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judasgot-it · 1 year ago

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Confession; Part 2 (Kunikida or Dazai)

Part two of my recent request, I'm gonna try and make it make sense. Also, I know y'all want a part 2 for Dazai, but I like Kunikida, and I feel horrible for doing him so dirty </3 (i feel like it might lowkey be ass tho idk how to characterize kunikida in a romantic sense he's so hard?) SO I made two different endings for them <3

Tagging @babyg1rldazai since they requested this love u so much I hope I delivered IDK

Anyway, I hope this quells y'alls hunger

Kunikida

"I'm sorry Kunikida."

Currently, the two of you were in... you wanted to say 'a bit of a pickle' but that didn't really help with what you were feeling. More like 'fucked in the ass' was a better to phrase it.

Wet, cold, and you personally were rather disappointed. A rather fucked situation. Especially for a first date.

"This is just fine."

The man next to you was staring at the downpour calmly. It had forced the two of you into a small part of a shopping center, hiding underneath a large umbrella. It wasn't doing either of you good though - your clothes were drenched, and you could see Kunikida's hair dripping with the cold rain.

"We probably lost our reservation by now. Sorry, this is my fault. If I got ready on time then this wouldn't be such a mess."

You had to apologize, make it up somehow. Seriously, this situation wasn't what either of you wanted. You could see that his outfit was ruined - he definitely ironed it just for this occasion, and it was his nice "going out suit" that he saved for these types of things too.

It was awful that it was ruined because of you.

"You can't predict this kind of weather. There wasn't anything on the radar about it. Besides, you can just come over and I'll make you something there."

Kunikida had taken off his outer layer, trying to wring out his sleeves. His hands were diligent with the work, starting out big and then carefully wringing out smaller and smaller sections of the cloth. You could see the wrinkles that were forming, even if it was a rather thick fabric.

"This just. Doesn't feel perfect, especially for a first date. I was hoping it would be...more picturesque."

You were playing with your wet shirt collar, musing around with the button. This date already seemed to be full of flaws.

"I was hoping for it to be perfect, you know? That's something you always talk about."

Voicing that outloud seemed to make the rain silent. It was pouring down heavily on the umbrella that the two of you hid underneath, but it was drowned out by the silence you were both now sunk under.

Kunikida looked up from his jacket, staring out into the rain. Maybe it was the wrong thing to say?

He took a breath in. A long one, where you could tell he was counting the seconds. 3 in, hold, and 3 out.

You tried to follow along, but it didn't really help with the anxiety you were feeling at the moment. Those seconds were feeling like near hours as you watched him breathe them in, hold, and out.

"I don't expect things to be perfect. Truth is I don't want them to be. I have an ideal, but that's all it is; an ideal."

Finally, he turned to you. His blond bangs were wet, sticking to his forehead. His glasses were dropping down his nose, foggy and so wet you doubt he could see out of them if he tried. If he wasn't saying something you wanted to hear, he would probably look like a madman of sorts.

"There is no 'perfect romance', and there is no 'falling in love' because in the end - in the end, it's all made up. You can only choose someone."

"So did you want to choose me?"

He nodded, smiling. You reached out, taking his glasses and hopelessly trying to clean the lenses with whatever dry part of your shirt you could find.

"I was hoping maybe we both chose each other. In my ideal, that's how love works."

You looked up at him. He was shifting about nervously, smiling wide. His eyes were focused downward, focusing on your fingers as they tried to clean his lenses. It reminded you of a little boy for a moment, either impatient or nervous - a small line between the two.

Silently, you handed them back, although you could still see smudges from your fingerprints.

Kunikida didn't seem to mind at all, as he wiped away at his face and placed them back onto his nose, his lenses fogging back up again anyway. His smile didn't fade any less, even as he looked back up at you from his clouded lenses.

You smiled back, crooked and imperfect.

"So um."

He shook his head, droplets across the two of you. He visibly cringed, although you couldn't help but let out a large smile at the action.

It was only because of him, you were sure of it. No other man could make acting like a dog so endearing.

"Do you want to come over? I promise it's only just dinner, since we did lose our reservations and all. I'm a good cook and I have a clean kitchen, and I promise to bring you home when you want to, you said around 10 right?"

He was rambling, his hands playing with the coat now wrapped around his arm. You reached out, forced to stop him. Kunikida could go on for far longer if you didn't - he was nervous, and he would probably recite the entire Wikipedia to you if you didn't stop his nerves.

"Yes. I'd love that. I'd love for you to make dinner for us. Maybe we can also watch a movie together, since we have tomorrow off."

You grabbed the coat on his arm, shaking it out. Some of the pockets sagged heavier than the others as you shook it, making you more careful with the article of clothing as it sat heavily in your hands.

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing?"

He reached out nervously, not sure what to do. His hand was stuck in the air, stuck between grabbing you and taking his coat back.

"We don't have an umbrella, and we need something at least a little romantic to happen tonight on our first date."

Your plan was near flawless in your mind. The rain was already making the most perfect score play in your head, and you were already so close and shivering, like sad kittens in a cardboard box. It was the perfect moment to pretend to be in a movie.

Kunikida grabbed one of your hands, his other hand searching through the coats inner pockets.

"Just- just wait a second."

He stepped closer towards you. Faintly, you could smell his perfume. Woody and earthy, but clean like cotton.

"I left this in there."

When he pulled his hand away, you saw he pulled away his notebook.

"Hopefully it's not wet. Your jacket is almost completely soaked."

Kunikida sighed. He flipped the notebook in his hands, the pages only slightly wet.

"I'll live. This notebook can survive worse."

"What about your ideals? Wouldn't you be mad if they're gone?"

"Well-"

Kunikida tucked the notebook into the waistband of his pants, the green awkwardly sticking out against the black ensemble of his outfit. It was a practical placement at the moment, although most certainly not comfortable or fashionable.

"I can just write them again. The most important thing is that I know them, even if I lose my hands."

You smiled, lifting the coat over the both of you. You stretched your arms over his back, trying to place the coat over his head. He grabbed one end, pulling it above the two of you. It wouldn't do too much to stop the downpour, but it was better than nothing.

"That's kind of dark coming from you."

"Is it?"

Kunikida moved his body closer to yours, resting his arm around your shoulders. It was an awkward movement, although as you leaned in against his clammy body, you felt comfortable. Your shivering was quelled, if only slightly.

"Yes. But I like that. I like all of you."

You were glad your position made it hard for him to see your face. Even if you were cold, your face was hot at admitting that part out loud.

"We should go before the rain picks up again. Don't worry, I promise the walk won't be long."

The thick coat above your heads only blocked out little of the rain, but you felt warmer than you should as you were drenched once again in the downpour.

Dazai

Your date with Kunikida wasn't what you were expecting at all.

It was technically perfect, in all aspects. You had worn the perfect outfit, as did he. The restaurant was amazing, and the food was splendid. The service was perfect.

The candlelight dinner was romantic in movies and on TV. But by the end, the two of you seemed to come to the same conclusion - there wasn't any sort of romance between the two of you.

He was technically the perfect guy. You were technically his perfect person too, but there was something missing. Kunikida had recommended an adrenaline-filled activity to spark romance he had seen in an article, but it didn't seem worth it.

You two were work colleagues. All you could talk about was work. Nothing else but that.

Better to not make it awkward, just keep it a funny story to save for later.

Which left you at a park, with nothing. No big romance, no life-changing event. Just loneliness.

How isolating.

The sunset was the only one keeping you company in the moment. Although it was more like dusk at the moment, and you could see more and more people going home. You should probably do that as well.

Although you would really just rather mope. If only for a little bit. Stew and brood in your thoughts for a while.

"I take it the date didn't go so well, huh?"

You lazily turned to look next to you, seeing the usual demon creature that crawled around your workplace.

"We're just work colleagues I guess. No hard feelings, but it's just a little disappointing."

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, bowing your head.

Dazai's voice should have said something annoying in response like he usually would; what you instead found, was his hand comforting you, squeezing your own.

He was completely silent, and instead of his usual cold stares, he felt rather warm. Welcoming. Very different from his usual character.

"Can I be honest with you, Dazai?"

The sun was nowhere to be seen at this point. The sky was a baby blue and the clouds were all a beautiful pink; it was captivating, even if it only lasted for a moment.

"I wouldn't be here now if I wasn't going to listen to you. Otherwise, I'd probably be at the bar right now."

"That sounds like a good idea, better to be drunk than to think."

"Do you want to do that? I have some liquor on me right now."

He let go of your hand, reaching into the inside of his jacket. He pulled out a small, cheap bottle of alcohol - some whiskey he probably bought from a corner store. You were 100% sure it tasted like shit, but you weren't going to reject the offer.

You took the bottle from his hand, your fingers making contact with his. It wasn't worth thinking about, but the touch lingered for a little too long in your mind.

Scrunching your face at the smell, you leaned back as you took a shot, swallowing as quick as you could. It was barely anything, but the burn to your throat was already making your body cry a little.

Quickly, you shoved the bottle towards him, careful not to drop it. Your hand was on his chest but you were trying to forget the burn in your throat - it was as if you were on fire all over now. Dazai laughed at your struggles, taking the bottle from your hands and easily taking down what was probably more than 2 shots, his face telling little of his reaction.

He must have done this a thousand times already.

"That tastes like shit."

"It's alcohol."

"Ok. It's still shit."

The demon of a man just laughed. He was rather close to you, as you could see how little the laugh actually reverberated in his body. It seemed stuck in his Adam's apple, like he was choking but didn't care.

"You were going to say something before this, but I interrupted. Do you still want to share?"

Leaning back and closing your eyes, you took as deep of a breath as you could. You felt it tickle your throat, so you forced your body to relax a little in your seat.

"I'm not sure it's really important. Honestly, I'm probably just feeling emotional or what have you."

"Did Kunikida really do that to you? Didn't think he had that big of a pull game."

You sat up, staring wide-eyed at him. He loved that you were at least offended at the notion. It meant something to him, enough to make him smile a little toothy grin.

"No! It's not like that at all, get your mind out of the gutter. Seriously, we really are just coworkers."

Dazai didn't say anything to that, he simply leaned against the bench, resting his arm around the back and taking another swing of his drink. He was waiting, oh so patiently, for you to start to crack.

"It's kind of stupid..."

Hesitating, you relaxed your legs, spreading them out in front of you. You avoided scuffing your nice shoes but you could still see some dirt on them from having spent the night out. It was unavoidable sometimes, being dirty.

A small silence hung over the both of you. For you, it felt like a small forever, although for him it was probably nothing. He was downright unreadable, relaxed but with eyes like a predator. Happy that he was here, in the moment.

"I don't know if I'm capable of falling in love. Or maybe I'm just a terrible person to love. Anytime I try, it feels like it falls apart because I did something wrong that I don't even know about."

There were crickets somewhere, that were beginning to sing their night song. It was soothing for the moment, as it was one of the few sounds as night was falling upon the two of you.

The whiskey was slid back to you, hitting your thigh. Dazai stood up, hands in his pockets. He never slid his eyes away from you, staring you down as if you were an unsolvable Rubix cube.

Quietly, you took another drink, cringing at the taste. You kept your own eyes on him, rather observing his face than keeping up with his inane staring contest. You watched his hair blow in the slight breeze, his lips twitch slightly, and the countless imperfections in his skin.

He was a lot more interesting to look at than you'd thought.

"Personally Y/n, I don't think you're a bad person. Not to fall in love, anyway. I've met far worse, and I can say for certain that you don't even top the list."

He had a small smile, one that truly reached his eyes. It was one of his rare ones, the kind that you saw when he was passing by bookstores and talking about certain people in his life that he never wanted to name. It felt special that he gifted one of those to you, in an intimate moment like this.

"Are you inferring that you're near the top of that list?"

You finally stood up, giving a moment for your body to adjust to standing. The bench was your friend for a little too long, leaving your legs to feel like pins and needles.

"I would say so. Do you want to test that? I know a good bar around here, although I probably wouldn't recommend drinking so much since you just ate."

"How'd you know that I had dinner?"

Dazai gave a cat-like grin as took the whiskey bottle from your hand, putting it back into his coat. It was almost empty, but no point in questioning him.

"Kunikida would try to do something perfect for you. You would expect that, and he has it written in his book."

Reaching for your hand, he pulled you along, taking you to wherever he had decided. Foolishly you let him do as he pleased. An excited and lazy smile pulled along your face.

"I'll bet that you're perfectly fine to fall in love with Dazai. If you think I am, at least."

You followed his footsteps perfectly, your shadows intertwined with one another from the dim streetlights.

sorry that this took so long LOL. also im gonna write another part to this cause someone requested it but like ALT, idk when that will be posted tho cause I have summer classes cause im a dummy dum :(

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #kunikida x reader #kunikida x you #kunikida x y/n

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mysasposts · 7 months ago

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Lovely Runner Ep 2

Wow, what a second episode. We met more people, learned more about the characters, and also learned more about the world.

First and foremost, we met Kim Tae Sung, the first guy she was a fan of and someone she had a crush on. I really like his character so far and I am excited to learn some of his story. I think the two of them could evolve into being really great friends as evidenced from their interaction when she fixed his cuts and ran into Ryu Seon Jae with him. I feel like they will make him a love interest, but I will be pleasantly surprised if they don't.

Last post I talked about her background information on how she became a fan. I want to add that this background also explains why she wants to get so close to him. If she was just his fan and trying to save him, I would get it as well, but there's something so much deeper about her trying to save someone who once saved her life in the past which I really enjoy.

Speaking of trying to save him, we learned that she is unable to directly tell him future information. She can hint that he may get harmed by water or that his shoulder might act up, but she can't deliver the message directly in any form. I do think this is interesting and once again makes for a better plot than other shows where they simply just don't tell the ML and leave us yelling at our screen.

We also learned that things they are doing right now directly impact the future world, which pretty much gives us hope for a happy future with him still alive! I thought it would be a happy ending but there are always some shows here and there which really throw me off.

And the last thing I want to talk about is the cute ending! We see that even before she ran and hugged him at the pool, he already knew her! It seems like he had a little schoolboy crush which may have carried into the future. This could be why she got called during their radio show which made her a fan. Also, it could be the reason he pulled over and offered a ride (though he could've done that for anyone since we know he's kind). But I do find it cute that they always have these umbrella in the rain moments now that we know that they met that way with her holding the umbrella.

I can't wait for episode 3!

#lovely runner #kdrama

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gravity-barbie · 2 years ago

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Dating the Umbrellas, and Five giving you ‘the shovel talk’ HCs

Characters: Five, Allison, Klaus & Lila

Request

Masterlist

Allison Hargreeves

-Allison is slightly on edge the day she has to introduce you to her family, thoroughly warning you of all their… ‘quirks’ beforehand, and likewise threatening her siblings to be on their best behaviour

-And Five must of taken Allison seriously because when you meet he’s actually perfectly civil, even friendly by his standards, asking some expected questions but not otherwise showing you too much interest

-And even Allison feels satisfied enough to be comfortable leaving you two alone for a moment when she has to have a word with a different brother, but it’s then that there’s a shift in Five

-Five doesn’t doubt for a second that Allison can handle herself, she’s one of his strongest and smartest siblings, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t take someone hurting her seriously, so he’ll do his part to dissuade you from such foolishness

-He doesn’t need to make a big show of his warning, but it’s almost more chilling how calm he is, as he delivers a threat that only a former assassin could, and waits patiently for your response

-Of course you insist you would never hurt Allison and he accepts that for now, clapping you on the shoulder and offering you a drink just as his sister returns

-You know Allison would probably want you to tell her about that conversation with Five but you don’t dare

Klaus Hargreeves

-Klaus wasn’t intending on introducing you to Five, or any of his siblings yet for that matter, so you’re already at a disadvantage when Five pays Klaus an unexpected visit and meets you, who he didn’t even know existed

-He’s pretty overtly snarky towards you both, getting in jabs in between talking about whatever he came over for, and when Klaus finally directly introduces you two, Five basically outright asks ‘So what are your intentions with my brother?’

-All the while Klaus is trying to ease the tension with his usual brand of off-color jokes that only make you feel more awkward, you can’t help but appreciate his intentions though

-When Five gets you alone for a minute, the intensity he addresses you with makes everything else he’s said sound like friendly banter, as he warns you not to hurt his brother if you value breathing

-As nervous as he makes you, you understand Five’s protectiveness, appreciate it even, because you better than anyone know how vulnerable Klaus is, and how many times he’s been hurt

-And you tell him that, as well as that you’ll never hurt Klaus, and you’ll never let anyone else hurt Klaus, and he must believe you because after looking surprised and skeptical for a second he seems to relax

-Despite your shaky first impressions you both walk away from the encounter relieved that Klaus has someone else looking out for him

Lila Pitts

-It was an uphill battle, but eventually you and Lila got serious, serious enough, that when she has to go deal with the newest near-apocalypse, she insists on dragging you along with her, thus introducing you to the Hargreeves

-Five appears pretty indifferent to you, which is what you would expect from Lila’s frenemy, so it’s quite a surprise when once things settle down he pulls you aside and starts acting like he’s her father or something

-It’s over with very quickly, he just tells you he’s glad that you seem to be a positive influence on Lila, but if you do anything to hurt her it’ll be the last thing you ever do, except he uses more colorful language than that

-Honestly it’s kind of rich coming from him, you’re the one who should be threatening him considering what he did to her parents, but you do think maybe it was guilt over that very act that inspired his strange and sudden protectiveness

-Despite his baby-face, his strong language could definitely freak you out, and just to be safe you do tell Lila, who finds your fright more amusing than anything else, and only offers you a playfully patronising kind of comfort

-She’s also just as surprised, wanting every detail, her first instinct is to go ruthlessly make fun of Five for it, but you manage to convince her to not to let him know you told her

-While she doesn’t let it show, Lila is actually very touched that Five would do that, for the first time in a long while it makes her feel like she has some kind of family

#the umbrella academy preferences #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #tua x you #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #lila pitts x reader #five hargreeves x reader

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dustedmagazine · 3 months ago

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Guided By Voices — Strut of Kings (GBV Inc.)

Photo by Ellen Qbertplaya

In an interview following the announcement of the new Guided By Voices record, Strut of Kings, Robert Pollard explained why it would, uncharacteristically, be the group’s only release this year: “I just wanted to give this one a little more time to sink in with the fans. Give them some breathing space.” Take Pollard at his word: Strut of Kings is worth the focus and, speaking of space, it’ll take up as much as your speakers allow.

Back in 2018, I wrote that Space Gun (also that year’s only GBV album) was “a protein-rich re-entry point from which to backtrack through the post-millennium catalog…with triumphant blends of sweeping rhythm guitar, ascending lead riffs and rolling rhythm sections.” Six years and 13 albums later, I’ll say the same of Strut of Kings, only more so. As on Space Gun, Pollard is backed by Bobby Bare Jr., Doug Gillard, Mark Shue, and Kevin March, but here they play with a stormier ambition that adds an extra potency to the songs. This isn’t angry music, exactly, but it is noticeably heavier and sounds off with a harder-rocking urgency.

On the edgier end of things come ornery, ear-ringing slugfests like “Olympus Cock In Radiana” and “Cavemen Running Naked.” The first of which heaves around thick, fuzzy guitar arpeggios over a dogged stomp with the bare menace of early Black Sabbath. The second evokes both Queens of the Stone Age with its brute force drumming and taut, meaty riffs and Thin Lizzy with its buzzy, glamorous bursts of guitar. Sequenced between those two and yet darker is “Leaving Umbrella.” The track, slow, sheer and draped with cymbal crashes and sliding walls of distortion, finds Pollard wallowing in a psychedelic, fantastical fog, like a long lost David Bowie album for Southern Lord.

Ill-tempered bangers aside, Strut of Kings is, like so much of Pollard’s vast catalog, at its best in rich, punchy, power pop mode. One of Pollard’s great strengths as a vocalist is delivering even his hardest-to-parse lines with the conviction of confessional poetry. As the sparkling strum and thrust of “Fictional Environment Dream” is lifted by sustained electronic keys, “trying to sell me/on such same primitive tools/programming fever dreams/with the fools/let them expel me” might as well be Matthew Sweet lamenting “I’m sick of myself when I look at you.” It’s one of several moments when the musical ambition and vigor of this album crosses into more radiant, but no less powerful territory. Take, for instance, the long, elegiac build of “Bit Of A Crunch,” from clean, picked guitar to a robust, sunbreak-after-rain stadium balladry close to Oasis’ ragged, golden “Don’t Go Away.” Perhaps the record’s most potent blend of beauty and brawn, however, is “Serene King.” At the bridge, while Pollard raps towards his jet plane takeoff on the final refrain, a rapid series of single guitar notes shoot up from the bullying rumble of bass, drums and blasting, third-rail rhythm chords, taking the song from fist-pumping to something like transcendent.

Chalk it up to the explosive instrumentals, but the lyrics, often the most beguiling aspect of a Guided By Voices record, aren’t the most memorable part of Strut of Kings. One verse, though, from the album closer “Bicycle Garden,” stands out: “Though all the roses are dying/the old nest climbing with ivy/is lively.” What better way to describe Pollard’s indefatigable musical career than in terms of voracious regeneration. With this latest liveliness, Pollard and company continue that relentless growth. And remember, they’re leaving the breathing space for you: no one said they needed it.

Alex Johnson

#guided by voices #strut of kings #GBV Inc.#Alex Johnson #albumreview #dusted magazine #rock #lo-fi

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docholligay · 1 year ago

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Buy my Fine Wares So I Can Be a Ship's Barnacle on My Mom's Trip!

Hello! Are you looking to enhance your October? Boy, do I have a deal for you, or maybe two! here with what you'll be helping me get for my trip so that I can hopefully have a lovely time with my mother and maybe even pay for something myself! (The Patreon will be paused in December)

This is where you come in! I have nice things below that you may want to buy, things that come up in limited quantities when available and that I have moved my schedule around to accommodate.

For everything:

First come, first served! First in my inbox, first to claim. If you’re second, I will keep you on hold in case person one does not pay. (I’ll tell you of course)

I do NOT have to like the item. If we want me to read something and do a positive only review…I mean I guess it’s not OFF the table, but the price would be highly variable and that would be something we’d want to discuss privately before any money changed hands. Not relevant to this moment.

Talk to me before you pay! Terms are different depending on our long-term working relationship.

Book review, delivered in October: $85 SOLD, includes full reading of any book up to 500 pages (longer than that isn’t off limits, just come talk to me) and a 2,000 word at least review of the book. You are absolutely allowed and encouraged to send me questions you’d like me address in the review, or themes you’d like me to touch on. Not a requirement though!

I have the right to veto a book and refund you, but, I’m actually not sure what that would be, in fairness. I just want to put out there I have the right to do it.

Must be available in physical form.

What will I be getting with this? A Davek mini umbrella, because it's going to rain, cold rain, for 80% of the time I'm there and I want to drink my mulled wine dry as possible. (the extra $20 is going to my "buying wool socks" fund)

Book review, delivered in November: $85, and also everything I said above, just scroll up. I could copy/paste, but why make the post longer?

What will I be getting with this?

A letter sweater to replace the one I lost last time I was in fucking England.

Y'all, I loved this early 60s sweater. It was my first vintage piece. I am so angry at myself, I hate myself so much every time I think about leaving it on that fucking train, because I was trying to make the changeover in Peterborough and I'd never done a train change. I am so sad about it. i am sad right now

But there comes a time when we have to move on with it, with or not we're getting over it, and continuing to punish myself by not letting myself buy a nice women's letter sweater to replace it is not, I regret to say, actually accomplishing anything. I'm going to buy it, I'm going to take it the UK, and I'm NOT going to lose it. (Watch, I find it for sale in the vintage clothing section of Portobello road and damn near cause an international incident ahahah) (Jesus christ Doc do they really cost that much?? Babygirl this is the price of me buying an imperfect one and doing some cleaning and mending on it. You see why I hate myself over this)

A weekend of liveblog SOLD: $230, This is exactly what it sounds like, two days in a row of four hours of liveblog! A great idea if you want to do a whole opening episode of an anime or continue something that I’ve done in the past!

I am open to doing almost anything, but as with everything, I have the right to veto the show you would like to do. If you have something you think might be a little odd, you can always talk to me! I don’t get mad about saying no, as long as you’re fine with knowing it’s a possibility. I MAY LIVE TO REGRET THIS, BUT HOLLIGAY HATES CAN BE PURCHASED FOR A $40 ADD ON, AND NOTED ENGLISH SCHOLAR DOC FOR $60*

What is this buying?

I wish this were more fun, but this is my drinks wallet! I mean, i think that's very fun, but I know it lacks the excitement of a new dress or something. If it sweetens the pot at all, I'm giving my mother a tour of at least two of the pubs that I think of as being Lena/her family's style on the East End, and definitely am not hiding it under the guise of my mother's desire to find a pub she liked as much as the old Angel and Crown, which is now sadly defunct.

*Those of you who signed up on the interest poll to receive notifications receive $20 off the add-on, because that's the price I quoted you!

#help me out and get cool things in the process!

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elcorhamletlive · 1 year ago

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It feels like ST is trying to deliver *something* with the queer storylines that they have chosen, but it is rather being very underwhelming. Not surprising, as you have said, ST is one of the most popular shows, it has always been quite heteronormative. Robin's character was great in S3 but was rather underwhelming in S4, and her love interest Vickie is no better, her character had only a couple of minutes in the long-running S4 which was like over 10 hours. And the way their relationship was portrayed leaves little to no hope for S5's outcomes, at best it seems like Vickie and Robin will get together in the last minutes of the season, and that way the writers will eat their cake and call it a day ''look we made a wlw couple on the show'' without having to deliver anything much.

Also, this is just my opinion but I fear or have the feeling that Robin's storyline and relationship with Vickie will be some sort of a coverup or alibi for the writers to do whatever they want to do with Will in the next season, either portraying him as suffering again, or making him end the show as single.

I think you're totally correct in your second paragraph, and tbh I have already seen this happening - people going "well, you can't complain about Will not having a romance, because the show has Vickie and Robin!", when a) the show has a fuckton of straight romances, no reason to not have more than one gay couple around; b) Robin and Will represent different identities, althought there's a lot of identification to be found under the LGBT umbrella in general, it's possible to mess up representation with one group while doing well with another; and c) (most importantly) Robin's storyline has Also not been great. I think some of the fault for the shift in her character lies with M4y4 Hawke, whose personality has definitely bled into Robin, amplifying her "quirkness". The other thing, imo, is the writers deciding that in order to pair her up with Nancy they needed to make her more bumbling and clumsy in order to contrast with Nancy's hyper competent and grounded personality. Which on a vacuum, I understand, but on screen was just annoying and took away from a dynamic that I mostly enjoyed, but thought I was going to enjoy more.

Vickie was also a disappointment, especially because they went through the trouble of casting a known actress which drove up the hype. I'm certain that there were more scenes between Robin and Vickie that ended up on the cutting room floor, and it's unfortunate because, as you said, this season is already ridiculously long, couldn't they have taken time away from something else to at least flesh out Vickie's character a bit? Like... it just feels like a basic disconnect with the gay fanbase, thinking that the bare minimum is going to be enough to get people to root for this couple.

Like you said, I do think they're trying, but it's not a priority to them, and they don't seem to know enough about the subject to give it an interesting, fleshed out perspective. Another thing that annoys me to no end is how big a role Steve plays in Robin and Vickie's storyline - like, yes, sure, Steve and Robin are a much more important dynamic in the context of the show and that is fine (though they did lowkey ruin this friendship to me with that goddamn "I'd date her" line). But there is something uncomfortable about making a significant chunk of the scenes between your only lesbian couple about your straight male character. The fact that Robin and Vickie's final scene ends with Steve looking to them and smiling shifts the focus: it's no longer about them, but about how nice a guy Steve is. And we already know Steve is an important ally to Robin, we saw it last season, we don't need it to be the eternal culmination of her storyline.

#stranger things critical #i guess #but yeah anon I do believe Robin's storyline is a good indication of whatever they'll do with Will #which is why I don't expect much

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alastgoodnight · 2 years ago

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"Remember to always say goodnight to the ones who love you, even if you don't think you need to. Everyone deserves a goodnight."

Indie RP blog for Naomi Joy Sato, reclusive podcaster and caretaker of a strange and lonely library. A study in grief, found family, telling stories and learning to be loved again, through the lens of 90's/2000's children's shows. Mun is over 21, but blog is SFW. Highly selective. No minors, please. Penned by Esme. Takes place during the summer of 2023. Scary things may happen, but this is not a horror blog.

Quick Note: Posts tagged with 'Chapter #: Chapter Title' (replace appropriately) are story posts. They're meant to be treated as the 'source material' of this blog, and inform her progress and behavior in threads. They are not opens. I will not respond to any interactions with them.

Trigger warnings: Surrealist imagery, death of family/a child (in backstory), survivor's guilt, metaphorical body horror (mild), revisiting the same nightmare over and over and over again.

The Story So Far: Naom has accepted that she wants to stay in the Library. There is still work to be done, though, on both the building and herself, before that can be made official. The first thing to do is deliver some bouquets.

Current Library Residents:

Naomi Sato, the only human resident. She has agoraphobia, and needs an umbrella in order to feel comfortable going outside during the day.

Teddy, her goldfish stuffed animal. Not alive.

About 14 dust bunnies, including Buster and Wexel; Eenie, Meenie, Minie and Moe; and 'the class', a group of 8 dust bunnies always seen together.

Willa the Wallaphant, a felt elephant that resides in a series of tapestries decorating the library building.

Ragamonster/Rags: A quadrupedal puppet made of blue, green and yellow scraps and yarn, Ragamonster is the monster under Naomi's bed. Very large but easily frightened, Rags is as sweet as he is skittish, and prefers to be close to Naomi or under a small roof.

Arlo: The Sandman of Slumber Hill, Arlo is a ram puppet/costume who wears dark, glittering robes and bells on his horns. He acts as a voice of reason and comfort, and only appears at night, right before bedtime. He is always accompanied by his flock of sheep, which you can count to fall asleep.

The Flock: Arlo's sheepy, so sleepy. They hop fences.

Current Library Anomalies:

Blue Dreams: A series of dreams in which Naomi finds herself in an enclosed space filled with matte blue something. After the incident with the Blue Mirror, the dreams have come to a halt, due to Naomi drawing a hard boundary with the Library.

Three Goldfish: A new addition to the Blue Dream phenomenon, these three goldfish come in varying sizes and are noted for their solid colors of Orange, Yellow and White. They represent Naomi's memories of her father, mother, and sister respectively.

Blue Umbrella: An umbrella of clear blue vinyl, decorated with big, matte white raindrops and clouds. It appears to have no magical qualities, but is an effective aide in helping Naomi go outside without experiencing vertigo, due to its visual distortion of the sky.

Newspaper: A changing, self-updating newspaper consisting mostly of blocks of ink. Currently legible are the following passages: "HOROSCOPE: YOU SHOULD PICK A BOUQUET FOR THEM", a panel that says "Weather prediction: Surely it will rain eventually?", and an announcement for "FIREFLY SHOW TONIGHT, FOLLOWED BY FIRST SHEEP COUNTING OF SEASON". It is apparent that whatever entity the library is, this is its best medium for communicating through words.

Closet Mirror: A full-length mirror at the end of the second floor's walk-in closet. It depicts a strange metal lump floating in front of Naomi's chest that leaks a matte blue liquid. A particularly intense sequence of blue dreams has led Naomi to realize this is a manifestation of her (emotional) heart, and its "blue love" will continue to flood and stain everything in her life until she understands what it's trying to tell her. Currently flipped to face the wall.

Mirror Door: The mirror can transform into a door, which leads Naomi into a currently undefined space. Within it, the Library can show her memories and dreams with more interaction and clarity.

Roadside Ditch: A ditch across from the library and the road leading to it. Naomi and Arlo have picked all the flowers from it.

The Red Shape: Naomi sometimes sees a red shape far down the road, obscured by distance and the wavering of hot air. Its most recent appearance caused her to fall into the ditch, for fear of it striking Ragamonster. She now believes this to be a figment of her own memory, rather than part of Lullaby Lane.

Letterbox: A magic letterbox which can teleport any written message put through its slot to its intended recipient. It sits on the desk upstairs. (If you want to send or get asks, this is a great medium for them!)

Blue Love Poem: A poem Naomi has been struggling to write. She is starting to understand what Blue Love means.

The Story: Not an anomaly. A story Naomi tells herself but has never finished. She can very easily get stuck saying one or two sentences over and over. This followed her to the Library.

Table of Contents:

Preproduction (Prologue) - (chrono)

Pilot Episode (Chapter 1) - (chrono)

Casting Call (Chapter 2) - (chrono)

Set Design (Chapter 3) - (chrono)

Prop Development (Chapter 4) - (chrono)

Costume Fittings (Chapter 5) - (chrono)

Table Readings (Chapter 6) - (chrono)

Script Revisions (Chapter 7)

Naomi's Dream Log - (chrono)

#pinned post

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phanfictioncatalogue · 2 years ago

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Awkward Flirting Masterlist

A Book, An Umbrella, and Two Carmel Macchiatos (ao3) - koleen

Summary: A Coffeeshop AU. Mute!Phil.

a game of chance (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: Phil worked at Chance and Counters, a board game cafe in North East London. One definite perk of the last few weeks had been the guy who Phil was now delivering a coffee too. Phil had been smitten from the second he stepped through the door which was something he now wished he hadn’t told his friend and manger Nate, so he could have saved himself being teased every time Cute Dan (as Phil had affectionately called him after overhearing someone say his name) came in

all i want for christmas (is you) (ao3) - lestered (clonetrobed)

Summary: He finds himself huffing out a small, high-pitched laugh that he couldn’t even dream of passing off as part of his natural register. “Hah… yeah. Mhm. Nice. Morn… ing. Yup. Sure is.”

Dan’s smile falls a tiny bit, a hint of confusion flickering behind his eyes. Unfortunately, that’s an expression Phil is all too familiar with receiving.

AU where Dan is Phil's Christmas coworker crush, and awkward boys are awkward.

blanket of stars (ao3) - silentdescant

Summary: “That’s all for now, thank you.”

“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

The whole script is so routine, Phil thinks his brain would short-circuit if either of them deviated from it. Dan walks away and Phil sinks lower in his seat, sighing into his blue drink.

“When are you gonna ask him out, man?” Martyn asks.

Blushes and A Cup of Coffee (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil was expecting one of the stereotypical first questions, ‘what’s your favourite colour?’ Or ‘where were you born?”

Instead, Dan asked, “Do you like coffee?” and Phil couldn’t help the short bark of laughter that he let out at the strange question.

The two idiots and their first date

Birds of a Feather Steal Together (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan never expected anything remotely interesting to happen during his summer job at a petting zoo. But when he catches a boy with bright blue eyes and a cute laugh trying to smuggle a bunch of ducklings out of the farm, things take a much more interesting turn...

blow a kiss, fire a gun (ao3) - The General Phanchild (orphan_account)

Summary: "If I don't improve... he'll absolutely obliterate me. And there's nothing I can do to stop him." Secret Agent “Gold,” or Dan Howell, is less than thrilled when he is forced to team up with new recruit “Amethyst,” Phil Lester. Phil is a former trainee; clumsy and overly apologetic, while Dan’s six years of experience have left him skilled and stealthy, yet completely emotionless. Throughout their mission to bring a mysterious super-villain to justice while travelling the city of Tokyo, Phil tries to come to terms with his illogical fear of Dan, while realising what Dan's true intentions with him are.

could’ve knocked me out with a feather (ao3) - deletable_bird

Summary: “Thank you, love you,” says the guy, and freezes. Dan’s smile suddenly feels a lot more genuine.

Cross My Heart (ao3) - kitchen_sinks

Summary: Armed with nothing but a baseball bat, it’s Dan versus the mysterious stranger who’s broken into his flat, but oh wait he’s kind of hot… Awkward flirting and bandaging of injuries ensue.

Lights, Camera, Satisfaction (ao3) - americanphancakes

Summary: Dan's landed a dream acting role, working with a director he's always admired but is now crushing on badly. And today, he has to shoot a love scene. What could go wrong?

The Director!Phil AU that actually several people asked for.

New Year, New Us (ao3) - BlueFox1319, UnusPhanus

Summary: “Dan hurry we are going to be late, PJ and the others will be here any minute to pick us up! It’s already seven, we need to be at the restaurant by eight!” Phil yelled down the hall at his boyfriend. December 31st, New Year's Eve, every year the pair went out with friends and spent the first night of the new year together. For Dan and Phil, tonight would be a little different though, Phil had been planning this for months

possibly, maybe, i’m falling (ao3) - lestered (clonetrobed)

Summery: It’s just another boring day at Dan’s summer internship. Luckily, there’s an accidental coffee date waiting for him at the customer service desk.

Prestissimo (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summery: When Dan starts to get notes in his locker in the form of terrible pick up lines, he doesn't know who it could be and he doesn't really care. All he cares about is his violin and his studies. He could care less about the nonchalant cellist who never seems to take anything seriously.

Professionally, Yours (ao3) - deletable_bird

Summary: Dan is an overworked, underpaid, very homosexual uni student in need of an easy job. Phil is a successful, rather lonely businessman in need of a housekeeper. This is their story. Fluff/smut, 31.2k, written for the Phandom Big Bang 2016

Three Tattoos (ao3) - greensweater

Summery: When a talkative, blue-eyed boy named Phil Lester walks into Dan Howell's tattoo parlor one dusky autumn afternoon, Dan isn't sure what to make of him. But when Phil keeps coming back, their one-time connection grows into friendship, and eventually, something more.

Two Blushing Pilgrims (ao3) - hxwell

Summary: "Our teacher ships the two of us and we're reading Romeo and Juliet" au//Dan owns 7 pairs of the same jeans and high-fives everyone he sees while Phil listens to Neutral Milk Hotel and paints in his spare time

#phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #masterlists #flirting masterlist #flirting #awkwardflirting #awkwardflirting masterlist

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mihlo · 3 years ago

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tough luck

cw: camilo. f!reader. slight angst. fluff. mentions of blood. sad thoughts. reblogs are appreciated.

sum: you try to confess to camilo again and again yet to no avail. but third time's the charm right?

a/n: second hand embarrassment go brr

bad luck – that’s what you have.

unfortunate things happen to you all the time, whether it's scratching your knees, bumping your head, or anything else you couldn't avoid. but you remained optimistic though, it would eventually stop, right? no. it just got worse in the field of romance.

it was a serene day, you haven’t gotten into any accidents yet which made you hopeful.

“perhaps my misfortune has come to an end!” you told yourself.

walking around the town, you joyously skipped some steps and came to a halt when you saw a pretty flower. when you were about to get a closer look for inspection, however, a cluster of dry yet sharp leaves fell just above your frame, leaving small scratches on your forehead and cheeks. there goes my luck.

you glance up to the tree, curious, as the leaves have stopped falling. when you did though, the last thing you remember seeing was a blur of an orange circle approaching your face.

you close your eyes, expecting the impact to hit you, but all you feel is someone's fingers brushing on your forehead.

"are you all right?"

slowly, you opened your eyes only to meet his charming face, head leaning in bewilderment and worry. his fingers lightly traced your fresh bruises as he took the small cloth he had and wiped down the faint blood on your cheeks before handing it to you.

sheepishly smiling, you fixed yourself before responding. “i’m fine, thanks!”

relief covered his face, a small smile appeared as he went back to what he was doing earlier. “anytime!”

your eyes were drawn into his walking form, staring until it was out of sight. that's when you discovered the tiny fabric in your palms was still there. you debated whether to give it to him now or leave it with his tia julietta when you go to get some arepas but ultimately chose to deliver it to him tomorrow and thank him personally.

that was your first encounter with camilo.

you grew accustomed to his presence ever since and even developed a puppy crush on him. you believed it would go away as you got older, but it simply grew with you, making you terrified. now you’re here at the lake alone, wallowing in self-pity as ill thoughts surround your mind.

you had made multiple attempts to confess to him. giving him flowers was the first try.

while his prima, isabela, could do it herself, you believed that growing your own would make it more meaningful. however, by the time you got to his place, the heavy breeze had already destroyed it, leaving the flowers drenched and its stems broken.

that did not stop you though. you made him a short poem that was full of emotions that you had longed to express. eagerly, you went out to give it to him, failing to notice the small puddle beside you. when your hand suddenly let go of the paper, you could see that it was already soggy, the water consuming its content.

but it’s fine because the third time’s the charm right?

after the two incidents, you became more cautious of your surroundings. you had skillfully made him an embroidered handkerchief, making sure to put it in a bag and zip it carefully.

in case it would rain, you also carried an umbrella, heart dangerously thumping as you watched every step you took. you were ecstatic; perhaps your idea will work after all! but when you went to double-check it, you could see that the stitching had somehow been loose, cloth wrinkled and everything a mess.

you strained to suppress your anguish as you tossed a pebble into the water, tears streaming down your puffy eyes.

he probably doesn't even like me that way.

maybe he’s just putting up to me?

gosh, why can’t I just have a norma–

“mi vida?”

you didn’t bother to move or dry the wet cheeks you have, you were going to be humiliated either way.

wiping your tears, camilo looks at your deflated figure, his orbs filled with genuine concern. “what’s wrong mi amor?”

sniffing, you kept your eyes on the ground, lips quivering as you attempted to respond. “nothing..”

his eyebrows frowned, clearly not satisfied with your answer but he remained silent, rubbing your back as you hiccup. "i'm always here if you want to talk, okay?"

feeling overwhelmed, you finally look at his eyes before muttering something that shattered his heart.

“i’m just tired of having this bad luck.” you paused, feeling another hiccup coming. “everything i do is just messed up. in the end, it’ll fail. maybe I’m a failure too–”

“please don’t say that mi amor. you’re more than the messy things you encounter, or the bizarre situations you find yourself in. besides, mami once told me that what seems to be bad luck might just be good luck in disguise!”

your red swollen eyes twinkled as you tilt your head. “how?”

"well, we wouldn't be as close right now if it hadn't been for that fruit almost striking you, right?"

chuckling, you smiled at him and the way he cheers you up.

he does have a point.

“you’re right. trying to confess to you was way worse tho–” oh no. you slipped up.

he freezes at the newfound knowledge, staring at you with huge eyes and raised eyebrows. hesitantly, he grabbed your hands before speaking up.

“is that why you’re–you’re crying?” he stammered, mouth lost with words.

“lo siento… i didn’t mean to–”

your sentence was stopped short when you felt the gentle lips pressed into yours, his dainty fingers caressing both sides of your face and your foreheads barely touching.

despite your share of doubts, he's undoubtedly right. in some cases, tough luck can definitely be good luck in disguise – and this moment was not an exception.

⠀

#camilo madrigal x reader #camilo madrigal imagine #camilo madrigal fluff #camilo madrigal angst #camilo madrigal #camilo madrigal x y/n #camilo my beloved #encanto #encanto x reader

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interlunium-opus · 2 years ago

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Enhypen as your Best Friend: Jungwon Edition

✨The voice of reason✨ no kidding, whether it is you needing an objective opinion, an advice, need your priorities sorted, or actually needing some sense to be knocked into your head -- he's your go-to, boi is always capable of delivering unfiltered and honest yet realistic and rational advice that will definitely be for your own good. Though if you don't heed it, best believe he'd taunt you with endless, "I told you so".

Disciplined, diligent and upright -- he's basically the kid that every teacher loves, every parents want, and fellow students hate. Just kidding, he's got the social skills to boot so he's popular amongst the students as well. In other words, you can basically count on him when it comes to keeping yourself on track and disciplined because just watching his work ethics will make you rethink your life choices and lifestyle.

He may not be the sweetest nor mushiest person but his appreciation and love for you BLEEDS through his actions. He'll stay longer at the library just so that he can walk you home safely; he has an extra umbrella in his locker in case you forget yours; there is always a fully-charged power bank in his bag since your phone always run out of battery; he carries gaviscon in his bag, not because he usually gets gastroentitis, but because you usually get them if you don't eat on time; he carries an extra pair of gloves in his backpack just for you; and the list just goes on.

Sometimes is a cutiepie; sometimes is manly; and sometimes is a prick -- he's so unpredictable and hard to pin down. One second he looks like a lost cat trying to figure out how to fix his keychain or a math problem; the next he's yeeting someone across the mat with his Taekwando moves; then he'll be reminding you of that one time you embarrass yourself infront of your crush and then the next thing you know he has been waiting for you outside of your class/part-time job to walk you home, his face melting into glee the moment he saw you coming out of the building as if he had not just waited one whole hour for you.

You guys would often have movie nights! except all he recommends are romance. Whenever romantic scenes come up though, his hands would cover your eyes up, "whoops, gotta protect a baby from such scenes".

Dependable af. Like I said, boi looks so soft and qtp2tie but beneath those large cat eyes and dimpled smile -- he's quite strong, not that he ever tried to show you even a fraction of it though (unlike *coughs* Sunghoon or Jay *coughs*). One time you guys were fighting over the remote control -- it didn't even last a second because he had flipped you over on your back so effortlessly, you thought you were going to be yeeted across the room if you don't relent. Boi is a sweetheart though, he will never purposefully use even half of his real strength on you.

"Dude, we have been on a romantic movie marathon for like 1 week already," you whine as you grab the remote from the table, flipping the channels, "Oh look, the conjuring series is on!"

"not today satan," Jungwon says, about to snatch the remote away from you but you were quick enough to retract your hands back, "whoops too slow."

Jungwon scoffs, biting his lips in annoyance before grabbing one of your hand and lurching towards you. You've always thought you were pretty strong and he was kind of just average but boi you were wrong, for not only did you get easily pinned down, by the time you realized the awkward position, you can see that the remote was already in his hand as he taunted you with a smirk, "Guess who's slow now?"

Always absentmindedly (or maybe not 🤭, you'll never know) do skinships with you as if it's nothing. Sometimes while sitting next to each other, his fingers would be playing with yours. Sometimes in a crowd, his hand would grasp yours, as if afraid he would lose you. If you have something on your face or hair, instead of telling you to fix it yourself, he'd come close to you and do it himself as if the proximity meant nothing. And yet he wonders why everyone thought you two were dating 🙄

Can be a shy boi but whenever you expect him to, you will never catch him slipping. In fact whenever you try to play around, he would flip the table so easily. For example once, in a staring contest, you thought you could make him lose by inching your face closer to his but ha jokes on you, he got even closer that his nose almost touched yours. Obviously, you can't win over that one. Knowing how competitive he is, he wouldn't hesitate to get even closer. Or that one time, you help him apply some eyeshadow on his eyes for a school dance performance and you absentmindedly got a bit too close to his face while angling your head. "Whoa" he muttered quietly, startled. "Pfft, are you shy?" you teased, thinking you had the upper hand. "Not really, it's just that the way you leaned in almost made me want to lean in too," he calmly answered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he noticed your face turning red, "well, who's shy now?"

Bro is crazy attentive. He remembers everything about you: your likes, your dislikes, your wants, your needs, your anxiety, a dream you had, your book/movie review -- whatever. As long as it was something you said, or something he can observe, it will be imprinted in his mind as if he will be tested on it in an exam. Like you'd just casually sigh about how useful an air fryer would be in your household and the next thing you knew he had gotten you that. Or that one time when you whined about how worn out your running shoes were and boom! that was exactly what he had gotten you next -- the best one too.

Though he does not seem like it but he can be very protective and possessive too. Like that one time while you were working in your part-time job and you were about to go up to a group of guys to take their order and he suddenly stopped you, looking concerned. Taking your notepad, he shook his head, despite the fact that he wasn't even on server duty, "Let me. I'm pretty sure they'd mess around with you if you go up to them". Or that one time when he missed you so much during summer break that he ended up having a Zoom video call with you for hours. At one point your phone rang and you told him that you'd need to turn off the Zoom call to take the phone call as it was from your friend but he just shamelessly and flat-out told you to reject the call, "No dont take it. Tell them you're on another call. Tell them to call back later or something. Or just ignore it".

Masterlist // Work in Progress

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #enhypen jungwon #enhypen jungwon imagines #yang jungwon #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #kpop imagines #jungwon imagines #jungwon scenarios #enhypen jungwon scenarios #kpop scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader

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slytherbun · 3 years ago

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wildflower

pairing: cedric diggory x hufflepuff!reader

summary: you weren't too sure what to think when a new eye candy transfers to hogwarts and becomes the new seeker of the hufflepuff's quidditch team but you realize in time that he is all of what you hoped for.

word count: 3.7k

tags: @specialagentsoftie

note: so this is all just a bunch fluff. i'm not sure how i feel about it in terms of cringey and hope y'all like it! figured i'd post this anyways either way though lol. i made up the way reader and cedric met at hogwarts so, it's non-canon from the movie.

another note: italics are flashbacks! :)

it was cold.

you could see everybody’s breath in the air outside and knew it was a crime to be out and about now with freezing and chilly weather.

the snow outside coated the ground by inches and the black coats zippered up and wrapped around you only helped so much. you were the type to freeze easily and the climate at hogwarts didn't help your situation at all.

minutes ago before you walked outside, you knocked on the door to his dorm after surveying the hufflepuff’s common room and noticed there weren't very many people around. and when cedric opened the door after you rapped on it a few times—he took in the view of your body wrapped around your blanket before pulling you into his room.

pathetically enough, you were shivering in the halls even with your mitten covered hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat. you weren't about to admit the doubled up socks on each of your feet either underneath the knee-length boots you wore today.

"are you cold?" cedric successfully taunted you when you reached your arm out of the pocket of your jacket and then under the blanket to slap his arm. he hissed and glared your way playfully while rubbing his arm dramatically.

you shrugged with a smirk on your lips and he plopped down onto his soft bed. “don’t get too comfortable.” he suggested when noticing you trying to sneakily get underneath his covers.

“what i’d do for one of those thermal blankets the muggles use.” you sighed dreamingly while watching him walk towards his closet.

“imagine having a postal company deliver the package to hogwarts? dumbledore would have an aneurysm.” cedric replied and you couldn’t help yourself when imagining the scenario playing out in your mind.

he turned to the side to admire your smile while you were a little distracted while pulling out a coat. then he closed the closet up and walked back over, holding it in your direction to offer an extra to put over your body. you gladly took it with a smile. "thanks ced."

cedric backed up a few steps and brushed a hand through his brunette hair. not being able to help himself he joked, “can’t have you walking around with your blanket wrapped around you. your height already makes you look so adorable.”

you got off from the bed when he exaggerated with your blanket in hand and scoffed. cedric bit his lip nervously while continuing to back up before he felt the wall pressed against him.

he rubbed the back of his nervously while you held the blanket up to his height and above your own head. “i’m just kidding.” he gulped before you took it and put it over his face.

when he tugged it down from his face he spotted you innocently standing by the door with his jacket around you. “i was going to leave it here anyway. just put it on the bed and i’ll come get it later after we get back.”

while you zippered it up you noticed this particular jacket was the one that you often saw him wearing before he ended up buying a new one for the upcoming winter that you were suffering in now.

and it was longer than the one you had previously put on about twenty minutes ago so, you couldn't argue with him on that steal.

"alright.” he laughed and added with a more serious tone. “oh and by the way—you don't need to thank me. you're my best friend, wildflower."

today was the first quidditch match of the season and you were sitting at the edge of your seat in anticipation. the hufflepuffs didn't score well last season and you were hoping they wouldn't come out with last place again for the year.

y/g/b/f (your girl best friend) sat down on the stands next to you with an umbrella in her hands. you turned and looked at it with a confused face. but she just smiled at your contemplating thoughts and looked up at the sky once before supplying you with an answer.

“well it looks bright now but i have a feeling it’ll rain later.” she always had a suspicion for when it was going to rain or snow and you never second guessed her because every single time she was right.

“did you know we’re having a new seeker play on the team today? i believe he’s going to be captain too if he plays his cards right this game.” she asked. you didn’t know that.

“wait is he the new guy everybody is talking about? i heard the rumors but you know how they are. i didn’t want to take it seriously until i saw it with my own eyes.” you stated and she nodded.

“yeah he’s a transfer i think but i’m not too sure. his name is cedric diggory though.” after her reply, you glanced around the stands to see if anybody had diggory signs for the game but with no avail you sighed. before you could respond you felt a few droplets on your shoulder.

your friend gave you a smart-ass grin and popped out the umbrella to hold it over the both of you. “guess we’ll see how good he is.” you mumbled before seeing the players come up to the playing area with their brooms.

butterbeer was pretty popular during the winter season. many students from school usually went and got some to help regulate their body temperature and keep warm.

everybody else must have gotten the same memo because you were inside the three broomsticks now for some butterbeer and it was crowded.

almost every table was filled with peers and that’s probably why you didn’t see many people in the school. with just one glance around the area, you could already tell the divided area’s of where each school was seated right away.

your tables were to the left area, the slytherins must have come earlier because they grabbed the back ones, some of the ravenclaw’s were off to the right, while harry and the other gryffindor’s had the middle area.

cedric nudged your side to grab your attention and nodded towards the hufflepuff area. “want to grab us some seats and i’ll get the drinks?” he asked and you nodded. “sure, could you get me a snack too if you don’t mind?”

he smiled and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “i suppose i could.” cedric walked away with a wink and you shook your head knowing he was just humoring you.

little did you know he already had planned to get you something else even before the two of you left the dorms. it had gotten to the point where asking him for little things hadn’t bothered you because you reciprocated all of the time.

but sometimes cedric would give you little excuses when it was your turn to pay, just so he could end up paying for whatever you guys were having or getting. he always spoiled you.

"ah the golden girl is here." hermione scoffed and watched you walk towards the hufflepuff area. your other best friend was seated already and started talking to you when you sat.

the brunette from the red colored house didn't particularly dislike you since you were always nice. sometimes you chatted with her while working on a project that you were paired for. then other times you gave her a soft smile when catching her eye while walking in the halls towards your next class.

she definitely couldn’t help but respect and admire you.

but the reason she didn’t put herself out there and try to befriend you was because you were one of the girls known in school for your smartness, quick reflexes, and witty attitude.

when people from school talked about you and referred to you as the golden girl instead of your name most of the time—it wasn’t that you were golden per-say but the fact that it matched up perfectly with the school’s color that you sorted it.

hufflepuff was known for its represented yellow color.

and there’s no doubt about it that hermione was also known around the school. but, she felt it was for all of the wrong reasons. despite not having it any other way as one of harry's best friends, she wondered if not for him that in an alternate lifetime that she would be you.

“why is she wearing cedrics jacket?” ron asked after following hermione’s stare. harry thumped him on the back of his head and then shook his own. “why does it matter?” the one with a thunderbolt on his forehead replied.

“well it is interesting, isn’t it?” the brunette said in defense of ron’s question. the one who didn’t seem curious at all took a sip of the butterbeer in front of him.

he licked his lips, thinking then replied to them with a response. “i mean it’s not our business but it is an odd find now that you pointed it out. maybe he’s just being friendly?”

“as if! cedric has had a crush on y/n since he met her. she’s just oblivious to it all,” she paused and tapped her chin. “—or is she?” ron gasped at her accusation but took a sip of his own drink before she could hear his outburst.

harry noticed her getting riled up once again and sighed. “well i don’t know what else to say. maybe you should just introduce yourself already and ask her instead of me.” he shrugged and hoped to end the conversation there.

you knew exactly who cedric diggory was when he swiftly passed by the hufflepuff area during the game. of course, he was wearing yellow.

the game has been going on for a decent amount of time now and he was stacking up the scores on the quidditch board—easily passing by the score of the gryffindor’s team.

cedric was undoubtedly the new eye candy for the whole school with the gasps and ‘awes’ from the other girls sitting in the stand. your friend was so busy watching harry that she didn’t catch the commotion.

you didn’t really pay attention to him to get a good glance at his face so, you thought he was just another arrogant rich boy and rolled your eyes.

what you didn’t notice was the way it was like a slow-motion love at first sight situation for him when he went by. since it stopped raining through the middle of the game he was able to catch a quick view of you.

the week wasn’t done yet so it was possible he’d be seeing more of you in another class he hadn’t had yet. and cedric hoped you were because he couldn’t help but look over in your direction throughout the game to catch another glimpse of your face.

it was still humid outside and you tried wiping your makeup a few minutes ago since it was under your eyes now, but you only smudged it further. your robe was drenched with your wavy and half-dried hair now lying down the back of it.

but he didn’t care what you thought about yourself because he knew without a doubt that you were the prettiest girl there.

“cedric’s looking pretty good today.” y/g/b/f voiced for the first time today. you played with the napkin in your hand while trying to get a glimpse of cedric.

“i don’t think you would know even if he was—since you spend all your time looking at harry.” cedric was up to the counter now waiting for your butterbeer and food.

“uh huh. don’t think i haven’t admired cedric before from afar though.” after a moment of not answering her, y/g/b/f noticed that you weren’t paying attention. you knew exactly what she was hinting towards.

cedric did look good.

his hair had that ‘just woken up’ style to it and he always managed to look even more attractive then he should have. the yellow scarf wrapped around his neck was the one that came with every hufflepuff’s supplied uniform clothing.

he usually wore it when you sat with him in potions on a chilly morning and you caught yourself wanting to take it off of him and wear it sometimes.

he always smelled good and it comforted you in ways a best friend shouldn’t have the ability to.

you seemed to have let your guard down and stared longer then you should have which confirmed what y/g/b/f already knew. “i knew it!” she chuckled and stated more loudly than the last comment to snap you out of the zoned out state you were in.

“know what?” you asked while placing the napkin back down on your table.

cedric was reaching the table and you wanted the conversation to end quickly. you usually dragged out conversation topics like this so you had time to think of another one to distract her with. but, she always found a way to circle it back around again.

you had to shut it down before he could hear, already knowing exactly what she wanted to talk about again.

“i’ll tell you later before our curfew.” y/g/b/f smirked and you sighed knowing she would in fact take the time out of her night to find you before bed. lucky you.

“hey y/g/b/f. how has your day been?” he asked your other friend while sitting down and placing your refreshments in front of you and then doing the same with his.

she grinned at you then glanced over at him, “pretty good i guess if it wasn’t for this weather i would say great. how about you? and how’d you manage to get this one out?” she gestured towards you, causing you to roll your eyes.

here we go again.

you were walking down the path back to the hogwarts dorms with y/g/b/f and some others. there was going to be a small celebration in the hufflepuff’s common room and other students were trying to hurry back without raising suspicions with any professors nearby.

“hey, i’ll be right back y/n/n. i see luna and i’m going to go ask her if she has a hair tie.” she said and pointed to the curly knots that she had on her shoulders.

you nodded and continued along the path while she walked over to the other side. it was quiet for a moment and you surveyed the peaceful area, a few feet over in the grass was a small patch of flowers.

you were about to take a quick look at them before feeling someone tap your shoulder. it was sudden and you couldn’t help but quickly move to the side and form a fist. you were about to throw it but stopped when you stared wide-eyed at the person who scared you.

cedric felt awful and only after he startled you did he realize that you were looking off in the distance of the area. the way you jumped though seemed that you were quick on your feet and he couldn’t help but smirk at the new name he had for you.

“hey i’m sorry for startling you wildflower but i just wanted to introduce myself. i’m cedric diggory.” he introduced with a panty-dropping smile.

you weren’t sure if it was some kind of joke so you treaded carefully. “uh it’s okay, it’s my fault really for not paying attention but i’m y/n y/l/n. nice to meet you ced.”

cedric held out his hand for you to shake and you took it, giving him a firm shake. after you let go he smirked and questioned. “ced, huh?”

he crouched down to pick up a flower that you were looking at earlier and it reminded you to ask, “wildflower, huh?” you met his statement equally and folded your arms together so they were across your chest to look more tough.

his cheeks tinted a minor shade of pink and tried to hide his embarrassment by ducking down and ignoring your question. instead he glanced back up to tuck a hair behind your ear and then placed the flower there.

“yes, wildflower.”

and how could you argue with him when he was being so sweet?

the two of you made it back to the common room after an hour of eating, then chatting with cedric and your other best friend. he was sitting on the bed with you sitting next to him.

you’ve been sitting for only about a minute or so—only enough time to shrug off your jackets and place them on the desk chair between that time after walking back to his dorm.

“would you like to lay down for a few minutes?” cedric asked when he noticed the tiredness shown clear as day on your face.

“sure” you agreed and you laid down while he shook your blanket out for the two of you to use. his eyebrows scrunched together when he realized it wouldn’t make much of a difference in comfort with how small it was.

you chuckled watching him trying to maneuver it around and he glanced your way with a smirk of defeat. “hmm, seems this blanket is a little small. would you like to go under the covers?”

cedric was giving into what you wanted earlier before the two of you left and he knew that too. the three broomsticks' food was delicious as always and you just wanted to relax for a few minutes after getting teased by your friend.

he grinned watching you get comfortable after the both of you were situated under the sheets and yellow comforter. there was a hufflepuff patch ironed onto it and you rubbed your thumb over it while laying down.

it wasn’t that awkward since you’ve fallen asleep in his arms a couple of times before already. class exams were frustrating and took a lot out of the students so he took comfort in you and vice versa when there was some down time during the weekends throughout the school year.

with an arm around you—he pulled you close to the point where you could feel his warm breath along your neck. “i don’t think you realize how much i treasure these moments y/n/n.”

he spoke breathlessly and you gulped slowly. you were dumbfounded with how seriously he said that. as if it had some kind of hidden meaning behind it. “me too.” you agreed and wondered if he would leave it at that.

but you knew better and cedric never left well alone when he wanted to get a point across. he turned your body slowly with the arm he had around your middle and you faced him with confusion.

he glanced down once before looking back up and continued on with his confession while staring into your doe eyes—a color he deemed his favorite the day that he met you.

“i’ve been fighting myself for a while on whether or not i should tell you this because i didn’t want my feelings to ruin our friendship. i’d rather be your friend than not be a part of your life at all. and i always look forward to seeing you e-everyday.” he paused when his voice cracked.

after cedric cleared his throat he continued, “and i totally understand if you don’t share the same feelings with me but i just couldn’t go on another day without telling you how i—” you cut him off by leaning in and brushing your lips against his.

he moved closer on the bed, so his skin was touching yours. cedric wanted to get as close to you as he possibly could. your hand swept through his brunette curls and you surprised him by tugging it.

he never knew what you were going to do and his friends teased him that you were a wildcard, to which he’d correct them and say you were his wildflower.

cedric smirked into the kiss and you groaned knowing he was being a smart-ass. but in return, he shocked you when he placed a hand delicately on your cheek to cup it rather softly.

he rubbed your cheek while your hand massaged his curls and then moved them downwards to the nape of his neck.

cedric pushed the hair back from your neck with his hand and then placed it back so his thumb splayed across on your cheek in a loving gesture. and you only wanted him closer after feeling sensitive about the whole astonishment that still had you stunned to the core.

you tugged the collar of his shirt and he pulled away with puffy, red lips and a smile. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know, i’m just emotional.” you voiced squeakily and full of embarrassment about it. cedric shook his head and before patting his chest, he held up the comforter over the both of you and let the minimal cold air in.

“oh, baby it’s okay. come here and let's cuddle a little before curfew.”

you bit the bottom of your lip and nodded, giving him a smile in return to the one he gave you and then crawled onto him. “i think i like baby better.” you voiced and laid on his chest with your head over his heartbeat.

he let go of the comforter when he noticed you were settled and tugged it firmly around both of your bodies. “better then what?” he asked.

“wildflower.” you admitted and hummed nervously while awaiting his response. you felt cedric shake his head and he put his arms around your body so you were pressed firmly against him before he kissed your forehead.

“you’ll always be my wildflower.” you closed your eyes after giving him a quick kiss on the cheek in response.

after a moment of laying back down you could feel his chest rising up and down in an odd pattern so, you put your head up to see him laughing again at you.

“what now?” you questioned trying to keep a serious facial expression but failing when he grinned.

“guess you got what you wanted, hmm?” cedric said—referring to the fact that you were finally under the comforters and you smirked.

“of course i always do. including finally getting you, ced.”

462 notes · View notes

9tzuyu · 3 years ago

Text

closest to me

prompt: coming out to natasha as nonbinary

note: totally meant to write this months ago, but whateverrrr. and yes, i am aware that not all nb people use they/them, this was just my own little work :p.

warnings: being scared to come out to ur sexy redhead russian of a gf :[

i’d tag but i also don’t want to somehow trigger someone :[

thank u moli for proofreading i love u to the moon and back.

. . .

you’d come out to two of your close friends, ones you knew wouldn’t judge you. they’d taken it just as expected, but that was no surprise when you’d known them your entire life. your shared opinions and thoughts were what brought you together in the first place.

your friends immediately began using your correct pronouns, and you’d never felt more right in your life. it was refreshing to hear yourself being referred by they/them rather than she/her. their constant support made you feel normal again. after so much struggling, things were finally being put into place.

but there was one person, one very important person whom you hadn’t come out to yet, and that was your girlfriend.

natasha.

the thought of having the conversation alone with her was terrifying. granted, you knew she’d never be anything but supportive, but all the what if’s came flooding through with each attempt you made.

your fingers trembled as you fiddled with the silver chain around your neck, a nervous habit you’d seemed to form over the years of wearing it.

god you wanted to tell her so bad.

but as you stood in the kitchen, natasha’s hands around your waist, you began to panic all over again. the familiar fear of judgment wrapped around your throat.

you didn’t know natasha the majority of your life like you did with friends, so you weren’t really sure what her exact opinions on different pronouns were. sure, she was part of the lgbt community, and of course she was supportive of trans people, but it still made you wonder how she’d feel about pronouns that weren’t he/him or she/her.

“what’s on your mind, baby? i can practically hear the gears turning in your head.”

you sighed. natasha always knew when you were lying, so you couldn’t make something up off the top of your head. she wouldn’t force you to talk either though. she’d give a push, but nothing more until you were certain you were ready — or in some cases, when she knew it was becoming too much to bear on your own.

“just dumb stuff. i’ll get over it soon.”

natasha nodded against your back, containing her concern for now. “you know i’m here.” she whispered, taking one of your hands away from your necklace.

“want to go downtown? we can look at some of the new shops that just opened up”

you smiled, “sure.”

for the next few weeks, you weren’t seeming to find any relief though, and natasha picked up on it. she tried her best to make things easier for you, but none of it seemed to work.

time and time again you reassured her that nothing was wrong, that things would clear up on their own, but another month down the road and natasha could still sense that something was eating away at you.

it’d gotten a little more obvious now. you didn’t go out as much with her when she was with her friends. the constant referral to you as something, or someone, you weren’t was a steady reminder of how outcast you’d originally felt when coming to terms with who you are.

“she/her” felt like a slap in the face every time you heard it. the words were exhausting, damn near agonizing to hear. but day after day you tried to suck it up out of fear of being rejected by one of the very special people you loved most.

it wasn’t until one sunday night when natasha came home to you crying in your shared bed when she’d finally had enough. her worry was through the roof and seeing you struggle so much pained her.

she dropped her keys on the nightstand and crawled into bed behind you, securing her arms tightly around your figure.

“talk to me. whatever it is, i want to hear about it.”

but that only made you cry harder. you couldn’t help but feel more alienated than you already felt. why were you crying over such a stupid little thing? you could already hear the false words slip from natasha’s lips.

“hey, baby. shh, shh, you’re okay.”

you turned your body to face natasha, teary eyes looking into hers. “you might hate me, or think i’m weird, or a freak, or that i’m just confused.”

your girlfriend gently combed through your hair with her nails. “i could never think those things about you. please tell me what this is about because i have no idea and i just want to help.”

her steady hand movement rubbing your arm while the other twirled your hand between her fingertips eventually brought you to a more reasonable state.

“you know how trans people typically go by their opposing pronouns?”

“mhm.”

“well... i don’t- i just- god this is so frustrating!” you frowned, unconsciously grasping at the chain around your neck.

“are you trying to tell me you’re trans?”

“no, no, it’s not that. well, i don’t think so, depends on who you talk to. some people like me consider themselves to be classified under the trans umbrella, but not everyone.”

natasha hummed once more while tracing small shapes against your skin.

“what do you think of nonbinary people? like, you know, those who don’t use she/her or he/him?”

she shrugged, and your heart sank for a brief second before she spoke. “i don’t have a problem with it. why?”

“i don’t like being referred to as she/her. my pronouns are they/them. i’m not a man and i’m not a woman... will that ever bother you?”

a smile broke out across the redhead’s face. “doesn’t bother me one single bit. i love you for you, y/n. not for who you think you’re supposed to be.”

relief was all you could feel. as cliche as it sounded, the weight of the world felt like it had been lifted from your shoulders. you didn’t have to worry anymore, not while natasha was around.

“is this what’s been bothering you for so long?”

you reached over and grabbed a loose red strand, it was your turn to play with her hair. “yeah. i knew you wouldn’t judge, but-”

“what if.” she confirmed and you nodded.

“does anyone else know?”

“just my two friends i grew up with.”

“no one else?” you shook your head, looping a red curl around your finger. “nope.”

“is that why you stopped hanging out with me, tony, clint and the rest of them? because everyone referred to you as she and her?”

“yeah, felt like a punch in the stomach every time i heard it. made me feel weird, not normal i guess.” you mumbled, almost embarrassed by the confession.

natasha placed a long kiss on the top of your head, rubbing your back for extra support. “they would never judge you, i’d cut them off in a heartbeat if they did. if it helps any, i can ask how they feel about it? poke around some and let you know what they say? then when they don’t have a problem with it, which they won’t, you can come out when you’re ready, yeah?”

you nodded again, although it was slightly hesitant. “sounds good.”

“forgive me if i mess up a couple of times. i’ll try not to make a big deal out of it and just correct myself.” another kiss was delivered to your head.

“oh! last question. promise.”

“yes?”

“when im around other people and you’re not with me do you want me to use they/them? i don’t want to out you when you’re not ready.”

“i swear you’re perfect,” you giggled. “but you can use they/them both when im with you and when i’m not. just try to keep it casual? please?”

“anything for you, sweetheart.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #natasha x reader

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songbirdstyles · 4 years ago

Text

when the levee breaks

summary: you’re a waitress and harry is being stood up.

warnings: brief smut, angst, fluff, love at first sight <3 kind of

song inspo.: when the levee breaks - led zeppelin

word count: 9.5k

There’s always a particular vibe you get from people going on first dates.

It’s an easy one to notice and you and your coworkers love pointing it out - it’s an air of hope and romance, people arriving dressed their very best yet still holding some sort of awkwardness. It’s sweet, actually, and quite adorable and they’re always the nicest to you, needing to impress their date and make sure they know that they’re respectful. It’s the same reason they leave such a hefty tip - likely wanting to show they’re, at the very least, wealthy enough to tip 20% on a $100 tab and not have it hurt their pockets, or to prove that they respect waitresses enough to help you pay your rent. They’re always the tables you’re desperate to serve, not only for the tip they leave you but because you love getting a clue as to how the date goes, and most times it’s good. Once, you’d heard the guy’s date inquire about kids before their meals came, and they’d left barely minutes after paying their bill. Another time, a couple had arrived at 6 and hadn’t left until 11 on a Thursday night - nearly two hours after closing, and you’d nearly had to shoo them out the door when they weren’t going fast enough.

It varies often, but still - first date couples are your favourite, and when you see him walk up to the host stand, you know he’s another one.

The uncomfortableness is what tips you off, fiddling with one of the numerous rings on his finger as he leans back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting behind an elderly couple hoping to grab a table outdoors for some drinks. He’s dressed well, tucking a loose curl behind his ear and rolling up his sleeves and when he makes it up he’s confirming a reservation f’two, under th’name Harry Styles, please. And the girl at the host stand - the youngest host your boss has hired, you reckon, though you’d need to fact check it to be sure - picks up her pen and crosses his name out in the reservation book, a thick line running through his information and phone number before she’s grabbing a stack of menus (specials, wine, beer, and general, respectively) and telling him to follow me this way, sir as she leads him outside.

Well, you don’t see exactly where Brianna takes him before you remember the four waters that table 306 had asked for, and it’s not like you to get distracted like that by a customer - you’ve been a waitress for nearly three years since starting college and yet, no patron has ever caught your eye like Mr. Harry Styles. It’s a damn paradox, really - you only see attractive guys like him when they’re on dates and, by that point, they’re spoken for. There’s no room for you to mosey in and you wouldn’t do that to another girl, anyway, but still. You suppose it doesn’t matter (he looks wealthy enough to leave a good tip with or without a date, truthfully) but it still has you sighing as you grab four glasses, scooping ice into them and beginning to fill them with water.

Distraction is a bad look on a waitress, your manager had told you the last time you’d gotten distracted by a pretty girl and nearly dropped the plate of pasta you were holding. It makes your smile seem forced. And that was the first month you’d started working, before you’d realized that most customers treated the staff like objects to use to make themselves look or feel better - you’d seldom had to use her advice since then. But there’s a first - or second - time for everything, isn’t there? And he is your second time.

After you’ve delivered your waters, though, you’re made uncomfortably aware of the fact that Brianna had, indeed, seated Harry in your section. And it isn’t a bad thing, per se, except he is the most attractive man you’ve ever met and you can only imagine what his date is going to look like when they show up - probably dressed to the nines like he is, just a tad too fancy for an establishment like this and you’re sure you’ll feel insecure in your work-issued shirt and jeans but you suppose there’s nothing to do about it.

You try not to make it too obvious as you fix your hair, tying your ponytail higher up onto your head because it had been slipping down and you’re really not a huge fan of low ponytails. Normally you don’t mind but - sometimes the circumstances change.

He’s at table 305, leaning over his phone, fingers drumming against the table when you walk over to him, clutching two coasters in your hands and he looks up at you with a smile as you approach. And it’s easy - giving the same introductory speech you’ve given thousands of times before, telling him your name and how I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” you question, eyes flickering inconspicuously to the empty seat across from him. He’d pulled it out slightly, angling it out towards the sidewalk in clear anticipation of when his date enters so she can gracefully sit down without having to make a fuss about pulling the chair out - so he’s a gentleman, and it only worsens your moral dilemma at the situation.

“I’ll jus’ have a water, f’now,” he responds, smiling up at you and you nod, reaching down to rest one coaster in front of him and the other in front of the other seat. “M’waiting f’someone - then I’ll get somethin’ else.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him, giving him a smile as if you had no idea he was waiting for someone when, in fact, you’d known the second he walked through the doors. Quickly your eyes dart up and down the sidewalk, checking to see if anyone’s walking with their sights set on your restaurant but there’s nobody - perhaps she’s late, or he’s early, but it’s not your place to speculate anyway. “I’ll be right out with that.”

And so you make your way back inside - you have to stop at table 303 because their daughter, so small her legs barely hang off the seat she’s sitting in, has finished her Coke and wants another and you take their dish of risotto balls with you, practically licked clean (in your opinion, they’re the best appetizers on the menu, and you’ve tried just about everything.) 301 got up, leaving nearly half a plate of polpo sitting there and a full untouched bottle of wine and you can recall them specifically declining your request to take their plates earlier, claiming they were still picking at it and clearly they changed their mind - but Brianna’s rushing out to clean everything up before you tell her to, and that’s good of her. She’s new - it’s always good to see the new workers doing well. You’ll tell your manager the next time you see her, you reckon, though you hope it’s not too soon. And then 306 waves you down, seconds away from screaming for you to notice them because the man wants some red pepper flakes to sprinkle onto his pizza and it all stacks up in your mind, but you just smile and nod and turn to rush inside before anyone else can flag you down.

You don’t notice Harry’s eyes on you, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

One Coke and one dish of red pepper flakes later and you’re returning to Harry’s table, resting his drink on his coaster. It’s barely been two minutes since he last requested the water and his initial look of hope and excitement hasn’t faded, even when his eyes flicker down to his phone as though to check for a notification when he thanks you for the water.

Oh, well. Dates are late all the time, and you don’t have time to ponder on it as 304 noisily stacks their plates on top of each other, and you swoop over to grab them before taking them inside. No, it certainly isn’t your place to wonder about the status of his date because you know that you’ve been late to dates too many times than you should’ve, what with classes and work and everything else you have to do in life. You barely have time to date anymore - when you’re not studying so late you can barely keep your eyes open you’re picking up shifts, working your ass off for a paycheck that goes straight to your landlord. You hardly even hang out with your friends anymore and you’re not sure if it’s a healthy sacrifice, giving up your friends to work and study and get far less sleep than the average 22 year old but you don’t quite have a choice, do you?

Maybe his date is in the same situation - you can’t fault her for it. It certainly makes her more relatable to you.

It’s been fifteen minutes and Harry still sits on his own, nails tapping against his phone screen, turning his head to glance up and down the sidewalk like you had before but there’s no one there to join him. Part of you feels bad as you rest a plate of mozzarella agnolotti in front of the two men at 302 and they dig into it like fucking heathens who haven’t eaten in months, and when you tell them to enjoy they call out thank you with their mouths full, bits of food flying onto the table, and you feel bad for when one of the hostesses has to clean it later.

It’s times like this that you’re thankful to be a waitress and not a host. Those times are few and far between, but they still come.

303 got their entrees and 304 has their check and you don’t have an excuse not to stop back at Harry’s table, even if feeling his eyes on you has your stomach turning and your face heating. Hopefully he can’t notice (and you have gotten fairly skilled at hiding your emotions with a wide smile that’s just about as fake as they come) and your prayers seem to answer themselves when you walk to his table, ducking beneath the umbrella that hangs above the two-top and meeting his eyes.

“You want a refill on that water?” You ask, motioning with a nod down towards his half-empty glass. It’s certainly not low enough to warrant bringing out the water pitcher but you’ll deal with the hassle - going table to table asking if they need refills and all the other shit you have to do because it seems discriminatory when you only offer it to one table.

He looks up at his glass, tilting his head and screwing up his eyes as though he really needs time to decide whether he needs more water before shaking his head, curls flopping in front of his face as he pulls his glass closer to him. “S’alright.”

“Is your date running late?” And the second the words are out of your mouth you want to smack yourself - you know it’s unprofessional to comment like that especially when it’s that fucking obvious that you’re right. You may as well have asked him if the sky is blue, or if the time really is 6:15. Irrefutable facts are embarrassing to state aloud, especially when it would get you a stern talking to if your manager were to overhear.

But Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it, nor does he seem fazed by your sudden expression like you’d just bit into a lemon. In fact, he takes the comment in stride, resting his palms on the tabletop as he squints up at you - the sun shines behind you and you’re sure it’s in his eyes, and the fact that he took the sunny seat just adds another reason to consider him perfect. “Yeah, she is,” he confesses, twiddling with his rings again, and it’s nearly impossible not to drop your gaze to his fingers and watch him go. “But - y’know - she’s a nurse, an’ all that. Probably just had t’work late an’ forgot t’text. S’alright.”

You’re not sure what to say to that and for a second you stand there in silence as Harry taps his phone, surely checking to see if he’d received a text that hadn’t lit up his phone with the notification but there’s nothing except for the lockscreen - a blurry shot of a black and white cat, face close to the camera and tongue sticking out just so. Instead you clear your throat before saying, “I’ll go grab you some olives.”

“Olives?”

“Yeah - we give everyone assorted olives.” And suddenly, it sounds stupid, like giving your customers olives is something embarrassing when, in fact, it’s customary, but Harry’s looking at you with a certain curiosity, eyes bemused as if you’re entertaining him. “They’re actually quite good. I’m sure you’d like them.”

(In truth, you tried the olives once and had hated them, but you tell your customers that every single thing your restaurant offers is your favourite and the olives are no exception.)

“Oh.” Harry shrugs, then, leaning back in his seat as you duck back out from under his umbrella. “Well, if y’say so, m’sure I’ll like ‘em.”

You smile in agreement and there’s nothing left to add so you head towards the door, wiping your palms on your apron the second you’re inside. You’re sure you’ve had that exact conversation about olives of all things with ten other customers since you’ve worked here but it feels so different with him and it nearly scares you. There’s no reason you should feel so conflicted about a patron on a date who you’ve never met nor seen before but you suppose some things truly are unexplainable.

306 is ready for their check and as you grab a ramekin full of assorted olives you call to ask Brianna to print it out - there’s nobody at the door, anyway, and you need to find an empty dish for the olives, anyway. When you’ve got that and stashed the check in your apron you head back out and Harry’s sitting craning his neck glancing down the sidewalk and you hope, for his sake, that he’s right and she just got caught up at work. (And, for your own very selfish sake, you hope she doesn’t come.)

“I’ve got some olives for you,” you tell him, resting the two ramekins on the table in front of him and he glances down at them with an air of disgust that you most certainly relate to, and your face nearly splits open in a grin. “Well, they’re complimentary, anyway, so if you don’t like them, it’s not too big of a deal.”

“They look divine,” he says, and you know he’s lying but it still makes you smile. “I’ll tell y’how they are.”

“I’ll be waiting,” and that sounds like such a schoolgirl crush response and your face briefly tightens in a cringe before you walk off to 306, pulling their check out and depositing it on their table. None of them even drank their waters that they requested - assholes.

Holy shit.

You’re really feeling for Harry, now. There’s a new young couple sitting at 301 (certainly not on a first date, you’ll add), holding hands across the table and giggling loudly and they don’t break eye contact even when they place their wine order, and when your eyes flicker over to where Harry’s sitting he’s watching them with an expression that looks just a little like envy. The men at 302 lean over and share a kiss over their pasta and you wish it were socially acceptable to ask every single couple not to fucking look at each other until his date arrives because you can tell it’s killing him - and suddenly, you’re wishing you hadn’t manifested his date not showing up. You’d rather feel the slight tinge of jealousy at watching him woo a girl than feel your stomach turn with every minute that passes without someone taking a seat across from him.

You can practically see the hope leaving his body as a half hour goes by since he’d arrived and he’s still sitting alone, tapping his nails against the condensation that had formed against his glass of water, feet tapping the sidewalk beneath him. The olives sit untouched in their ramekin except for one lonely green out that sits, half eaten, in the empty one you’d given him and after you’ve finished grating parmesan cheese over 301’s calamari and bruschetta, you wrap the cheese back up in its napkin before making your way over to him, ducking beneath the umbrella and sending him a smile that he reciprocates, albeit smaller than it had been before.

“Do you want to put in an appetizer to be here when she arrives?” you ask, pulling your pad and pen out of your apron and watching as he glances down at the menu he clutches in his hands. You know what the answer’s going to be before you’ve even asked the question but it’s unbearable watching him sit doing nothing, and you’re sure he’s hungry. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to eat before a date though you’re not totally positive what kind of guy would - anyway, it’s easy realize he’s yearning for food by the way he’d been sucking on his straw just moments before when you’d been taking 301’s appetizer order, even though all that’s left in his glass are a few measly ice cubes.

“S’fine,” he insists. “I don’t want t’order somethin’ and then have her not like it - y’know?” And he trails his finger along the appetizer section of the menu as if to showcase the amount of options, chest rising and falling in a sigh. You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile as you shut your notepad and slide it and your pen into your apron, smoothing your palms over the front of it again.

“Yeah, I know.”

Then he pushes the olives away from him, ramekins sliding against the tabletop and you grin as you look down at them before glancing back up at him, raising your eyebrows with mock surprise. “I guess you didn’t like the olives, then.”

Harry shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe his hair out of his eyes and you almost want to recommend that he put his hair in a ponytail (it seems to get in the way of a lot of stuff for him) but, truthfully, you love seeing his hair down. It looks so soft and luscious and you’re sure it smells spectacular, though you’ll never truly know. “I hated them,” he confesses, and you miss the way his lips turn into a smile as you giggle, sticking the full ramekin into the empty one to make it easier to carry. “D’you seriously like ‘em? They’re horrid.”

You’re supposed to say yes, but you can’t lie to him - not when he’s already having a rough night. “I don’t like them, either,” you agree, scrunching your nose as you look down at the variously coloured olives in your hands. “But, according to my manager, I love everything at this restaurant.”

He laughs at that - a genuine one, too, tossing his head back so his hair falls off his shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. He’s contagious in every sense of the word and you’ve never met anyone like that - you’re smiling with him and feeling your heart break for him all at the same time and you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced it before. “Well, s’good t’know,” Harry says when he’s stopped laughing, swirling his straw around his glass so the ice cubes clink together. “I’ll take your advice wit’ a grain f’salt, shouldn’t I.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” you insist. “You’re special.” Your tone is teasing and to anyone listening in it’s clearly a joke but you gnaw on your tongue after the words are out anyway - he just smiles down at the table, scratching the surface with his nails.

“M’glad.” And your eyes scan the rest of your tables on instinct - 306 is up and there’s a stack of plates at 303 that you need to bring inside, but if it were up to you, you’d spend the rest of your day ducked into Harry’s umbrella, listening to him speak. But - well - you’re not being paid to talk to a pretty boy, most unfortunately, and you step out from under his covering to check out your other tables when - “Wait!”

You turn back around and Harry’s leaning back, holding his hand over his eyes to look at you and you take a step back over to him, bending down ever so slightly so you can hear him over the shitty music your boss insists on playing too loud to your outdoor guests. “Could I have a coke, please?” he questions, and you nod. “Thanks.”

Your other tables can wait - you scurry back inside, heading to the service station because you’d rather die than make him wait an extra second longer for his coke. Lauren - the other waitress on duty tonight - stands unwrapping a cheesecake to prepare for one of her tables and she looks at you with an arched eyebrow. “Who were you talking to?”

You shrug and you hope it isn’t painfully clear how your heartbeat thumps against your chest like a damn drum. “Just the guy at 305.”

“Oh.” Lauren pauses where she’s mixing the tupperware container of homemade whip cream to place on the cheesecake as you fill your glass with ice. “What’s his deal?”

“I think he’s being stood up,” you tell her.

Your suspicion is confirmed the next time you drop by Harry’s table, when he’s chugged his entire Coke and the rest of his water and he simply sits there, scrolling on his phone, and it’s like you can see how his battery has drained.

“Hey,” you call, voice soft as though you’re talking to a child, but you need to assess how upset he is about the situation before speaking in any other manner. You’d made the mistake before, started chatting too cheerfully to a lady being stood up and she’d shouted at you, called you a wench and a bastard and all other sorts of names you couldn’t recall before storming out, leaving a $20 for her three glasses of wine.

It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

“Has she texted you?” you ask, motioning down towards his phone. It’s certainly not allowed to speak to customers in such a casual manner about things other than the menu and whether they’d like to split the check but nobody’s around to reprimand you for bending the rules a bit - why not?

He shakes his head - it’s what you’d expected but your heart still aches for him and you wish you could reach out, perhaps give him a hug if he’d want it or listen to him rant about the situation. Anything to make him feel better. “S’okay,” he insists, and to his defense he can play the part well. Doesn’t seem entirely too torn up about it and he’s looking at you like you’re a friend rather than his waitress and it makes you feel comfortable. “But - f’you don’t mind - can I order an appetizer now?” You smile, already fishing for your notepad and your pen (a sparkly black one, just for the sake of being fun.) You’re glad he’s getting something and if his date happens to show up, she’d ought to eat whatever he chooses simply as an apology for being over a goddamn hour late. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite?”

The question takes you by surprise but you regain composure quickly, feeling your face and neck heat up because Harry’s staring at you as though you’re some sort of God - like you hold the answer to the meaning of life instead of the best thing on the menu and it makes you feel good. Appreciated. “I love the risotto balls,” you admit, shifting to stand next to him so you can trace your finger along the menu in his hands, pointing to the very first appetizer listed on the page. “And the shrimp and broccoli rabe is delicious.”

“I hope you’re not lying t’me.”

“I told you,” you begin, meeting his small smile with a wider one of your own and it achieves its desired effect - his spreads wider, and you wonder if he thinks that you’re as contagious as you consider him to be. “I’ll never lie to you.”

“And why’s that?”

He’s full of questions. “Because you’re a nice customer.” It’s sort of the truth, though you think you’d scare him away if you told him the full entire truth is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve laid eyes on in your life. “When some customers are assholes, I tell them to get the vongole - it’s horrible.”

He raises his eyebrows at that with another grin, resting his menu down on the table and gazing up at you with his full attention. “Well, I trust you. I’ll get the risotto balls, in tha’ case. An’ then - whenever she gets here, I’ll get something else.”

You murmur sounds good and you don’t have to write it down in your notepad to remember it. You’d nearly gotten carried away with the conversation, nearly forgotten that he’s being fucking stood up and probably doesn’t want you to flirt with him like an idiot because you’re sure acting like one. God, no other waitresses act like this with their customers and you really, truly never have before - yet it’s something about him. You can’t fucking help yourself.

You take his Coke to refill it - he doesn’t ask and you won’t charge him for it. He simply deserves it, and you think that’s reason enough to bring the glass back inside, fill it to the top with soda and deliver it back on top of his coaster the next time you go outside to make your rounds. Harry’s appreciative, naturally, and has no reason to question why you gave him another drink to begin with. For all he knows, your restaurant has free refills, and you’ll let him think that. There’s no reason to make him pay for another drink - he’s having a bad enough day already - even though, when you’d glanced down at the watch adorning his wrist as you’d given him his drink and seen that it’s Gucci.

No amount of money can buy a first date, you suppose, and you hate yourself for thinking it. You’d give him a first date. A million, in fact. And it’ll never happen but you can certainly dream, and you hope it doesn’t show in your eyes as the men at 302 order a panna cotta and cheesecake for dessert - 301 is digging into their pizza, looking so hopelessly in love with each other, and you catch Harry looking at them again.

The risotto balls are ready for him when you’ve delivered the desserts to 302, and you grab the plate and a block of parmesan and head right out to him. His eyes are on you the moment you step out the door, gaze looking ravenous and he’s most certainly just excited for his appetizer but you still let his watchful eye make your stomach turn.

No parmesan cheese for him - well, that’s fine. You tuck the block under your arm and tell him to enjoy, and he tells you he most certainly will before digging in and it only confirms your suspicion that he was fucking starving. In fact, by the time you’ve finished chatting to 304 about how delicious their gamberetti pizza was, one of the balls on the plate is gone and he’s staring at the second one like a man dying of hunger, but he doesn’t touch it. Surely waiting for his date to arrive to feast on it while he can talk about how nervous he was that she wasn’t going to show up that he was even entertaining the flirtatious waitress.

Gentleman.

The next twenty minutes are a blur - 304 is up and two tables in Lauren’s section are, too, and you don’t have much else to do so you help Brianna clear and wipe and set them all. By the time you’ve finished and returned the hostess’s grateful smile 302 wants more drinks and a chocolate mousse to split, and you pick up their empty panna cotta and cheesecake dishes and rush them back inside. 301 decides they want their check and they look like they’ve gotten into some sort or argument and you’re almost glad - though you’re sure they’ll be too angry to leave a good tip, you’ll take it if it means it may make Harry feel a bit better about being alone.

It’s 8:15 PM the next time you risk a glance at your phone. Only forty five minutes until you close and there haven’t been any new table sat for the better half of twenty minutes and you pray it stays that way - or, at the very least, they go to Lauren’s section instead of yours. Brianna is clearing 301 (they got up and left in a hurry and, as you’d expected, your tip is a few measly dollars) and your other tables have no need for your assistance yet so you make a beeline to Harry’s table the second you get outside and he’s watching you, sad smile toying at the corner of his lips.

“How were the risotto balls?” you inquire, drumming your fingers against his table. It’s a silly question because anyone with eyes can see how he’d gobbled half of the appetizer up, the other still untouched in their bowl of sauce, ricotta lazily tossed on top of it. You’re sure it’s cold now but you don’t quite mind them when they’re chilly - may even taste better than having them sizzling hot. “Looks like you liked them.”

He nods, pushing the plate away from him as though he can’t stand to be near it. “It’s really good,” Harry tells you and pats himself firmly on the stomach twice to prove it. It’s a silly motion that brings a smile to your lips anyway and you really, truly can’t help it. “M’gonna save the other one f’when she gets here.”

Hope is a good thing to have, you decide, and he’s clearly still holding onto it. You’d never been stood up before but you’re sure you’d have given up on the idea of a first date long before he had and you applaud him internally for that - he’s patient and kind and understanding, you decide. Much more tolerant than anyone else you know would be in this sort of situation and it only adds to the growing desire you have for him, but you push it down - for the sake of professionalism. “Well, that’s nice,” you tell him and he smiles, the expression tight and complimentary. “Can I get you anything else?”

“M’good,” Harry says, “but - can y’show me where the bathroom is inside?” He motions with one swirling finger to the empty glasses in front of him and his grin looks rather embarrassed when he looks back up to you. “Think I drank m’drinks a bit too fast.”

You laugh out loud at that and if he notices that your giggling goes on for just a beat longer than appropriate, he doesn’t acknowledge it and wow, don’t you feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Laughing at his joke-that-wasn’t-a-joke and feeling your face burn up when you look at him and having your stomach turn when he stands up to follow you into the restaurant and holy hell, he’s tall. You feel embarrassed walking in with him behind you because you’re not sure what he’s looking at, and what if you have a stain on your jeans? Or the back of your shirt? He’s dressed so nice and your face is fucking flaming and you avoid eye contact with Lauren as you point him towards the restroom.

“Thanks, love,” he says, voice thick and heavy as he maneuvers through the indoor tables to get to the restroom and you send him off with a small wave - just a jerk of your hand - and the second he’s out of sight you wipe your palms on your apron again.

Lauren’s making a cappuccino and so you flock over to her, naturally. You can tell she just redid her ponytail because it sits higher on her head and you think you should do that too, so you pull your black scrunchie out of your hair and work on assembling it into a better ponytail.

“That’s the guy from 305, isn’t it?” she questions.

“The guy I took to the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh - yeah.” You swallow, bending down to glance into the metal of the espresso machine to see your blurred reflection, making sure your ponytail is as smooth as possible before tying it up. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s nice.”

She hums softly, grabbing a small spoon and stirring the coffee once then twice before resting it inside the cup, already reaching for another cup to begin another. “Are you sure he’s being stood up?”

You scrunch up your nose, leaning back against the counter and tilting your head in slight confusion. “I’m pretty positive - he’s been here for, like, an hour and 15 minutes waiting for a girl and he’s still hopeful that she’s going to come.” And then you sigh, the noise overly dramatic and your coworker rolls her eyes. “Why?”

“He was checking you out, babe.”

You raise your eyebrows, head turning to the side so fast you swear you nearly get whiplash as you stare at Lauren. She simply stands, making her cappuccino as if she hadn’t just blew you away with her observation and you’re sure it meant nothing but it still has your heart thumping violently against your chest and you exhale. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Girl, I was watching - he was. His eyes never left your ass. He almost ran into the door, too.”

“You’re lying.” “Why would I lie? He’s cute, isn’t he? Aren’t you happy?”

“Laur, he’s being stood up. I know he is. He’s not focusing on my ass - he’s probably crying in the bathroom right now.”

She laughs at that, hooking her finger in the handles of the two cappuccinos, steam billowing from both of them like a fire. “Well, maybe he is being stood up, but - I swear to god - he’s into you.” And then she’s walking back down the aisle between tables to reach the front of the restaurant, headed out the door without another glance as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you and you stare after her, mouth agape and palms sweating and you wipe them on your apron once more.

Harry returns to his seat and, for a while, you don’t check on him.

He seems fine, anyway. Decently enough. Sure, his drinks are still empty in front of him and he leaves that one risotto ball alone and, every so often, he glances up and down the sidewalk before bringing his gaze back down to his phone but it doesn’t quite look like he needs anything.

Anyway, it’s 8:30. Even if she shows up they wouldn’t be able to stay very long and, no matter what, he deserves a fulfilling first date. Maybe she did get caught at work and, when he leaves, they’ll laugh about it. Reschedule it for a different day where he picks her up from her house, and then who knows? Maybe they’ll go ice skating or see a movie. And this entire situation will be something they’ll laugh out and forget and they’ll probably get fucking married, with your luck.

You’d be happy for him, of course. And even though you’ll likely never speak to him again after he leaves for the night, you do want the best for him, though you think the best for him would be you and not some girl who stood him up with no text.

303 is gone after spending entirely too long sitting and chatting and you wave them off with a goodbye and a bright smile, grabbing their check just as Brianna runs out to begin clearing it off. Full glasses of water are dumped into the plants and you help her bring them inside before going to deposit the check - it’s a nice tip and you’re thankful. They’d been a kind enough table but sometimes those are the type to screw you over with the tip and you’re beyond glad they hadn’t - you’ve had a strange enough night without the added weight of no tip.

You head back outside with 302’s check and drop it at their table, returning their grateful smile with one of your own. There’s nowhere else to go or visit besides 305 and so you head over to him, ducking underneath his umbrella for what seems like the thousandth time that day and it’s then that you can see his face, ever so slightly crestfallen as he stares at his phone and your heart just about drops into your ass, and without a second thought you pull out the empty seat across from him and sit.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and you’re fairly certain you already know, but there’s no shame in inquiring further - his phone is clutched in his hand and he looks up at you before clearing his throat and that’s enough confirmation for you.

“She’s out wit’ her friends - they’re at a bar.” And, as if to prove it to you, he slides his phone across the table to you and you crane your neck to glance down at the screen and it’s an Instagram story - a boomerang of four girls clinking their drinks together, and you scrunch your nose. “She’s the one on the right.”

The one on the right is decently pretty - blonde hair straightened and falling down her back, drink spilling over the edges of her glass when she clicks it too enthusiastically with her friends. Her dress is tight and sparkly and nearly overpowers the entire story and you can already make your mind up about how you feel about her and, needless to say, it isn’t good.

“Oh.” You watch the boomerang for another couple of seconds before pushing his phone back over to him and he gives you a tight lipped grin. “I’m sorry, Harry. That really sucks.”

“S’alright.” He shrugs and you can tell it isn’t alright but you don’t say anything else until he adds, “I wasn’t tha’ into her, anyway. M’friend wanted to set us up. I guess she wasn’t really into it but - I wasn’t either. S’all fair.”

Your heart hurts for him - she wasn’t into it but you know he was and before you can think to stop yourself you reach over, resting your hand over his and holy shit. You shouldn’t do that. He can lie and say he doesn’t mind but you know he does and you’re still his fucking waitress - you shouldn’t touch him like you’ve known him any longer than two hours. Just as you go to pull away with a frenzied apology he’s turning his hand around so your palms are pressed together and then he squeezes your hand with a soft sigh and you’re nearly paralyzed at the motion.

It can’t be more than a few seconds that you two sit like that, his hand tight around yours and you can hardly breathe, heart thumping in your chest before he says, “What time d’you close?”

“Uh -” you clear your throat just as he releases your hand and you withdraw it immediately - your hands are sweating and you press them on the table. “We close at 9, but - I only have one more table, and they’re about to leave … so …”

“What else d’you have t’do?”

“All my closing stuff,” you begin, sticking up your fingers as you list each one. “I need to roll silverware, get ice, put the glasses away, take the trash from the bathroom. And then I’ll probably get something to eat.”

Harry nods, gazing almost wistfully into the night as though he’s some sort of philosopher and you lean in, waiting to hear whatever he has to say next - “Could y’eat with me when y’get your food? If y’don’t mind.” And it takes you a moment to react as he adds, “S’just - you’re nice t’talk to, an’ all tha’. But y’don’t have to.”

You swallow thickly, already feeling your stomach flipping and your knee jiggling and you nod - first a quick jerk of your head, up and down, and then faster. 302 is arranging their stuff to leave, grabbing their boxes and shoving their credit cards into their pockets and you wish you could tell them to get the hell out because you can’t start closing until they leave and now you really have a motivation to leave. “Yeah. That - that sounds good.”

It sounds more than good, in fact, and you don’t even care if you’re some sort of rebound to him in this moment - you’ll take it. You’ll eat your dinner with him and then whatever comes after - you don’t care. You just want tonight, or, at the very least, right now, and anything after that is simply a bonus and you’ll deal with it later because he wants to eat with you. He wants to hang out with you. He likes you, and maybe even in that way, too.

You’re standing up uncomfortably fast, nearly tripping over the seat you’d inhabited as you rub your palms together. “Well - um. My other table is getting ready to leave, so I’m gonna - gonna start doing my stuff.”

“Sounds good,” and he’s so casual with it that it sends heat blazing up your cheeks, and you turn to head back inside with a newly found skip in your step that’s too full of joy to be embarrassing.

Brianna’s already begun the silverware when you get inside - with only 2 tables left, there’s no need for her to stay, but you tell her that you’ll roll if she does the other closing duties and she accepts because she’s horrific at rolling silverware. They’re always loose and lumpy and too big or too small and none of you want to tell her because it’s easier to just make pretend like it’s your favorite closing duty to do - well, whatever. She’s gone downstairs to get a bucket of ice before she can ponder on your insistence and you settle in your seat, grabbing a knife and two forks and resting them in the middle of your linen to begin to roll.

You have the motion down nearly to an instinct and it gives you time to glance outside. Through the windows you can see just the side profile of Harry’s face, only slightly illuminated by his phone screen as his lips wrap around his straw, surely sucking on the dissolved ice cubes in one of his glasses and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest - you nearly drop a fork when you go to begin a new roll.

Your pasta is ready entirely too soon.

You’re finished rolling silverware and the ice is filled and the bathrooms are stocked and clean but you hadn’t emotionally prepared yourself enough to eat with him. But your fettuccine sits, steaming on the counter ready for you to pick up and you stab the ticket once you’ve confirmed it’s yours, grabbing the burning hot plate with your one hand and grabbing a spoon with the other.

You can still see Harry’s side profile when you peer out the window and he’s glancing around, eyes darting from the sidewalk to the door as though he’s waiting for you and you know you can’t keep him alone for another second, so you inhale a deep sigh and walk out the door, pasta in hand.

He just about perks up when he sees you, back straightening and dropping his phone onto the table. You swear he’s about to get up and pull the chair out for you, too, but you beat him to it - duck underneath the umbrella and rest your plate on the table, slipping into your chair with ease and a soft cough into your fist.

(You’re not sick - not in the slightest. It just alleviates your stress, you suppose. Eliminates some awkward silence.)

“Hey,” Harry says, elbows resting on the table so he can look at you in full and you can already feel your body flaming as you pick up your spoon, sifting it through the thick pasta on your plate. Alfredo - God, it’s your favorite. You’ve been trying to branch out and try more things on the menu but it always takes you back to your damn fettuccine alfredo. “I hope this isn’t weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you insist, collecting a spoonful of pasta and bringing it to your mouth. The smell is intoxicating and you pause when the spoon is just an inch from your mouth. “I’m sure you had a rough night.”

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat as you take a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as though you’re pondering something important. “It wasn’t too rough,” he tells you, and you raise your eyebrows. “It would’ve been bad - but you helped.”

“Really?”

“Sure y’did.” You take another spoonful of fettuccine as he continues. “It sucks t’be stood up, but you were nice.”

“I could tell you were upset.”

“An’ you couldn’t tell you were makin’ it better?”

You think for a moment - think back on the countless interactions you’d had with the near-stranger sitting across from you, pulling the plate with one lone risotto ball over to him - and then shake your head. “I just thought you were being sweet.”

He laughs, reaching for his abandoned fork resting on the side of the plate and cutting in to the second risotto ball - you can tell how much he’d been longing to eat it simply from the expression on his face when he takes the first bite - with a shrug. “Sure I was,” and you laugh at that, ripping the piece of bread on the side of your plate and half and dipping it in the sauce, “but you must’ve realized I like you - didn’t you?”

“Well, I did think it was curious that you held my hand.”

“Y’did it first.”

“Well, the technicalities don’t matter.”

It brings a grin to your face to hear Harry laugh at you, curls flopping in his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he chews on a particularly large bite of his risotto ball. Your pasta is already nearly gone (you’d vastly underestimated how hungry you were) and you scrape the sides of the plate with your bread, collecting all of the excess sauce on the dough. “Was feeling a bit guilty,” you confess, drumming your fingertips on the tabletop, and he tilts his head at you, “‘cause I was starting to feel a bit thankful you got stood up.”

For a moment you wonder if you’d said the wrong thing - if you’ve ruined this entire thing before it’s even started, because it’s an uncomfortably real risk -, but then he’s reaching out to rest his hand overtop of yours and your body overflows with relief. “I agree,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand, and you swallow. “Y’had me prayin’ she wasn’t going to show up.”

You smile, looking down at the table and your empty plate and his half eaten risotto ball that he’s already taking another bite of and it all seems so surreal - like you’re going to wake up in your bed an hour before your shift starts, cursing yourself out for creating such an immersive reality - but nothing about his touch on yours is fake. It’s all so spectacular - so real - and you exhale. “We’re closing in 5 minutes,” you tell him, and his eyebrows scrunch together like he’s seen something he regrets. “Reckon we should take this someplace else?” “Someplace else?”

Your stomach flips and you wonder for what feels like the millionth time this evening if you’d made a mistake - read him wrong - took things too far. It’s an unfortunate habit you have and you certainly wouldn’t be shocked if you’ve put your foot in it this early into the relationship - you’ll regret it, but you regret a lot of things. In a couple of weeks, you’ll forget about it, won’t you? You’ve done it before. But you simply shrug, motioning with your free hand to the empty tables among you both. “I live - um - a couple blocks up the road. If you want to come over. And - it’s fine if you don’t - just putting it out there.”

Harry stares at you, expression nearly blank, for a beat too long and you shift in your seat - but then there’s a smile stretching across his face, and he pushes his half-eaten risotto ball in towards the center of the table. “That sounds perfect,” he tells you, and your heart thumps in your chest once more.

For the record, you hadn’t anticipated having anyone over to your apartment tonight, and it shows.

There’s dirty dishes from the previous two days piled in the sink, shoes strewn all over the entryway and when you peer your head into the sitting room, your pajamas are strewn over the couch next the wine stain you’d spent hours trying to scrub out. Your face burns as you turn the lights on and Harry steps inside, head turning left and right as he examines your living space and you wish you’d cleaned up after yourself before you left for work - you’ve been meaning to do the dishes - why hadn’t you done them?

“It’s - um - not much,” you begin, shutting and locking the door firmly behind you and motioning with your arms to the entirety of your apartment. “And it’s kind of dirty. I just didn’t expect anyone to come here, or I would’ve fixed it up a bit.”

He smiles, peering at the photos adorning your walls. “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he insists, bringing his finger up to trail along the high school graduation photo you’d taken with all of your friends until he spots you, smack in the middle, holding up your diploma with a wide grin - you don’t speak to half of the people in that photo anymore, but you love it. Love reminiscing on a time before college and work and rent, where you could just relax with your friends. “Y’look awfully pretty in this photo.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, clasping your hands behind your back as you watch Harry examine each photo. None of them are interesting enough to warrant his level of attention and you’re sure he’s simply trying to be polite but you still appreciate it - it’s nice to imagine that he has that much interest in a photo your mother had taken of you and your dog on a hike. “Do you want me to - to pour some wine or something?”

“That’s alright,” he says, turning around to face you and you glance up at him with a soft smile as he rests his hand on your shoulder, fingertips trailing up and down your arm and sending goosebumps popping up over your skin. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt like this about a boy and it’s making you fucking crazy, torn between wanting to wrap your arms around him or have him bend you over the counter - you can’t quite decide.

“Alright.” You roll on the balls of your feet as Harry steps into your kitchen, leaning against the counter with an air of casual arrogance and adoration as he stares down at you. You pad into the kitchen behind him and press your palms to the countertop, lifting yourself up to sit beside him, and you hum softly. “Well - we could talk, then.”

“Y’wanna talk?”

“I wanna do whatever you wanna do,” you confess, and it’s the truth.

He hums at that, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and you watch him, breath caught in your throat, as he pushes himself from the counter, doing nearly a full spin before landing directly in front of you and your knees part to allow him in between them like an instinct - your face heats as he pushes himself closer to you, thighs closing around his waist. “Y’seem nervous,” he says, palms pressing to the counter on either side of your body and you inhale a shaky breath, shaking your head.

“I’m not nervous,” you tell him, even if it’s a little white lie. “I just haven’t done this in a while -” and that isn’t a lie in the slightest.

“Ah,” and then Harry nods like some sort of therapist, hands already dropping to your waist, fingertips scratching at zipper of your jeans as if testing the waters. “An’ you’re sure y’want this?”

“I’m positive - please, Harry, I really want this. Wanted this from - from the second I saw you.”

It’s all the approval he needs, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans with ease and you loop your arms around his neck, using him as leverage to lift your hips up and he pulls your jeans off and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up by your knees. The next step is your panties, so damp you can tell he feels it through the fabric when he pressed his fingers against you and your hips jerk into his hands, dropping your head into his shoulder as he exhales.

“I’ll go slow,” he tells you, voice low and raspy and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make it sound like that or if it just naturally happens - well, you can’t decide which one is hotter, truthfully. “Jus’ wanna make y’feel good, love.”

“Mhm,” you nod, gnawing on your bottom lip as Harry hooks two fingers in the crotch part of your panties, pulling them to the side and the cold air of your apartment hits your cunt in a way that has your breathing picking up and he pauses, fingers so dangerously close to where you need them. You know he’s going to ask if you’re okay - if you want him to stop - and you don’t, not by a fucking long shot, and you push your hips into his hand as way of answering his unasked question.

Harry takes the hint, of course. He isn’t stupid.

Two fingers circle your clit, spreading your moisture along the sensitive nub like he’s been wanting to do it all fucking night - there’s some sort of desperation to his movements that has your legs tightening around him, head burying further into his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around one of your thighs, hoisting it further up his waist. His breathing is hot against your head as his digits slide up and down your folds and you’re not sure if he’s attempting to tease you or not but, no matter, it’s working. You’re ready to get on your knees and beg for him if you need to, but just as the thought crosses your mind, his fingers dip down to slide in between your folds.

A soft moan emits from your throat as his hand smooths up and down your thigh, fingers dipping just barely into your cunt before pulling out - and he does it a few times, giving you a bit of what you want and then tearing it away and you whine, thrusting your hips into his hands and Harry presses a kiss to the side of your head before sliding his fingers inside of you. Two to start, just to ease you in, pushing them in slow and steady until you can feel his cool rings pressed against your pussy and you throw your head back with a moan.

He pauses, lip still between his teeth as he stares at you, your chest heaving beneath him and body fucking quivering in his gasp. “Tell me how it feels,” he breathes, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, and you swallow your desperate whine for him to move.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, smoothing your hands up and down his neck as he stares at you as though daring you to break his gaze. “Please, Har -”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me - with your fingers, Har, please - make me feel so good -” and just to top off your request you lean in, crashing your lips so violently against his that your teeth clash and tongues collide, and you can taste everything you’d served him that evening and holy hell it tastes delicious. Perhaps it’s just him, dropping your thigh against the table so he can grab onto the back of your neck and keep your face attached to his, lips parted and wild and dominant as he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in with a newfound vigor -

The levee breaks, then, with your lips mashed together, and you’re more than thankful for it.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles drabble #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #loll i actually like this a lot #the smut is rlly rushed bc i didnt want to have any to begin with but i added it in #soz!

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