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#id just like it to be neither someday

caffeinatedopossum · 1 year

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I hate how even in asexual communities, it's still so hard to find other sex repulsed aces. Like idk it feels like no matter where I am, I'm the one who has a problem and I hate it. I never asked to be like this but at the same time I don't want people to keep treating me like I'm just damaged and need to be fixed. Or like it's fine as long as I don't impose it on other people...

idk how to explain to people that I'm not just internally tolerating things, I'm actually in a lot of pain over it. I'm not just disgusted, I'm panicking and upset over the fact that I feel disgust sometimes toward people I like very much actually. Idk I just feel like it's never talked about and it's extremely upsetting.

And the worst part is, if I tell people, everyone has their own assumptions about what "made me this way" and tbh that is just not something I'm comfortable with. My only choices are to either be uncomfortable because I'm panicking and being excluded from a lot of things (usually conversations but sometimes other things too) or to be uncomfortable because I set a boundary and asked people to stop and now everyone is either mad at me or making assumptions about me that I quite honestly don't think I'm okay directly addressing.

I don't know. I just wish there was some non-judgmental recognition that this makes so many things really really hard for me I guess.

#usually the assumptions are that i was sa'd and need to be 'fixed' in therapy #which is just. i dont even know how to explain how fucked up that is if you dont already see it #i dont want to talk about that with pretty much anyone. the only person ill talk to that about is my gf #and only when were alone and i know no ones going to judge me or see me breaking #i start shaking and crying and i cant stop and everytime i hear people making this assumption it puts me back in that headspace #where im so vulnerable and terrified and panicking #and i just hate it. i hate that other people can openly talk about their sexualities but mine is too personal #i do in a way want to be fixed but not with the outcome that other people would want #i just want to be okay. that is literally all i want. i still fully believe ill always be asexual #but when i tell people im sex repulsed its like they assume im secretly not asexual #i kinda think if they think that they probably also hate other asexuals but its just disguised better but idk #im just so tired of being uncomfortable all of the time. i hate it and i dont even know if its me that i hate or everyone else #id just like it to be neither someday #oh yeah also resources as in research and published studies and actually knowledgeable doctors are realllly hard to find #the majority is still overwhelming biased and believe that its a mental disorder and the result of sa too #and i just wish they would actually conduct studies without polluting them with their own biases all the time

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nyx-is-missing · 4 months

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Could u write one for clarisse where she's impressed with femR bc of how good she is at fighting and all and clarisse finds her incredibly attractive bc no one has challenged her the way R does?

And like a bit of pining until the two confess

Thank you!!

Breathtaking or taken

Clarisse la rue x fem!reader

Summary: when Clarisse finds a opponent worth of her, she is breathtaken.

Warnings: none really, just fluff, not a descriptive fight scene on sight cause mama dont know how to write that, so just fluff fluff, and mutual pining fluff

(Do i need to say its not proofread? No? Thank you)

Here is one of the main benefits of being a daughter of Athena, you'll know.

DIfferent from other gods, Athena will let your parent know it is her who they are talking to.

And if letting them know beforehand isnt enough, she will let them know when the baby is brought to them, and if your parent is smart enough to live up to her choice, you'll have time to learn a thing or two before being thrown into this world.

If your parent cares enough about you, you'll have time.

And sure as hell my mom cared.

Always the intelectual woman, historian, researcher, writter, my mom knew many things about ancient greece, she knew all the stories by heart, and she, of all people, knew what she needed to do, to preserve her only daughter, her sacred gift.

She teached me all i needed to learn without compromising myself, stories, languages, art...and fight.

Little girls my age were doing dance classes, were trying to be good enough for drama club, were playing tea party with their dolls or making a mess with their mom's make up.

Well...i.. i was doing martial arts, i was fencing, i had my face in a book every free time i got.

I always asked her about it, why was she so strict about never missing a fight leasson, her answer always made sense, there and now.

"The world is cruel, especially for little girls, someday i might not be all the time with you, someday, you'll fight your own battles, you need to be ready"

Every word, every single word is true.

And that is how i ended up here, in a arena of camp half blood, sparring with Clarisse, and winnig, by two points, yes, but winning.

It is clear nobody expected that from me, neither did she actually, i can see in her eyes.

Understandable, they expect Athena kids to be calm, find a solution, not fight her way out.

Honestly their looks dont bother me, i dont even think much of it, but Clarisse's looks, they got something more to them, like a kid who finally got the dog she really wanted.

"Aaand break time Clarrise, we'll continue this tomorrow, id like to enjoy the rest of my afternoon thank you"

I dropped the sword down and started to undo my armor while walking close to the exit.

"Wait wait wait, now? Already? C'mon i didnt even had time to figure out how do you do that... all of that"

She stood next to me, still holding her sword and honestly.. she was beautiful, yes she was sweaty now and yes she was mean to everyone but.. now...right now, she was beautiful, shining, in her element really, flushed cheeks and a smile she only had when with a sword in hand.

"I practice, ever since i was a kid, everyday, well expect in weekends but yeah, almost everyday... how do you do all that? You are good...-want some water?"

I offered her my bottle also motioning for her to walk with me, both wich she gladly accepted.

"I practice too...and i never said this to anyone but, you are good, great even, and look breathtaking"

We stop walking, we stop all actually.

"I look what, Clarisse?"

"Breathtaken- you look out of breath, do you want the water back?"

Ah.

Weeks later i found myself in the same scenario, sparring with Clarisse again, actually that is all i do when it comes to training, be with Clarisse

"C'mon curls, thats the best you've got? No need to go easy on me"

"Im not going easy, i already told you, you caught me distracted thats all- GIRL WIll YOU SUSH?"

She tried to block you with her sword, thankfully for her, a succeded attempt.

"How could i? You're so fun to mess with, gets all red n all"

"Oh you want to talk about getting red?"

In a moment i was on the floor, Clarisse on top of me, and i couldnt speak, all i could do was stare into her big brown eyes, who looked right into my soul.

"Cant speak anymore huh? Oh if you could see the red im seeing-"

Now this my ladies and gentlemen, this is what i call a shot of faith.

I raised my head a little and just..i kissed her, it was quick but I did it, and her face went blank.

"Now you are breathtaken Curls, how about that?"

"And you are still breathtaking"

Still?

Oh.

"You...like me Clarisse?"

"You didnt knew?"

Oh.

"....no..?"

"Would you walk away if i kissed you this time?"

"....no."

#fanfic #lesbian #clarisse pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue

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five-miles-over · 15 days

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Hi Mun 👋🏼 just found your blog off some tags lol

I would love it if you could do an age gap hc for joker? How would Arthur deal with developing feelings for a partner who is 10 or even 15 years younger than him?

Thank you so much!

Thanks for your patience, anon! I truly appreciate it. Also, Arthur's head canon turned into a bit of a fic, so I apologize for that.

Headcanon: Arthur Fleck Having an S/O Younger Than Him

"ID Please."

While Arthur accompanied you to the grocery store after your shift at work, you bought a bottle of wine to enjoy with the dinner you planned to cook for Arthur. He was coming over to your apartment for the first time, and you wanted to spoil him with a recipe you saw on a cooking show. So you bought all the ingredients, and a bottle of red.

The cashier glanced at you. "You're twenty-two huh? You look like you should be in high school."

You shook your head, flustered. "Um...thanks?"

After paying, you quickly left the store with your bagged groceries. But just when you reached for Arthur's hand, he flinched.

You didn't think much of it at first, but when you tried to talk to Arthur about something, he simply shrugged it off and said it was nothing

The truth is that, Arthur was still processing the fact that you were in your early twenties.

He knew you were a young beautiful woman, smart and kind. A total catch. And that part of Arthur, the part of his mind that told him he was an outcast and fed him nothing but negative thoughts, constantly said, "She could do so much better than you. You don't deserve her at all. She's the whole package, and what are you? Just some guy who can't even take her out to dinner."

He tried to hold it back as he saw other, bigger guys in Gotham walking with their partners, giving them bouquets of flowers wrapped in shiny plastic and other gifts, telling himself that someday he would do exactly that with you. But knowing that you were at ten years younger than him? That was just more fuel to the fire burning inside him.

"She's got her whole life ahead of her. She's going to find someone better, wait and see." The negative thoughts materialized again. "She's just with you out of pity. Date the sad clown, maybe she just wants to fool around. Wait and see. She's going to meet someone with a lot of money, a lot of status...She'll marry him, and when they're all sitting around at cocktail parties, she'll laugh about the time she dated a sad clown. And say she dodged a bullet."

"Arthur?" You tried to get his attention, and repeated his name a couple of times. "Arthur?"

Arthur, seemingly lost in thought, didn't respond until you stood in front of him, stopping him from crossing the street. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he lied. You crossed your arms, not having any of it. And this made Arthur laugh a bit, not out of amusement but out of fear. "Nothing, really," he lied again between laughs.

"Just tell me."

After a few moments of silence, Arthur simply asked. "Are you really twenty-two?...You're twenty-two."

"Yes. I am."

"That's young."

You shifted your weight to one foot. "I know that."

Arthur mirrored your gesture and swallowed. "So...well, I don't care. It's just young."

"I'm not that young," you rebuffed.

"Young enough that the cashier thinks you're in high school."

You put your hands on your hips, still carrying the bags of groceries. "Is that what this is about? He wasn't hitting on me!"

"No, but someone will," Arthur raised his voice a little. "You're young, what the hell do you know?"

"I know that you're my boyfriend and I love you. I don't care what some cashier says about me, and neither should you."

He shook his head. God how he loved the way you'd get so stubborn about your opinions. It was one of his favorite things about you, but right now, in this moment, it made him even more annoyed. How could you say such a thing, lying through your teeth? And with those three special words? "Bullshit," Arthur muttered, walking away from you to cross the street.

You followed him, huffing with your groceries. "Arthur Fleck, what is wrong with you?! Can't you just...Why are you so mad? Nothing happened! I'm still the same person I was twenty minutes ago."

"No. You're twenty-two." He turned around and lashed out. "You're twelve years younger than I am. What the hell's wrong with you? Hanging around with some old clown, waiting until some rich guy makes you his wife and you can leave me behind!" Your eyes widened. "Is that what you think of me?" Your lips quivered and tears formed in your eyes. "Is that seriously what you think this is, just...hanging around? Oh my god." You looked down as you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

Arthur visibly softened, reaching his hand out but stopping himself just before he could touch you. "I'm such an idiot," you sniffed. "You're right, what do I know?" "I'm sorry," Arthur sighed. "I didn't mean to make you cry." Arthur looked down, into your eyes. "I...was just shocked that you were younger. I thought it would...I don't deserve you. You're great, you're a perfect girl and I don't deserve you." He added, "I love you so damn much."

"I love you too," you looked up. "And I don't want to leave you." He laughed for a few moments with pain in his eyes, and bit the inside of his cheek to quiet down. "I'm so sorry," Arthur repeated and put his hands on your shoulders. "Oh my god, please don't cry. I'm so sorry." He took your grocery bags in his hands. "Let's go."

You and Arthur went back to your apartment, and didn't talk about your age for the rest of the night. But you did spend the evening together, telling each other - and showing each other - how much you really loved each other.

Joker Having an S/O Younger Than Him Would Include...

In complete contrast to Arthur, Joker finding out you were ten or fifteen years younger than him would excite him

He'd turn it into a complete kink, calling you his "personal little baby doll"

Whenever you'd go out, you'd be on his lap, him stroking your thighs and your hair.

Unless you were absolutely against the aesthetic, Joker would love to dress you in coquettish clothing - plaid mini skirts, knee-high white socks, white and pastel blouses that he would ruin with grease facepaint while making out with you, and corsets he would rip off you before having his way with you

And if you ever called him "daddy"? Watch out and be prepared to be dragged into the most private area by the Joker. Hope you didn't have any plans for the next...hour

In general, the Joker would be extremely protective of you, keeping his arm around your waist while you walked.

He'd spoil you with anything you ever wanted, acting almost like your sugar daddy while you window shopped.

And when it got cold, he'd put his red suit jacket over your shoulders saying, "Daddy's not going to let his baby doll freeze."

#Arthur fleck #Arthur fleck x reader #Arthur fleck imagine #joker movie #joker x reader #Joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019 #joker imagine #joker #the joker #dc joker

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rockkandii · 4 days

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Pokemon/overwatch crossover

Venture meets an interesting trainer from their past

Not my art

Warnings: none

Just traveling around, ventures come to meet all kinds of people and pokemon, even being so lucky as to cross paths with some more than once. This proved true as one day, venture came face to face with an old friend.

Venture: "No. Way.. y/n, is that you?!" An audible gasp is heard from venture as they spot a familiar face inside a pokecenter in a town they're just passing through.

Y/n: jumps at the sudden loud voice calling their name, but upon finding said person a grin forms. "Oh my, it's been a while!" Jogging up to the excited trainer you find they've matured quite a bit physically since the last time you'd seen them. "How've you been? It's been what, two years now!?"

Excited chatter is swapped between the old friends for quite a while, before curiosity gets the better of you.

Y/n: "so, you still traveling with the same partners you had back when?" The question seemed innocent but to Sloane, they knew better. This was your sly way of wanting to battle, seeing as it had always been a swap for who won between the two of you.

Venture: "you betcha! They're tough as tungsten!" They grin, but you don't miss the mischievous look in their eyes when they reach for a pokeball off their hip. "wanna battle, like old times? I can promise you this, you won't win so easily this time."

That's right, the last battle you both shared before going separate ways two years ago, you had won.

Y/n: a smirk adorned your face as you pulled a pokeball of your own out. "Why id be honored, and just so we're on the same page.. I don't intend to lose, my teams as tough as topaz so don't underestimate them or they'll bury you beneath rubble."

Both trainers grinned at each other with adrenaline filled blushes as they headed towards the back courtyard of the pokecenter where a battle field stood.

Y/n: "so, just like old times? Three on three, no substitutions and winner is decided when all three pokemon on either side can no longer battle. Plus the winner gets whatever they want from the loser?"

Venture: "thems the rules n/n! Let's see if you can hold your own! Alright, Torterra come on out!"

-------

The battle was pretty long, and even gained the attention of quite a few passerby trainers. As the battle follows, here's the play by play.

Torterra(V) vs Archeops(y)

Winner: Archeops

Archeops(y) vs Excadrill(v)

Winner: Excadrill

Excadrill(v) vs Swampert(y)

Winner: Swampert

Swampert(y) vs Toedscruel(v)

Winner: Toedscruel

Toedscruel(v) vs Flygon(y)

Winner: double K.O.

The battle ended in a draw, causing mixed cheers and praise from the onlookers before it was just the two standing next to each other.

Y/n: "well you were right, your team is definitely tough! Too bad it ended in a draw, looks like we'll just have to battle again someday to break this tie." Giving a small punch to their shoulder with a grin you both head back into the pokecenter to heal up.

Venture: "I wouldn't have it any other way! Though, too bad there wasn't a clear winner, guess no one gets something from the other huh?" They stretch their arms behind their head, a thoughtless smile on their face.

Y/n: "hmm.. well, the rules say the winner gets whatever. And technically neither of us lost, so it's kinda like we both won.. we could always, both get something this time?"

Venture: tilts their head at you but a grin pulls on their lips as they let out a chipper laugh. "You've got a point! Alrighty, well, what'd you want from me?"

Y/n: "how bout we go out, on a date?" A sly smile slowly slips onto your face as your companions face lights up pink.

Venture: "Aw man, you totally stole my idea!" They laugh again, but quickly grab your hand and lightly swing them between yourselves as you walk back inside. "But I'd love to, looks like I really did win huh?" They grin towards you, you looking away with a small blush of your own.

Y/n: "I think we still both won, n/n"

#overwatch x pokemon #overwatch 2 #ow2 x reader #overwatch venture #pokemon #overwatch/pokemon crossover #x reader #venture x reader

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asocialmoth · 9 months

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So we’re probably getting Farmwatch E.G.O ID sometime, probably at the end of the season like N Corp Sinclair. There are 2 Sinners I think are the best candidates for it, and neither of them is Faust cause she already got the final boss of the previous Canto, as the actual engineer of the Mephistopheles she’ll probably get the spotlight for 4.5, and Farmwatch doesn’t fit Faust’s IDs’ themes imo which I’ll talk about in another post someday, at least comparatively to these two.

Candidate 1: Gregor

- Farmwatch is Gluttony and healing themed, which is a thing with Gregor.

- Gregor initially tries to sympathize/connect with Dongrang in the lab when he mentions "so much that we had to leave behind"

- Dongrang’s motivation is to abandon his past and his relations and escape the shadow of the league, despite it embracing him ‘till the end. Similarly, Gregor wants to escape the shadows of G Corp and the trauma it had on him but it just won’t leave him alone.

- If Gregor takes Dongrang’s place in the Mirror World, it can be seen as him taking after Hermann as an unethical scientist and is thus an appropriate possibility. His E.G.O in the battle pass, AEDD, can even resemble Hermann in vibes.

- For the sake of survival Gregor was a deserter and Dongrang sold out the league.

Candidate 2: Outis

- Low hanging fruit: Outis traitor theory and Dongrang’s a traitor.

- Outis’s line about how the cow will remember Dongrang if he visits. Totally not projecting. If Outis takes Dongrang's place in a Mirror World, then this can explore a bad ending Outis who did go home but was not welcome/did not go home but internalizes unwelcomeness anyways, similar to Dongrang and the cow.

- Outis got Sunshower this season, not sure how relevant that is to Dongrang specifically but the fact that she got the most important E.G.O of the season should mean something.

- Outis was the only one whose League of 9 Member that she played the role of was present in the T Corp Raid who wasn’t a main character which could have some significance.

#limbus company

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anonymouspuzzler · 1 year

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(PSYCHONAUTS 2 SPOILERS IN FIRST IMAGE TEXT ESPECIALLY!!)

oh boy we've hit the point in my Psychonauts art backlog where we get into my OVERLY ELABORATE AUs!! This first one is what I call the "Cally O'Pia AU", which is basically "everything is the same except Cassie stole rescued one very specific weird little boy from a psychic lobotomy, and he grew up raised by her instead. There's a lot more content for this that I'd still like to finish someday, so I'll leave it there for now! There's another AU I've worked on more that you'll be seeing a LOT more of soon, though...

(Alt text/image IDs under the cut!)

[Image 1 ID (PSYCHONAUTS 2 SPOILERS IN DESCRIPTION): A sketchy, colored design for "(Caligosto) Cally O'Pia", an alternate version of Loboto who was raised by Cassie. He is posing with one hand on his hip and the other gesturing outwards; he has both original arms rather than a prosthetic. He has a full head of hair in a sloppy bob with long bangs and a yellow flower tucked behind his ear, wears glasses with green and red lenses instead of the inlaid lenses, and wears several multicolored bracelets and necklaces resembling Cassie's. He is wearing a janitorial staff Psychonauts uniform with the sleeves rolled up, half dark teal-green like an agent uniform and half-lilac purple. Over the uniform, he wears a long handmade-looking light-yellow skirt with pink tassels along the bottom edge, patched with several long patterned scraps of fabric as well as several smaller square patches. He is also wearing blue ribbed socks with light-brown sandals, and two fanny packs on his waist, one purple, one dark blue. There are bullet points about his personality and backstory next to the design, reading: - Picked up by Cassie during a Psychic 7 run on hospitals performing lobotomies (she got a little overzealous seeing a kid on deck and just. took him and ran) - Never met Lucrecia; she'd already left for Grulovia by the time he was adopted - Kept training with the Psychonauts, but became increasingly disillusioned seeing the Psychic 6 fall apart (especially when Cassie retreated to the Gulch) - Extremely powerful psychic, but blows off responsibility to the point he's all but useless as an agent; mostly tends to the aquarium and acts as a handyman - De facto custodian of the Gulch, since he's the only agent who can reliably make it in and out (he's going to check up on his mom) - Openly bisexual; in an on again-off again relationship with Oleander (both would rather it stay on but neither are emotionally mature enough to admit it) - Suspicious about the circumstances behind Maligula's defeat & the "official" Psychonauts founding; took on the moonlighting half from disillusionment, half to secretly investigate without influence (Oleander knew & would occasionally help) - Took the Deluginary job to get info on Maligula, didn't know about the plan with Truman until too late (no hard feelings against the guy himself, y'know?); realized he was in over his head, leaked coordinates to Raz & co. but got threatened into finishing the job regardless - Considered leaving the Psychonauts to be a dentist or marine biologist when he was younger; couldn't bear to abandon Cassie - One of the only agents to still regularly visit Compton in Psychoisolation - Picked up some writing skills from Cassie (he likes freeform poetry) - The socks with sandals are absolutely, specifically to piss off Hollis. Come at him.]

[Image 2 ID: A younger Cally O'Pia. He has messy hair, glasses, a big smile, and is eating a chunk of honeycomb. He is wearing a long tank top resembling Cassie's dress, over pleated pants that reach mid-shin, and sandals.]

[Image 3 ID: Traditional pen sketches of Cally O'Pia. In the left, he is standing with a neutral expression, one hand on his hip and the other holding up a dripping mop; in the other, he is sitting, grinning and using his psychic powers. In the second image he has removed his wrap-skirt to wear it as a shawl around his shoulders instead, revealing the Psychonauts uniform jumpsuit reaches about mid-shin on him.]

[Image 4 ID: A sketchy three-panel comic of Cally and Oleander. In the first, Oleander, wearing boxers and an unbuttoned shirt over a tank top, walks down a hall shouting "Cal??" Cally, standing around the corner wearing sweatpants and a baggy shirt, using telekinesis to bring plates over to him to dry, replies, "Kitchen". Oleander continues, "I can't find my All Paul shirt". The second panel shows Cally shifting his weight onto one leg as he dries the plate with a rag, nonchalantly saying, "Mm. Haven't seen it." Oleander, now looking directly at Cally around the corner, says, "Cal". "Yeah", Cally replies. "You are wearing the shirt", says Oleander. The final panel shows Cally, grinning knowingly and continuing to dry the dish, replying sing-song, "Dunno what you're taaalking abooouuuttt". Oleander, bracing his feet against Cally's lower back and tugging at the hem of the shirt with both hands, screams, "CAL SO HELP ME". Cally simply responds, "I look good though right".]

#anonymous puzzler art #psychonauts 2 #caligosto loboto #psychonauts 2 spoilers #rhombus of ruin spoilers #morceau oleander #cassie o'pia #tw for mention of medical abuse (specifically lobotomies)#one fun bit of trivia that I wrote after that little character bio that i *will* share #I decided Cally also does a ton of writing for true psychic tales under a pseudonym #he mostly sees it as propaganda-y schlock but he's *very* charmed that Raz is such a big fan

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iheartgarrus · 1 year

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N7 Month Day 30(!!!): Heritage

(AO3 Link - OMG! We're here! I made it! WE made it!! My end note from AO3 is going to go in a separate post on here because I do want to include it. For now, I hope you enjoy this feels-y piece about Calain [Shepard and Garrus's adoptive daughter]. Note that this is pretty much all about adoption-related themes.)

Calain Vakarian was turning 10 years old, and she had a decision to make.

She sat at the dining table staring at the datapad in front of her. On the screen were two holos of herself, taken staring straight at the camera specifically for this reason. Over one, she had drawn on colony markings identical to her father’s - her adoptive father’s - and on the other, she had drawn Invictus markings like the ones in the only holos she had of her birth parents, from their official Hierarchy ID records.

Carthidax and Mercia Veranis. Their names, birth dates, places of birth, and where they had lived when the Reapers came - that was all Calain really knew about them. She’d only been 3 when they died, and even though she still had dreams about Reapers sometimes, her mother and father were never there.

But… they were still her parents. And so were Garrus and Viola. So what was she going to do?

Neither Palaven nor Invictus was really home to her. She’d only been to Cipritine a few times to visit Grandpa Castis and Aunt Sol, and Invictus was just fuzzy memories from the group home before she came to live on the Citadel. But there were no Citadel markings - turians born there inherited them from their parents.

She idly zoomed in and out on each photo. It felt wrong to make a “pros and cons” list like she’d learned in school - this was too big for that. But if she couldn’t decide for the reason she was supposed to, maybe she’d just pick the ones she liked better. The ones from the part of Palaven that Dad was from were blocky, but a nice shade of blue - hers would be a little lighter to stand out on her dark brown plates. The Invictus markings were more elaborate. They were usually white, and they covered most of the person's face in precise shapes across their forehead, nose, chin, and mandibles.

She liked them both, really. They each tugged at her heart for reasons she couldn’t understand.

A distressed subvocal rumble started to rise in her chest, but she pushed it down, not wanting Dad to hear from the next room. They’d said this was her decision to make, and she didn’t want them to think she couldn’t handle it.

She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. What else was there? There weren’t many turians from Invictus on the Citadel, so maybe she should try to fit in? The ones in her class were starting to wear their markings, and she hadn’t seen any yet. Then again, her parents were always saying not to worry about “peer pressure”.

Calain wished someone could tell her the right thing to do. She didn’t want to make her parents feel like she didn’t love them or wished she was still on Invictus. They said they would support her decision no matter what - that it was okay and even admirable to want to honor the place she was born.

She swiped the two holos aside for the moment and pulled up the few that the group home had sent - the only ones she had of herself on Invictus. None with her birth parents. Any of those that had existed were lost in the war.

Her mandibles trembled a little. She didn’t usually think about them - it was so long ago and she didn’t remember them anyway - but now, trying to make this decision, she wondered. She asked questions she’d never asked before.

Did they die saving her? Would they be happy with her new home?

The folder the photos were stored in was labeled the same as it had been when the home first sent it: “Calain Veranis - 2188”. Vakarian had only officially been her name for not even two years, but she would probably have it forever now. Someday Shepard too, even if Mom was nervous about it.

Would that have made Carthidax and Mercia sad?

She flicked back to the two side-by-side photos. This time she only needed a few moments to think before she shut off the datapad and went to the living room where her parents were watching a vid. Her nervous subvocals gave her away before she could say anything, and Dad paused the vid. "Hey, c'mere," he said, waving her over. "What's going on?"

They made room for her on the couch, but she stayed standing - she wanted to be able to see them both when she told them. "Um…" she started, twisting her fingers around each other. "I think… No, I know. I've decided. About the colony markings."

Mom smiled a little. "That's great, Calain! What did you decide?"

She took a very deep breath, her heart beating fast. "I want Invictus markings," she forced out all at once. Then, before Mom or Dad could react: "It's not that I don't want yours, Dad, or that I don't like Palaven. It's just that they're- I mean, my parents - my birth parents - they're gone and I don't have their name anymore, and I like having your name but I don't want it to be like- like they never existed, so I thought-"

"Hey, hey, slow down," Dad said gently, taking her hand and tugging her into his arms. She hadn't even realized her subvocals were so all over the place until he interrupted, but she eagerly accepted the hug. She felt Mom's hand rubbing her back too, and when she felt a little bit calmer, Dad pulled back to look at her. "You don't need to worry, sweetheart - we meant it when we said we'd support you no matter what. All that matters is that you're sure and that you took the decision seriously."

"And it's obvious you did," Mom added. "I think you've got a very good reason, wanting to honor them in some way, and I'm proud of you." She leaned over to kiss Calain's cheek and pulled her into a hug as well. "We love you so much, and so did they. It's okay that they're a part of you, too."

Calain wrapped her arms around Mom and squeezed hard, her subvocals buzzing with relief and love and safety. "Thank you," she said, her voice muffled in Mom's shoulder. "I love you guys, too."

#mass effect #n7month #n7 month 2022 #shakarian #kidfic #fanfic #my work #I'M GONNA FUCKIN CRY

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freckliedan · 15 days

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just u mentioned it in one of ur recent ask replies, whats a fagdyke /genq and how is it different to . a dyke (i am also a dyke LMAO)

quite earnestly i have no way of answering this for everyone who IDs as a fagdyke but i can answer for myself! for me (& many others, to my knowledge) it's a gender thing. the very short version is that my gender is both fag and dyke, the way some people's gender is dyke.

i first started both ID'ing as a nonbinary lesbian whose gender was just dyke & using they/them pronouns in 2018 (the same year i made this blog). for me the main part of my identity at that time was the lesbianism? being othered from womanhood was a result of my sexuality.

because like. a lot of cishet womanhood is shaped by being attracted to men and performing gender in a way that's attractive to men. i embodied neither of those things, which automatically disqualified me from many people's definition of womanhood. so i was nonbinary not because i identified away from my assigned gender but because the consensus definition no longer included me.

i embraced dyke as gender, it's something i did very intentionally, but being nonbinary was still a secondary part of my identity. it wasn't until 2019 that i more fully interrogated my gender and started viewing transness as a more central part of my identity?

i started doing that interrogation when i started questioning whether lesbian was the best fit for me. my then-recently-nonbinary-partner was just beginning to explore gender more and i knew that if they someday realized they were a man & felt misgendered by me being a lesbian that lesbian would stop being the right fit for me.

which. that came fully from me? i worry about phrasing this in a way that'd somehow paint my husband in a negative light but it genuinely was just a point at which i started thinking directly about my gender rather than bypassing it by focusing on my sexuality. (and yes, they're my husband now, he's since figured out they're a nonbinary trans guy).

i stopped being nonbinary as an afterthought of lesbianism and started just being nonbinary which was! quite honestly a lot to process because i'd been ignoring it for a long time. but it's been half a decade and i've done my processing?

i realized that what's true for me is that my gender is both fluid and not singular. i label myself as queer and genderqueer when talking to cishet people, maybe as genderfluid/bigender/multigender if getting into the specifics. but that's not how i label myself to me or to my community? (well. queer is).

what i've realized is that like. my attraction is always queer. in a relationship with a woman or dyke aligned nonbinary person, my gender would be more dyke than anything else. in my relationship with my husband my gender is more fag, & the same would be true in a relationship with anyone whose gender is more aligned with man/fag.

(i say more in both of those examples because like. my gender still fluctuates for other reasons. i have days where i feel very little internal sense of gender. i have days where i experience both fag as a gender and dyke as a gender at the same time. the list goes on).

my gender is contextual in a lot of ways—the way i experience gender is different in the more rural red state used to live in vs the big city in a blue state i now call home. but the context of relationships is one of the biggest ones, because it's one of the biggest impacts on how other people percieve me.

like, to strangers and aquaintences i am my husband's husband or spouse, because it's most important to me to be understood as queer. but in much more personal circles i also sometimes call myself his wife, because that's sometimes a more accurate reflection of my gender and the people who i'm comfortable calling myself that around already are familiar with how i experience gender & with the fact that our relationship is queer.

i know that a lot of people likely view fag and dyke as two mutually exclusive identities, as an extension of the binary of man and woman. but even when i was just IDing as a nonbinary dyke i had more in common with nonbinary fags than with cis women. and the fact that i am a dyke has not gone away now that i've also realized i am a fag.

in full i'd describe myself as a fairy fagdyke femme. fag goes first because it's how i more often present myself to the world.

i know i'm not the only person with seemingly contradictory identities like this, but it's not something i talk the most about? a LOT of the queer community constantly regurgitates subtly bioessentialist & transphobic ideas that make it like.. uncomfortable (at best) to be present in both lesbian and gay men's spaces as a bigender/multigender person.

so i primarily connect with other trans people, especially genderfreaks like me.

ummm my last note here is. for many other fagdykes or dykefags their definition of the label and personal experience is completely different from mine! it can be the same thing as being a dyke. some dykes are transmasc but still have dyke as their main gender and identity. i'm barely scratching the surface on this.

#i'm a fag and a dyke at the same time! that's all.#jam replies #anon #gender studies #gender

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zosociologist · 9 months

Text

"Dating Peter Tork Would Be Like..." [Scrapped]

[Teacher!Peter x Librarian!Black!Female!Reader Headcannon]

A/N: This was bound to happen eventually...just glad I was able to get this out of my system; WwaBRiM per usual and likes, comments, & reblogs are strongly encouraged(=

Era: Mid-70s (around the time Peter became a teacher)

Warnings: Mentions of fooling around, and light makeout stuff.

Yeah, you knew who Peter Tork was....as did every young woman that came of age in the 60s and had a working television in the house.

Re-run episodes of The Monkees is what helped you get through your last year of college, and although you hate to admit it, you'll be forever grateful(:

Your love for sharing knowledge led you to get a Bachelor's in Education, but your spite of those around you saying that men don't like women that are "overachievers" got you your Master's in Library Science.

You have quite a few interests: you paint, sing, and play the guitar now and then, and read and write a lot of poetry and stories.

So, you took those skills and became a Librarian at a nice high school in the hills, and the job is very enjoyable, just as you would’ve expected it to be.

You expected there to be hundreds of things checked in and out per day and thousands per week, resulting in hours of restocking shelves and setting displays.

And you were expecting to have engaging conversations with students as they tell you about their recent reads, while you return the favor by giving them even more book recommendations to further expand their minds.

What you DID NOT expect when the new school year started, was for an oddly familiar man to approach your counter inquiring about an instructor’s copy of a textbook that he’d ordered for his science course.

And you’re still not sure if it was your slight gasp or starstruck demeanor over the random circumstances, but something made him chuckle at the situation while you spoke in disbelief, “Nooo, you can’t be”, “The only problem is, I am”.

Far off from his former band days, Peter grew his hair out much longer and sported a beard that you thought fit him very well. He also dropped his alias and went by his actual surname, Mr. Thorkelson. A subtle change that made a huge difference.

At first, you weren’t so sure that Peter could be that friendly a person, even bashful at times, but you learned early on that it was all genuine.

That was just the kind of person he was. On the job, Peter could talk to anyone and make friends with everyone.

But after a while, you noticed he went out of his way to make conversation with you…even though the library is nowhere en route to his classroom.

You two soon became good friends, bonding over various things from literature to your shared love for the folk music scene.

Whenever you had free time in your schedules, you’d be at each other’s respective workstations scribbling ideas on chalkboards or making pyramids out of lost library cards and bookmarks (that you’d return to the students that lost them immediately after).

Somedays you and Peter could even be found in the teacher’s lounge, sharing reviews of movies you’d watched in theaters that past weekend.

Your coworkers started calling you “two peas in a pod” and neither of you minded it…as a matter of fact, you were both kinda hoping the phrase spoke for itself.

There would be days when you’d set a big apple on his desk before he got to his classroom in the morning, and he’d return the gratitude by waiting until you were in the back of the library somewhere, ID-ing some publishers, before placing a folded paper crane on a short stack of books on your counter.

Of course, there was something there! But nobody said anything for fear of ruining the great friendship you both had cultivated for months.

But in the thrill of the moment, and contrary to Mr. Thorkelson’s belief, you took the liberty of making the first move…and at the Christmas faculty party of all places!

The event was off school grounds at a venue in the city. The night was young, and it was freeing to see your coworkers let loose outside of the professional box that working as educators placed them in.

Add in the fact there was an open bar and everyone was basically on cloud nine.

There were Secret Santa gifts and party games, and one of them was, of course, "Truth or Dare".

Salaries were exposed, shots were taken, relationships and teacher pregnancies were revealed…

But your new Library Assistant, with a suggestive amount of wine in their system, took the liberty of shooting Peter a truth question: "I saw you put a crane on (y/n)'s desk a week or so ago. Do you two have something going on?"

Your eyes shot up from the unopened Secret Santa gift you received just in time to witness Peter finish his old-fashioned, "With all the love and respect in the world, no. We do not."

Your co-workers gave lively reactions, and the game quickly moved ahead, but now the tension between you two became suddenly unavoidable.

Peter couldn't bring himself to look at you, let alone in your direction. He thought he messed up everything, by not saying something different. He felt like it set his relationship with you back by a long shot. How was he supposed to recover from that if he ever did find the balls to confess that he thought the world of you?

You, on the other hand, didn't think much of it….mostly. I mean, sure, you did like him….A LOT. But for the sake of professionalism, you figured that if it wasn't meant to be, then it wasn't meant to be.

The evening progressed and so did the party, but you figured you'd make your discreet leave and wave goodbye to a few close coworkers early.

You saved Peter's goodbye for last and gave him a warm embrace like usual along with a warm message, "Don't worry, okay? We're good! I'll see you back at The Hills after the break. Merry Christmas, Peter."

And off you went…….to the venue's unsupervised walk-in coat closet to retrieve yours. It took you a bit of sliding around coats on hangers to track it down but you finally were able to get a hold of it.

When you opened the closet door to exit, Peter was on the other side holding your Secret Santa gift you left behind.

You kinda just stood there? Mouth open and in shock, but the good kind. You even backed up a little bit, hoping that he would walk in.

And he did. Shutting the closet door behind him, Peter stepped forward, closing the gap as if he was just a short space away from you.

"You forgot this on the table and I didn't want you to leave without it." He smiled, handing the gift back to you as you handed your coat over for him to hold.

Unraveling the silver and gold wrapping paper, you couldn't help but rest your forehead against the gift and laugh: a hardcover copy of "Origami: The Art of Paper Folding" by Robert Harbin.

You were tickled because you KNEW it was Peter, and he couldn't help but smile at your infectious laugh.

"What? What's so funny?", "No, it's just this is so adorable! Did you plan this? Did you pull strings to be my Secret Santa?", "I didn't, I promise that was coincidental. I just figured since I was making so many of these and leaving them with you, I'd give you something so you can make your own.", "But I like when you make them for me!"

Your eyes were filled with such sincerity, and you were HOPING…that it would be enough for him to TAKE A HINT…..

You didn't wait. You kissed Peter, but he immediately followed suit, cupping your face as he leaned into it. The book slipped out of your hand as Peter grabbed your waist, backing you two into the wall as the line of hung coats surrounded you both.

The kissing intensified, and Peter dropped your coat to the floor as he unbuttoned his cotton henley shirt, never taking his lips off yours. You lost all sense of time. The closet got smaller and warmer by the minute, and frankly, you were feeling more aroused than you ever had in your life. And he sensed that, but he also respected you much more than just minimizing what you two share to a quick fuck in a stuffy coat closet at the faculty Christmas party.

So in the midst of you reaching to undo his belt buckle, he stopped you, fixed you both back up, retrieved his corduroy jacket, and kissed your forehead.

Gathering your things, you both left the party together, unnoticed, and hand in hand.

You two finished the evening by watching artists perform at a venue you randomly stumbled upon.

❣Dating Life❣

You and Peter becoming official made everything that you were already platonically doing regularly, feel a lot more special.

You still bother each other on school grounds, but now you enjoy one another off of school grounds as well! (In more ways than one)

Movie theaters, plays, concerts, farmers markets, and bookstores on the weekends. And you have sleepovers at either of your apartments.

You always love his place. It always feels cozy and nostalgic because of some things he has around from his days as a television star.

He'll lay his head in your lap in his living room conversation pit and share stories from the set, and you enjoy every moment of it. He plays his guitar or piano and you'll listen or sing along.

But you're convinced he loves your place more. He adores just how much "the essence of your apartment matches your personality" or whatever that means.

You'll admit, you have a lot of scholastic things lying around that gives away your identity as an educator, but your apartment holds much more than that!

He loves your collection of autobiographies, novels, and poetry books of Black authors, and finds joy in having you read passages written by esteemed artists of the Harlem Renaissance to him as he listens intently.

You'll cook together and sit on your couch watching sitcoms, music, and game shows.

And he was SO determined in helping you out whenever you have a wash day, so you walked him through how you detangle your hair and he's been a specialist ever since😌

He will make up any and every excuse possible to hold you and just be in your space.

He loves when you just lay together in silence, preferably with the window open so you can hear the sounds of the outside world and everything happening around you both while you're in your little sacred space.

That's happened quite a few times on Sunday nights, which rolled over into Monday mornings…which resulted in carpools to work where you'd have to act like you two didn't just arrive together from the same place.

You were almost late quite a few times on those types of mornings, it's like Peter wouldn't let you shower and get dressed in peace without messing up your outfit due to his..............antics…..

Oh, he wasn't a saint. You've heard rumors of the parties he'd host at his old Hollywood home, but you didn't think he was THIS mischievous…

When it came to sex, you were far from innocent. But Peter brought out this adventurous side of you as far as stepping out of your comfort zone goes.

You went three rounds in the back of a van at a music festival high off Mary-Jane once because you kept giving him praise and it drove him insane.

Sure, the bedroom, shower, kitchen, and balcony were nice…..but the library back room, teacher's lounge, janitor's closet, his classroom, and school parking lot in his backseat were mind-numbing. There was also your childhood bedroom when you went back to visit once…It was an otherworldly experience.

And he's such a giver! His definition of helping you de-stress is going down on you while you vent about what happened during the day and how it made you feel (and how he's making you feel).

He LIVES for seeing you come undone and lose yourself in pleasure, it's a challenge to him almost.

You're careful with how blissed-out you look after he makes you finish because HE WILL immediately go again.

And that's basically Peter's whole thing, he lives to please and enjoys helping in any possible way he can

Like that one time you and your library assistant were supposed to go over to the primary school to read books to the little kids and sing songs while you played your guitar , but the assistant got sick so Peter gladly snatched up his guitar as well and went along as your Stories and Songs accomplice

[End of Writing]

I started writing this in May but I just had so much going on during the summer that I would have to keep pausing my writing and just add on when inspo hit. This is basically the entire headcannon I guess, but I just didn't know how to close this one out and I didn't wanna just abruptly stop, ya know? BUT my classes are starting back soon....and with that comes the random and unexpected spurts of writing inspiration so I'm hoping for the best😅

#my writing #the monkees #peter tork #peter tork fanfic #the monkees fanfic #60s music #70s fanfiction

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countessofravenclaw · 1 year

Text

Christmas is the time for joy and unexpected events

When holidays creep up around December, everyone gets ready to celebrate, especially our dear residents of Buenos Aires ... And maybe, just maybe, people you never though would enter each other lives... have more to do with each other than you think.

Merry Christmas Everyone! Well, to me Christmas was yesterday since we celebrate here in Finland on the eve, instead of the day, but the party still goes on ad Holidays are not over until after the New Years.

“Gastón, don’t forget that we are supposed to take Luna to pick up Matteo from the airport at 6 pm today,” Nina reminded her husband as he was about to leave the door in the morning. “So, don’t even think about staying overtime at the office.”

“I would never forget that,” Gastón laughed, “I think I’ll be able to leave early today. There is not that much to work on since everyone is going to be out for Christmas beginning Friday. I’ll have to just submit these last figures about the CO2 emissions and exhausts over the construction in the USA this year to the executive team.”

“Wasn’t the deadline for that after new years?” Nina turned her head confused. She could not really pretend she was up to date on all the projects Gastón had for his work, but she was sure he had not had anything to turn in right before he was off for the holidays.

“Oh it is, but I got it done now, as I revamped the excel since the system they had been using…”

“...has to be from 20th century.” Nina completed his sentence. “You have been saying that since you started there.” She turned her head and noticed that Gastón’s work ID was still laying on a bureau in the living room. “Don’t forget this. This is probably the second time this month.” She picked it up and walked over to Gastón and put the lanyard around his neck, “Someday you’ll actually forget it.”

“What would I do without you?” Gastón smiled at her.

“I don’t know, be late to work.” Nina got up on her tiptoes and kissed him briefly. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

***

“You are performing at the holiday party this year right?” German asked Violetta after Olga had served the dinner.

“Of course Dad,” Vilu answered and rolled her eyes at Leon. She and Leon had arrived for dinner on Tuesday to her dad’s place. Her father had been asking for confirmations about the party every week, when they had fixed the plan a month ago. “Fran and Diego, and Ludmi and Fede are performing with me and Leon. Like we have every year, so don’t worry. We’ll entertain all of your important engineers.”

“How is it going with the company, German?” Leon asked and Vilu hid her groan. The last thing she wanted was to be talking about her dad’s work, but it was too late.

“Well, the last construction project got just finished, but one of my engineers is retiring, so that brings it own set of things to settle. This will leave an empty vacancy to the team so I have to find someone to fill it. And recruiting so close to Christmas is not fun. We can’t leave the spot open, since we need all hands on deck as the energy crisis gets worse.”

“Dad, do you know what your problem is?” Vilu piped up.

“What?”

“I don’t pretend that I know about the engineering or whatever you do, but most of your engineers are your age. No wonder you are getting nowhere.” She continued.

“Are you calling me old?” German responded, half offended.

“Yes, I am Dad. It is almost like writing a song. If you keep using the same words, the song will never be done. Basically, what I am trying to say is that you need some new blood, someone our age.” Vilu gestured to herself and Leon. She could not really believe that she was giving her dad hiring advice right now, but he was painfully clueless of the modern world. Someone needed to wake him up.

“Didn’t you have that program to recruit just-graduated college students?” Leon continued to ask German.

“Yes, it was implemented five years ago.”

“Promote one of them,” Leon continued and Vilu smiled at him proudly. Given that neither of them had any idea what they were talking about, they were doing a very good job at helping her dad. “There must be somebody who has proven themselves. You hired them for a reason after all.”

***

“And if we change this variable, the costs would go way down.” German pointed on the board at the meeting with his executive engineering team. “And I think thats it.” He looked down on his tablet. “Next thing on the docket is the CO2 emissions, but we need to wait for the Energy Preservation to bring in the figures, we will have to leave it until…”

“Haven’t you noticed?” One of his engineers suddenly said, “The numbers came in earlier this week.”

“Really?” German opened the folder on his tablet. “Well, that was fast. They are way ahead of the deadline.”

“Energy Preservation has been surprisingly efficient this whole year,” other one of his engineers noted. “It is after that new member of theirs started. He apparently even improved the algorithms they have been using.”

“Hmmm, this is really excellent work.” German raised his head up, “What is his name?”

“Gastón Perida I think. He is one of those college program recruits, from Oxford—”

For some reason, the last name “Perida” sounded familiar to German. Maybe Ramallo had once mentioned it.

“—I think the case with him was that he actually declined the job offer the first time around, right after graduation. Something about not wanting to come back to Buenos Aires yet. He worked a year at London, before coming to us.”

The words that Violetta had said about him needing younger people in his team echoed at German’s mind. “What was the firm he worked at in London?”

“Ramallo?” German asked as he and Ramallo were sitting in his office later in the day. “Didn’t you used to work with someone called Perida, before you came to work for me?”

“Oh, yes I did. Marco, a really nice person. It was almost twenty years ago, and I understand that he and his wife have done quite well for themselves, she is a real estate agent if I am not mistaken. I think he works for the government right now. Why do you ask?”

“I think I am employing his son,” German answered.

“Really? I do remember them having a son… is he that old already?” Ramallo straightened up in his chair.

“Almost two years out from Oxford.” German said, “He really seems to be an efficient worker.”

“Not surprising, given who his parents are. In this case, he also is the nephew of Tomas Perida.”

“The software engineer?”

“Mr. German!” All a sudden Olga burst into German’s study.

“Olga, we are in the middle of something.”

“Little I care about your something! I can’t work with these conditions! The tree has not yet arrived so I can’t start decorating for the party!”

***

“Gastón?” Gastón looked up from his computer to see their floor’s front desk secretary in front of his desk.

“What is it Melinda?”

“The boss wants to see you.”

“Okay, uhm,” he quickly looked back at a diagram he had been working on his screen, “Can you let Mr. Gomez know that I’ll be there just in a second. I’ll just upload this.”

“No, it is not him,” Melinda seemed to be twisting her hands nervously, “It is THE boss.”

“Mr. Castillo?”

“Yes.”

“What on earth? I’ll be there at once.”

Gastón got up from his desk and walked through the hallway to the elevator. He had no idea what this could be about. Was this good or bad? He definitely was not a senior enough employee to have the CEO concern himself with him. The only times he had actually heard of Mr. Castillo himself were in the annual company-wide emails and a couple of video conferences. He also was not aware of anything he had done wrong.

Well, whatever this was about, he was about to find out. Whatever happened, he’d have a story to tell Nina at home, and he had good connections with lawyers.

“Mr. Castillo? You asked to see me?” He stepped into a big office on the top floor of the building.

“Yes, come on in.” Mr. Castillo looked up from his desk. “Gastón, isn’t it? Perida?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, sit down.”

Gastón, who still had absolutely no idea what this was about, took the chair he was offered. Mr. Castillo’s face was quite unreadable, but a couple of business classes all the engineering students had been forced to take at Oxford had taught him that those incidents where someone got fired out of the blue only happened in the movies.

“So, I understand that you are responsible for the latest data on the carbon dioxide and monoxide emissions.”

“Yes, I was the one who submitted the last figures,” Gastón answered, trying to keep the confusion out of his voice. “If… if this is about the excel, I cleared it with my supervisor. I was under the impression it was fine—”

“It is.” Mr. Castillo interrupted him. “I was actually quite impressed. But this is not about that. You were originally recruited to work for us through our college recruitment program, but started working for us a year later after the initial offer. And you worked in London for a year after you graduated”

“Yes, that is correct.” Gastón answered, still not fully following.

“Well, I’ll just cut to the chase then.” Mr. Castillo turned on a tablet that had been on his table and turned towards Gastón. “I would like to offer you an assistant engineer position in the executive team directly under me.”

“What?” Gastón stared at the contract that was displayed on the tablet. “I’m sorry. I am just surprised, I have barely been here a year.”

“Your employer at Renishaw spoke very highly of you. Didn’t want to let you go.”

“Yes, they did offer me a full-time place, with a raise, but my timing with the move back to Buenos Aires had nothing to do with a job I had at that time, or would have in the future. It was a personal choice considering the stage of life I was in and my family.” Gastón started explaining.

“I understand that,” Mr. Castillo continued. “We have been more than happy with your work here, and I think these talents are going to be wasted at the Energy Preservation Division. We need young minds to battle the crises we will continue to face. So, you accept the position? You can sign now, since we have a separate contract for the executive team, and start after the new year.”

Gastón looked down at the contract again. “Can I take 24 hours before I sign it?”

“This should not be a hard decision.”

“It is not, I just want to take the time to read it over. I don’t like making fast decisions.”

“That is okay,” Mr. Castillo nodded, “I’ll send all the forms to you and you can sign them on Sunday.”

“Sunday?” Gastón was 100 % certain that everyone was going to get off on FRIDAY for the holidays.

“I host a holiday party every year for friends and family, my engineers in the executive team are always invited. We’d be honored if you and your wife would attend. You’ll get to know the team before you start.”

Even if he had already been married six months, it still took Gastón off guard how everyone just knew that he was married, until he remembered that he literally wore a ring visible to everyone, signifying that he was as taken man as could be.

“This is a great honor, all of this, amazing opportunity.”

“It will be good to have you on board.”

As Gastón exited the office, he still was not fully sure what had just happened.

“What?” He let the words fall out after the elevator doors had closed. Honestly, he did not know how to feel, as this was definitely not how he had expected this day to go. He was half wondering if this was a dream or some kind of holiday joke and if he should ask Ambar to go through the contract, just in case.

***

Nina was erasing a typo on her file of the chapter she was working on at the moment when she heard the door open.

“Hey! You are back already?”

“I didn��t interrupt you right?” Gastón said as he hung his keys on the rack and pulled out his ID over his head.

“No, I was just doing proofreading today really. I haven’t made any further leeway.” Nina closed her laptop, “I try to pretend that this isn’t a start of a block.” She got off the sofa and walked up to Gastón. “So, how was work tod—”

She was interrupted because Gastón pulled her into an extremely passionate kiss with no warning.

“You are in a good mood,” she said after she was able to catch her breath. “I am not complaining.” She slid her arms around his neck as he had not let go of her yet, and seemed like he was not going to.

“I think I just got a promotion.” He said before leaning down to kiss her again.

“What?” Nina asked in disbelief, but Gastón did not look like he was kidding. “You've barely been there 12 months .”

“That’s what I said, but they want me to start as an assistant engineer, in the executive team, after the new years,” Gastón continued. “Apparently they have been impressed by what I have been doing at Energy Preservation.”

“That is amazing!” Nina jumped to hug him and he picked her up twirling her around. “I knew you were good, but not this good.” She said after he put her down.

“Auch, that hurt,” Gastón laughed, “especially coming from my own wife.”

“I was just joking. I am so proud of you.”

“I mean this is nuts, absolutely crazy,” Gastón continued, “I am 25 and barely two years out of university. I would not promote myself. I thought I would be on Energy Preservation for at least five years, it was not a bad placement.”

“Stop right there. That clearly doesn’t matter to them.” Nina interrupted his spiral, “You clearly have proven yourself, otherwise they would have not offered you the spot. You were literally one of the tops of your class at Oxford, that's the reason why you have this job in the first place. You are extremely good at what you do.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Gastón pulled the invitation out of his pocket. “This invitation came with a fancy cocktail party on Sunday.”

“Sunday?”

“It is pretty much mandatory, given the circumstances.” Gastón continued, “But you don’t need to come, if you don’t want to. I can go alone.”

“No, I am coming.” Nina shot him down. It was true that she still did not exactly feel the most comfortable in a big crowd of people she did not know, but she had gotten much better in the years, that did not happen if you just sat at home. “You always support me, there is no question about me not doing the same.”

***

“I think we are ready!” Violetta squealed after she, Leon, Francesca, Diego, Federico and Ludmila finished rehearsing the last song. “Thank you guys so much for doing this again!”

“Your dad’s parties are always fun,” Diego said as he got off the sofa to put the guitar he had been playing. “It is always nice to do some more low-key intimate performances.”

“Even if that means performing to a bunch of 40-plus engineers.” Vilu laughed. “The party starts at seven.”

“Diego, we really need to get going if we want to be at Art Rebel for five,” Fran jumped up from the couch as well. “We’re giving a dance tutorial there.”

“Wow, Gregorio is letting you do that?” Leon joked.

“Apparently.” Diego nodded.

“Wait, before you go,” Ludmila piped up, “Fran, sent me a picture of what you are wearing, Vilu you too, so I can make sure it is appropriate.”

“Oh and Vilu,” Fran stopped as she was about to walk to the door. “did you make to the book store on Monday? I was so mad I got stuck in that production meeting.”

“I did,” Vilu shook her head, “But they were already out of the Si Pudieras Tener un Deseo’s second print. It is not that mainstream yet that they’d have ordered more copies. We have to wait for a restock.”

“Awww, really?” Fran groaned, “I had such high hopes. I just wish we could get them signed… but it is still almost impossible to track her down.”

“Well can’t blame her for being a private person.” Diego noted.

“Actually, I think I might have an idea why it is so hard to find her,” Vilu suddenly pondered. “I looked at the sample piece at the bookstore, and you know how there is that small info box about the author there. In the second edition, the wording was bit changed and it kind of sounded like she is using a pen name.”

“Nina Simonetti is not her real name?”

***

“Absolutely not.” Nina crossed her arm as she shut the guys’s idea down.

Luna and Matteo had come over to their house to help them decorate their Christmas tree. Matteo and Gastón had suggested that in order to place the star on the top of the tree, they’d climb on each other’s shoulders.

“Why not?”

“Because I doubt that Luna wants to lose her groom, and frankly, I don’t wanna become a widow.”

“Okay, okay,” Gastón raised his hands in surrender, “We’ll go get the step stool.”

Luna burst into laughter as Matteo and Gastón disappeared into the kitchen. “What are we gonna do with them?”

“I don’t know,” Nina shook her head and bent down to pick up another ornament to hang on the tree.

“Have I already mentioned how happy I am that you are here for Christmas!” Luna jumped up and down excitedly.

“Well, we are back and here to stay.” Nina smiled at Luna. Truth be told, in some way, she would always miss the Christmasses in England, but she was more than happy to be back. “I will feel a bit strange that it is summer and not winter as it is supposed to be, but I know I won’t miss the flat. We can actually have a tree here, in a proper house.”

“I wanted to have a tree at our apartment but Matteo said that we would not be able to get it there,” Luna continued as she almost dropped a gold glitter star she had been trying to hang on the tree. “And I guess he is right. We live on the top floor and there is no elevator.”

“It is going to feel a bit weird to not have any snow. Not that we always had that in London, but when we did, it was one of the most magical things I have ever seen.” Nina said, looking out of the window.

“You know, I have never seen snow in my life, but it seems cold.” Luna noted, “By the way, how are you spending Christmas day? You do remember that you are all invited to the mansion on Boxing day. Mom is making a huge dinner.”

“Of course, I remember that,” Nina laughed, “We’re going to Gastón’s parents in the evening of Christmas day.”

“What about your parents?”

“Dad won’t be able to come here from Miami until little before the New Years. Mom is going to some event with Mora. I can’t believe she managed to convinced her of that, but we’re going to spent the Christmas Eve with them, so Mom won’t have any reason to complain.”

“What about Christmas morning?” Luna asked.

“You are coming here,” Nina said amused. Luna really had forgotten that? Well, she would have not been surprised. “We fixed that two months ago.”

“Oh, riiiiight,” realization seemed to dawn on Luna, “I forgot.”

“What are you doing for the evening?”

“Matteo’s parents.” Luna explained, “Mom and Dad won’t mind as Ambar and Simon will be with them and everyone will be there on Boxing day. Just wait until you get to taste mom’s Christmas cookies … oh that reminds me, Matteo gave me the go-ahead on making our own gingerbread house. I thought I’d ask Jim and Yam to come over and we could make one together on Sunday.”

“Sunday?” Nina asked. “I am sorry, but I can’t. We are invited to Gastón’s CEO’s Christmas party on that day. It is this whole big fancy cocktail party.”

“Since when does your CEO invite you to fancy parties he is hosting?” Matteo asked as he and Gastón had just arrived with the step stool.

“Well, since I got a promotion,” Gastón said nonchalantly, but Nina could see the small blink in his eye. He had not yet told Matteo, she realized.

“WHAT? You got a promotion?” Matteo questioned.

“Yeah, a couple of days ago. One of the engineers in the executive team is retiring so they promoted an assistant engineer and offered that spot to me. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know myself, but it happened.”

“OMG! Gradulations!” Luna ran to hug Gastón and Matteo followed her quickly.

“Well, that is awesome,” Matteo said enthusiastically, “I knew you were overworking. You really are an overachiever.”

“The party was at six, I think. I never actually fully read the invite. Hold on, I’ll go grab that real quick.” Gastón said and walked out to the chest of drawers in the hall. He grabbed the invite that had been in the top drawer.

Nina saw his face change as he opened it up.

“No way. Matteo, you won’t believe this.”

“What?”

“It is the Castillo House.”

“What, no way!” Matteo grabbed the invitation from Gastón. “That's him? What did your parents say?”

“What is going on?” Nina questioned.

“Oh, right.” Gastón raised his head. “I guess we should explain. So, my boss, German Castillo’s house is like a couple of blocks away from Mom and Dad.”

“Really? But what about it?”

“Well, this is a bit of a long story. I didn’t realize, that it was him, but Mom and Dad always told me, when I was growing up, that owner of the house was a bit strange and if we saw anything odd happening there, just ignore it and not to get involved.”

“How did Isla and Marco think he was odd?” Nina still did not fully follow all of this, “You work for him. Should I be concerned?”

“Yeah, how did they react?” Matteo questioned too.

“I don’t think they have anything against him as an engineer or anything against him at all.” Gastón sat down on the sofa. “I honestly don’t really remember and I can’t believe I never realized that they were talking about Mr. Castillo. It was so long ago. I guess it was just about the fact that he apparently had lot of engagements after his wife died really long time ago. They went to an engagement party where he ran after his daughter who ran away, and the fiancee went crazy.”

“Oh, I remember that too.” Matteo piped up. “Dad was invited too, but couldn’t go. Sofia went on his behalf.”

“And in the end he never ended up marrying that woman. He jilted her on the altar. Then he had a couple of other engagements and then some celebration of love or something. I don’t really know how accurate this is. Mom and Dad never told me this directly, I just heard them talking about it, so I could be wrong.” Gastón continued.

“Hey, remember that weird flashmob we saw in 2014 when we skated past it?”

***

“Honestly, I can’t believe I have walked past this house so many times, and never realized it was my boss’.” Gastón laughed as he parked the car on the side of the street next to Mr. Castillo’s house. “Castillo is not that common of a name, and I have worked for him for a year.”

“Well, it does not matter.” Nina said from next to him, “You are really sure we should not be concerned about him?”

“Mom and Dad never knew him personally,” he reached to take her hand, “They only really met him in some charity functions, so in the same circles, but not friends or anything. Anyways, we should go in, so you can make judgments yourself.”

Gastón got out of the car and opened the door to Nina and they walked inside the house.

“Welcome. Glad to see you made it!” Mr. Castillo said as he shook Gastón’s hand.

“Again, thank you for the invitation. I don’t think I am in any position to refuse it. This is my wife, Nina.” Gastón kept his hand on the small of her back when Mr. Castillo also shook her hand. “She is an author and lyricist. Works for a couple of musicians.”

“This is not the first time I have heard of an engineer and an artist. My late wife was an opera singer.” Mr. Castillo smiled, “Gastón, would you mind stepping into my office so we can get that paperwork done.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be right back.” He said to Nina and placed a light kiss to her hair.

“How long have you been together?” Mr. Castillo asked as they got into his office. “We are all in first name basis in the executive team. I like to know my engineers.”

“That is actually a more complicated question than you think.” Gastón was bit taken off by a direct question, but he figured that there was nothing wrong with getting a bit more personal level with his boss, given his promotion. And this was at least better than the usual small talk. “Married for six months. That I can say for sure. But how long we actually have been together is a bit more complicated. I could say a little over five years, and I could say nine years. We went to Blake South College together, but after I graduated I made couple a of really stupid decisions. Broke my own heart, but she is a determined woman. We reconnected back in university and I could not risk ever letting her go again. Fate was really on my side.”

“It is good to hear that.” Mr. Castillo said as he pulled a tablet out. “So, the contract. I take it that you read it.”

“Yes, I did.” Gastón nodded, “One of my friends is a lawyer so she scanned it really quickly too.”

“You really came prepared. So you are ready to sign it?”

“I like to know what I get into sir. This is a big ascension for me, especially this soon.” Gastón responded, “But yes, I am ready to sign it.”

“Lets get to it then.” Mr. Castillo offered him the touch-screen pen.

Gastón took the pen and signed the contract on the tablet.

“I am looking forward to working with you.” Mr. Castillo shook his hand.

“Me as well, Mr. Cast—”

“Please, call me German.”

***

“Vilu, seriously, if there is one thing I love about your dad’s parties—” Francesca said as she picked up another cupcake from the table, “—it is the food.”

“I know.” Violetta agreed. “Olga is the best. This is the only reason I tolerated them for so many years.”

“I have been trying to teach Diego to cook.” Fran continued, “Do you think Olga could give us lessons. I mean, my family owned a restaurant, but we know what happened to that…” Fran’s gaze travelled across German’s living room. Vilu’s dad’s house was decorated beautifully with all kinds of Christmas lights and decorations. The tree in the middle of the room was huge.

Suddenly her eyes fixated on a brown haired young woman, who was wearing a red dress. She was standing around and ever so slightly looked like she was not sure where she was supposed to be.

“Vilu!” Francesca grabbed Violetta’s arm and pulled her closer, “Are you seeing what I am seeing?”

“What am I supposed to see?”

“There,” Francesca pointed to the woman, “red dress, black heels, black bag. You did not tell me your dad knew Nina Simonetti.”

“He for sure does not know her. Fran, he is over 50.” Vilu hushed, “You are sure that’s her?”

“I mean she does look like her, just with no glasses.”

“Should we go and ask?”

“Vilu, are you crazy?” Francesca shook her head, “We can’t do that. What if it is not her? That would be so embarrassing.”

“Girls, what are you doing?” Ludmila, Federico and Leon came over to them with Pablo. “Pablo was just asking about our performance?”

“We're trying to figure out if that girl is our favorite author,” Vilu hushed the others.

“Oh, the one you can’t track down?” Ludmila asked. “Is she an engineer, because why else would she be here?”

“We don’t know.”

“Hold up a second,” Pablo suddenly started speaking, “It can’t be…”

“What is Pablo doing?” Fran asked as Pablo started walking towards the woman.

“Well this is your chance to talk to her,” Ludmila stated and started pushing Vilu and Fran toward where Pablo was walking.

***

“Nina? Is it really you?” Nina had been carefully looking around at the house while waiting for Gastón to finish up with his boss. She turned around as she heard suddenly a familiar, buts still a voice that she had not heard in a long time.

“Pablo?” She turned around and saw one of her dad’s cousins standing in front of her.

“It is you.” Pablo hugged her, “It has been years. I almost didn’t recognise you. You have grown up. Tell me, how is Ricardo?”

“Dad works in Miami these days.” Nina explained, “He got a big job offer there in 2017.”

“Well, I see dear cousin is doing well.” Pablo laughed. “I should talk with him more often.”

Nina saw more people come behind Pablo. Two women with black and light brown hair were pushed by a third with blonde hair. They all seemed slightly older than her.

“Guys,” Pablo turned towards the people since he seemed to know them. “This is the daughter of my cousin Ricardo Simonetti, Nina Simonetti”

“So you really are Nina Simonetti?” The black-haired woman asked excitedly.

“Yes, I am her…” Nina said, a bit taken aback by the sudden attention on her. “Well, actually it is Nina Perida, like this, in person.”

“These two were nervous to come and say hi to you.” the blonde said behind the others.

“Nervous?”

“We love your book.” The brown-haired one started talking.

“Hey, you have gathered quite a crowd.” Nina felt a hand being placed on her waist.

“Did you get everything done?” She asked Gastón.

“Yes, the paperwork is all signed. The work stuff is done.”

“Uhm, so this is actually Dad’s cousin, Pablo Galindo.” Nina figured some introductions were in order. “Pablo, this is my husband, Gastón.”

“Gastón Perida, good to meet you.” Gastón shook Pablo’s hand. “I can see the family resemblance.”

“Ricardo and me always got confused as brothers when we were growing up.” Pablo laughed. “I really should talk to Ricardo more often, I didn’t know you had gotten married.”

“Yes, Six months ago. It was a really small wedding.” Nina explained, “Gastón works for Mr. Castillo, thats why we are here.”

“So are you the one Dad promoted?” The brown-haired woman asked of Gastón.

“Yes, I believe I am.”

“That is great news.” the woman smiled excitedly, “Most of his employees are dinosaurs. They need younger people. German Castillo is my father, I am Violetta Castillo.”

“Oh, how silly of me, I didn’t even introduce myself yet,” the black-haired woman started excitedly while offering her hand for a handshake for Nina, “Francesca Caviglia, my husband Diego Hernandez is somewhere in here, but who cares about him? As I said, I am a huge fan of your work. It is really inspirational how a young artist gets her work published while still being in school.”

“Well, thank you.” Nina shook Francesca’s hand, “I didn’t really think it would actually happen, but you can blame him for that.” Nina said looking at Gastón.

“I forced her to give it a shot with the publishers,” Gastón smiled at her, “World needed to see her talent. But did you say Francesca Caviglia?”

“Hello, what are you talking about?” Two guys came to join them. Nina and Gastón both stared at the curly-haired man for a second… he looked uncannily like Matteo.

“Excuse me, but you don’t happen to be Federico Paccini?” Gastón was the first to speak.

Right, Nina suddenly remembered that Matteo had talked to them about his second cousin who apparently looked a lot like him. They had met through his friend he had made through the Eurovision… right, Francesca Caviglia.

“I am Federico Paccini.” the man responded. “How did you know?”

“Our friend Matteo has told us about you.”

“Matteo, as in Matteo Balsano?” Francesca asked. “You know him?”

“He is my best friend.”

“What?”

“Not to throw my hat in this ring of very strange coincidences, but you two look very familiar to me.” The other guy next to Federico started speaking. “I am Leon Vargas, by to way. This is crazy, but you were not in my cousin’s wedding in Mexico a year ago, were you?”

“Are you talking about Simon Alvarez?” Nina thought it was better to let Gastón do the talking.

“Yes, I am. He is my cousin from my mother’s side.” Leon continued.

“Simon and Ambar are old friends of ours. I started at the Castillo corporation a week after the wedding.”

“How is world this small?” Violetta exclaimed.

“Oh my god! How did I never realize?” Francesca suddenly uttered. “Matteo briefly told me during the Eurovision auditions that his friend Nina wrote lyrics with him often. It is you isn’t it?”

“Yes, I work for Matteo as a lyricist.”

“Anyways,” Francesca continued, “Would you mind signing the book? It would mean so much to have it.”

“Of course.”

***

“And then it completely toppled over,” Luna explained animatedly as she, Matteo, Nina and Gastón were sitting on the floor of Gastón and Nina’s living room, next to the Christmas tree on the morning of the 25th of December. “It happened right after we had just finished cleaning the kitchen… so we had to do it again.”

“We saw the pictures Matteo sent to us of that gingerbread house,” Nina laughed, “It looked… impressive…”

“I do have a couple of questions about the stability of that construction,” Gastón laughed as well. “But I promised no work talk for today.”

“By the way,” Matteo asked as he sat back down next to Luna after getting another cup of hot chocolate. That was still absolutely necessary at Christmas, whether it was summer or winter. “How was the fancy holiday party?”

“Nice enough,” Gastón responded. “Got the papers signed and the food was good. But guess who we met there?”

“Uuu! I wanna guess.” Luna was already raising her hand, “The president of United states? The Kind of England?”

“No, Mr. Castillo’s—” Gastón knew that he was supposed to call him German now, but it still sounded so weird, “—daughter is Violetta Castillo.”

“The singer?”

“Yes her. She and her friends performed some songs at the party and those friends just happened to be Francesca Caviglia and Federico Paccini, and their respective spouses.”

“What? Really?” Matteo asked in disbelief, “How did you figure this out.”

“Well, Federico looks quite like you, like you told us,” Nina explained, “And Francesca seems to be a bit of a fan of my book. She asked me to sign it and everything. Honestly, it was a bit nerve-wracking. I didn’t think I’d have fans.”

“Oh, also Simon’s cousin was also there.” Gastón continued.

“Which one?” Luna tilted her head.

“Vargas. I think he is dating Violetta Castillo.” Gastón explained taking another sip of his chocolate. “He and Federico are also in the same band. We had a nice discussion with them.”

“Simon’s cousin is in All Four You?” Matteo furrowed his brow and opened his phone, “So Leon Vargas? He is related to Simon?”

“Was at the wedding and everything.”

“Anyways… this gives me an idea,” Matteo pondered to himself “I should ask them if they could take part in the new years concert…”

“Matteo, no work.” Luna said firmly, “It is Christmas! Okay, so I just have to tell you what Matteo got me for Christmas!”

“Tell away.”

“So… I took them with us because I wanted to show you,” Luna started digging in the bag she had brought with her and pulled some cards out of it. “So these are like vouchers I can redeem in…”

“Only valid until our wedding.” Matteo smirked. “So she has a year to use them.”

Luna handed the cards to Nina so she and Gastón could look at them. They read stuff like “Three guitar lessons” and “one date night under the moonlight”. They were extremely corny, and exactly something you could expect from Matteo. Gastón thought it was really brave of Matteo to promise to teach Luna with an instrument.

“Very original,” Gastón remarked to Matteo as Nina handed the cards back “Good job Matteo. So what did she get you?”

“A new notebook to write my songs in,” Matteo answered a smile on his face and opened a picture on his phone of a black notebook decorated with strawberry stickers.

“I decorated it myself.” Luna declared proudly. “Now, your turn. What did you get each other.”

“Well, he got me five new writing journals,” Nina turned to look at Gastón, “Now I will never run out.”

“Well, I happen to know my wife.” Gastón smiled and placed a kiss on her temple.

“And you can explain this one,” Nina continued, pointing to her right hand.

“That is so pretty!” Luna gasped.

“Okay,” Gastón said and took ahold of her right hand. In her right ring finger, she was wearing a golden signet ring that had a carving of a rose on it. “So, there is a bit of a story behind why I gave her this.” He looked up at Luna and Matteo. “So, do you remember how both of my paternal grandparents died of cancer while Mom and Dad were still at university?”

“I thought your granddad died in a car crash?” Luna questioned.

“That was mom’s dad.” Gastón corrected, “Anyways, after they died, Dad and Uncle Tomas, of course, inherited everything that they had, which was not much of course, but when they were going through the stuff, dad found an old signet ring, that had a sun on it, from Granny’s things and he did not tell Mom about it. Instead, he got it cleaned up and kept it hidden. He gave it to Mom on the first Christmas after they had gotten married. So I thought, I’d make it a tradition.”

“Aww, that is so cute,” Luna tilted her head and squealed.

“She got me a watch,” Gastón continued, “After making me believe that I had enough.”

“You would have bought it on your own, so I had to play a couple of physiological games with you.” Nina defended herself.

“Well, I can forgive you because of the second gift.”

“Uu, what is that?” Luna was jumping on her knees. Almost like the Christmas gift reveals were the most exciting thing in the world.

“Do you wanna explain or do I?” Gastón asked Nina.

“You can do it.”

“Okay,” Gastón got up and walked to get a card from the top of some drawers.

He handed it to Luna and Matteo.

“OMG! Really?” Luna shrieked while Matteo just looked shocked.

“Yes,” Gastón said as he sat back down next to Nina and wrapped his arm around her waist. “We’re getting a dog after our first anniversary. I have Nina’s promise on writing, and I will hold her to it.”

“What breeds are you considering?” Matteo asked finally recovering from his shock.

“We have not really talked about it yet,” Nina said looking at Gastón, “But probably a retriever of some sort.”

“You need to let me help with it!” Luna started full on jumping up and down. “I have always wanted a dog!”

“Now as that is out of the way, we should probably exchange our gifts.” Matteo started speaking after Luna had calmed down, “Isn’t that why we are here?”

“Oh, I thought you were here for our company.” Gastón joked.

“Anyways…” Matteo laughed and pulled a present from the same bag Luna had pulled the cards from. “This is from me and Luna to you two. It might be a bit cheesy, but it is your first Christmas as a married couple so it should be allowed.”

Matteo handed the present to Nina and she opened the wrapping carefully. The wrapping revealed a picture frame and inside of it was a picture of four of them that Luna had taken on, at the time, her a brand new polaroid camera in Matteo’s mom's hometown on their Europe trip a year ago. The picture was on a white background and there was text surrounding it. The text was the lyrics to the song Luna and Matteo had written for Gastón and Nina’s wedding. To the frame was tied a red ribbon and there was a silver pen drive hanging off it.

“That is the official produced recording of the song.” Matteo explained pointing to the drive, “It is officially called Two Hearts, One Story. Like I said before, it will be coming out on my next album, so you can tell me sometime what you want to be said or not said in the song description.”

“The picture was my idea.” Luna piped up.

“This is beautiful.” Nina said looking at the picture frame.

“You really outdid yourselves,” Gastón agreed with her.

“We do have to admit that Flor helped with the design of that,” Matteo pointed to the picture frame. “It doesn’t hurt that your cousin has masters in art history and that she is dating a graphic designer.”

“Oh, so you don’t hate Oliver anymore?”

“I have never hated Oliver or Jacob or James.” Matteo countered, “But I am your best friend.”

“And no one is challenging that.”

“I think we can talk about that some other time,” Nina said, moving them away from the topic and pulled a wrapped present from under the tree. “Hopefully this will measure to your gift.” She gave the present to Luna and leaned on Gastón’s shoulder while watching Luna excitedly rip the paper off the present.

“Uuuu, pretty… What is it?”

“It is a photo album,” Gastón explained while Luna handed it to Matteo. “Those may seem bit old-fashioned, but we thought since you will be getting married in a year, you should have a place to store some memories.”

“You can just print some pictures that you take with your phones or use that polaroid camera,” Nina explained. “Concrete photos are always better than digital ones. We took the liberty to start this for you.”

She took the book from Luna and turned it around opening it up. On its first page was a picture of four of them that had been taken in Gastón and Nina’s wedding.

“I love it!” Luna screamed taking the album from Nina. “I need to start taking pictures of stuff right now.”

“And that was not all,” Nina continued, “You two never had an engagement shoot.”

“I guess we didn’t, what about it?” Matteo asked confused.

The original plan had been for Luna and Matteo to have a professional photographer to take their engagement pictures, but their busy schedules had gotten in the way and, in the end, they had kind of just forgotten about it.

“You need something to fill that album,” Gastón continued, “So we are going to take your engagement photos.”

“What?” Matteo looked flabbergasted, “You are serious?”

“Yes,” Nina smiled, “One full day, whatever you want. The sky is the limit on the pictures.”

“As long as no one gets hurt, so no fence climbing.”

“OMG! This is Amazing!” Luna jumped on her feet. “Best Christmas ever!”

Luna’s excitement ended up escalating into a huge group hug.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!”

{}

#Soy Luna #soy luna fanfiction #Violetta #violetta fanfiction #Violetta x Soy Luna crossover #Gastina #Lutteo #Leonetta #Diecesca #Fedemila #christmas fic #christmas fluff

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theklingerkollection · 2 years

Note

1, 34, 42 and 44 for weirder asks!

1. who is/are your comfort character(s)?

Most Discworld characters 😅. I constantly reread the books, and depending on what I'm feeling, I pick up a different book to read specific characters/storylines. Currently I'm going through Moving Pictures on audiobook, and I'm in it for Gaspode.

I tend to return to MASH a lot, specifically for Charles. I like how no matter what, he's very closed off, and he never truly opens up to other characters. Even his most open moments are reserved. The most devastating Charles moments are all between Charles and the viewer, and I enjoy that.

Also, he can be a truly terrible person sometimes, so the schadenfreude of some episodes is *chef's kiss*.

Love seeing this man in Situations™️

34. is there a song you know every word to by heart?

I've listened to them since elementary school, and I remember them better than my own siblings' names 😂

42. an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

I thought the answer would obviously be "other social media", but if I look at my phone's screen time thing, the 2nd place winner is Meme Generator 😂

Etsy's got me by my majora and minora flaps, so I'm not surpised to see it's in 3rd place 😅😅

44. you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

Currently it's a social worker! Recently I went to renew a bunch of IDs, and this triggered a messy situation on my actual legal identity and adoption status.

Turns out my adoption was shady af, and I've finally submitted enough paperwork to have it brought up.

While sorting this all out, I ended up meeting one of the social workers who was on my case... She was positively gleeful as she explained how she'd tricked my bio-mother into signing me away, and even bitched about how hard it was to hide it from my bio-dad. She literally said "thankfully he went to prison, so we didn't have to care about contacting him anymore." 🤢🤢🤢

Genuinely, I hope this sick waste of skin dies horribly, with no one willing to care for her. Who is proud of lying to vulnerable people and stealing a kid????

To make it worse, my parents are native and turkish, neither spoke english, one was a teenager AND an immigrant, both were poor as hell... Not exactly a winning team when they're up against the native-baby-stealing, immigrant hating 1980s Canadian government... So they just had to hope I'd come looking for them someday.

It's petty, but I was adopted in Quebec, so my first language is french. Of course, I was adopted by a couple from BC who spoke minimal french 😑 really helped me integrate well 🙄🙄🙄🙄 so I'm blaming her for that too

Thankfully the one place my adoptive parents absolutely parented the fuck outta me was raising me with the knowledge that one day (if I wanted), they would help me contact my bio-parents, because we are ALL family.

But seriously, that social worker needs to be the victim of a drive by. It's what she deserves❤️

And to make up for that emotional dumping, here's my cat sleeping in what he insists is a comfortable, normal cat sleeping position:

#asks #answered #My cat is lying #there's no way that's normal cat behaviour

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onenicebugperday · 2 years

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@bluejaysfeathers submitted: I am leaving this lad alone and going to bed, for you. Found in [[removed], TX, please remove city]. Please tell me something cool about it (or spiders in general if there aren’t enough pixels to id it) that will make me feel less like it’s gonna make me regret that decision I’m really trying to extend the Spider Truce lower to the ground and to somewhat bigger lads (the old rule was that the little ones could be in the windows or in the ceiling corners where we all had our personal space) but, well, this is Texas and I always have a bit of a fear that I’m gonna not identify a brown recluse or something someday and fucking die about it. And I don’t enjoy that and neither do the spiders :/ so I’m trying to work on it

The odds of actually getting bitten by a spider in Texas and then dying from it or even needing medical attention are very, very, very......very very low. This friend looks like a wolf spider or possibly a ground spider as far as I can tell from this photo, and both are harmless. They just run around hunting other bugs in your house. There are only two groups of spiders you need to be even remotely careful of in your area, and those are the recluses and the widows. The seriousness of brown recluse bites has been greatly exaggerated over the years, although it is possible to have a bad reaction to a bite, so you should always exercise caution when handling any spider you can't identify. I think black widows are pretty easy for most people to ID? There are some lookalikes, but again, it never hurts to just not handle them with your bare hands if you can't ID it. Regardless of species, there's nothing wrong with scooping it up in a cup or something and just putting it outside. Wear gloves if you're nervous.

In the very unlikely event you would be bitten by a recluse or widow, if you're a healthy human person, you most likely won't need any sort of medical intervention, but it is wise to catch the offender and keep it for positive identification just in case. But spiders don't want to bite you and won't seek you out to bite you. Bites mostly happen defensively when they're caught in clothing or something and are pressed against skin accidentally.

#arachnids #animals #submission #spider #bugs

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gohyuck · 3 years

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the purge: society

pairing: firefighter!san x reader

genre: purge au, angst, some fluff

warnings: mentions of violence (especially violence against cops), murder, blood, injury, weapons (guns, knives, metal baseball bats)

word count: 2.4k

note: this was originally meant to be a drabble and it’s still pretty short so i didn’t get to elaborate on the characters but honestly maybe i’ll explore a purge universe with ateez someday because this was fun (i’ve never watched any of the movies though so i’ll have to get on that)

“What the fuck?”

He hadn’t expected to see anyone left alive on this street.

“Shut up and get down,” You hiss, reaching your good arm up to grab onto the man’s jacket collar before unceremoniously pulling him towards you. He stumbles, falling gracelessly onto you. A scream bubbles up in your throat as he accidentally puts pressure onto your already free-bleeding bicep, but you get ahold of yourself just in time, only letting the quietest of wounded moans escape you.

“You’re the first person that hasn’t tried to kill me before talking to me all night - oh, shit,” The stranger trails off, swearing when you effectively stop him from speaking further by placing your switchblade right under his skin. It’s only then that he even pauses to take you in: your back is up by the police car door, sure, and your left arm has a massive gash in it, but you’re armed. There’s a pistol laying idly in your lap, kept company by a metal baseball bat.

Not to mention, the knife at his neck.

“What the hell are you doing, walking around unarmed and with a first aid kit? Also, how the hell are you unarmed and with just a first aid kit? What the fuck?” You let the questions out in a rapidfire fashion, and he can’t help but clock the slight rasp in your voice. It’s easier to recognize than the pained wheeze you’re trying very, very hard to suppress, but neither escape him. He’s trained to notice the little things, anyways.

“You need to bandage that shit up,” The man ignores your questions, moving his head just enough to miss your blade but also enough to be able to look you in the eyes. “How long has it been bleeding?”

“That’s none of your business,” You grit out. “Answer my questions or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

“If I answer yours, will you answer mine?” For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be panicking just yet. His gaze is sincere, but it’s too solid to be that of a bona fide idiot. You suck in a breath of air. Threatening him would be so much easier if he didn’t seem like a nice guy. It’s hard enough to live through the night, you don’t need guilt on your hands, and you know you’re going to feel guilty when you kill him. And you will kill him.

You need that first aid kit. You’ll do anything for it.

Anything, starting off with lying.

“Sure,” You reply, steeling yourself for any sudden movements he might make now that you’re faking amicability. Maybe he’ll believe you to be vulnerable and try for your pistol or your bat, or maybe he’ll be properly cruel and finish off your arm. You don’t want to think about it. He lets out a sigh of relief, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve actually affected him after all. “Now speak.”

“Not unarmed, there’s a police-issue pistol in my jacket and a tactical knife in my jeans. I’m not totally nuts. First aid kit’s for my buddy, though, I’ll be real, you need it way more than him.” There’s something resembling concern in his expression as his eyes flit between your torn arm and your face, but that barely interests you. You haven’t truly registered anything after ‘police-issue’.

You lean in, pressing the edge of your knife against the skin directly above his adam’s apple. For the first time since you’d cornered him, your mystery purger’s breath hitches. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. It’s no matter. You no longer regret the fact that you’ll have to tear his jugular out yourself.

“You’re a hog, huh,” You stare him down, any sympathy you might’ve had gone. For a moment, it seems as if he has no concept of what you’re saying. A second passes, though, and his gaze clears.

“Firefighter,” He responds, though the word is garbled due to him attempting to keep his movements to a minimum. You pull back slightly, very slightly, to let him explain. “I… found a dead cop, jacked his pistol. I’ll show you my ID, if you want.”

“Let me see it.” You nod your head at him as if giving him permission to live a little longer, though you both know full well that identity theft and identity fabrication are legal, too. Might as well see how much effort he puts into a fake. The man waits until you pull back just a bit more, enough to let him slowly reach his hand into his back pocket before producing a lanyard.

You grab it out of his grip with your hurt arm, not willing to move your knife too far away from his throat. You simply don’t have a good enough read on - you glance down - San Choi, ACT Firefighter, Employee ID: 018-102-4 to allow yourself any leeway with him.

His gently smiling face stares up at you from the plastic card, protected only by a clear sleeve connected to a red lanyard. San’s photo has black hair and an undercut, styled so his forehead is on display. A pair of dimples makes a guest appearance, and, overall, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. The ID looks real, too, so maybe you aren’t totally fucked.

The San under your knife has bleach blond hair that almost falls over his eyes, though you suppose you can’t blame him for skipping out on the hair product tonight. He seems slightly tanner than his photo, his skin beautiful even now as dust from the aftermath of the explosion starts to settle against it.

Right. The explosion.

Recalling the events leading up to you meeting San forces you to remember that you have a gaping, bloody gash in your left arm. You’re honestly lucky to be alive, having ducked and used the car you’re against for cover from flying debris after a building down the block had exploded. You’d just finished driving your knife into a cop’s side - third cop of the night, eighth of your career as a purge cop killer - to make sure that he was dead when you’d heard the bomb go off, and you’d dropped before even thinking about it. Something had hit your arm on the way down, and when the adrenaline had finally left your system, you’d taken note of your blood-soaked sleeve.

You’d closed the car door after that, sealing your third murder of the night in the vehicle just so you could lean up against the door. It had been 6:31 in the morning then, and you had figured that someone would come by and kill you in the last moments before legality ensued again. You’d assumed that you’d fight, of course you would, but your arm being totally fucked definitely put a damper on your belief in your ability to overcome anyone or anything else.

Instead of the disgruntled, trigger-happy purger you’d expected to eventually find, though, you’d been found by San Choi. San Choi, who’s currently staring at your wounded arm like it’s grown eyes and can stare back.

“Come on, let me fix it up,” He pleads, lifting the kit up with the hand that’s farther from you. “You might not trust me, or whatever, but the purge is about to end as it is. I have a paramedic friend, Seonghwa, who’s taught me the basics of -”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell him, though you’re quickly losing your bite. He obeys regardless. God, your arm really, really fucking hurts. Before pulling your knife back, you check the watch on your wrist. 6:47. Stay alive for 13 more minutes, 780 more seconds. You’ll be fine. You take the shakiest breath you’ve ever taken.

You pull your knife away from him.

Nothing happens.

“I’m going to use an alcohol free wipe and then wrap gauze around your arm, okay? You’ll just have to hold out until we can get you to a working hospital after that,” San speaks as if he’s talking to a child, or a scared animal, and you can’t blame him. He doesn’t seem like a purger, but you technically are one. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to attack on a whim if you were him. He, very slowly and with his hands in your full view at all times, opens the kit and pulls out the requisite materials.

“Gonna need you to rip your sleeve off above the cut.” He continues, leaning back as you bring your knife up to your clothes and slit the cloth right above your wound. You tear the remainder of the sleeve off your arm before throwing it behind you somewhere. San gently grabs ahold of your elbow - his palm is calloused in a way that tells you he lifts regularly, and you’re sure of this as he discards his jacket and you watch the muscles ripple in his arms under his thin black shirt - and places the wipe against your cut.

Your reaction is instantaneous: now that you’re completely past the adrenaline stage, the feeling of something, anything against the gash has you reeling to cry out. Before you can even process that you’ve made a sound, a hand presses hard against the back of your head, shoving your mouth against San’s.

He doesn’t know how else to shut you up.

His lips are chapped, but the sensation of being kissed so suddenly jars you out of your pain. San attempts to pull back, and you can already feel the apologetic wince he’s about to give you, but he brushes over your wound with the wipe again and your pain doubles back. It’s you that pulls him in this time, pressing your lips to his sloppily but forcefully as if it’ll alleviate the burn in your arm.

Kissing him only slightly muffles you at best, but you no longer care. The purge isn’t over yet. You could both die at any second. Hell, San could kill you at any second. His hand moves from the back of your head to cup your face as he leans in towards you to deepen the kiss. His lips are chapped, yes, but they’re soft. He tastes like mint and copper: there’s a cut in his lower lip. You don’t mind.

San pulls away for a moment, but only does so to grab the gauze from the kit. Once he’s wrapped it around your arm once, twice, thrice, he leans back in and your mouth accepts his own eagerly, your other hand coming up to drape over his shoulder. Neither of you know why you’re doing this, kissing a stranger with such fervor as one of you bandages the other up, but you both know that there’s really nothing else to do.

It’s only after he finishes taping you up that the two of you pull away fully. His eyes are still just as kind as you’d thought them to be at first, though his lips are far more swollen than they’d been mere minutes prior. You admire your handiwork, eyes tracing his features as he admires his own, thumb very, very gently running over your gauze. Both of you raise your heads to smile sheepishly at each other at the exact same time.

Three things happen in rapid succession.

“Good?” San’s voice is barely above a whisper, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just as you’re about to speak -

“San!” A voice, low and hoarse, interrupts you, and you look up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at the space between your eyes. You’re frozen in place for a split second before you start reaching for your own pistol. Your fingers brush the grip when -

The clock strikes seven, and sirens go off all around you, signalling the end of the purge.

The gun is out of your face. Your hand moves off of your own.

“San,” The owner of the gun pays you no mind, suddenly, his entire focus on San. The gun-owner reaches a hand out, and the firefighter beside you takes it, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Yunho, I’m totally good,” San responds, giving the taller man a cat-like grin of reassurance. Yunho’s got a fireman’s helmet on, and you suppose it’s good as protection. He must be a fellow firefighter, then. He’s tall, and though he’d seemed nothing short of severe mere moments ago, he seems softer, kinder now that the purge is over. The transformation is enough to give you whiplash. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and this catches San’s sight at the same time it catches your own. “What the hell happened to you, though?”

“That policeman you killed had buddies,” Yunho replies with ease, but you don’t miss San’s wince. Seems like he hadn’t just happened upon that police-issue pistol. You can’t help the small grin that fights to make its way across your face. “They tried to get into the station, we had to fortify ourselves. We’re mostly fine, just that Woo’s lost a finger. He’ll live once he stops whining about it. We were mostly worried about you, honestly, taking fucking forever just to find a first aid kit. Who’s this?”

Yunho moves the topic of conversation over to you so naturally that you barely even realize what has happened before San is reaching a hand out to you to pull you up to a standing position. You grab ahold of your pistol, though you shove the bat off your lap before allowing yourself to be brought up. Without thinking, you practically plaster yourself to San’s side. Now that he’s for sure what he told you he was, and now that you’re no longer in danger of dying, you can’t help but feel inexplicably connected to him even though neither of you know each other. San wraps an arm around your waist naturally, and neither of you miss Yunho’s eyebrow raise. Neither of you acknowledge it, either.

“This?” San asks rhetorically, turning his head slightly to look at you. He’s smiling again, and you find that you want to see it more often. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of delirium. You hope not. “This is…”

“(Name),” You reply, being honest. There’s no need for you to lie. Besides, you owe San answers, right? You stick your uninjured arm out, letting Yunho shake your hand. San’s grip tightens around your waist.

“I’m (Name).”

#first #five #tags #dont #work #san #san fluff #san angst #ateez san #choi san #ateez angst #ateez fluff #san x reader #choi san x reader #san smut

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wearequeer-andwearehere · 2 years

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I think i might be aromantic (or a flavor of aro idk) but what if i identify as aro and im not? It might just be the fact that teenagers are weird and i may just not have found someone i want to be in a relationship with. This is hard

If you identify as aro and it turns out you’re not aro, that’s okay!!

If you want to identify as aro now, go for it. Maybe you aren’t aro and you’ll realise that later, or maybe you are aro and you’ll keep using the label, and neither option is a bad thing! It’s like...not permanently IDing with something isn’t bad. The label is here now, if it makes you comfortable go for it. You can drop the label later if u want or keep it!!

Maybe you just haven’t found someone, or maybe you will never find someone and that’s ok too. Maybe you’ll find someone someday, but remember that not finding someone isn’t a bad thing, ok? You might have an “other half” out there but you are whole on your own, you always will be.

There is nothing wrong with being aro—aromanticism is a wonderful thing and there is an awesome and supportive community that’ll stand behind you no matter what. If u want to use the aro label u can use it. Go for it. We’re here for you.

#ask #anon #helping out a questioning person

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wroteasongabouther · 3 years

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can’t stand to see you lonely: part 3

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

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

word count: 19k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” Y/N says softly into the phone.

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

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

“Did you get them?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

“Uh, yeah-”

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

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

“I guess so,” she mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never would have guessed,” she teases him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you need help?” She asks him.

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

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

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

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I just get Mark’s stuff and go-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N felt overdressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/N smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” Harry playfully whines at his friends.

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

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

“I am not,” Harry grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you saying before?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad, I did too,” he agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry smiles.

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

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

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

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

>> part four <<

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

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#harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #1dff #cstsyl #omg this took me so long i know but i really really like it and hope u guys to do!!

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