/N asks, brows pulled together.

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head.

“Shouldn’t you be proud of your work?”

“Of course I am,” Harry says, bringing a crooked finger up to his nose before rubbing it twice. “I just know that my music might not be everyone's favourite.”

Since the beginning of his freelance songwriting career, Harry's always been nervous to show people what he’s poured his heart and soul into, especially to people he’s friends with, or people he likes. What if they hated it? He couldn’t bear listening to the fake “it's great” with an even faker smile. Although he knows people do like his songs, those people were mainly artists that bought his songs and their fans, of course, along with his fellow colleagues. He just doesn't want Y/N to hate his work.

“Well, I'm sure it's brilliant,” Y/N says. “And maybe one day you’ll show me.” She adds with a smile, not wanting to force the subject, over the rim of her wine glass before taking another sip and finishing off the red liquid in one small gulp. She frowns at the empty glass and sets it down on the Santa coaster on the coffee table. “Do you write all the time then?” Y/N asks, bringing her gaze back to Harry’s.

“Pretty much, although I’m in the studio less in December due to it being so close to the holidays. I’ve actually got my last session with my mates just in a few days.”

“Counting down the days till you have some time off?” She asks, referring to what he had said earlier to her.

“Not particularly,” Harry says.

Y/N is about to ask why, but then her phone bings from her pocket. It’s then that she realizes she hadn’t thought of looking at her phone once since sitting down with Harry. She had been so engrossed with their conversation, and feeling a light buzz that she managed to forget about the pizza she ordered. The notification on her screen read that her pizza had arrived at the building, and the delivery person would be here any second. Then her phone starts ringing.

“Hello,” Y/N answers the phone in a sweet voice. Harry has to stop himself from staring, instead finding himself grabbing the red wine that he wasn’t too fond of, and has a few sips as he listens to Y/N talk to, what he assumes, is the pizza delivery. She buzzes them up with one tap on her phone before the call ends. “Our dinner is finally here,” she tells Harry, even though he had gathered as much, but he still smiles in response. She stands from the couch and adjusts her pants by pulling them up slightly. They fit her so bloody well, Harry thinks. “And we are both nearly done with a glass of wine each before we’ve even eaten,” Y/N chuckles as she walks past Harry and to the kitchen to her purse.

While Y/N pays for their food, Harry takes it upon himself to top off her glass of wine. He was content with his last few sips between bites. Y/N sets the two pizza boxes on the coffee table before rushing into the kitchen to grab two plates and some napkins for them. They work together in a comfortable silence to get things set up; both boxes open and Y/N settles back onto the couch before they dig into the large New York slices.

Y/N brings a piece straight from the box to her mouth, once she bites into the greasy food she moans around her mouthful of cheesy pizza. Harry is just about to take his first bite as well but stops just short at the sounds that come from Y/N. He dares to glance her way, throat bobbing as he takes her in. Both eyes closed, her head hanging back and lips turned up into a smile as she chews her food. He watches her swallow, utterly mesmerized by her soft skin moving just slightly. Dear god, Styles, get it together, he thinks as he imagines her swallowing something else.

Y/N opens her eyes at the sound of Harry clearing his throat, turning her gaze to him and seeing him lift his piece of pizza to her in a ‘cheers’ manner. “Thanks again for the meal,” Harry says. There his voice does it again, sounding all low and throaty as it makes chills go down her spine.

“No problem,” Y/N nods. She tries to focus back on eating her food, willing the thoughts in her head to go away. But she can’t stop them from entering her dreams later that night after Harry and her had said their goodbye - Harry noticed her yawn a few times and began to clean up their plates and empty wine glasses while he continued to tell Y/N about his time in school before he was writing songs full time on his way to the kitchen. Y/N watched him from her spot on the couch, smiling at how he didn’t think twice on cleaning up after them. She was pretty sure that’s how her dream started too, but then it led to Harry’s voice whispering in her ear, asking if she’s been naughty or nice this year while they laid in bed. Y/N blames the large glass of wine. One hundred percent she blames the wine.

There wasn’t a more perfect day in the year, Y/N was sure of it, as she sat on a bench in Central Park. It was t-minus three weeks before Christmas Day and she had just gotten off work. The sun was slowly setting in the horizon as she stared at the sparkling snow that covered the ground and trees around her.

“Y/N?”

She turns her gaze away from the skating rink in the distance to see who had called out her name. A smile tugs at her lips as she sees Harry a few feet away. He’s dressed in a long dark coat that reaches to his knees, one which was exposed from a rip in his loose fitting jeans. With his outfit he wore a pair of chelsea boots upon his feet that trudged through the snow. Y/N noticed that he was bundled up with a grey scarf around his neck and a matching beanie upon his head too. She liked how his hair flipped up at the ends, sticking out of the beanie.

It has been almost a week since their pizza night together, and thankfully, those wine induced dreams had stopped after that one night, which to be fair were rather innocent compared to some other dreams she had thanks to too much tequila - regardless, it’s making it much less awkward to face him now.  

“Hey,” she greets him as she meets his eyes once more. Harry stops by the bench, motioning at the open space to her left.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He asks. Y/N shakes her head and moves to her right just a bit to make more room for him. “Was going for a stroll, thought I was imagining you sitting here by yourself to be honest.” Harry states.

“New York City can seem rather small some days,” Y/N says with a smile.

“Some days, yeah,” Harry nods. “What brings you out to this lonesome bench in Central Park?” Harry asks, looking out at the scenery before them.

“This,” Y/N answers with a hand out to the park.

“It's rather pretty.”

“Very, and calming. And after my day at the office today, I desperately needed to just sit here by myself and disconnect from the world for a moment.”

“Oh,'' Harry says, bringing Y/N’s gaze away from the couple holding hands across the pond and to him instead. “I'm- I'm sorry if I barged in. I just thought it’d be weird if I didn’t say hi.”

“Oh no, it’s totally okay,” Y/N assures him. “I’ve been out here for a good while now.” As if her body realizes at the same time, she shivers beside Harry.

“Did you want to head home?”

“Not particularly,” Y/N hums. Her eyes falling back to the sights before her. The sky is becoming a soft hue of pinks and oranges before their eyes. It warms her heart despite her entire body is cold.

“How about a cup of hot cocoa?” Harry suggests as he sees the cart serving hot drinks just to their right. An older couple and, what seems to be, their grandchildren are being served steaming cups and candy canes too. That seems like something Y/N would like, Harry thinks as he stands from the bench. He's about to offer his hand but thinks twice about it, sticking both his hands into his coat pockets before he can make a fool of himself. “My treat,” Harry adds with a smile.

“I would love that,” Y/N beams while standing from the bench and falling into step with him.

Harry orders for the two of them as they step up to the small cart. Y/N discreetly takes out her phone and opens her Instagram app, swiping to the right to open her camera before she’s bombarded with notifications. She holds down on her screen to begin filming her pointed Versace boots that she had been gifted from work this winter; they had become a staple as the weather grew colder and the snow kept coming down since they had the thickest heel of all the shoes in her closet. Holding the phone up, she catches half of Harry’s body as she films the hot chocolate cart. His back is to the camera, his large coat and beanie covering any angle she did get of him so she’s not afraid to post the story after adding a quick filter to it and typing ‘pro tip: always get a hot chocolate when you’re feeling chilly in central park’ tagging her location as well before hitting post to her story and feeding her nearly five hundred thousand followers with some content for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly as Harry hands her a to-go cup without a lid since there’s an abundance of whipped cream on top. Her smile turns into a grin as he also reveals he bought her a candy cane. She gasps and is quick to unwrap it and stick it into her mouth.

“Woah, you’re like a toddler itching for a sugar rush, huh?” Harry teases as they begin walking along the path and away from the cart.

“Candy canes are my weakness,” Y/N states as she pushes it to the left side of her mouth in order to talk more clearly.

“Good to know,” Harry smiles over the rim of his cup before opening his mouth and licking off some of the whipped cream. Y/N has to look away as she’s brought back to her dream.

Shaking her head slightly, she brings her phone back up to her face and it unlocks for her. Since it’s still open on the Instagram camera, she holds out her heaping cup of whipped cream and attempts to take a picture as they walk. The first two turn out blurry, then she stops walking, in hopes it’ll turn out nice before Harry can notice she stopped. Only it doesn’t of course, so she ends up furrowing her brows and sucks harder on the candy cane in her mouth before trying three more times to take the perfect snap.

Suddenly, Harry’s hand is in her shot, a blur over her whipped cream. She gasps and looks up to see his forefinger in his mouth, obviously licking off the bit of whipped cream he managed to steal. She’s surprised he did it, and she can tell he is a bit too, but then she huffs out a short chuckle while her mouth is still agape, which makes Harry grin. He doesn’t think twice as he reaches out to swipes his finger over the sweet cream again.

“Stop stealing my whipped cream!” Y/N glares at Harry as he licks his finger clean once more.

“It’s gonna melt anyways, you're taking so bloody long to drink any of it.”

“I'm busy enjoying my candy cane, jeez,” Y/N rolls her eyes and takes the candy out of her mouth, having forgotten about the picture, her phone screen turns blank. Harry shrugs and reaches forward again to steal more. Y/N is faster this time, and moves her cup away from him while bringing her candy cane up and pointing towards him. “Do it again and I'll stab you,” She warns. Harry throws his free hand up in surrender, but both of his cheeks have those deep dimples showing. I’m beginning to really like those dimples, Y/N thinks.

“You get rather hostile over your holiday treats, hm?” Harry questions, raising a brow before slowly retreating his hand to hold his own hot chocolate with his other. He brings the cup to his mouth with both hands and takes a sip.

“Yes, in fact, I do,” Y/N mutters, looking down at her own cup and notices that the whipped cream is nearly gone now. Suppose Harry was right, she missed her chance to enjoy the extra sweetness.

She takes a few sips as they continue to walk together through Central Park. The sky is beautiful as the sunset is in its full glory with dreamy pinks and purples littering the skies. Y/N debates taking a photo but decides against it as she slips her phone into her pocket. Just as she’s about to return the candy cane back to her mouth, she glances over at Harry and notices just as he brings down his own hot chocolate from his mouth that he’s made a bit of a mess.

She chuckles before saying, “you’ve got a little,” Y/N points to her upper lip, “uh, a whipped cream moustache.” She giggles as Harry pokes the tip of his tongue out and swipes it over his top lip. Y/N chuckles some more and offers him her napkin.

“Thanks,” Harry says before wiping it across his mouth, looking back to her to ask, “did I get it all?”

Y/N finds herself staring at Harry for a few moments longer than it would take to give a simple answer if his face was clean or not. She’s never felt so comfortable around someone before, not even her childhood friends or Sammy honestly. There’s this ease around Harry the few times they’ve been around one another, and it makes her heart swell up in her chest. She rolls her lips into her mouth and inhales deeply through her nose, breaking her gaze away from his face and to the ground. In order to not seem weird or awkward, she looks back up and finds his eyes on her while she nods her head.

“Yeah, you’re good,” she tells him. They start their walk through Central Park once more, heading towards home at a slow pace. Y/N has her candy cane back in her mouth, alternating between it and her hot chocolate before it got too cold. She could live off them both one hundred percent; two of the best things ever invented.

“So, tell me about your day,” Harry says, bringing Y/N out of her own thoughts and meeting his gaze again.

“It was a pretty good day, I guess,” she sighs, “we just have a lot of clients that like to do last minute shopping during the holidays and have some pretty crazy demands, but we want to deliver for them so we bend over backwards to do so.”

“I’m sure that can cause you to be rather exhausted then, yeah?”

“Very,” Y/N nods, “but I’m sure your day was much more interesting than mine, so tell me what kind of songs you wrote today?” Y/N asks with a smile.

Harry chuckles and lets Y/N lead the way to their left on the path home, he wasn’t the most confident with getting around sometimes since he usually stuck to the few places in the city that he was familiar with. While he has learned that Y/N is a New York City Native, he trusts her way direction over his, that’s for sure. He thinks back on what he had done today, including a quick run on the treadmill in the gym in their building that ended sooner than he thought as he got a burst of lyrical inspiration out of nowhere.

“I was in my apartment for most of the morning and a bit of the afternoon, then got in a bit of a rut after writing a new song about love, of course. Then I decided I needed to get out of the house and hope for some inspiration from people watching, which I have done a lot since living here,” Harry explains. Y/N takes a big gulp of her nearly cold drink, leaning to her left to get to the garbage they are passing in order to throw out the empty cup. Harry takes the chance to throw his empty cup out too.

“Do you always write about love?” Y/N asks, not thinking twice if it may be a bit too personal of a question. Harry is taken back at first by how that’s all she got from what he had said, but he only clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets now that they are free.

“Mostly, yeah,” he nods, “most relatable thing in life, I suppose.”

“Sometimes, I guess it can be,” Y/N agrees and goes back to sucking on her candy cane. She wonders how many times he’s been in love? How many times has she really been in love? Y/N sighs internally and focuses on her steps, avoiding a puddle by having to step closer to Harry. She sniffles from the cold at the same time and is hit with Harry’s scent - lavender, as it always seems to be how he smells. She still thinks it’s lovely.

The two of them make more casual conversation on their fifteen minute walk home through the busy streets. Harry tells her about an elderly couple he had seen just before seeing her, maybe in their 80s, and looking more in love than he’s ever seen before. He wrote a few things about how they looked before going on his way. Y/N tells him about how her grandparents used to go on walks through the park when she was younger, which then brings them into the topic of grandparents in general. Harry tells her about how his grandpa refuses to retire and how his grandma ends up bugging his mom because of how lonely she is. Y/N is smiling the whole time, loving how he must feel comfortable around her too as he’s able to talk about his family like this. Y/N also yawns many times in their short walk. She’s tempted to invite Harry into her apartment for some wine and pizza again but decides against it and simply gives him a smile and soft goodbye at her door, deciding to get into her night routine earlier than normal due to how she can’t stop yawning.

After hanging up her coat, double checking her door was locked, and slipping out of her boots, Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket to check out what text she missed while on her walk home. She liked how she wanted to feel so present around Harry, having no want to look at her phone but instead being more interested in his little stories about his grandparents. Her face ID unlocks as she looks at the screen. It’s still on the photo she last tried to take for her Instagram. Harry’s hand was a bit of a blur as he stole her whipped cream off the top of her hot chocolate. There was no way to not know it was Harry’s hand, though, his rings being so unique and noticeable in the photo as well - her favourite being his initials wrapped around his fingers in gold. Some would think it’s maybe a bit narcissistic, but Y/N thought it looked good and really there’s no harm in being a narcissist sometimes right?

Y/N saves the photo but doesn’t post it, deciding to simply keep it for herself instead of letting her many followers see into a small yet sweet moment between her and her newest friend. She could call him that right? They were friends? Y/N did hope that Harry thought of her as a new friend too because she was enjoying this time with him a lot, maybe even a little too much.

It had been another day spent at the cafe down the street for Harry. Marking only one last day off till his final studio time this year, he was itching to get to work in a couple days and see his mates too. Over the almost two weeks, he’s written more than he had expected himself to and he knew he could thank a certain new neighbour, or I guess, a new friend, Harry thinks to himself as he turns towards his apartment building. There was no denying the feeling he got around Y/N. He wanted to become more than friends, eventually, no rush of course - but he couldn’t ignore the feeling he got around her; the butterflies and heart racing nearly every moment together. And he couldn’t forget the constant smiling, which he was doing right now just thinking about her.

Harry walks up to the main doors of his apartment building and notices a man beside the main doors. Harry furrows his brows at him. He didn’t look like some strange man trying to find warmth during the beginning of the evening here in the city that had fallen to freezing temperatures as the first week of December came to an end. In fact, he had a brand new iPhone in his hand and rather expensive looking clothes keeping him warm.

“Hey, did you need inside?” Harry asks the man standing by the intercom system. The man looks up at Harry, eyes narrowing at him. He seems Harry’s age, maybe even a few years older judging by the lines around his eyes. He’s got dark eyebrows which makes Harry think he must have dark hair under the beanie he wore under the hood of his thick winter coat. Harry waits for an answer, staring back into the stranger’s brown eyes.

“Yeah, girlfriends not answering and I know she’s inside,” his voice is low and gruff, he then lifts a Starbucks hot cup up - Harry recognizes the holiday pattern anywhere now since Y/N seems to always have one on her even in quick passing in or out of the building. “Even got me to pick her up this stupid drink on my way too, her fault if it’s cold now I guess.”

“Guess so,” Harry mumbles, kind of put off by the man’s attitude. He decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and holds the door open for it. The man walks in without so much of a thank you. You’re welcome, Harry sarcastically thinks to himself.

They walk together to the elevator in an awkward silence. Once the doors open Harry steps up to the buttons and hits the sixth one, not bothering to ask the man what floor he needs as he steps away. The stranger gives the lit up button a brief look before he’s staring down at his phone. As the elevator moves Harry’s mind wanders off to how he’d assert himself into Y/N’s evening today. Maybe he could make her dinner, then ask if she’d like to walk over to Central Park after because he knows how much she enjoys it there, and when they decide to take a break from walking and find a bench he’d finally get the nerve to make a move - maybe reach for her hand during the walk even. One thing was for sure, he liked Y/N and he needed to buck up and do something about it.

He’s still deep in thought about Y/N when the elevator doors open. The man he let into the building steps out first without even glance at Harry. Typical New Yorker, he thinks. Harry finds himself looking at where Y/N’s apartment door is over the man's shoulder as they walk down the hall, he’s debating just walking right up and asking her to hang out right away. But then the man stops in front of the door that reads 602 - Y/N’s door.

Y/N hears the knock on her front door and blinks rapidly at her laptop screen, unfocusing from her long email that she was to send to her boss, Amanda, within the hour with an update on how the first week of December had gone. She glances at the time and sees it’s nearly four in the afternoon. Took him long enough, she thinks while rolling her eyes and standing from the couch. Just as she’s a few steps away there’s another knock on the door. She sighs and unlocks it, quickly throwing the door open to reveal Mark standing on the other side.

“You are home,” he says, that attitude she knows so well is thick in his voice already. Y/N opens her mouth, about to sass him back, but then she notices a certain tall figure with a mess of brown hair walking behind Mark.

“Harry,” Y/N breathes out, hoping he didn’t even hear it honestly. But he slows his steps and gives her a tight lipped smile once facing her. It’s one she was not familiar with and makes her stomach feel as though it was full of rocks.

“Hey,” he says with a small three finger wave.

“You know this guy?” Mark, her boyfriend, questions. Bringing her eyes from Harry’s green ones and to his brown ones instead. “He was nice enough to let me into this place since you were too busy,” he states.

Y/N tucks her lips into her mouth and looks away from Mark and back to Harry. She knows he’s questioning everything by the look in his eyes. She tried. Well, maybe not hard enough, but she wanted to tell him about Mark, even just casually and quickly. Y/N didn’t intend to give Harry any sort of mixed signals during their times together, she really was just being polite and ended up enjoying being around him so much that she thought there was no harm in making a new friend. But she’d be an idiot to try and deny she felt something more than friendship with Harry.

“Yeah, uh,” she clears her throat and waves a hand between the two young men, “Mark, this is Harry my uh, my neighbour. Harry this is Mark, my boyfriend.”

Well shit, that’s not ideal, Harry thinks as he looks into Y/N’s eyes and prays he heard her wrong. But he knows he didn’t. So, he just takes a deep breath and forces a smile to stay on his face while holding a hand out to Mark, even though it hurt him to be polite to the guy that was dating the girl he’s been crushing on for nearly two weeks now.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry says as Mark grasps his hand and shakes it lazily. Shit handshake, he thinks. “I would love to stay and chat but I’ve got some work to get to,” he says quickly after taking his hand out of Mark’s and backing away from the situation towards his own apartment.

Y/N opens her mouth, but the words don’t come out. She just watches as Harry turns on his heels and his posture hunches as he gets to his door and tries to unlock it quickly. Mark is suddenly pushing past Y/N, saying something but she’s too focused remembering the look on Harry’s face just moments ago. She steps back into her apartment and doesn’t look over to where Harry is shutting his own door before closing her own gently.

Really fucked this up didn’t you, Y/N? She thinks as she turns the lock on her door and listens to Mark complain about his day while flinging his belongings around her living room. What is she going to do? What is she going to say? If Harry ever talks to her again, that is. She sighs and closes her eyes before making her way towards where her boyfriend was lounging on her couch, giving him a small smile as he opened his arms for her to sit with him.

“I did miss you these past few weeks while I was away,” Mark says, planting a quick kiss to her hair as she leans into his body - praying he doesn’t question why her heart is beating so fast. She’s sure he wouldn’t enjoy knowing it’s because of her growing feelings for her new neighbour, and seeing the realization in Harry’s face at the fact she wasn’t single kind of hurt to see.

“Missed you too,” she mumbles, lying. Y/N hadn’t thought about her boyfriend all that much these past, almost, three weeks that he was away for a business trip.

“Do much without me?” Mark asks.

Y/N shakes her head, “no, not much at all,” her soft voice replies while she begins to zone out on the wall that was between her and Harry’s apartments, noticing how it made her feel more separated from him now more than ever. 

>> part two <<

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

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

[misslilli]

Hope you guys are not too busy with Fictober 😄 thank you, as always, for your amazing feedback!

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 26 - A Pivotal Peppermint Mocha

[ DS ]

He respects my wishes, of course he does, and I don’t see him before or after Thanksgiving break, except for a few glimpses from afar, across the school yard or at the farmer’s market. As time passes, each time I see him, it gets less and less painful and my funk begins to lift. My kids at school breathe a sigh of relief and my friends stop tiptoeing around me. The nights get easier, too, and I manage at least a few hours of shut-eye.

I just got home from school, a little earlier than usual and I can hear the girls chatting and laughing in the kitchen.

“…and then Squirrel rolled her eyes and said: ‘But Felix, that’s impossible, no-one can stuff 100 marshmallows into their mouth, not even your dad!’ I get such a kick out of this kid, he insisted over and over again that Moose could do it and he’ll prove it to her. You should’ve seen the exasperated look on Squirrel’s face!”

What the hell? That conversation is eerily familiar because I’ve just had it this morning at recess. Why the fuck are they referring to us as Moose and Squirrel?

They jump about a mile as I step into the kitchen, guilty looks plastered all over their faces. Sarah, who just told the story, starts to speak first. “Uuuh.. hey D, you’re home early…” My hands on my hips, I give them each a long, hard stare.

“Who. The Fuck. Are Moose and Squirrel?” They share a look I can’t decipher and Holly pulls out a chair.

“You better sit down for this, D.” I do as I’m told and glance around the table, waiting for someone to start explaining what’s going on.

Sarah and Holly both make it clear by silently staring at Alex, the calm one of our group, the one they trust can explain in a way I won’t kick their asses afterwards.

Alex folds her hands in front of her and takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’d like to preface this with stating that everything we did was done with love and because we care about you and your happiness.” ‘Oh goody, I can’t wait to see where this is going…’

“We’ve been talking about Moo- Mulder a lot at our Friday night dinners and we could tell that you liked him. When nothing happened and no-one made the first move, we thought we’d give fate little pushes in the right direction.” I stare at her, starting to panic.

“Oh God, what did you do? Is anyone else in on this thing? Is he in on this whole thing?”

“No, no, no-one knows except for us. And Miss Hannigan, but only because we needed her help with the costumes and we swore her to secrecy.” I snort, you can’t swear the town gossip to secrecy.

“So the Halloween costume was your doing? That we went to the town fair in a couple’s costume?” Alex nods. “What else?”

“Just little things, I swear. Remember when we were at the Farmer’s Market and we all had various errands to run? We saw Felix and Mulder were heading over, so we scattered to give you some alone time.” Which led to our first quasi-semi-let’s not call it a date-date, yes I remember.

“So what’s the Moose and Squirrel business then?”

“Well, since it was all a secret operation, we needed codenames. Sarah came up with a play on the first letters of your last names and we thought it was cute, especially since there’s such a big height difference between these characters too. This was how Operation: Bullwinkle was born. Of course, after the basketball fiasco, we called it off… are you mad, D?” I sit in silence for a while, taking in the things my friends came up with to set Mulder and I up.

They eye me anxiously, trying to gauge my reaction and if they should run for cover right about now.

“No, I’m not mad. It was actually a really clever secret operation and I’m kind of sad it didn’t work out the way we all wanted.” Holly lifts her shoulders, relieved that I understood that they didn’t mean to cause any harm.

“Never say never, D.”

—————

[ FM ]

My mom has taken Felix with her while she’s out grocery shopping, which gives me a good part of the afternoon to leave the house and roam the streets. A good way to clear my head. It’s the first week of December, but New England hasn’t been graced with snow yet, just a misty cold that seeps into your coat and straight through to your bones.

My hands are freezing because I forgot to take my gloves, so when the green logo of the local Starbucks catches my eye, I go in to warm up and get a cup of coffee.

Usually, I avoid this place like the plague, I don’t possess the fast decision making skills required to choose from the 999 combinations, just to have a cup of freakishly overpriced coffee.

I can barely get through the door, the place is jam packed and soon, I can smell why. Peppermint Mocha season starts today. The prospect of standing in line for hours almost makes me turn back, but something stops me from leaving.

Most of the people are holding a cup in their hands gleefully already, so I push my way through the crowd to where the line starts. When I reach it, I find myself dumbly staring at the back of a fiery head of hair, a shade I’d recognize anywhere in the world and in the most crowded places.

Shi-hit, does this break the ‘giving space’ rule? No, I’m just getting a cup of coffee on a cold winter day, no big deal. I don’t even have to talk to her. Yeah right, who am I kidding?

—————

[ DS ]

I’m way too excited about the start of Peppermint Mocha season, so here I am, in a place packed with people, patiently waiting in line to finally get my hands on that glorious to-go cup of Christmas Spirit.

I’m next in line when the person in front of me turns a little too quickly, making me take a step backwards to let them pass, bumping into the person standing behind. I mumble a “I’m sorry!” over my shoulder and freeze when I hear a familiar voice respond with an “Don’t worry about it.”

Counting to ten in my head before I turn my head, I come to face with a grinning Fox Mulder, who adds “Fancy bumping into you here!” His silly pun elicits the first genuine smile I’ve given in weeks.

“Technically, you didn’t bump into me, I bumped into you.”

He grins even wider and nudges my shoulder with his index finger. “There. So, I’m new in town, what’s good here?”

I order my Peppermint Mocha with sweet cream foam and an extra espresso shot while he pretends to gag, he orders his black coffee to my snort and the barista’s comment on what kind of first name ‘Mulder’ is. We move to stand at the end of the counter to wait for our coffees.

“Sometimes, I just want to tell them my name is Bob, just so I don’t have to explain Mulder or Fox to another barista.”

“Don’t ask me how many time’s I’ve been Donna, Danny or Dinara and one time, Daniel. I think they do it on purpose. At least yours is easy to spell, Eff - Oh - Ex.”

“Oh I bet you were a regular hit at the spelling bee, with those mad skills of yours!”

“I’m a woman of many talents, Bob.”

The barista calls out our names, ‘Peppermint Mocha for Daisy, black coffee for Mouldy’ and we reach out to accept our respective cups. Pushing out way to the crowd, we continue our conversation.

“Daisy? That's not even remotely close to my real name… but Mouldy is freaking priceless!” Her giggle at their slip up almost makes it worth it to have a shitty first name.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of the guy with the funny name. I kind of like Daisy, though, it’s a pretty name!”

I’m so happy to see that we turn to head in the same direction, strolling along the crowded sidewalk, sipping our coffee. I have to walk pretty fast to keep up with his long strides.

“It is, yeah! So tell me, Eff- Oh- Ex, how much flak did you have to take way back in the day, when “What does the Fox say?” came out?” I shudder at the memory.

“They didn’t tease me with it. Much. Just a lot of ring-ding-dingalinging. It became a thing in my friend group, whenever they asked me something, they’d add ‘So what does the Fox say?’. It went on a long time and they still do it sometimes, when we get together, just to drive me nuts!”

“I hope for your sake that Felix never discovers that song, he’d have a field day!” Oh God, she’s right. Must keep him away from it at all costs. At my panic face, she laughs an evil laugh. “We do listen to a lot of music at recess…”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t!” I point an icy finger at her. “Promise me you wouldn’t!”

“Well, it does have a lot of educational material in it, with all the animal sounds…”

“I’ll have you know that you hold my sanity in your hands, handle with care!”

“I hear they have a lot of fun pills at the asylum, maybe I’ll come visit so you can sneak me some!”

We come to stand at the junction where we have to part ways and she raises her cup.

“Have a good day, Mouldy!”

“You too, Daisy!”

—————

[ DS ]

I think about the strange but fun encounter all the way home, the world didn’t end like I thought it would when we met again and it was a rather pleasant conversation. Like a conversation between long-time friends, even though friendship is not exactly what I’m looking for here. But it’ll have to do, for now. It’s just nice to talk to him again.

[tuanhood]

theta

pairing: frat!bambam x reader

genre: smut

warnings: 18+, language, cringey frat stuff, fingering

word count: 4,400+ 

summary: you haven’t been doing so well in stats, so your tutor - the last person you thought would be teaching you something - recommends giving you an incentive. 

a/n: hi guys! i’m a little late... but it’s kinda technically still the weekend? ngl this definitely isn’t my best work and I’m sorry for that because I feel like I’ve been lacking a little bit lately! but i promise that i have a few things in the works that will hopefully be better! but nonetheless enjoY! 

lambda | alpha | delta | gamma | kappa | sigma

“Okay so in a college class, the average IQ is 115. Assuming that the distribution is normal and that the standard deviation is 15. What percentage of the class has an IQ between 105 and 130?” 

You felt like you were going to die. 

When you were a little girl, you’d fantasize about all the fun and cool things you’d be able to do in college. Stay up late, hang out with your friends all the time, eat whatever you wanted, and take the classes that would help you become the best-selling author you aspired to be. 

In all of those daydreams and fantasies, you never pictured yourself in practical agony studying for a statistics class that you never wanted to take in the first place. You were more of an English and critical analysis girl, definitely not a science and math girl. Especially not stats. 

You told yourself probably a hundred times throughout the quarter that you could make it through. That you could maybe actually do this, but sometime between weeks three and four you got completely lost and when you received your midterm grade back, you knew you had to ask for help. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you exhaled in frustration as you practically slammed your head down onto the table in front of you. 

There’s a pause before Bambam lets out a sigh of his own, “let’s come back to that one later then.” 

This was how most of your sessions with Bambam went. He’d read the questions out loud to you as if was going to help, hope that you’d be able to solve it – which you typically wouldn’t – and then you’d give up in frustration. Then you’d call it a day. 

That was another thing. Another thing that made this whole tutoring thing even worse – you were being tutored by Bambam. As in Bambam of Theta Chi.

As dumb as you felt saying it, but you felt even more pathetic for having to be so terrible at stats that you have to be tutored by a frat boy. Sure he came highly recommended by the people at your school that put together and pair people off for the tutoring sessions, but it didn’t get rid of the pain you felt when you had to tell your friends who exactly was helping you pass stats. Or… at least trying to help. 

“Okay, so what is the probability of rolling snake eyes using two fair dice?”

Maybe you were being shallow, but even his voice screamed frat guy and not the master of statistics who is now teaching his peers. You don’t know why but it aggravated you. Traditionally he wasn’t supposed to be good at these kinds of things, someone like you was. It didn’t make sense. 

You groaned, your head still on the table, muffled by the surface, “I don’t know? 1/36?” 

At your answer, you could feel Bambam straighten up beside you. You had to admit the boy was a trooper for being willing to meet you at your apartment today instead of your usual spot in the library or at Starbucks. You just couldn’t be bothered to make the trek to campus, if you were going to have another agonizing day of probability, deviation, and whatever – it was going to be from the comfort of your living room floor. 

“Correct! See Y/N you’re not a lost cause.”

Bringing your head up from the coffee table, you grimace at him, “I never said I was a lost cause.” 

His cheeks turned a shade of light pink, clearly embarrassed by his statement, but being the cool and easygoing frat guy, he is – he covers it up, “I know. Dude, I’m just saying, chill.” Leave it to Bambam to cover up any real emotions. 

Even though it was frustrating that you were being tutored by a guy in Theta Chi and you felt lame whenever you admitted to anyone, it didn’t necessarily mean that you had anything against Bambam. Before he had started tutoring you, the encounters you had with Bambam were fine – certainly not an “oh my god you are so freaking annoying” situation. They were minimal of course, just a hello or a how are you at various school events or parties. You didn’t hate him, which was why at the beginning between the studying you had tried to talk to him and get to know him. But he never said anything real or authentic – it always felt like he was putting on some kind of ultra-frat boy act for you. Whenever you asked questions about him, things he liked to do, what he was studying or his family he would simply shy away from it and talk about Theta Chi. You didn’t get it. 

“Bambam is so freaking deep. I had a two-hour drunk conversation with him at Theta Chi’s party last weekend and my mind has been opened.” Your friend had told you when you told her about him tutoring you. 

So what? Did he have to be drunk to want to talk to you about something other than probability? Or was it just that he didn’t want to talk to you? You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it bothered you a little too much for some unexplainable reason.

“I am chill,” you confirmed with him – a bit too bitterly. You couldn’t tell if your annoyance came from the ongoing frustration of not understanding stats regardless of how many times you’ve met with Bambam or the fact that he was constantly shying away from you two actually getting to know each other. 

“Well…” he began suddenly, swallowing almost nervously, “what if we work on a rewards-based system?” 

You scoffed at him, “what am I? A child?” 

“Do you want me to answer that? Listen… all I’m saying is that rewards or a prize can be a good motivator sometimes. It definitely can’t hurt the studying process.” 

There was a part of you that felt annoyed at Bambam for thinking that the only way that you were going to understand any of this was through some kind of incentive. An incentive that had nothing to do with your overall goal which was to not fail the class. However, you had to admit you were curious as to what Bambam could bring to the table when it came to “rewards,” so you decided to play along – for now.

“What kind of motivators are we talking about?” 

For a second you swear you see Bambam fidget nervously in his seat, but it happens so quickly, you’re sure it must be your brain playing a trick on you, “I don’t know… I’m literally the co-social chair of Theta Chi so I pretty much can get you whatever you want. Booze, drugs… sex.” 

At his last “category” for rewards, your interest is peeked, but not in a weird or perverted way – you swear, “what the social chair orchestrates and plans sexual encounters now?” 

He laughed and shakes his head, “definitely not. I’m just saying… If there was anyone you were interested in at Theta Chi… I could probably set it up for you. I mean you’re definitely not bad looking so I don’t think it would be difficult.” 

You were half pleased by Bambam’s compliment and intrigued that by the fact that it seemed like perhaps his “non-tutoring” personality was emerging from the surface. It caused you to push more regarding his “reward” if it meant that you could see more of it, “So what? I solve the next equation and I get to fuck Im Jaebeom? Is that how this works?” 

He clicked his tongue, “Jaebeom, huh? Wouldn’t have thought he would be your type.”

For some reason, you suddenly felt a wave of nervousness rush through your body and you feel defensive as though you have to explain yourself for some reason, “No- I mean it was just an example.” 

Bambam nodded his slowly and looked away from you for the first time since he brought up the incentive thing. His focus goes back to the textbook in front of both of you, “It’s okay if he is. Jaebeom’s a chill guy.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, for a moment there you almost got a hint of something from him. You weren’t quite sure as to what, but it almost felt like he was… jealous? But then he has to cower away and go back to stats… That was technically why he was sitting in your living room, but right now this seemed like the least important thing going on.

“What is it with you and chill? Does everything need to be chill? Why can’t you just be… normal?” 

He laughed at your query, “What if being chill is normal for some people?”  

You grabbed the pencil in front of you and tapped it on the table rhythmically in thought, “Chill people aren’t masters at stats. That’s just a fact.” 

Bambam’s face goes into fake shock, “really? Damn well, I guess that’s why you haven’t learned anything the last month that we’ve been doing this.”

It’s obvious that it was meant as a playful dig, to tease you, but Bambam feels his heart race when you simply frown in response instead of laugh. It was clear that he had gone too far. This was the thing he had been most worried about this entire time he had been tutoring you. 

He had heard from one of his brothers in Theta who knew a friend of yours that you felt embarrassed by being tutored by a frat guy – by him. Hearing that certainly didn’t make him feel good, but he tried his best to help you the last month or so. He didn’t want to do or say anything that could allude to “frat guy” behavior – so most of the time he tried to keep conversations statistics related. Part of him felt like it was because he was offended by your embarrassment, but another part of him felt like it was maybe because he wanted to impress you. He wanted to prove that he wasn’t the typical frat guy because you probably didn’t like that. 

But he had to admit… in certain ways, he was the typical frat guy and restricting that part of himself meant restricting segments of his personality. The teasing – that was apart of it. 

“Shit – y/n I’m sorry I didn’t actually mean it. I meant it more like-”

At his quick and panicked response, you burst out into a fit of giggles, “dude I can be chill too. I was just fucking with you. Now come on… let’s keep working, I want my prize.” 

Bambam lets out a sigh in relief. Maybe he had misjudged you, “so you do want a reward?” 

“Of course, I want a reward.”

He licked his lips in thought and you have to admit it’s hard not to stare, “okay what should we start with?” 

You began to tap the pencil on your chin instead of the table, thinking about what exactly it was you wanted. When you finally have your grand prize in mind, you figure it’s better to start small. 

“I don’t want to be charged cover at any future Theta Chi parties.” 

He looked at you with surprise written on his face, “you go to our parties?” 

You rolled your eyes at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, he can’t help but admire how cute you look when you do it, “of course. They’re the biggest parties on campus… why wouldn’t I go?” 

Bambam shrugged, “I just didn’t think you liked frat stuff…” drifting off he looks to see the confusion written on your face and he doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he feels the need to keep talking, “Unless it’s for Jaebeom.” Immediately he wants to punch himself in the face for his continual teasing.

You thought it was funny how he was stuck on the Jaebeom thing. You had just said his name as an example – something you already explained to Bambam – but for some reason, it seemed to bother him. Bambam was more your type than Jaebeom, but it would have been weird if you had brought him up as an example.

“What was that?” 

His voice causes your body to jolt up in surprise. Had he heard you? No way.

“Y/N what did you just say?” Bambam asked once again.

The second question regarding what you had just said sends you into a frenzy, considering he was the last person who had just said something based on your recollection. Therefore… he fucking heard you. 

“Did I say that out loud?” You asked embarrassed and judging on the look on Bambam’s face – you have your answer. 

You felt your mouth go dry, “I- shit… Bam I didn’t mean- Well I mean I did, but- Fuck I-” you cut off your stuttering with nervous laughter and you feel more awkward than you’ve probably ever felt in your adult life. 

Rather than saying anything, Bambam looks at you curiously. A hint of a smile appears on his face but soon disappears as if he’s thought of an idea or just something. Hopefully, an idea to get me out of this, you think to yourself. Instead, he scoots closer next to you on the floor and for a moment you have to remind yourself to exhale. 

“Instead of the cover as your reward… What about…” he begins, placing his right hand onto your thigh, “this? Is this okay?” If you had to keep your breathing in check just when he moved closer to you, then you felt like you were going to need to be resuscitated now. 

Rather than verbally answering, you nodded your head, afraid to open your mouth in case the wrong thing came out.

Keeping his hand placed firmly on your thigh, he asked you the next question, “Suppose X and Y are independent random variables. The variance of X is equal to 16; and the variance of Y is equal to 9. Let Z = X – Y. What is the standard deviation of Z?” 

It’s becoming harder to concentrate. All you can focus on is the placement of his hand on your thigh and when you don’t answer right away, he begins to move it up and down your leg. 

“Come on, I know you can do this one,” he said softly. 

You couldn’t believe that your tutoring session was now taking a sharp turn – a turn that you had to admit you were now craving – but Bambam was still expecting you to be focused enough to answer questions. You weren’t able to typically do it even when you didn’t have his hand on you. 

It’s almost as though you’re on autopilot as you put your pencil to paper and work out the problem. The only thing on your mind is the curiosity of what his next move will be if you answer him correctly. 

“5?” 

He gives you your answer by drifting his hand up your thigh until it sits at the top of your thigh, dangerously close to your core. You wonder if he can tell how damp you’ve become, even with the sweatpants you’re wearing. It was probably evident just by looking at your face. 

“A coin is tossed three times. What’s the probability that it lands on heads exactly one time?” 

This was becoming frustrating. How the fuck were you getting turned on by him asking you stats questions? You felt like your brain was about to explode with how completely mixed up it felt. The cause of your stress for the entire quarter was now the cause of you being turned on? Your mind was currently rewiring itself.

For this question, it takes you some time to focus enough to work it out and calculate. Bambam who is usually patient with you when you struggle, has instead been replaced with a much more impatient version of himself as he slips his hand up to the waistband of your sweatpants, delicately playing with the top to tease you, you suddenly wished you would have worn better underwear for what’s about to happen. If you could answer the question that is. 

Just as you feel as though you’ve come to the end of the problem, you feel him dip a single finger underneath the top of the band, rubbing it softly against your stomach. It causes your hand to slip up on the paper, drawing a line right through your problem. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked innocently, completely aware of what he was doing to you, “do you need help?” 

You shook your head in response, unable to say anything. It was becoming more and more difficult to even get your hand to move fluidly on the paper. It was instead starting to get more jagged. Your fives were beginning to look more like threes. When you’ve finally solved the problem, you find yourself pointing at the paper for Bambam to look at your answer. He laughed. 

“Correct again. You’re doing so well,” he murmured as he finally dips his hand beneath the band of your sweatpants and down to your panties. You sucked a deep breath in, waiting in anticipation for his next actions, feeling him so much closer to where you need him the most, but instead, his hand just rests there, over the material. 

Letting a very out of character whine escape your lips causes him to chuckle. “Do you think you can have your reward that fast? No, no,” he tutted, “you have to finish answering all the questions like a good girl.” 

You try so hard to remember the next question he asks, but he soon begins gently rubbing you through your panties and it makes you want to kill him for playing so dirty. How were you able to solve any problems when it felt like an actual ocean was forming in your underwear? You knew Bambam could feel it too with the way his gaze on you got even darker, one of his fingers wandering to the side of your panties, playing with the hem but not daring to slip underneath. 

What the fuck was the question? 

“Having trouble angel?” 

He doesn’t give you time to answer – even if he did you weren’t sure you’d be able to provide him with one – instead, he slips his hand underneath your panties until his fingers find your entrance, slowly stroking up and down. You let out a moan when he’s left his index finger on your clit, rubbing small circles around the bundle of nerves. 

“It can’t be that hard to remember a simple question. Is something distracting you?”

Another sigh of pleasure is released from you when he presses down a bit to place more pressure on your clit, “I’ll ask you one more time. You have to remember this time or you lose your reward, okay? Are you listening?” 

Nodding your head, he smiled, “The standard normal curve is symmetric about 0 and the total area under it is 1. True or False?” 

Bambam himself was losing his patience, he so badly wanted to bring you to your release and see how tight you get around his fingers, how much you ask him for it. He had to admit that wasn’t the original question he had asked you, but at this rate, he just wanted to ask you the easier questions so both of you could get what you wanted. 

“T-True?” You managed to stutter out.

“Doing so well for me,” he whispered into your ear at your response. The teasing had been so achingly painful that when he finally fully inserts his pointer finger you feel like a kid on Christmas. You feel as though you can finally let out the breath you had been holding in since he started the taunting. 

The pace he starts with is clearly another method to get you worked up – which you certainly are – but you also felt thankful that at least it was something compared to the nothing you were getting from him previously. When he curls his finger, hitting you in the spot that drives you crazy, you felt your body instinctively jerk forward in surprise. He had found it so fast and with such ease, you wondered if the two of you had down this before in another life.  

“Bam, I-” you begin, but as his thumb draws circles over your clit, you ultimately lose your train of thought and fall even closer into him, until your head is resting on his shoulder.

“There’s one more question left… Do you think you can handle it?” 

The whimper you let out sounds borderline inhumane and in any other situation you would be frustrated with yourself for giving in so quickly, but right now you didn’t care. All you needed was him to keep going – to really give you your reward. The noise is enough for him to dive into the last question and you feel like you’re gonna pass out at the way he begins to rhythmically tap your clit, his finger now going stagnant.

His eyes drift down to the textbook on the table, gazing through which questions on the page are still viable to be asked. After a moment he locks eyes with you, the tapping still consistent. 

For a moment he looks shy and despite his previous teasing, you feel your heart leap out of your chest in deep want and longing. It’s a weird feeling you have to admit, but somehow it feels just right. 

“What’s the probability of you going out on a date with me after this?” Bambam blushed when he asked you his query and for some reason, he feels so small being in front of you – asking this – despite his current position with his hand in between your legs. 

You, on the other hand, have no trouble answering this final question. The question that’ll get you your reward and perhaps something else entirely. 

“Without a doubt, 100% chance.” 

The smile that emerged on his face is so big, you take a picture of it in your mind, wanting to keep it safe and bottle it up to view later, a hundred times over. 

He slipped in another finger, watching your face as it contorts into even more pleasure, “there we go.” 

You felt a groan arise in your throat as soon as he began to pick up the original pace of his sole finger. With both of them curling and pumping in and out of you, you felt even more overwhelmed than before. Bambam smirked, taking in your tightly shut eyes, “Good?” Opening your eyes, you felt your climax right around the corner, only able to moan his name in response to his question. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured, leaning in to place his lips on your own.

Somehow, the pace of his fingers only increased, practically fucking into you over and over, hitting your g-spot each time. Even though you were sat on the floor, already mostly leaning onto Bambam for support, you still felt as though you could melt into the floor. With a final few pumps that hit your sweet spot and his thumb still massaging your clit, you feel your walls tighten around his fingers. “That’s it, good girl,” he said against your lips.  

Soon you fall apart, feeling as though there’s no breath left in your body, your body falling practically limp at your release around Bambam’s fingers. He takes a moment to slip his hand out from between your legs and you don’t ignore the feeling you get in your core again when he slowly places his fingers in his mouth. 

You groaned, feeling like you were practically in a sedative state at how relaxed your release made you feel, “do you have to do that?” 

Bambam narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “what do you mean?” 

“Be so damn seductive.” 

The two of you look at each other before bursting into laughter at your very serious confession. After a moment when it’s silent you look down at your lap to realize that somewhere during your encounter with Bambam, your sweatpants managed to slip down to the bottom of your thighs. 

“I should probably go get cleaned up…” 

Bambam coughed awkwardly and turned to his things on the coffee table, “yeah… I guess I should probably just get my stuff together too and get out of your hair.” 

Get out of your hair? Who the fuck says that Bam? He asked himself. 

You looked at him with confusion, “I thought you were taking me out? Remember? 100% chance? I mean… unless you didn’t mean it…” 

His eyes went big, “No!” he exclaimed, “I definitely meant it! I just didn’t know if maybe you said it in the moment and- Or I don’t maybe you did mean it- but also if you didn’t that’s cool. Just so you know I would have still given you your- uh reward if you had said no- Sorry I’m rambling. I ramble when I get nervous.” 

When he stops talking, he instantly avoids your gaze. This was the Bambam you wanted to see. This display of authenticity made you feel as though the curtain had finally been drawn. 

“I said it because it was true. The likeliness was 100%. Give me like 15 minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” just as you’re about to head to the stairs, you stop yourself and remember why the two of you were even here in the first place, “shit stats…” 

Instantly, Bambam shakes his head, “if you think we’re going to go back to probability, standard deviation, and bullshit right now after what just happened you are very mistaken. We’ve done enough… work for today.” 

Smiling, you nodded your head in confirmation and begin to go up the stairs to your room. Considering something, you find yourself stopping on the third stop, turning towards the living room where Bambam looks up at you with his head cocked to the side. 

“You picked easier questions towards the end on purpose, didn’t you?” 

He let out a laugh and grinned – another smile that you decided to file away in your memories, something that you figured might soon become a regular part of your life. 

“Let’s just say that I wanted to give you your reward as much as you wanted to have it.”

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Leonard ‘Lenny’ Cullman *Supporting character

Voice Claim: (Nathan Fillion) https://youtu.be/XNnsKEyvZhE?t=11

Partner(s): Married to Katherine Cullman Parents: No longer living Siblings: None. Kids: Andy Cullman Age: 57 (2021) Height: 188cm (6.1ft) Body type: Medium. Eye color: Goldenbrown. Classification: Human. Immortal.

About: Intelligent, Balanced, Friendly, Social, Charismatic, Charming, Cheeky,  Caring, Open minded, Adaptable, Practical, Calm, Neat, Warm, Playful, Flirtatious, Resourceful, Confident, Logical, Helpful, Considerate, Cheerful, Reliable, Patient, Honest, Fair and Organized. ~ Sexuality straight. ~ Retired salesman. ~ Has brown hair with silver streaks. ~ Plays golf. ~ Very protective of Andy. ~ Likes a bit of luxury. ~ Is a pretty good dancer. ~ Gets along with pretty much anyone he comes across. ~ Very good cook. ~ Is very close to his older brother, George. ~ Very young for his age. ~ Is a bit of a clean freak, and often starts cleaning stuff when he’s bored. ~ Most people call him Lenny, he even introduce himself as Lenny 98% of the time. ~ Enjoys taking long walks in nature. ~ Drinks a lot of wine. ~ Dislikes Starbucks. ~ Dad jokes on max. ~ Likes longing around his living room or garden, reading News Paper or books. ~ Smells like: Sweet tobacco or warm earthy tones. ~ Died together with his wife years ago, under mysterious circumstances, was brought back to life in 2014, now lives as an immortal human. ~ Values family highly and loves inviting family and friends over for food. ~ Proud dad. ~ Smokes a cigar here and there. ~ 11/10 will flip the mattress if there’s crumbs in the bed! ~ Is overall a very warm person. ~ Always ready with a shoulder to lean on. ~ Great support if you want to get a little tipsy. ~ Almost always smiling. ~ Great listener. ~ As soon as the sun is out, you can find him grilling meat in the garden! ~ Loves: Andy, his wife, his family and friends, cooking, cherry wine, eggs - no matter how they are cooked, French toast, reading, home-baked bread, teasing his son, jacuzzi time, cleaning, bits of luxury, partying, Smokie (the band) Roy Orbison, Cognac, bonfires, going out for dinner and quiet mornings. ~ His style is on the casual formal side. ~ If you need a compliment, Katherine is your go-to person!

Biography: (Coming soon) Lenny’s tag Lenny’s house/home Lenny’s moodboard Handwriting/ask answer pic:

One gif to describe him:

One song to describe him: Smokie - Lay Back in the Arms of Someone Personal Playlist: 1. Smokie - If You Think You Know How to Love Me 2. Roy Orbison - You Got It 3. Marvin Gaye - Let's Get It On 4. The Temptations - My Girl 5. Smokie - Don't Play Your Rock 'n' Roll to Me 6. Bill Withers - Ain't No Sunshine 7. Roy Orbison - In The Real World 8. Gloria Estefan - Conga 9. Stevie Wonder - Superstition 10. Smokie - I'll Meet You at Midnight 11. Roy Orbison - Oh, Pretty Woman 12. Lionel Richie - All Night Long (All Night) 13. Abba - Knowing Me, Knowing You 14. Smokie - Needles And Pins 15. Roy Orbison - A Love so Beautiful 16. Eurythmics - There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart) 17. The Beach Boys - Kokomo 18. Billy Paul - Me And Mrs. Jones 19. Roy Orbison - In Dreams 20. Smokie - Wild Wild Angels

[giorno-plays-piano]

Playing games Pairing: dark!Sebastian Stan x Reader Warning: yandere, swearing, some non-con implications towards the end. Words: 2069. P.S. JESUS CHRIST WHAT HAVE I DONE I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON I HOPE NO ONE WHO REALLY MET SEBASTIAN GONNA READ THIS ghjdfyjdfds I’m so sorry guys _____________________________________ “I asked for a vanilla latte with extra milk, not caramel cappuccino.”

You rolled your eyes at his irritated remark. You knew Sebastian wasn’t in his best mood this morning and expected him to make your day nastier just because he felt like it.

“Sorry, but I’m sure it was caramel cappuccino. You asked for some cinnamon on the top, remember?”

“No, I didn’t.” He snarled and looked at you, giving a mocha frappe to Jill, his hair artist. “I asked for a vanilla latte. If you suffer from memory loss, you’d better visit your doctor once we get back to US.”

What an asshole. Mary, who was now applying some makeup on Sebastian’s face with her beauty blenders and brushes, bit down on her lip: she had been watching how he treated you for the last 3 weeks, and it was a living nightmare. It was very odd since Sebastian was on good terms with pretty much everyone around, but you were always an exception. Why? Neither Mary nor Jill could tell. There was nothing revolting in the way you behaved around Mr. Stan, simply doing your job as his assistant. You were getting him coffee every morning, buying some personal stuff for him, managing his meetings… but you were more an errand girl, that’s true. It was surprising for most of the other people surrounding you two, but you didn’t object to your tasks. You were furious because of the way Sebastian treated you.

He was mean, unfair, irritating, and rude. You didn’t deserve it.

“Well, my voice recorder tells I got everything right.” You pulled it from the pocket of your below-knee sheath skirt, ready to press the button.

“What the fuck is that?” The man rose to his feet immediately, almost pushing frozen Mary out of his way and stepping towards you. “How many times do I have to tell you? NO. FUCKING. RECORDERS.”

He was ready to snatch it from your hands, yet you were able dodge him right on time, hiding the recorder in your pocket again.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, I’ll put it away!” In a second you were behind Jill’s tall figure as if you were a child hiding from a bad-tempered parent, Sebastian watching you with anger in his cold blue eyes. “I’m not going to use it. But it’s still true, you asked for caramel cappuccino.”

“Guess what? I don’t fucking care.” He growled in a low voice. “You’ll go and get me vanilla latte because it’s your goddamn job. And I want my coffee before Jill’s finished with my hair, understood?”

Watching his with clear disdain on your face, you cursed under your breath. It was freaking hot in Prague where Sebastian was filming now and getting out the second time just to run to Starbucks once more would sure ruin both your makeup and a white blouse you had been wearing. Damn it.

“God, why do you have to be such a bastard most of the time?” You snapped at him, visibly shaking with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you a closet psycho or what?”

“I’m the one who pays you, honey.” He smiled at you the same way he always did it in front of the camera and you felt sick.

You stormed off the room without having a glance back at his perfect white teeth. Sebastian Stan was the worst person you had ever met, and you were working for him, seeing him every day and listening to his orders as if you were his pet. How did it come to this? Why did he look like the most perfect human being to you six months ago? What made him behave like that to you when in reality it was him who offered you a job?

God, it was all messed up. You did not remember when things got so bad you could yell at each other in a full voice. It was actually surprising, someone like you shouting and swearing at one of the world’s most famous actors, but it was something Sebastian let you do. Like he wanted you to scream at him regardless who surrounded you whether it was his makeup artists, agents, cleaning ladies or anyone else. It was like he got off on it.

True, this job payed well, much better than the one you had before. Moreover, in these 6 months you saw more countries than you did in your entire life, travelling with Sebastian everywhere and meeting tons of new people, many of them being great professionals. It was inspiring; it made you dream of all the things you thought were impossible; it made you curious and gave you a chance to practice your networking skills.

But Sebastian was fucking blowing it. After six months of constant everyday battles filled with rage and pure hatred you had gained weight, 10 pounds to be precise. Now you were having problems to sleep, and you knew it wasn’t the jet lag.

Anyway, you spent the whole day running around the city to buy him this or that. In the evening you were so tired you could barely move your legs while Sebastian was clearly pleased seeing you like that. It probably stroked his enormous ego.

Fuck it. You didn’t deserve a minute of it. You were not going to let him ruin you for fun, just because he could it since he payed you. Why did you spend you precious time trying to please him? Sure, you still considered him one of the best actors on the planet, but the things he did to you were not ok. He wasn’t ok. Maybe he really was a psycho or had some disorder he didn’t want to treat, you had no idea. But you knew it couldn’t continue like that. It was too much.

You spent an hour writing an email and asking to be laid off. It was just a few lines, simple and professional, yet you were constantly adding and then erasing new sentences. You shouldn’t make it personal, you thought to yourself. You doubted you could leave on agreeable terms, but you needed to give it a try. Even if your last argument with Mr. Stan might be the worst of them all, it would be your last one. It was worth it.

Sighing, you decided to take a stroll before going to bed. 15 minutes wouldn’t hurt, right? You’d have some fresh air and enjoy the view of Prague’s Powder Gate – you were lucky to stay right in the center of this magnificent old city. You could make some more photos to show your friends once you return back home. It was also nice to just sit on a bench and look at the night sky full of stars.

Maybe then you wouldn’t feel so guilty for leaving Sebastian and your team.

In the end, it took you way more that 15 minutes, but your late-night walk made your thoughts clear and left no regrets about your choice. What was happening between you and Sebastian wasn’t right, and you could do nothing but leave. With so many people wishing to work for him he would get another assistant in a matter of hours, and you would get your life back. Those money you earned would keep you afloat quiet some time even if you wouldn’t be able to get a job right away.

“What is this, Y/N?”

His voice almost made you jump. Sebastian stood up from the chair in the corner of your room once you put on the lights. What the Hell was he doing here so late? How did he open the door? If he needed anything, he could simply give you a call.

Oh. You saw your little black recorder in his hand.

“I told you I won’t use it anymore.” Your jaw clenched.

“I’m not talking about this piece of shit.”

He tossed your recorder on your bed as if he couldn’t care less and moved towards you so fast you had no time to step back.

“What is this pathetic email you wrote?” Sebastian’s handsome face darkened. “Are you not right in the head? You want to leave?”

“Yes, I do. What’s wrong with that?” Your expression hardened. He dared to touch your laptop when you weren’t there. “I thought you’d be glad to know. Today you told me three times I didn’t deserve working for you, correct?”

“You know perfectly well I wasn’t serious.”

“God, I have a hard time telling when you’re serious since all you do is hating me.”

He sent you an icy glare.

“You know I don’t hate you. You just happen to bring the worst in me, dear.”

There he was again. God, were you going to have this argument right now when you were deadly tired? You hoped it could wait till tomorrow, but it was clearly not your luckiest day.

“If you want to blame me again, it’s ok. I’m the worst one. I’m a bad person and a terrible assistant.” You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed again, scratching your forehead. “I get it. What I don’t get is why you aren’t happy I’m leaving.”

“Because I don’t want you to leave. If I really hated you so much, I’d already found another assistant, but I don’t want that.”

“Listen, let’s stop playing our games just for a few minutes.” This conversation made you feel even more exhausted. “We don’t get along. You don’t like me. Why do we torment each other? I don’t even remember the last time we had a regular conversation without shouting and cursing.”

“I’m not playing games with you, dear. You do.” He had already cornered you, his face determined and somewhat unsettling. “What do you want? A raise? More benefits?”

You were ready to yell at him again.

“Did you listen to what I just said? I want to leave. I want to come home and forget about all our horrible fights. I want to have a steady and boring job back in US. Do you understand?”

“NO, I DON’T!” The man screamed at you again, and now you suddenly felt his arms clenching your shoulders painfully and winced from his touch. “I already told you to stop toying with me! After all this shameless flirting and batting your eyes you wanna tell me you’re leaving? Do you think I’m so stupid to believe in this bullshit?”

It took you a few seconds to process his words. What? Flirting? Well, you did consider him handsome and charming, who on Earth didn’t, but you had never pulled anything like that. At first, it was because of your professionalism, and then your relationships escalated so fast you knew that he hated you and you hated him. What Sebastian had been even talking about?

You felt very aware how close he was once you felt his heavy breath on your face. He never did this before.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I want to leave. That’s all.” You tried pushing him back with your hands against his chest. “Please, let me go. I need to… t-to go to the kitchen.”

“You’re going nowhere, dear.” His expression darkened. “Tell me the truth. You don’t want me to treat you like my assistant? I get it, I get it, it’s fine. I can treat you like my girl in front of everyone if that’s what you want.”

“No! I – “

His put his hand on your mouth immediately, leaning in closer.

“It’s ok, I understand. I grew tired of pretending like nothing happens between us, too. You want me to let everyone now? It’s ok. I’ll post our photo on Instagram tomorrow. Is this what you want? Is this what you want?”

You tried to scream, but his grip on you was too strong as if Sebastian was really some kind of super soldier. Desperately trying to wriggle free you only got him to hold you tighter, his soft lips all over your face already wet with tears.

“It’s ok, dear. I got it.” He shushed you, trying to keep your arms together with his hand and pushing his knee in between your legs. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I understand now, so you don’t have to go. You won’t go, will you?”

You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to.

[icerats]

Warnings: Fear of death

Part One

100 G/T Prompts masterlist

Borrowers, Trauma, & Pasta: Chapter 2

(16. Trust)

Will watched as the two siblings stared at him with a mixture of fear in confusion. They didn't say anything, just eyed him warily. That was okay, it wasn't like he wasn't used to having one sided conversations. Being a social reject came in handy sometimes. 

"I thought you guys might be hungry." Will said, pointing at the noodle on the 'plate'. "Though I didn't know I had another guest here. I'll get a plate for you too. What was your name? El was it?"

"Don't call her that." The male one said, his eyes glaring through his black matted hair. 

"Ian! Do you want to piss him off?!" she hissed back at him.

The girl looked up at Will in fear, as if she was expecting some sort of negative reaction. Guilt tore at him for being her source of it.  

Will gave him a reassuring smile. "It's alright. What should I call you then?"

"None of your business!" The one called 'Ian' said before the girl could say a word. 

"Okay, fine mr. 'none of your business', do you guys want some pasta?"

Ian narrowed his eyes at him. "What game are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?" Will asked in confusion. 

"I know you giants aren't kind. Why are you giving us food? Did you poison it!?"

"God no!" Will snapped. Both borrowers flinched at his loud tone. "Sorry," he muttered, quieter now, "Listen, is it really that hard to believe that I don't want to harm you? I'm not a psychopath, okay? I'm not just going to harm some people for being smaller than me."

That didn't seem to convince Ian, but the blonde one seemed to be considering his. words.

"R-Really?" she asked in disbelief. "You a-aren't go-going to har-harm us?"

Her brother shot a glare in her direction. "Really El? Don't be naive. I know you are sick and haven't eaten in days so you must not be thinking clearly, but you can't trust him. Don't make the same mistake our parents did."

"Wait.. you haven't eaten in days!?" Will looked at the small girl with concern. She didn't look well at all. She was as scrawny as her brother and looked just as underweight and malnourished. Her unkept stringy hair clung to her forehead, which was slick with sweat. The young girl was unnaturally pale, except for her red nose and bloodshot eyes. Was she sick?

The young girl sneezed and looked up at him warily. "Y-Yeah."

Will pushed the 'plate' closer to the girl. "Please eat."

She looked at the noodle hungrily. 

"El," her brother warned. "Don't eat that."

She glanced back and forth between Ian and the noodle, seemingly unable to decide. 

"It's alright," Will tried to reassure her. "You can eat it."

"El, no! Don't even consider it!"

Will sighed in frustration. This wasn't going anywhere.

Both of the borrowers flinched. 

"Sorry." Will muttered, he had the feeling he would be saying that word a lot. "Is there any way I can prove it's not poisoned?"

Ian looked up at him, eyes filled with a mixture of fear and distrust. "No."

Will wanted to slam his head into the counter. This was getting nowhere. "What if I eat it? Then will you believe it's not poisoned?"

Ian scoffed. "Of course not! It's obvious that you put just enough poison in the food to hurt us but not you. It would take a lot more to harm you, wouldn't it!?"

This was it. The paranoia wafting from this dude had already taken too much of Will's sanity. "Okay fine. I give up. You don't have to eat it if you don't want too. Clearly I'm just scaring you. I'll leave. You guys can go, just please don't hurt yourself."

And with that Will left the room, calling Olivia on his way out.

~

Ian was dumbfounded. Never in his life did he expect a giant to just give up. When he flat out refused to eat that poisoned food, he expected the giant to yell and scream, maybe turn Ian into a red stain on the countertop. The last thing he was expecting was this.

No way did that giant just give up. He HAD to be planning something. Had to have some sort of ulterior motive. But what could it be? Wait.. didn't the giant call someone on the way out? Shit! He called someone on the way out! Pest control! The fucker called pest control to kill him!

"Ian, are you alright?" his sister started rambling to him, "Why aren't you saying anything? Are you mad at me? I'm sorry I talked to the giant, okay? I-I just didn't want you to get hu-"

"Elissa! We have to get out of here now!"

"Why? Because we were seen? He honestly didn't seem that bad-"

"El! Don't be stupid, that giant was trying to trick us and you fell for it! He just called pest control! We need to leave, NOW!"

Elisa's face turned white as a sheet. "P-Pest control?"

Ian grabbed her arm, "Come on, let's go!"

Elissa didn't. Instead she started violently coughing. "I-I ca-can't. It already took too much e-energy walk over here. J-Just go without m-me."

"No! I won't leave you! I'll carry you if I have too!"

Elissa frowned softly, looking seconds away from passing out. "We both know you are too weak to carry me. Just go, mom wouldn't want us both dead."

"No!" Ian summoned all the strength he had, and carried her. Even in his weakened state, she felt surprisingly light. Too light. They had to get food the second they got out of here. Ian glanced back at the door one more time, and then ran.

~

Olivia tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. Ian was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.

"Is there anything I can get you?" The barista asked for the third time.

"No. Just waiting for a friend."

"Well if you're going to sit at a table, you'll need to order something." Olivia swore her tone just got colder. Impatient bitch, wasn't it a barista's job to be nice?

"Ugh fine, gimme a venti vanilla bean créme frappe."

"And what would you like to get for your friend?"

"I'm not paying for him."

Olivia swore she saw judgement flicker on her face. "And what is your name miss?" Nosy bitch, the hell is her problem? I'm not paying for a jackass who is late.

"Olivia. With an 'O'. "

"Thanks, it will be out in a few minutes. I hope your friend comes." Conceded bitch.

A few minutes later the barista came back, drink in hand and a smug smile on her face. "Where's your friend?"

"Not here." she grumbled, glancing down at the name written on her cup. "Alivea".

"Would you like your drink to go then?"

Olivia sighed, about to finally leave this stupid Starbucks, but then her phone rang.

About time Ian decided to actually give her a heads up on no-showing. "You better have a good fucking reason for ditching me ya know. You better not have ditched me for that guy you just met right? Please tell me you just gave him pasta and left."

"Livvvv, I couldn't just do that! I had to apologize! I think he was still pretty pissed I scared the shit out of him."

"What the fuck did you do to even scare him Ian!"

"Please stop sweari-" the barista said before Olivia flipped her the bird and walked to her car.

"Livv I didn't even do anything!" Ian insisted, "I just existed!"

"... Ian. How the hell did you even find this dude? You barely ever go outside."

"Ummmm promise not to freak out?"

Uh oh, there went all the alarm bells ringing in Olivia's head. "Sure.... now TELL ME."

"Well I uh kinda found him in my um-"

"Spit it out. I don't have all day."

"I uh found him like in my house."

"Some dude broke into your house!?!? Why the hell didn't you call the cops, and why the hell did you APOLOGIZE to the dude who fucking BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE!!"

"Well technically I don't think he actually broke anything..."

"Ian, call the fucking cops. That lunatic could have murdered you in your sleep."

"If he wanted to do that, he would have done it by now. It's fine, he won't hurt me."

"... Wait... what the hell do you mean BY NOW? Has this dude been LIVING in your house?"

Ian paused, "I mean I think so? I mean it's not as bad as you think though, I don't think he had a choice!"

"If you're homeless you go to a homeless shelter, not break into people's houses and live in their closet!"

"I actually think they're living in the floorboards.... "

"THEY'RE!! What do you mean they're!! There is another psycho living in your house!?!

"Wait Liv, give me a chance to explain! It's not as bad as you think! They're harmless, and I think they just need help!"

"Give me one reason not to call the cops right fucking now!!"

"Promise to not call me crazy?"

"You're already crazy for letting two psychos live in your house."

Ian went radio silent for a couple seconds, then his voice returned in a whisper. "Well uh they're like uh kinda four inches tall?"

Olivia almost dropped her phone. No, it couldn't possibly be them, could it!?

The grip on her phone tightened. "What did they look like?"

"Um tiny siblings? Both really pale. The guy has black eyes and hair, and his sister has blue eyes and is blonde? Why? Do you actually belie-"

No, it was THEM.

Her phone smashed into a thousand tiny pieces on the concrete.

Part 3

[plutowrites]

AHHH PLUTO okok I’m definitely requesting something from my mf baby 😤❣️

Okok we already know who I’m picking this with... but to be safe Levi LMAO

My pronouns are she/they so she is fine 🤠❣️

OKOK for starters I’m an INFP ! Personality wise with people I don’t know very well they do say I’m a little blunt and I come off harsher than I mean to and I have a very dominant personality, like I’m not at all afraid to call shit out if I see it and be honest with people! But I also think I’m a very kind and devoted person! With my friends and people I talk to though I’m very loud and I feel like I can be a lot sometimes LMAO, I’m just a loud goofy person :)

I’m also very awkward though like “🧍🏻‍♀️”at its finest in social situations that aren’t with work, I’m not very good at reading social queues which is probably why I’m very blunt a lot of the time and harsh on accident cause I don’t mean to be!! I’m just talking!!

I think I’m pretty funny too 🤓

Generally people either think I’m v sweet or mean and idk where that puts me LMAO

Hobbies 🥸 this is so hard always pls but I like artsy stuff -we know this- and I really like the outdoors!! Camping??? Yeah sign me tf up ! I MF LOVE ROADTRIPS I love every part!! The long drives and the scenery and the hotel and the stupid souvenirs it’s just ugh I love it :)

Looks; ok now listen, I am 5’9” and like a half,,, I know Levi is like 5’3 on a good day but IDC‼️I love my lil shorty❣️❣️For looks idk what else to say besides the fact that body wise i’d say I’m like curvy but I have kind of muscular/thick thighs from when I did rugby -that I am a teensy bit insecure about- and that’s just kind of how I’ve always been built man 🧍🏻‍♀️ features wise I have curly black hair and brown eyes and uhhh a beauty mark right by my lip like a Marilyn Monroe one idk what else to say face wise LMAO 😶

Ok I WONT put smoothie as my fav dessert cause apparently that don’t count 🙄✋🏼‼️ so it’d have to be like strawberry anything 🤓❣️ besides ice cream 😶 like strawberry cheesecake! That’s good there we go :)

OK I HOPE THIS WASNT TOO MUCH I LOVE YOU PLUTO PLS IM SO EXCITED

HI LOVE I kinda went off bc you gave me so much to work with ❤️🥺 and while i was writing everything i was like damn...im starting to have feelings for bunny too LMAOO

ANYWAYSS i hope you enjoy 😘

Random Headcanons

Levi and you started dating because all your mutual friends were pushing you guys together and it got to the point where the two of you were so frustrated and were all like fine, LET’S JUST DATE

But then he started to really make you feel ushy gushy feelings…..and you started to make him feel such strong and intense emotions

Whenever the two of you hung out he would bring you snacks that he saw you eating (and enjoying) before. Like y’all will go on a hike and he’ll pull out gummies from his pocket or a random ass drink for you

“Where did that come from?”

“Just take it idiot.”

“Are you sure?”

“I brought it for you.”

 He’ll get so shy then after realizing what he said and he vows to himself to never be soft like that again but then he can’t help it when he’s around you. Poor bby just wants to make you so happy.

He loves listening to you talk and it doesn’t matter what you talk about, he just loves listening to you go on and on ESPECIALLY if it’s something that makes you excited 

You just do something to him when he sees your eyes go all wide and you start to use your hands to speak and he’s freaking out in the inside bc he thinks you’re so perfect but on the outside he looks so nonchalant as he drinking his fourth cup of tea of the day

He’s gonna look forward to your stories, and he especially loves your work ones except when ppl are making your job hard for you

He gets all annoyed that he can’t be there to tell them to fuck off 

I know you said your thighs were a bit of an insecurity for you but if you let Levi find out he’ll make sure you know he loves them and you’re perfect just the way you are

One of his favourite things to do is just lay down on them, head in your lap and he gets to just look up at you and be at peace

He doesn’t communicate his feelings 24/7, he would much rather show you how much he adores you

I feel like he’ll love to give you massages? The two of you will be watching a movie together and he’ll pull your feet onto his lap and just rubs them, or he’ll grab your hand and massage them for you

OUU you’ll be like ugh my hands are kinda dry and he’ll be like bet and leaves the room then comes back with lotion and rubs it on for you 

“I can do that myself, ya know?”

“Tch. Why do it when I can do it, brat?”

OMG you guys watch shows together and he would be so HURT if you watch an episode without him

He’ll come back home from work and see you watching the latest episode and his face will fall and he’ll just retreat back to the room without speaking to you LMAO

You have to promise to never do it again and give him lots of kisses. He’ll act super annoyed but he would forgive you in the first 5 seconds

GIRL he’s gonna love playing with your hair, he is lowkey (highkey) OBSESSED with touching your curls

Tries to do this at night though so he doesn’t ruin your hair for the day

Omg i’m writing a lot AHH 

Levi loves how easy it is to be around you and how effortless it is to love you

He’s not into the theatrics and he hates unnecessary drama so when he’s able to find someone he can be 100% himself around without worrying about rubbing them the wrong way with his personality...he’s so hooked

He appreciates your bluntness! He doesn’t like when people beat around the bush, he prefers someone who is always honest even if it comes off harsh! He’s the same exact way!

HE simply adores your beauty mark, you’ll just catch him sometimes looking at it (and your lips ofc) he thinks it super adorable but he also won’t be super obvious about it

He hates how much money you spend on iced coffees, he always wonders why you can’t make it at home like how he makes his tea at home

You’ll walk through the door and he sees a cup in your hands

“Didn’t I buy you an iced coffee this morning? You still haven’t finished it?”

“No, this is another one.”

“You’re 90% iced coffee at this fucking point.” 

One day he gets so fed up and he just buys all the ingredients to make your iced coffee at home and I’m not talking about him getting some basic instant coffee and some creamer, this man is ordering all the flavours you like

You like hazelnut syrup? He got it. Caramel? He ordered it. You like sweet cream cold foam on top? He bought a milk frother.

He’ll tell you he regrets it later on bc of how much space everything takes up

“Our kitchen turned into a shitty ass starbucks” 

He doesn’t actually regret it tho, he knows how much you love it and that’s enough to make him feel satisfied 

How Levi asks you to be his valentine

This man just straight up texts you! (see image below)

PLS Levi acts so hard but in reality he is so soft for you

After he presses send he constantly checks for your reply

Jumping to his phone when he feels a vibration in his pocket and then gets disappointed when it’s not you texting him back

How Levi spends Valentine’s day with you

For the valentine’s day itself he plans a road trip for the two of you and even though the destination is breathtaking and gorgeous, you can’t help but to think the best part was the journey

[revchainsaw]

Bumblebee (2018)

Good Evening worshippers, and welcome! Today the Cult of Cult goes a little more mainstream than usual. It's been a while since i've tackled a big Hollywood superhero film. But I do believe that these sorts of films will be remembered fondly my small groups of people in the future, especially the smaller films that are being overshadowed by the big bad MCU, films like 2018s Bumblebee.

The Messsage

Bumblebee was originally released as a prequel to the Transformers franchise that had started all the way back in 2007. However, reboots had really hit the market as a way to breath new life into struggling franchises, and the Transformers series had already gone to just about every absurd extreme you could imagine. No changes were made to the movie as it was released, but with it's more childish and heartfelt tone, and a new aesthetic that was softer, smoother, and all around just generally more pleasing to the eye, I think it was a wise choice to rebrand Bumblebee as a new beginning.

Our story is of two friends from two very different worlds and how they came together. Our first character is Bumblebee, then known as B- number sign/it doesn't really matter. Not yet Bumblebee is a soldier set with securing a safe location for the Autobots to regroup and make their home as they suffer a pretty serious defeat on cybertron at the hands of the tyrannical Decepticons. Optimus Prime, here again voiced by Peter Cullen and looking so much more like himself, assigns this task to Bumblebee promising him that they will meet him there when the time comes. Then Optimus fucks off for the rest of the run time making way for our little hero.

Bumblebee lands on Earth and is immediately set upon by John Cena and his military goon squad. It probably would have been wise for Bumblebee to avoid John Cena but in his defense, he couldn't see him. Hardy har har. In his attempt to flee his voice box is damaged, he seeks sanctuary by taking the form of a run down little VW bug, and suffers from amnesia.

Then we have Charlie. Charlie is not like other girls. She likes cars, all the retro music, which wasn't retro when the movie takes place, so I'm supposed to just think she's a rocker but it kinda seems like she'll listen to just about anything. I think in 2018 liking Motorhead and The Smiths (who are used ad nauseum in this movie) is perfectly common, but I feel like in the 80s that was a much different and much older attitude to take.

Anyway Charlie's poor family lives in a super fucking nice house and are poor because the dialogue keeps insisting they are so it must be true despite all the shit they have that actually poor people would sell blood and teeth to attain, but hell, this is Hollywood and Hollywood poor is like regular people upper middle class. Charlies family is so poor that instead of giving her a one time graduation/birthday present to buy a part for a car she already has, they just give her a moped, She also spends all her time at a pull apart where the manager (who might be her uncle that wasn't super clear) is willing to just give her a Volkswagen so I don't understand why she didn't already have the project car up and running. Whatever, it's a plot contrivance. All you need to know is that Charlie is tenacious and hard around the edges cuz her dad is dead and she's not yet mature enough to process that in a healthy way. Maybe her character arch will teach her to let others in, we'll have to find out.

There's also a wacky nerd named Memo, and some bad guys, and John Cena. They are all also pretty archetypal and contrived and don't really do anything of note that isn't just filling a beat that this kind of movie needs to walk. Charlie starts Bumblebee up, discovers he's a robot and the two begin to bond. Charlie learns to make a friend, and bumblebee is learning about himself. They get into hijinks and get revenge on a bully girl who makes Regina George look like a saint, she pretty much only picks on Charlie exclusively for having a dead dad.

The moment Bumblebee is woken back up, some technology goof em up that both he and Charlie are unaware of brings two Decepticon baddies into the picture. I don't remember their names, but since I love The Venture Brothers let's say they can be "Jet Boy and Jet Girl". Jet Boy and Jet Girl are sometimes cars, sometimes various flying military vehicles, and they make friends with the deep state and plan to get all the adrenochrome from all the orphans, or just to go find Bumblebee and beat his ass good cuz their bad guys. Let me tell y'all though, Jet Boy and Jet Girl are so bad that they don't even care that the government is listening when they reveal that they are planning on bringing a Decepticon Invasion and after they rough up Bumblebee real good they are going to destroy all life on this planet. So they start by killing a military scientist.

John Cena is after Bumblebee and he's homies with Jet Boy and Jet Girl until the military scientist butt dials him and he hears the evil plan. John Cena goes from heel to face and helps Bumblebee and Charlie save the day. It's a giant CG clusterfuck climax a la any superhero film in the last 10 years and I basically stopped watching. BumbleBee pulls a Hellraiser on Jet Boy, and then he hits Jet Girl with a freaking boat. Charlie uses her diving skills do dive down and save him, but he's a Giant Robot and he was okay and it was literally pointless for her to to except as a way to show that her character has completed her arch by doing the thing that was representative of her connection with her lost father.

Bumblebee turns into the Camaro from the first movie, meets up with Optimus prime, and the stage is set for this prequel to squeeze more prequels out. So it wasn't very creative, but was it bad? Let's find out.

Please Stand to receive the Benediction.

Best Aspect: Transform the Franchise

Bumblebee was directed by Travis Knight of Laika fame and it shows. This movie marks a stylistic change in the transformers franchise, as in it doesn't look like utter dog shit, but it also represents in many ways a tonal shift. It does hold on to a lot of gross sleaze that has unfortunately been forcibly jammed into the DNA of the franchise but it also attempts to be a more heartfelt entry. The characters of Bumblebee might all be sort of a waste of time, but at least they are doing something with emotions, even if the emotions of the characters are only explored as deeply as a children's cartoon I'm glad they are there. In the previous installments the only thing the characters did between running from action piece to seizure inducing action piece was drool over underage girls like a bunch of chimpanzees at the facility where they test experimental E.D. meds. It was nice to see that at least somewhat tampered. This transformers movie feels more like it's for kids and young teenagers, and strangely that more friendly tone makes for a much less juvenile product.

Worst Aspect: Remember I Love the 80s from the 2000s

I hope you really like Stranger Things. I do, but because Stranger Things was so successful it' s going to be everywhere. Not true Stranger Things just 80s nostalgia porn. This 80s nostalgia is going to be forced on you whether you like it or not, and it's not going to be fun. It's gonna be in your shows, in your music, in your Sunday like Bacon in 2010. It's that or Marvel Franchise Brand Whedonisms. Bumblebee is that brave movie that says, "Why not both?" It would seem fitting that a property as quintessentially 80s as Transformers should feel completely comfortable doing a period piece set in the 80's but it's so fucking half hearted it's depressing. It wasn't done to appreciate the roots of the IP, it was done to cash in on a trend and it feels it. All they did was throw up a date and insufferably force an 80s soundtrack down your throat as if that was enough to convince you that this movie needed to be set during this time. Other than that you could have told me this film was set in 2007 and I couldn't tell you any different.

Best Character: Charlie's an Angel

I liked Charlie. Sure her Arc is predictable, her taste is dumb, and she isn't exactly a master of her own destiny to any degree. But at least she is a woman in a transformers movie who's got something going on. Sure she's defined entirely by grief, but that sure is better than pretending that being able to work on cars is a feminist character trait instead of a weird fetish thing. They certainly do that thing with Charlie, but at least it's not the only thing they throw at the wall. Bumblebee is by no means out of the woods in this department, but it garners a lot of goodwill for trying. Like a racist uncle who just started his journey out of ignorance, but hasn't yet realized he has to stop asking mortifying questions to the barista at Starbucks. Okay, maybe that's an extreme metaphor. I'm saying that perhaps Charlie is not a great character but she's a great character for a Transfomers movie.

Worst Character: It's JOOOOHHHNNNN CEEEENA!!!!

Why is John Cena in this movie? I don't hate the guy, but his character seems pointless. You could remove him from the movie completely and replace him with any one of the random military goons at any point and it changes nothing. What was with that dumb salute at the end? It seems like they put him in this movie in post and it was just to pump up cast list. I wish he was given anything to work with. I can't remember his characters name, and it's not like John Cena did a bad job, I was just annoyed every time they kept giving him hero shots. I felt like I was watching a trailer for a different movie.

Best Actor: Optimal Primo!

Every time Peter Cullen speaks I want to listen. There's a reason they haven't had Chris Pratt or somebody with a bigger name come in and take over the role at this point. He's why the audience keep coming back. Peter Cullen IS Optimus Prime, and there's no changing that. He also wins twice. He's the best actor in the movie AND he's barely in the movie. Good call Peter.

Worst Actor: Mean Girls 2, Meaner and Girlier

I don't want to be cruel so I'm not going to go into to much detail, but there's an actress in this film who's performance is so mustache twirlingly evil and stupid that it ruined my suspension of disbelief when i knew going in that i was about to endure a 2 hour toy commercial about robots that turn into cars. Beldar Conehead was a more convincing human being than Tina.

Best Effect: Goo Be Gone

I really appreciated when the bad guys shot the government nerd into a blast of snot. That was pretty fun for me. Best part of the movie hands down.

Worst Effect: Live Action?

Bumblebee is a cartoon. It's a great looking cartoon but it doesn't sell itself that way. If we were doing a Roger Rabbit thing I'd have no gripes. However, I think CG is just getting worse. I'm criticizing this and it's still lightyears better than the previous entry's on the franchise. No transformation or fight sequence in Bumble Bee had me straining to make sense of what I was looking at. I think it was a great idea to start using some basic shapes and outlines to these characters, and return somewhat to their 80s designs. But at certain points, especially when there were no humans in the shot, i was pretty convinced I was watching Clone Wars. There may not be anyway around this, as the Transformers concept might not be able to be pulled off in any more effective manner. It's a minor gripe, but I just didn't think it looked like anything other than a very expensive cartoon, and in this franchise that's a compliment, because it least it looked like SOMETHING!

Best Scene: Space Opera

I am not a Transformers fan. I missed the boat on the cartoon as a kid. I would sometimes catch it at friends houses but I was more into Batman, Star Wars, and Ninja Turtles. By the time I came onto the scene the world had moved on to Beast Wars. I did one day arbitrarily decide that my favorite Transformer was Sound Wave. He looked great in this. I am a big fan of the return to form with a lot of the character designs in this. They really did keep the things that worked from the other adaptations, and they are steadily removing the things that didn't. For this reason, the scenes on Cybertron, particularly the battle with Soundwave (i prefer for personal reasons) looked great and were exciting to watch. I remember thinking Cybertron used to look like a Marilyn Manson shot a music video from inside to dumpster. This is so much better.

Worst Scene: Blocking the Box

There's a scene in Bumblebee where Charlie's family decides the best way to save their daughter was to cause a pile up of vehicles in an intersection, and it's pure contrived writing that saved any character in that sequence from being killed in a horrific traffic accident. It was stupid, played for laughs, and it wasn't exciting as much as it was anxiety inducing. I also thought that there was no reason the covert military group covering up extraterrestrial life wouldn't just disappear this family of fucking morons in their little piece of shit car. The logic of the scene was just so childish like, "No they won't hit me, I'm a good person."

Summary

Bumblebee may be remembered fondly in a decade. I think especially if the Transformers franchise were to end here. It didn't get the publicity of the other films, and that really is a shame. For my money, this was the best Transformers movie so far. I was very tempted to give Bumblebee a C, it does just enough to right what was wrong from the other movies to make me appreciate all that work. This movie has heart, and if you are at all into Transformers then l think you should see it. It's still pretty stupid, and pretty basic. It's not offering anything new to the genre, and it feels like a commercial for more movies. I really wish we could just get movies that want to tell a story. I thought it over and decided that it wasn't fair not to grade Bumblebee on it's own merits. Bumblebee is substantially better than the films that preceded it, but that's not saying a lot, when the films that preceded it are joyless exercises in self abuse.

Overall Grade: D

[sasarahsunshine]

hi sarah!!!! congrats again on 150 <3

for your sleepover, can I have 💌, 🦄 and ☕️?

for the moodboard — probably like an earthy-tone color palette

Cia!!! Aaaahhh thank you so much omg!! <3333 ily okay?? okay 

(you didn’t give me an aesthetic so I went with “earthy fairy who lives in the woods and loves music? idk lol)

OKAY SO THE TEA: I am going to put under a read more cause it might get long LMAO. This also more of a funny story than tea but still!!

I used to work at Starbucks, okay? And most people don’t seem to realize that we can still hear you at the drive-thru speaker even after we’ve taken your order. The kinds of things that we would hear people say are INSANE. My favorite incident was when this girl turned her music back up after her order, and she started singing along to the song (this was a few years ago so sadly I don’t remember the song). My Gay(TM) coworker (I’ll call him Kyle for this) turned on the headset and shouted “YAS QUEEN, YOU SING IT GIRL!” at her, which made her freak the frick out because she didn’t realize we were listening to her. We were all laughing, and so was she, as she kept singing. He started singing with her, which was pretty fun. When she got to the window she was beet red (lmao).

Somehow tho we got a complaint two days later about harassing a customer for singing in the drive-thru. I’d like to think someone inside the lobby filed the complaint since she was so nice about it, but who knooows. I was the manager on duty so I was the one who got a talking to, lol. I didn’t care, cause Kyle was my favorite and he made us all smile so it’s whatever. 

[waokevale]

Porcelain Face - Chapter 7

Both of the boys came running into the class, saying:

-"WE'RE VERY SORRY LO- MR.BERRY, WE OVERSLEPT-" They both yelled in unison until they noticed what was going on.

They didn't missed the lesson but there was something else that caught their attention.

Mostly Ethan's as Virgil looked down, covering his masked face.

There was a new student in class.

Apparently he was already after the introduction part and didn't look so sure about repeating himself just because someone was late.

-"Well...this is awkward." - The new kid said as Logan sighed and just told the late two to sit down.

The new kid looked rather...Interesting?

But more than that he looked like he belonged with the popular kids which didn't make things any better.

He had black, cropped leather jacket, orange shirt, ripped tight jeans, fingerless gloves and...A pair of sunglasses on his face?

That was a pretty strange look for spring but no one commented on that.

He looked pretty confident and that was usually never a good sign.

When Ethan first introduced himself he was pretty flustered and shy but this new kid though had this weird indescriptible vibe.

It even seemed like he was eyeing Virgil which made the porcelain boy glare at the new kid in suspicion.

As they both sat down the kid was already talking about himself though neither of the two boys really listened.

The part that they actually heard was just:

-"Aaand there's nothing left for ya'll to know about me. Can I finally sit down teach'?

Logan then nodded also clearly not understanding half of the things the boy just said.

After the rest of lesson ended,

All of the students were now all heading out of the class.

Virgil finally looked up as he got out of the class with Ethan.

Now the new guy was pretty sure, as he ignored all the popular kids that wanted to talk to him because of his interesting appearance as he went to the two of the late boys to introduce himself properly.

-"It's nice to see you again Eighty, oh and hi there beanie girl." He said as both of them looked very confused for why did he came to them.

-"Wait...What does this mean, it's nice to see you again?" Virgil asked, clearly not understanding what was going on, same goes to Ethan who grew rather more suspicious of the new kid.

-"Don't you remember me? It's ya girl Remy!" The new kid said pulling up his sunglasses revealing two bright-orangeish eyes.

the cardboard boy stared at him in disbelief.

-"W-wait...Remy?!" He asked now louder, getting excited.

-"Yup! It's really me myself and I!" He exclaimed hugging his apparently old friend.

-"Wait...what???" Ethan asked in very confused now tone.

-"Oh! Sorry there- Uh...What's your name?"

Remy asked awkwardly.

-"Ethan.." The boy replied turning his head from them.

The same look of confusion have had the popular kids.

Including Roman and Remus.

What was actually going on?

Why did this guy came to these losers?

They honestly didn't know....

And were they hugging????

Now it was confusing as fuck.

Then...One kid dared to say it out loud.

-"Yo, new kid! Why are you hanging out with the glass dealer and the freak?"

Little did he knew Remy's reaction as he came closer to the guy who yelled these words.

-"Listen up here you little bitch.

I can hang out with whoever I want and whenever I want.

You can't tell me to do shit unless you want to get punched in the face."

He simply said showing off his eyes as the kid gulped and run away.

-"Whoa....That was.... Pretty awesome." Ethan admitted as Remy proudly stepped back to the other two.

-"Thanks, Rem'. Also why are you here?" Virgil asked.

-"Uhhhh you know....I run away from these losers so called my parents."

Ethan looked rather unimpressed and Virgil just sighed.

-"Are you sure that is the reason?" The porcelain boy questioned.

-"Ummm...Anyways Virgie would you and your friend want some Starbie?" Remy changed the subject.

-"Sure, I guess." The cardboard boy agreed.

-"Fine by me." Ethan said.

After school all three of them went to the nearest Starbucks.

Remy was ready to pay them when both of them denied.

-"No, no, no Rem' I agreed yesterday when Patton, one other guy suggested to pay, so no, I can pay for myself" Virgil denied sternly.

-"Bitch,  I INSIST." Remy said, clearly determined just like Patton yesterday.

-"Nope, you are not PAYING for ME." The cardboard boy talked back as there was a short moment of silence between the three, Ethan still confused af.

-"I'm going to buy you stuff anyways." Remy said.

-"REMY!" Virgil yelled, pretty angry now for loosing.

-"Welp....Guess he had won, huh?" Ethan said.

-"Not helping, Eth..." Virgil whined.

-"Oh and Vitligo gurl! What do you want?"

Remy yelled not caring that half of the Starbucks could hear him as the other two other boys signed miserably.

-"Nothing, really...I don't... Drink coffee and I'm not hungry." The porcelain boy yelled back.

-"Oh, come on! Why not?" - Remy asked.

-"It's....Just....I can't say it out loud." Ethan said in a whispering tone to Remy who walked  back to them.

-"So what is it? You're allergic? ADHD? You despise coffee or?"

-"I just can't drink coffee..." Then he said why in sign language hoping that the new kid would not understand.

-"I-can't-eat-or-drink-because-I-have-no-guts..."

Then Remy whispered back.

-"Then how do you live?" which clearly meant that he indeed understood the motion sentence.

-"I....I.. It's complicated, ok?" Ethan signed in defeat.

-"Well okay then, Virgie gets the double then."

Remy simply said.

-"NO. YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! PATTON DID THAT YESTERDAY THAT'S NOT FAIR!" Virgil whined dramatically, pretty pissed off as both Remy and Ethan laughed.

-"Besides I'm going to be fat...." He mumbled the last sentence but both of them could hear it anyway.

[He thought Remy bought food as well]

-"Dude...You are literally just thin layer of skin and bones." Remy commented quietly.

-"Virgie? You okay there...?" Ethan said worriedly as the cardboard boy stayed silent before the barista yelled:

-"Remy? Your order is finished!"

Guess it's our stuff, Eighty." Remy said walking back to the counter to pick the drinks.

-"Why does he call you Eighty?" Ethan whispered as Virgil signed.

-"Probably similiar reason for why Patton calls you Dee."

-"Oh.." Ethan said.

-"Alright babes, here's your Spring Frappuchino with chocolate and coconut flakes." passing the pretty large Cup at still pissed off Virgil.

-"And here's your nonexistant coffee because I can't help." Remy said doing the motion of giving the Cup of coffee to Ethan who looked at him tiredly and said:

-"Thanks...."

After some time of talking, Virgil's and Remy's past was brought.

-"Hey Virgie, can we spill some tea of our past to your new babe?" Remy then asked as the cardboard boy slowly nodded.

-"Well then....It all started...."

Virgil changed schools yet again.

Probably the third time now.

He was met with all the new students who like always either looked fascinated or spooked out by masked appearance.

Remy was the one of the fascinated ones.

He clearly wanted to be friends with the mysterious kid.

As Virgil introduced himself to the class and took his sit, Remy already talked to him.

-"Hey there newbie! Wanna be friends?"  Remy asked cheerfully, but Virgil though frowned.

-"You probably won't like me anyway...." He said, sadly, but Remy was determined enough.

-"Oh come on! I really do want to be friends with you!

I don't really care about your mask though it is pretty cool actually!" He excalaimed surprising the other kid.

-"R-really?" The cardboard boy said with the look of hope in his "eyes"

-"Yup!"

Then the bell rang as they started to hang out.

They hung out more often and soon enough became best friends.

Virgil was really happy back then as Remy was his protector from the bullies.

Unfortunetly one day it just wasn't enough....

There were five very curious kids... The two stronger ones tackled Remy who desperetly tried to free his grip from them, trying to get to his friend.

Unlucky for the two...It was too late.

They already ripped off his mask from his face revealing four pairs of violet eyes.

The kids imediatelly dropped him, very scared of his appearance as they screamed run away.

Only Remy stayed.

Looking at Virgil who was now sobbing on the ground uncontrollably.

He stood there for a few seconds, until he walked to the other boy and kneeled down, saying:

-"Hey, you okay there buddy?"

The boy with the multiple eyes looked a little up with surprise and disbelief painted on his face.

-"A-aren't you s-scared of m-me? D-don't you want to l-laugh at me o-or r-run away....?"

He asked, still very broken.

-"Nope! You look pretty awesome to me! I think spiders are very cool! Cause...you're a spider, right?"

The boy nodded.

-"Well then... As I promised before, I will protect you, Spidey-boo!" Remy said confidently as Virgil giggled at the nickname.

Remy then stood up and helped the other boy up as well, giving back his mask and holding him protectivly from the other kids just in case.

But of course...Virgil's parents found out that someone has seen his face and they moved out yet again...

He was miserable back then...

Because he thought he had lost the only person that actually cared about him...

Neither Virgil nor Remy mentioned the part when Virgil looked like a spider, because they both knew it was a sensitive topic for the cardboard boy.

Though Ethan....He looked kind of... sad and dissapointed If one could say.

At himself mostly.

Because now he finally realised...

He wasn't able to ever be there for the cardboard boy before, because he was home-schooled and now the only chance of someone liking him was gone..

Remy was apparently pretty close with Virgil anyway.

Remy had already seen his face and gained his trust, something that Ethan probably couldn't do...

Virgil deserved better than a weakling like him anyway...

He should probably just....give up on trying.

-"That's an amazing story guys! I'm not surprised why you missed each other so much!

But I got to go...Um- my moms told me I should be back at 4 PM."

-"But you said they let you-" Virgil was cut off by him again.

-"They changed their mind." he said colder than he intended to as he walked out of the building, not even turning his head back.

________________________________

I hope to see them tears...

Lmao Jk.

AND YES I KNOW, THEY WENT TO ANOTHER COFFEE SHOP, CAUSE WHY NOT I LIKE THESE KINDS OF STORIES YA'LL CAN'T STOP ME.

But seriously that's the last time.

Is this a good level of Angst for you all?

And for fucks sake it lagged.