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#It looks so weird 'cause the pages are all out of order lol - the first page was in March and the last in November

luci4theminorannoyance · 4 months

Note

Hihi! I’m in an angsty mood, so if it’s no bother would you mind writing falsely suspected traitor!reader (gn) with Gaz, ghost, soap, velikan, roach, Keegan and Krueger (I’m sorry, I don’t know your character limit, it’s completely up to you how many and which of them you want to write for!!) but they only find out reader is innocent after they already tortured reader?

Reader does forgive them but is very much traumatised, believing it’s something they did in order to bring suspicion to themselves, so reader starts to act differently. More meek and withdrawn, always keeping their head down and voice quiet, flinches and has low self esteem, …etc

Of course no pressure to write this at all!! And I’m sorry if any of the phrasing is weird, English is not my first language 😅

Hope you have a great day/evening!

a/n: I’m pretty sure I have a request just like this in my inbox and drafts somewhere lol (my drafts from old old requests are still gathering dust I’m so so so sorry to the people who requested btw)

Gaz:

-heart shattered with the most painful look on his face when he found out you didn’t lie to him. That you were innocent.. that when he was doing everything to pull info out of you and treating you like scum, that your answers of ‘I’m not lying!’ And pleas were all.. real

-went to you the second he could, shivering in self hatred especially when he saw the wounds he had caused on your body

-once you finally got back to good terms, he could see all the damage he did and it hurt him so much. He wanted YOU back, the loud, funny, unworried you… he didn’t know what to do

soap:

-held you so close for so long as soon as he figured out you didn’t lie to him. Or the team.

-tried everything and I mean EVERYTHING to try to get you back to how you were before it all

-every time you flinch or whisper, he can feel his guilt stabbing him though the heart, he can just imagine how you must feel.. and to think he could have helped.

-If he wasn’t so close to the rest of the team, he probably would have yelled at all of 141 for even assuming you were the traitor

ghost:

-feels so utterly guilty, like a wound was given to himself rather then you

-hates the fact he genuinely thought you would ever do that to him

-tried to distance himself from you now that you were back… he was just so guilty

-what if he hurt you again? What if you were still mad? What if you hated him now? He just couldn’t face it.

-when he found out you forgave him, an invisible weight was lifted off of him. But as he saw you be so quiet, he could feel his hands sake and his body almost collapse. He did this. He hurt his lover. He could never trust himself with you like he used to again.

-was oh so careful with you since then.. but could never shake the guilt

velikan:

-he HATED you when he thought you were a traitor. He had deleted every photo. Burnt every gift. Broke any shared thought. So finding out he had lost all of that hurt him so much he sat and cried for days, begging and pleading to anything that time could rewind and that he could have his memories and gifts back

-he tried so hard to make new ones with you to, he basically followed you like a lost puppy. But he knew even though you forgave him, he was damned to feel guilt every time you weren’t your same old self

-he missed his memories of you in photos and pages of his journals, he missed your bright smile and loud confidence, he missed all the things you changed from trauma he didn’t stop

-he hated himself for hating you when you were so innocent

keegan:

-he felt rage, rage at his teammates, rage at the captain who reported you for suspicious activity, and most of all, rage at himself for not protecting you like he always promised you he would

-couldn’t stand seeing you flinch, couldn’t stand not being able to reassure you that it would be okay and that he would protect you if it ever happened again

-because he knew his words of protection didn’t mean anything now. He had failed to protect you and even participated in harming you for something as simple as a claim…

kreuger:

-he thought that as soon as he started to fix things, you yourself would get fixed. But he was so wrong

-tried anything he could think of to make you feel safe to be yourself again, and whenever it didn’t work he’d secretly shed a tear

-it was like seeing his lovers ghost.. you weren’t you anymore, and it shattered him so much that he couldn’t fix it

-he could fix his guns, he could clean up your wounds, he could tell you that it was okay to be yourself again, he could fix the broken mirrors in his room, but he couldn’t fix you. He couldn’t get you back the way he remembered you, and he knew no matter how many years of therapy kortac paid for, it still wouldn’t fix you perfectly…

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orangelemonsstuff · 1 year

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Ace of Hearts

Ace x MC/Reader

Summary: it's kinda weird how Ace is known for fooling anyone with his mischief yet he follows anything and everything the magicless prefect of ramshackle dorm orders him or tell him to do like a card soldier loyal to it's queen. basically just:

Ace: what's more important? being on tv or some stupid assassination?

Prefect: Ace~ I can't do it alone, please~?

Deuce: uh oh we're losing him

(a/n This is inspired by the meme "Ace whenever the magicless prefect orders him to do something" and its him saluting lol)

Tags: fluff, romance, Ace being a simp for MC/Reader, Prologue mention.

Ace Trapolla

A name everyone should be aware of, the prankster of heartslabyul, the number one rule breaker or the cause of Riddle's hair to go white or face to go red.

Ace Trapolla

a name in the infamous first year troublemakers that roamed popularity on NRC, for solving the overblots together with the prefect of ramshackle. a guy involved in tons of school trouble including the overblot of Riddle Rosehearts.

"Ace Trapolla" you call on him.

A name of a guy beloved by the magicless prefect, to call, to run to, to order around. the one who punched the housewarden of heartslabyul just because he had made a comment about the prefect's family status. just because of that snide comment about his friend he had made the choice to risk himself.

what would his excuse be on why would he do that to the esteemed housewarden of roses?

he was snobby? he was rude? he should talk about himself instead?

Only he get to tease or make a sarcastic comment the prefect?

Who knows? but what everyone would know when they first take a look at the two together, Ace and Prefect. they'd think that the mischievous playful Ace that the hearstlabyul know, would change to a lovesick puppy following it's master instead

Deuce Spade isn't any better but he is not as much as Ace, Two of these hearstlabyul students would surround the prefect close as they can, the other 3 Savannaclaw, Pormefiore and that one loud Diasomnia student would do the same but not as close as the other two as they were literally by their side

this little group of first years would be the reason why halls and classrooms would whisper in their presence, can you imagine it? one of the most dangerous things that could happen in twisted wonderland yet it's to be solved by a normal magicless student.

and for Ace, that's amusing

when you two first met all could he think was you're pretty too plain, just another face in the crowd he could ignore, well except for the fact you lack the basic requirement to go to this school and the only student who had a noisy raccoon familiar.

if he hadn't said anything when he passed you two by about to clean the statue of seven, he wouldn't get involved with you at all

but there you two are, in a mine plotting a plan to get the a magestone so none of you three get explled

to be honest, for a half day he had a full on adventure with you and that Deuce involved, he can't say it's pleasant but not also interesting. you're interesting.

your plan worked on getting the magestone and even made yourself and Grim an official student of NRC.

you are clearly smart on your own way, having yourself meddle with things you shouldn't had but did get it unintentionally. so he did you a favor on giving him help to stay over for tonight due to some... collaring circumstances.

he can't say it's on purpose but whatever!! you just got to help him tonight and it'll be over, he promised.

everything went and so on, you three including Grim were on the unbirthday party to give the Chestnut tart and finally get the stupid collar off him but he didn't expect for the rest of you to get collared either and spending another night in your ramshackled of a dorm

He would thought you'd finally got enough of him and his shenanigans and finally made the right decision to kick him out but no, you two were on the same page now. you hated Riddle being tyrannical and this stupid collar encasing your neck. that's the only reason why you joined Ace and Deuce's force against Riddle and let them stay in for the night.

that's his reason why he did it.

he punched Riddle because of that reason. you were something else, something special.

no one was allowed to make a comment about your family status without taking a look at themselves first housewarden or not. Riddle might be the tyrant queen of the Heartslabyul but isn't to Ace

Riddle was nothing likr a Queen but a child throwing a tantrum Infront of Ace just because he had not followed a absurd rule that shouldn't make any sense.

Ace isn't going to accept somebody to disrespect the person who had helped him, who had let him stay in, and prevented his expelling.

he isn't going to accept that, not a disrespect to or at you.

it shouldn't be made.

it has been already year since the overblots you encountered, a year ever since the first overblot- Riddle's overblot

it's a good thing you are living your best life now here at twisted wonderland as you still hope for the way back home and...

"Hey!! wait up!" Ace come up running to you together with Deuce. almost tripping as they stop a few steps after you

and hoping you could stay forever with these idiots.

"Hello there guys! how's your remedial test?"

"oh, we're getting back on track to it but more importantly, IS IT TRUE YOU'RE SKIPPING OUT ON THE UNBIRTHDAY PARTY!?" ah he had heard about that, you were welcome at Heartslabyul to visit anytime you want, you had become a special guest but this time you weren't, Crowley had said so should you focus on your studies first before partying around. unless of course the Housewarden or a dormmate himself invited you to come.

"Yes i will sadly, headmaster orders, unless-" you stop at your talking before looking directly at Ace

"you'd get me in? Crowley said j can as long as I'm invited" you could get Deuce to do it but this Ace Trappola is your Ace Trappola

plus Ace requires little persuasion.

"What!? No way I'd do that Riddle wou-" you interrupt him as you hook your arm at his, clinging like a koala to a ginger tree branch

"please Ace~? I'd be really sad you know? Grim hasn't eaten sweets for days too." you smirk at him, this happened to work apparently, it started as a joke to get him carry your books but when you doed your eye at him he immediately took it from your hands as he walked together at your side.

"Oh no we're losing him." Deuce said to himself noticing how Ace had turned red from your clinging

"Sh-shut up Deuce! f-fine...! as long as you don't say anything to Riddle about this... he'd get mad if he knew you weren't supposed to be in the unbirthday party" Ace stuttered trying to clear his throat and calm his nerves down

he isn't breaking away from your clinging, should you push it?

you hugged your arms tighter at his. before pulling him towards the corridor and beaming a smile

"Thanks, Ace! i know i could count on you." he could swore he heard angels sing at him when you said that before you hook your other arm with Deuce and cling in the middle between them two as you three walk together at the halls

when did he became a puppy to you? anyone would think you were just a normal person with no inch of magic in you, you weren't even special to begin with so how'd the Ace of hearts became your soldier?

if it's Ace the one who'd think that....

"damn, you know how to use your charms."

#this is shit but im gonna post it anyways #disney twst #twst #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst x reader #twst grim #twst ace trappola #twst ace trappola x reader #twst ace x reader #twst ace #ace trapolla x reader #ace trapolla

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beardedmrbean · 7 months

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Brother, want some news that made me big mad to hear?

In my hometown a couple weeks ago someone shot a California Condor and now the Games warden is tearing ass to get the guy that did it.

Got any fun facts about that bird to brighten the day or do you wanna suffer with me?

We finally got those off the critically endangered list a year or so ago I thought, ain't just gonna be the game warden going after him. Feds are gonna get in on that and not the FBI but one of the ones that actually does its job.

Wrong about the critically endangered, but we're getting there.

Here's a kinda weird infodump that plays in no particular order, except the last 3 images because I noticed they were numbered.

Here's from 2019

Went through like 15 pages to find a good video, birdoftheweek was on the first page.

Looks like there's a bunch over at Pinnacles, used to hike and climb there all the time but there were no condors that I can recall from the mid to late 90's.

Let's see what the Park Service has to say, (they say there were I'll trust them)

California condors once ranged from British Columbia, Canada down to Baja California, Mexico. This range shrank with the increase of European settlers moving west. The causes of the decrease in condors included poisoning, shooting, habitat degradation, and the collection of eggs and feathers. By the late 1800s, naturalists were already making note of the California condors’ declining numbers and in 1967, condors were listed as an endangered species. Despite this protection, their population continued to decrease and dropped to a low of 22 individuals in the 1980s. All wild condors were then trapped and placed in captive breeding programs in an effort to save the species from extinction.

Since 1992, captive-bred condors have been released at five different sites in western North America (Pinnacles National Park, Big Sur, Hopper Mountain Wildlife Refuge Complex, Vermillion Cliffs, and Baja California). Each release site monitors the flock’s behaviors, movements, nesting attempts, and mortalities. Pinnacles joined the recovery program in 2003 with the release of 2 captive-bred condors on December 20th. In 2016, the first condor chick since 1898 (condor 828) fledged from a nest within Pinnacles. Since their reintroduction, condor numbers in the wild have slowly increased thanks to wild nesting and the release of captive-bred condors. As of the end of 2018, there were a total of 488 condors in the world, with 312 of those flying free in the wild. However, condors today are still dying due to lead poisoning, consuming litter and microtrash, and electrocution from power poles. Learn more about what you can do to help condors and other wildlife here.

ones over by Pinnacles might be in the group for your local deal, or maybe there's other groups in the area too.

Speaking of that area, can I just tell you how confusing it was for me as someone who had done the 152 run oodles and oodles of times when the Hollister clothing brand came out and made it big.

All I could think was who in the world would think that's a place that should have a "cool" clothing brand named after it.

Few years later I learned it was a gap thing and most people had no clue Hollister was a real place, lol.

You may proceed to laugh at me now.

#unbenchthekench

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samseabxrn · 3 months

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12, 22, 32 for the weird writer asks!! 👯

Hello Rowan and thank you!! I typed out all my answers and then promptly did not save the post 😌 so take two:

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

Oh, this is hard! I think...

To be able to finish any WIP I start.

To be able to pause time so I can write.

The ability to know exactly what I want to adjust when I look at my writing.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

There is barely a system here! I write on Pages so I can use either my computer or phone when I feel like it. WIPs I'm in the mood for stay in the cloud, stagnated ones go on my hard drive. My WIP folder is kind of a wasteland. I also write out of order and drag things around very often. I'm in a weird spot where I don't write super long fics, and I feel like I can't justify one file per chapter, but they're long enough that I get confused in my own docs... I need help tbh

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

Warning: rambling ahead, haha. A few months ago, I read The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri and I felt so seen while reading it, so much of it felt painfully relevant, I was shocked in a way... The familiar relationships, the questions of identity and culture, a lot of it really hit deep. I don't want to quote the whole book at you because I would lol, but one core moment:

And suddenly, the sound of his pet name, uttered by his father as he has been accustomed to hearing it all his life, means something completely new, bound up with a catastrophe he has unwittingly embodied for years. “Is that what you think of when you think of me?” Gogol asks him. “Do I remind you of that night?” “Not at all,” his father says eventually, one hand going to his ribs, a habitual gesture that has baffled Gogol until now. “You remind me of everything that followed."

I think this is the perfect little highlight of their relationship: we've gotten to see both their perspectives, so we understand their intentions, but this is one of the first moments where Gogol and his father begin to understand each other. That lack of understanding causes hurt on both sides, and it's not going to fully stop, but there's a step here. I love that kind of cyclical parent-child relationship in fiction, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, etc...

#thank you so much bestie!!#inbox

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kat-lamp · 2 years

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Today I went through my google docs and found many beginnings of sw fan fictions I attempted to write and never finished. Some I remember, and others were just like “wtf is that”

Imprisoned (Abandoned 3.01.21)

I actually posted on here about this Maulsoka fic and wrote roughly 2 chapters of before stopping. The premise was post twilight of the apprentice, Vader knows Ahsoka and Maul are alive and puts out a bounty to capture them alive. Maul and Ahsoka would bond in their imprisonment. Eventually them and Vader would team up to kill Palps because he put them all through suffering. My writing stopped after they were captured by Vader for reference. What would happen after they killed Palp? Who knows, not me.

Broken Promises (Abandoned 7.20.21)

This one I had planned and wrote, once again, 2 chapters of before moving on lol. It was set as if Padme reached out to Ahsoka after Anakin was deployed post the wrong Jedi, keeping an eye on her in the underbelly of Coruscant. Ahsoka is one of the few who knows of their marriage, so she becomes a confidant to Padme. Eventually learning of the pregnancy. Padme confesses her worries over Anakin, the war, and the pregnancy. She asks Ahsoka to promise her if anything were to happen to her and Anakin, that she would raise the twins. Spoiler alert, she breaks her promise and doesn’t get to raise them, but she helps Leia with her shielding without knowing who she is. It then jumps to the battle of yavin, in which Ahsoka rejoins the rebellion after deserting post malachor. She reunited with Rex and never got to meet the twins in the first draft smh. Pretty sure the plan was that she would train them I think, and go on to help them both confront Vader and defeat the empire.

5 Times Ahsoka dies + 1 time Maul does (Abandoned 4.17.21)

Who knows I may actually finish this oneshot one day. Basically it follows my Mortis theory that Ahsoka is immortal and can only die by the sword that killed the mortis gods. It tells the tale of each time she dies, then she becomes aware of what’s happening after being shot in the chest during order 66. I only wrote the first 3 times she died, but I’m pretty sure Vader was gonna be number 5 during Malachor. I think this was meant to be Maulsoka as well, judging by the title. I assume since he hadn’t appeared yet, except a brief mention in death 3, that their relationship would develop ‘off screen’ post order 66. In the +1, Ahsoka would feel Maul be killed by Obi Wan and come to accept that her immortality will cause her to be alone forever, something angsty like that.

Unnamed one page (Abandoned 7.20.21)

I think this was a crack fic. I hope it was. Basically Ahsoka and Rex reunited after Endor and have a huge screaming match about why she abandoned him, until they’re interrupted by Luke and Leia. What happens after they’re interrupted? Only me (checks version history) A YEAR AGO TODAY KNOWS. Okay that’s a weird coincidence. Really weird.

Unnamed Fencing/HS Au (Abandoned 6.13.21)

The only fic I properly planned out, only to give up after planning and never write a chapter. I was really digging modern AUs last June, what can I say? Anyway, good High School vs Evil High School had competitive fencing teams and debate teams. Forbidden love because Obi and Maul have beef Maulsoka with all the cliches and a surprise betrayal from Barriss and everyone lives happily except for her!!! Rereading the random plot points made me laugh because it’s just so… For example, Palps was the principle at the good school and Sidious was at the bad school. Did he split his time 50/50? I literally wrote the words “Honda is the campus dealer” like wtfffff. I think I need a whole post dedicated to deciphering that story.

I don’t love any of these plots anymore so if I ever get around to posting a full fic, it won’t be one of these. But it’s nice to look back and reflect and see how my writing has gotten better.

#maulsoka #maulsoka fanfiction #abandoned fic

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okcomputeroknotok19972017 · 2 years

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if you don't mind me asking... how did you start liking radiohead so much? what is it about them that puts you on a chokehold. random question i know but whenever i see someone who's deeply moved by an artist i always wonder how that love came to be :)

bwbwbwbwbwbwwb i love you i love you this is such a nice question to ask and makes me so happy :)

<3 i’d heard creep years ago on a television show and didn’t think of it for a long time, i think once when i was 12 my dad played kid a and wasn’t really listening to it but i told him to turn it off because it was bumming me out? LOL anyways flash forward to age 15 in late october 2020 and i’m playing rockband 2 with my family, and recognize one of the songs that’s on there: creep. i remember how the verse goes a little bit so we try it… i’m no good at singing it because i haven’t heard it in years and years, but i think “damn that was a bummer. good song though!”

that night i decided to look up the music video on youtube so that i can familiarize myself more with the song to sing it, and wtf, they have a song called weird fishes! i have a pet fish i like fish! i listen to it and WHAT THE FUCK. it's like nothing i've EVER heard before, so vivid and rich and what the FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. immediately obsessed with weird fishes. see jigsaw falling into place in my recommended, think lol thats a funny name, listen to it and go WHAT THE FUCK again. feel something shift inside me. after a 24hour weird fishes LOCKDOWN i go to the radiohead wikipedia page and recognize "oh ive heard of ok computer, dont know much about it other than everyone loves it," decide to listen to paranoid android first & then the full album. What the Fuck again. What the shit. Whag the hell.

i don't remember which album i listened to next, i want to say the bends? either way, by late november i was BIG into radiohead. hadn't finished all the albums yet, but the shift inside me furthered until i could hear a little "click" somewhere in my brain or my chest. ask for a radiohead shirt for christmas. get the DAEHOIDAR shirt from the website as a gift :-). radiohead is my 2nd favorite band. start watching interviews and learning bits and pieces about the guys. watch live performances. giggle and send everyone i know the winter wonderland cover. become clinically depressed. get through the rest of the albums. go inpatient. be half-awake one morning before the insanely early breakfast time, unable to move and DESPERATELY trying to remember the lyrics to faust arp. i fucking KNOW THIS. it was tearing me apart, i was so distressed....when i finally Woke up it all came flooding back and i was so relieved. i just think that memory is so funny. go back home and listen to more radiohead. cry to scatterbrain more times than i can count. that becomes My Song. start explaining who thom yorke is in casual conversation. get sent a lot of creep memes. radiohead has long since taken over as my favorite band ever and very soon my streaming stats reflect that. work the shittiest most miserable job imaginable at an extremely poorly-managed dog daycare and mumble the entirety of each radiohead album to myself to keep me occupied and pass the time as i very illegally was not allowed to sit down or take a break for 8 full hours. friends start knowing me for my radiohead obsession. therapist interrogates me over whether my obsession with my favorite band causes problems in my life. get a lot of merch and a lot of cds. watch THE SMILE's second livestream in january '22....

this is insane why am i going into so many pointless details. very sorry i got carried away....long story short i am the biggest radiohead fan in the world i regularly train myself in case someone stops me on the street and asks me to list every single song in their discography in chronological order and/or recite the lyrics to all of them and my parents know a lot about each member of the band and don't really like it when i involve radiohead trivia in every single conversation. i had a catastrophic level 5 radiohead moment at work a few months ago where a customer bought the suspiria soundtrack WHICH I DIDNT EVEN KNOW WE HAD and my vision got blurry and i couldnt type and could barely say anything coherent to him. my manager was unimpressed. a little embarrassing looking back but kinda funny.

why i love radiohead? perhaps because theyre the greatest band of all time. perhaps because im a greep. perhaps because he has to squeak and mewl while singing

#I went a little bit nuts on this sorry

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livingwithlosingyou · 2 years

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Living with Losing You - 9/23/2022

It’s Wedding Day!

Still hurts. I was happy that I was able to go though. I’ll get into this further a little later.

This morning I woke up and remembered that I told Brenden that I would FT him at like 8am. so naturally I was late LOL and I ended up talking to him at like 8:15am. Close enough. It was funny because I actually woke up early and had a nice start to my day, but I was frantically looking for my navy blue and tan dresses that I will typically wear to weddings. I could not find them ANYWHERE. I tore everything apart too, I have no idea where they could even be, honestly. It’s not like someone borrowed them. Anyway, this caused a ripple affect which in turn made me later. It was nice to chat and FT with him, he is a great friend. I multi-tasked and ordered PS while I was on the call because right after it I knew that I had a jewelry appointment. I plan to put your ashes into a piece of jewelry.

So, to be honest again, I really had not opened or done much with your ashes. I have peaked inside, but I haven’t even ever really touched the bag. That was until today (LOL). I think it’s the principle of the fact that that’s you. It still very much so weirds me out. Not in a creepy way, but in an almost unbelievable way. Anyhow, I have followed this local jeweler on Instagram for a while, and actually had sent James her page a few times as a hint hint in those moments (another lol). As I started to consolidate your stuff, I realized that I really wanted to do something with the ashes versus just leaving them in a bag in the white box. I have talked about spreading them, but I have also been advised that I may want to keep them. I am not sure, it’s all new territory and can be tough to navigate at times. I have some friends who think it’s creepy and others that are like cherish them. Funny how that works.

For the jewelry piece, I wanted something that is both silver and gold so I can wear it whenever i want to. I have a tendency of switching them off, but I figured if we can combine the two without it looking tacky, let’s do it. We talked through a few ideas and I am pretty excited so far. We are going to fuse some of your ashes into an aquamarine stone. One thing I quickly learned when taking your ashes out of the box was that it really looks like matte light colored clay. I guess I was surprised? I am not sure why I expected it to be like sparkly or some shit. This isn’t Twilight. In my defense the jeweler was also surprised at the color, so it wasn’t just me.

Anyway, so it came the time where I had to give her some of your ashes. I ran to my car to quickly grab a spoon (of course I brought you in with me, wasn’t gonna leave you in the car). A joke was made that I got to spoon you today, and I was actually mad that I didn’t think of that pun first.

All jokes aside though, it was very weird. It’s just weird that that’s YOU. Well, the physical form of you that we knew. And we once loved, and held. I miss the physical form of you. I brought disposable gloves for the occasion and gave her about a tablespoon of your ashes. Wasn’t sure how much she would need. I figured not much, but in case there was any trial and error, she had more than enough. Also, I have more where that came from. I will admit, in a weird way it made me feel like I was giving too much of you away. I am not sure if that entirely makes sense? It’s hard to explain. In a way it’s like the last actual piece of you the physical sense that I can hold in my hands. I know your spirit is with me, but it’s just different. It likely doesn’t help that it’s just been a hard week, and just equally hard to let go. After I spooned you, I packed the rest of you up and we headed back home. Your favorite place to me when you were alive.

After this I used a little time to unwind, then I ran some errands. I had to take Sadie to camp because of the wedding, and wanted to grab some new jewelry to wear later on. After my errands, I got home and quickly ordered lunch from Sheldon’s up the hill. I then started to get ready.

I really was not sure what dress I would wear since I could not locate those two “go to’s”, but then after some digging I found the dress that you and I bought at the mall back in April. You really liked this dress, but I thought it might me an “accidental flash waiting to happen” and I knew we were going to be “getting down on the dance floor” so I didn’t want to risk flashing grandma King. Anyway, so I ended up wearing another dress that day, and figured I would honor you but wearing this dress to the wedding today. I’ll post some pictures on here!

Of course traffic was terrible getting there, and I ended up getting there a couple minutes late. Luckily it was not disruptive, and they had pushed back the timeline by about 30-40 minutes. It was a beautifully stunning wedding. I couldn’t believe how previous the venue and the decor was. It was a little tough to be there, but luckily I was surrounded by a quite a few people that I know from high school, whether they were students with me and/or coaches. It was so great to connect / reconnect with some people that I hadn’t seen in years. All in all, it was a great time. Food was amazing, the bride and the groom were stunning, there was a swing, etc. I was happy that I was invited to be a part of such a special day.

I left at around 9:45pm, and I still have not been able to wind down. I need to go to bed because I have an early morning with the boys and the Grit x Grind XC race up in Carlsbad. Only slightly kicking myself for not getting the hotel up there, but also likely saved myself a lot of money.

Overall, today was a pretty decent day. I missed you being my plus one. Though, I know you were there with me the whole time <3.

I love you, you know that I do.

Rest in Peace, James Burton Nichols

10/1/1993 - 7/16/2022

Here is the ring that I bought a couple of months after meeting James. On the inside, it says “I love you and stuff”. It’s what he would always say to me.

0 notes

caravelmp3 · 3 years

Text

UNDER THE CANYON MOON

pairing: josh kiszka x female!reader warning(s): mostly fluff, just brief mentions of alcohol and sex word(s): 2k note: hi hi hi !! this is just a little something i wrote up the last couple of days with the inspiration of light my love, canyon moon by harry styles, and the interview where josh talked about road-tripping the u.s. last summer <3 i don’t write one shots often but let me know what you all think bc i might shuffle some more out soon lol. hope you all enjoy !! :)

The Los Angeles sun was hot, beating down onto the city basking in its late-summer hues. You parked your car on the street in Silver Lake and carried a bag of food and drink tray to the door of a recording studio, more than prepared to be swarmed by hungry boys who had been cooped up in the studio since five a.m. on the dot that morning. They had a breakthrough the night before with a new song, and after getting home and going to bed for a few hours, the creative juices started flowing again and they were back in the booth.

A windchime on the door sang as you pulled the door open and walked inside, greeting their manager who was at a table by the door.

“The boys here?”

“Down the hall,” he nodded, pointing a finger in the direction of the hallway. “They’re more rowdy than usual so be prepared,”

You laughed and turned down the hall, walking towards the studio. The walls were decorated with memorabilia of rock and roll greats and record plaques, and among them, you spotted a picture of the four boys with their Grammy award. It seemed like time had passed so quickly. They won the award for the first album and they were already working on their third, shooting them further into stardom.

“Coffee’s here!” You shouted in a really bad New England accent when you noticed the recording light was flipped off above the door.

You stepped into the room to a chorus of cheers and “thank god you're here”’s that made you laugh while sitting the food and drinks down on the table and they all rushed over. You handed out the specific orders and pointed to which drinks was theirs when they got handsy and tried to grab everything from her out of both excitement and some desperation for caffeine.

“Our savior,” Jake said, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to give them a gentle shake before taking the coffee you were holding out to him, and then you handed Danny’s to him, too.

“Just the coffee girl here,”

“Well, you’re a little bit more than that,” Josh said, walking over to the table to grab his full cup.

You pressed a hand against the table, leaning over to him. “Just a little?”

“A little bit,” he shot you a wink before swiftly pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You were more than just a “little more” than the coffee girl, you were typically their designated drunk driver, the one who took all of their candid photos, the mediator in times of need, and well, the girlfriend of the lead singer, too.

Everyone in the studio took their food and drinks and scattered among the seating area in a break from recording. Instead of one tiny room with all of them cramped together, they had a wide open space with booths for the different instruments and bean bag chairs and big comfy, velvet sofas, and there was dim lighting with deep toned rugs that gave off the vibe of a more relaxed feel rather than the fluorescent-light, tiled-floor feeling that made them feel rushed and confined by rules they didn’t set themselves.

You liked the studio, too, and often took naps on the sofa while listening to them play instruments individually in the recording booths and while they were writing. One night they had found you at two a.m., bundled up with a blanket on the bean bag chair after they spent the night writing in the front room on the piano, but it wasn’t the first time as you often napped in their Nashville recording offices, too.

“You guys been busy today?” You asked jokingly while lowering onto the sofa armrest, receiving nothing but glares shot in your direction. “Okay, okay, touchy subject,”

With a mouthful of bread, Sam pointed to Josh, “Josh finished a song, didn’t you?” He was grinning.

You hummed in joy and surprise, grabbing Josh’s knee as he sat next to you. “Really?”

It had been a rough few days for all of them as they tried to shuffle out a few more additions to the new album. It felt incomplete with something missing, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what it was exactly, so they attempted to bring back and revamp old songs, write and record new ones, but nothing seemed to stick, until now.

“Yeah, wanted to wait and show you later, but someone can’t keep his trap shut.” Josh said, pretending to be serious before cracking a smile and taking a sip of his coffee. “Just wanted it to be a surprise,”

“Well it can still be a surprise, I’m surprised now,” you said. “Can I hear it? Or read what you got?”

Josh nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him. There was a little recording room fit with a piano inside, his writing journal placed on the music stand where he had scribbled notes and keys and melodies in pen. He picked it up and handed it to you.

“Nothing seemed to click until last night, when I started putting it together.” He said.

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what it was when you all got back to the house?”

Josh shrugged, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, yeah, I wanted it to be special when you first heard it.”

You sat the coffee cup down onto the floor while lowering into the small chair in the corner, holding the journal like it was the most delicate piece of art in the world. In silence, while Josh watched on anxiously, you read the words he had splayed across the blank page.

Can you light my love? Flames glowing bright as the sun Deeper than oceans you run Watch as our world has begun

Your mind is a stream of colors Extending beyond our sky A land of infinite wonders A billion lightyears from here now

You felt your throat tighten, tears tempted your eyes.

It was a love song.

“Josh-”

“Oh god you hate it don’t you, you dread it, despise it,”

“Oh shut up, I’m in tears right now, you know I love it.” You looked up at him with a smile and a sniffle.

His words across the page were sloppy, some cursive, written in different pens of different colors, some lines crossed and scribbled out, others underlined.

“Your mind is something I will never fully understand.” You told him as he sat down on the chair next to you. “How the fuck did you come up with this-”

“I was thinking about our trip out here, the week we spent driving out and all of the stuff we did… and how I think I fell more in love with you.” His voice softened.

You reached out, placing your arm on his shoulder, fingers playing with his curls. “I can’t put it into words how much I love it, how much I love you,” you said, “and you make me sound so lovely when in reality I know I was a pain in the ass that entire trip.”

“Yeah, but my pain in the ass,” he kissed the inside of your arm.

Two weeks before the boys left Nashville to head to Los Angeles, Josh called you at midnight with an idea in mind – the two of you renting a camper to drive out to L.A., falling into all of the tourist traps along the way and stopping in random small towns to sleep while exploring the in between, which would definitely beat the boring four-hour flight. And you, half asleep and across the country, agreed.

It would be fun. Right?

And it was. Every time someone asked how it went, you called it “the most magical week of my life.”

While the others waited behind for their flights the next week, you and Josh set off from Nashville, heading west with only the destination in mind and a trusty map in hand. Everything else just came to you both.

The first stop was three hours in the trip, in Memphis. You and Josh roamed Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard and had lunch near Sun Studio before taking in the mementos and relics at the Blues Hall of Fame where Josh talked your ear off, rattling off more details about each band and singer than was on the info-cards on the wall.

Then it was two hours to Little Rock, falling asleep in the back of the camper after a take-out dinner outside of a random supermarket. Sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of a parking lot, you held Josh’s hand under a blanket and watched the pink sunrise over the hills, and then it was back on the road again.

From Oklahoma City to Amarillo, you fiddled with the map when Josh got lost after a wrong turn in a small town where he insisted on seeing the giant 66-foot LED soda bottle sculpture, and in the middle of northern Texas, he made it up to you by cooking your favorite dinner. You thanked him in a quiet whisper as you crawled into the bed with him that night, sliding under the covers where he greeted you with warm hands and kisses against your neck that made you squeal with the tickle of his mustache and he grinned against your lips.

Josh got to choose the music all the way through New Mexico – Neil Young and Crazy Horse to John Denver’s Thank God I’m A Country Boy, and you were only able to squeeze in Joan Baez every hour when you stopped to stretch your legs on the side of the road, belting the words to him while he laughed at your voice cracks.

And after you both pitched the tent in the Petrified Forest in Arizona, Josh hummed the tune to some new song while you two sat under the midnight stars in the canyon with a roaring fire, his arm around you, his sweatshirt draped over your shoulders. When he tried to start telling you a scary story after you heard a weird noise outside the tent, you blindly hit him in the dark and accidentally hit his nose, causing you both to burst into laughter after the initial panic left. He laughed loudly into your shoulder as you held his face in shock, catching the scent of your lavender lotion, and his body relaxed when the laughter died down, feeling so at peace in his life with you there.

It was the tail end of the trip, but the excitement hadn’t died down yet. After showers in the camper in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona and five hours west, you and Josh found a bar outside of Las Vegas that resembled Coyote Ugly, so you both had a round of tequila sodas and margaritas before walking around the small town that evening and sleeping off the tipsy-headaches in the air conditioning. On top of the covers, you looked at Josh napping in the sunshine, cheeks flushed red, curls poofy from the wind, and you felt your heart grow in your chest before falling asleep next to him.

And then came Los Angeles, the final stop, the dreaded one. But you and Josh didn’t tell anyone that either of you were sad to be back with them in L.A. when they asked, and instead, you two smiled and hugged everyone after piling out of the camper in the drive-way of the Silver Lake house.

Cleaning out the camper, tossing cheesy novelty t-shirts at each other and laughing at how many socks you two managed to lose along the way and how many bug bites were added, watching the developed clips Josh had filmed of scenes in the desert and you asleep in the passenger seat, you both were nostalgic about a trip that just ended.

It was so easy, so freeing to just be together on the road, with only the destination in mind. It revealed a part of them that the other didn’t see often, like your tendencies to get your lefts and rights mixed up while giving directions, and Josh’s equally awful sense of direction didn’t exactly pair with the fact that he was a maniac while driving in the first place.

But those parts were just added to the long list of why you and him loved each other in the first place. So you became the designated driver after Amarillo and Josh stuck to telling you “left or right” for the rest of the time. It was a compromise, another reason why you two worked so well together.

It was a form of love in itself.

“We’ll have to drive all the way back to Nashville then, so you can write more songs about me.” You teased.

Josh rolled his eyes but cracked into a grin a second later. “Let’s not get too carried away,” but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t always mentally reliving the night under the canyon moon.

#gvf imagine #greta van fleet imagine #gvf #gvf one shot #greta van fleet one shot #gvf fanfic #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka one shot #josh kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet

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honeytae · 3 years

Note

if you’re open for regular requests i’d love to request lil scenarios of the boys learning english alongside their english-speaking s/o! this is totally self-indulgent i’m doing the TEFL program and i’m going to south korea next year to teach :)

first of all, that’s amazing omg!! congratulations my love, i hope you have the best time over there and please don’t be shy in sharing your stories with us!!! i tried to stick to the boys actually learning english with their s/o but i strayed from that with a few members just bc i ran out of ideas lol but i hope you still enjoy!

fair warning....i’ve never ~seriously~ tried to learn korean, so i’m not entirely certain of the parallels between korean and english. i just hope these are wholesome enough to override that lmao

namjoon:

“You know,” Namjoon looked up from his phone, “I understand expanding your vocabulary, but why are there so many weird slang words?”

“Kids these days?” You shrugged, the man chuckling in response before flipping his phone around to show you what had puzzled him.

“If something slaps, that’s...good?” He wondered, watching as you suppressed a smile at the tweet he was showing you.

You could tell by the profile picture that the user was an ARMY, one of the many fan profiles on the platform, and the tweet was written completely in English.

Although there was a ‘Translate to Korean’ option readily available with just a tap of his thumb, you knew Namjoon never missed an opportunity to challenge himself to be able to fully comprehend what a native English speaker was trying to say.

You nearly snorted at the tweet’s content, smiling as you read it out loud.

“The Dis-ease bridge just saved my life. Seriously, this song slaps.”

Glancing at Namjoon, he raised his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for you to translate and explain what that could equate to in Korean.

“It’s definitely a good thing, Joon. They love it.”

At your interpretation, Namjoon grinned, nodding to himself as he pulled his phone back in front of his face to scroll through more reaction tweets to the new album release.

seokjin:

“What the hell is that?”

You picked your head up from your sketchbook when you heard Seokjin whine from beside you, eyebrows knitting together at his distressed tone. Taking a glance over at his laptop screen, you found his mouse bouncing from letter to letter on one of his weekly english lessons.

“What is that, like 15 letters? How do you even use that in a sentence?” He went on, obviously flustered by the word on the screen.

Pulchritudinous.

You placed your hand over his to stop his panicked counting of the letters, causing him to look over at you with a sigh as he frowned.

You nearly giggled at his reaction, but the genuine fear in his eyes made you stifle it as you soothingly held his hands in yours.

“It’s just an over complicated way of saying beautiful. I don’t know why they’re teaching you that, nobody ever uses it.” You assured him, his eyes going down in size a bit at your words before he nodded.

Watching as a smirk tilted his lips, you raised your brows at the sudden expression.

“What?”

“Well like, I could say I’m...that?” He said, eyebrows raised cockily as he gestured to the long word stretched across the screen.

“Well it’s actually not used like,” you paused, giving in with a shrug as you grinned back at him.

“Sure, love.”

yoongi:

“Why did I skip English class all the time?” Yoongi sighed, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he plucked at the skin in frustration.

“Because you were trying to be a rebel.” You answered without looking up from your phone, the man obviously not liking your answer as he reached over to where you were laying beside him to pinch at your hip.

Yelping, you scooted across the mattress to get away from his hand, whining his name with a scoff before looking over at his notepad.

“What are you doing, anyway?” You asked, leaning on your palm as you scanned the rows of scribbled English letters written on the page.

“I’m trying to get better at writing.” He admitted shyly, a small grin on his face to match the fond one on your own.

“Aw,” you pouted, Yoongi raising his eyebrows at your tone, “but I like your chicken scratch.”

“You’re such a brat.” He chuckled, adjusting the velcro on his brace with a grunt.

Since Yoongi’s shoulder surgery took away obvious straining activities like dancing and performing, he’d turned to studying English from the comfort of your bed during his recovery as one of the only safe activities he could partake in for a while.

It was now one of his favorite past times, learning new words and phrases he could potentially use in the future. It worked for you both because it took his mind off the pain and kept him motivated, and since you could speak both his and your language, you could help him out whenever he got stuck on something.

Usually he did lessons verbally on his phone, but it seemed today he had taken the old fashioned route.

“Your handwriting really isn’t bad, Yoongs.” You observed, the carefully placed tails at the end of each ‘a’ making you smile out of fondness for the man.

“My man has the prettiest handwriting.” You cooed, pushing a strand of his stark black hair out of his eyes as he blushed down at his notebook.

“Stop that.”

hoseok:

“Hey, babe?” Hoseok called for you, listening to your footsteps growing closer before you popped your head into the kitchen doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I’m having a little trouble.” He gestured to his open laptop on the counter, you recognizing it as an assignment from his English course.

“What happened?”

“Pronouns. Pronouns happened.” He pouted, his disdain for the new chapter quite obvious as he stared down his computer screen.

“What about them?” You asked, stepping closer to the man sitting at the kitchen island and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I need to make ten sentences using proper pronouns and I feel like I’m doing it all wrong.” He explained, causing you to hum as you looked over his sentences.

“These look great, Hobi.” You smiled as you glanced over the first three he’d written, flawlessly executed on the document.

“Can you help me with the next one?” He wondered, you nodding your head as you took a seat on the stool next to his.

“What do you want the next one to say?” You asked, watching as he glanced off to the side in thought, slightly squinting his eyes at the tile floor beneath the sink.

“My house is next to,” He spoke in English, pausing as he searched his brain for what pronoun to put next.

“Theys?” He answered as more of a question, then shaking his head as he switched back to Korean, “wait, no.” He sighed, placing his chin in his hand in thought before glancing over to you.

“I know it’s wrong, I just don’t know what the right answer is instead.” He explained, you shooting him a loving smile as you pushed the dark raven hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss to the newly revealed skin.

“I’ll help you, Sunshine. No worries.”

jimin:

Flopping onto the bed, you let your tired body fall on top of Jimin’s hoodie clad chest, his arm encircling your body as he mumbled a soft greeting to you.

“Hm, what are you learning about today?” You nuzzled into his chest, peering at his phone propped up on his thigh.

“Animals. Birds, mostly.” He answered, briefly turning from the screen to press a kiss to your head before focusing back on the row of English words matched with pictures of popular birds glowing from the device.

The first was a robin, the next a blue jay, and then a dove.

You listened as the virtual instructor prompted Jimin to repeat after her, spelling out the letters before stating the whole word. You smiled as your boyfriend followed instruction, pronouncing the words the best he could after the microphone chimed for him to do so.

“D-o-v-e. Dove.”

“Dove.” He repeated, smiling to himself as the app announced he got the point with a little heart.

“That’s cute.” He went back to his native language, you humming in confusion as you lifted your head up off his chest to look at him.

“The heart?” You asked, reaching up to twist a stray strand of hair out of his eye as he shook his head.

“Dove.” He said again, making you tilt your head, not knowing what he meant.

“It sounds like ‘love.’” He connected the two English words, you smiling fondly at him in response before scooting up the bed to kiss the tip of his button nose.

“You’re so cute.”

taehyung:

Three knocks at the door announced someone’s arrival to your bedroom, causing your head to lift from the novel you’d been so immersed in. Taehyung was home, but you’d wanted to give him space because you knew he needed to work on lyrics for his mixtape in order to submit them on time.

“Hey,” he poked his head in with a small smile, “can you help me with something?” He asked sheepishly, stepping further into the room when you nodded.

“Of course. What is it?” You set your book down, marking your place before closing it to pay full attention to your boyfriend.

“Well, I’m trying to write this verse in English and,” he trailed off with a shrug, “you know.” He finished, you nodding in response with a gesture for him to come sit next to you.

He eagerly walked over to you with his notebook in hand, lowering himself to the mattress before rolling his way over to where you were leaning against the headboard.

Honestly, Taehyung’s English wasn’t bad at all. He was insecure about it, but you’d never really understood what the reason for that feeling was. His vocabulary was more than decent, his comprehension was good, and his pronunciation was great for having such a thick accent.

But there were many times where Taehyung came to you for guidance, as you were a native English speaker yourself.

And so, as he rested his head on your shoulder confiding in you about everything he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it, you patiently took him through what would work and rhyme best, smiling as he hummed the melody to himself to see if the phrases would work in his creation.

jungkook:

“Baby, can you read it to me again before we go on? Just one more time.”

You glanced over at your boyfriend in his makeup chair, several employees bustling around the man as they attempted to get him ready to go on stage while they had him seated.

With his arm extended backward to where you stood behind his leather chair, he offered his phone to you while shooting you a grin through the reflection in the mirror.

Taking the device from his hand, you opened it to the notes app where he’d written what he wanted to say in his statement on stage in just a few minutes.

You were in London tonight, which meant that all of the boys had been rehearsing their English so that they could communicate easier with their audience.

Jungkook, ever the over-achiever, was determined to do the toughest English tongue twister he could possibly find. Not only that, but in a British accent for his British ARMY’s.

“Betty bought a bit of better butter to make her bitter butter better.” You read from the phone, barely able to read the sentence yourself before you glanced up at Jungkook through the mirror again.

You watched your boyfriend nod as his brain took in the words you’d just said, taking a deep inhale before he began speaking the phrase back to you.

You gawked as the man effortlessly repeated after you, a few of the makeup artists stopping as well as Jungkook raised his eyebrows back at you.

“Was that okay?”

427 notes · View notes

katsukavi · 3 years

Text

"OH SHIT!" part 1

It's an Omega Jin-Woo x Alpha Male Reader. It's titled "oh shit" because they keep falling into more and more pain, but end up falling for each other. This is part 1!

THE STRONGEST HUNTER, Sung Jin-Woo was mistaken to be an alpha with his build and strength but he was an omega. It made sense back then when he was an E-Rank hunter, but now that he changed greatly and it was nearly impossible to distinguish him from Alphas from a glance.

That was the S-Rank (L/n) (M/n)'s mistake. He had thought that his best friend was an Alpha his entire life, going on a 'sleepover' and going out to drink. Stupid move yes, but male omegas are rare — making it less likely in (L/n)'s head for Jin-Woo to be an omega.

Anyways, this.. this was a horrendously severe mistake an Alpha and an Omega could do. Two idiotic adults spending time alone.

"What the hell?" (M/n) rubbed his eyes, his other hand trapped underneath Jin-Woo's waist. He could feel bare skin underneath the blanket, making him retract his hand almost immediately.

'What the fuck?! What the fuck!?!' he thought repeatedly, confused on why he and his friend were naked. Sung Jin-Woo groaned, taking the blanket and covering himself in his sleep; the only thing he could do to stay warm.

(M/n) took a deep breath, turning away from the sight and walking away. "Nothing happened. We just got drunk.. Definitely. 100%.." he told himself, trying to stay optimistic as he slid something on— continuing with his morning routine.

But it still lingered at the back of his mind, even while making breakfast. What the hell happened that night?

"What time is it?" Jin-Woo exited the room, groggily scratching his stomach. "It's 11am.. Aaand, it looks like you found my favorite black shirt.." (M/n) mentioned, putting eggs on his plate.

"My clothes are missing so I'm borrowing this for a while," Jin-Woo rested on the table, his head and body aching in pain. "Eat this. It's good for hangovers," (M/n) threw a banana towards him, Jin-Woo catching it easily.

(L/n) sat down, glaring daggers at Jin-Woo in silence. The Shadow Monarch didn't spare any concern, still chewing on his fruit. Or was a banana even a fruit? It was like (M/n)'s dilemma, was the banana sitting across him a fruit(Alpha) or a vegetable(Something else).

"H-Hey.. Jin-Woo," (M/n)'s hands trembled, doing his best to seem composed. "...What are you?"

The question was vague, both of them sitting in silence before Jin-Woo swallowed his meal. "I'm an S-Rank Hunter."

(L/n) calmed down, trying to forget his worries. It's impossible, someone as strong as Sung Jin-Woo couldn't be an omega. Besides, they were both male so it's not possible in the slightest. The possibility was slimmer than a sheet of paper.

Sung Jin-Woo, a powerhungry bastard did not know why his friend acted so unnerved that day. In fact, he just didn't care. With his immunity to alcohol, he could remember a few glimpses of that incident and just accepted it.

It is what it is. If it's not a fight, he does not care.

It's not like he could get pregnant. (L/n) (M/n) was more of a Beta-type person if he said so himself. He was neutral with everything and is less agressive than the Alpha males he's met. He was a chill dude overall. He calms Jin-Woo down like a beta would.

Besides, he confirmed that on (M/n)'s hunter wikipedia page. They were totally safe.

That's what he thought.

"Holy Fuck—!!" (M/n) stepped back, watching Sung Jin-Woo vomit his lunch right in front of him. "Are you okay?!" He dropped his rapier, immediately rushing to aide his companion. He used his skill, a bright red blast defeating all the monsters in the vicinity.

"My Liege?!" Beru shouted, worrying about his health. Other shadows gathered around, worried about their master's condition. "I'm fine.." Jin-Woo said, wiping the spew from his mouth.

"Yeah right! I just saw you vomit Niagra Falls right there. You're going home," (M/n) grabbed his shoulders in a commanding manner, feeling that someone so valuable shouldn't be in dangerous territory that moment.

"Igris, take him home.." (M/n) looked back, the aura around him turning heavy. "But Igris is my shadow—" Jin-Woo tried protesting, the dark knight obeying (M/n)'s order instead of his. Jin-Woo wanted to continue fighting too, but he couldn't defy (M/n).

"Eh? (M/n) Hyung, where's Jin-Woo Hyung?" Yoo Jin-Ho came from around the corner, seeing (M/n) alone in that cave. "I sent him home. The bastard was sick," he responded, grabbing his precious rapier from the floor.

He couldn't believe he dropped his beloved sword on the floor like that. He didn't even let anyone touch it with their disgusting hands.

"But he's an S-Rank Hunter too? This isn't even an S-Rank dungeon.. He's fine by himself."

(L/n) (M/n) froze in between putting the blade in it's sheath. Jin-Ho was right, why the hell did he send an S-Rank Hunter home? He even had his own system and multiple shadows, it wasn't like he would die in a measly A-Rank dungeon.

He knew how powerful Jin-Woo was based on his own experiences with a System. That's how they met in the first place. A system collaboration.

"...Just shut up," (M/n)'s voice was sharp, making the Beta tense in fear. "Y-Yes Hyung!" Jin-Ho responded, never seeing the laid back hunter so serious before. Was he finally acting like an Alpha?

[The Orion System applauds the 'Predator; (L/n) (M/n)']

[( ' ▽ ' ).｡ｏ♡]

"Why are you applauding me?" (M/n) glared at the yellow boards of notifications in front of him. He moved the screens away from his view, looking at his ceiling as he felt the empty space beside his bed. 'Jin-Woo was here just four weeks ago..'

His (e/c) eyes went wide, facing away from that empty space. 'He's my friend! I shouldn't be thinking of him like this. He'll probably think I'm weird...'

[You rn: (*♡∀♡) ]

[lol ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]

"Fuck you Orion or whatever your name is... damn system," (M/n)'s face flushed, hiding himself under his covers. 'Jin-Woo's scent... It smells really good.'

Sung Jin-Woo's condition started to get worse. He drank a few health potions but none of them seemed to be working— only amplifying the effects of it. He tried looking if it was an odd debuff or curse, but none of them seemed to be the cause.

Since he could heal anything himself, he was almost sure not even the hospital could find out what it is. He was absolutely afraid this 'curse' could affect his work life.

"Have you gone to the hospital?" (M/n) asked all of a sudden, making him freeze. "That won't do anything.." he sighed, resting his head on the restaurant table — not feeling the least bit hungry.

"We should go just in case though," (M/n) grabbed some of the meat on his plate, deciding not to waste them. "It's a condition not even a health potion can fix. It probably won't be anything simple to fix by going to a hospital," Jin-Woo murmured.

"There you go with being negative again.. You've been really moody these days, huh Jin-Woo?"

"I wanna die.."

"Mhm, you've been saying that for the past week," (M/n) patted his head, comforting him a bit. "I'm going to eat the rest of your food," he said, trying to taunt some life into Jin-Woo.

"Okay, I'm not hungry.." he said, ignoring (M/n). 'Oh gosh, this is so serious that the power hungry Shadow Monarch gave up on eating??' (M/n) felt a little sorry for the male, continuing to eat his lunch. "Let's go to the hospital."

"You are 2 weeks pregnant. It looks like you have to get on hiatus for at least five months. I know you're an S-Rank hunter, but please think about the life inside you as well."

'What?'

'Pregnant?'

"Jin-Woo, you're an omega?"

"And you're an alpha?"

❝ OH SHIT! ❞

#solo leveling x reader #fanfics #sung jin woo x reader

184 notes · View notes

wroteasongabouther · 3 years

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 1

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

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

word count: 17k

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

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

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

“Six please,” her soft voice replies.

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

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

She smiles again and nods, “yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” She responds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, JFK unfortunately,” she frowns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah there is when-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, he’s just a nice guy.”

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

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

At least it wasn’t snowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your boss?” Harry questions.

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

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

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

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

“No, I do,” she corrects him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Harry nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love a glass, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanted to be a princess-“

“Me too,” Harry says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs.

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

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not particularly,” Harry says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's rather pretty.”

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

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

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

“Did you want to head home?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do much without me?” Mark asks.

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

>> part two <<

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

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rhaenyras · 3 years

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EXTENDED LIST OF THINGS THAT ARE WRONG WITH CHAPTER 139

ymir the founder fritz, aka the most powerful and compelling plot device that isayama could have ever employed in order to explain the origin of the titans, the inherent slavery of the eldian people, and also everything else wrong in the world, was emptied of all value and purpose when she was revealed to have loved her abuser and oppressor. her life-long struggle to break free from the slave mentality that was pounded into her since childhood turned out to be... totally hollow. the woman's real purpose was to keep loving the man who cut off her tongue, raped her as a child and eventually had her cannibalized by their daughters when she failed to survive a murder attempt on his person. which makes for a very pinpoint parallel with eren, tbh, but he gets a whole paragraph all to himself later. amor vincit omnia should not become a convenient fix-it trope so that stuff can magically make sense in less than 50 pages. not to mention that this makeshift “solution” doesn't account for countless plot holes, that would only make sense if ymir was an abuse survivor looking to get her agency back. and even if i was keen on excusing the sloppy writing, i still wouldn't let the whole romanticisation of rape and trauma thing slide so easily. by giving a young victim like ymir fritz romantic feelings and a blind devotion towards her rapist, isayama is basically conveying a very pitiful and toxic message, one he refuses to even dignify with a realistic explanation for the thousands of readers who couldn't make a sense of it. the way this twisted version of love seems to be universally accepted by all the characters in the last chapter, as they just shrug it off like some sort of inevitable superior force that works in mysterious ways, made me wanna gouge my eyes out and never read another word again

mikasa's arc. mikasa had the potential to be the only character in the entire manga to come out on top when all was said and done. she had openly opposed eren's idea of a genocide. she had left the scarf behind when he voiced his hatred for her. she seemed ready enough to sever the proverbial umbilical cord and move on, live a life with pride, knowing how she could have outgrown her silly, dependent, obsessive old self. she might have started out as a yandere caricature, a passive and annoying side-effect to having eren as the main character, but she could have done so much better later on. she, too, just like ymir fritz, might have broken free, if only isayama liked liberated and strong women. she had the range. she had the potential, the backstory, everything. given the chance, she could have redeemed herself. but did isayama care? nope. he just threw her to the sickos in the fandom and said “here's your little psycho doll. do what you will with her. also, she's the key to understanding the superior force that works in mysterious ways aka love aka all the nonsense i'm actually too lazy to commit to”. and so, mikasa is as inconsequential in the ending as she ever was as eren's ever-present bodyguard, if not more, because now she's even refusing to look ahead and fight. two things that she at least tried to do every so often back when eren was alive. not only she surrendered to her own mental illness, but she even saw it turned into a pretty fantasy that the readers can idealise (again, romanticisation of all the wrong things) and that she'll never be able to escape so long as she lives. what's worse, she doesn't even want to, because in this manga we love downgrading and being stuck in the past, as the worst possible versions of ourselves.

historia's pregnancy. it shouldn't even have happened in the first place, unless it was dictated by historia's explicit desire to have a child precisely when she asked for one and by that one unnamed farmer guy and nobody else. whether that was the case or not remains, to this day, still shrouded in mystery because, again, isayama didn't think of coming clean about any aspect of historia's sudden decision. the notion that she might have been raped or submitted to something she really didn't want simply for the drama of it leads to some pretty terrifying implications. i have already explained countless times how it didn't even make sense for eren to be so adamant about rejecting the 50 year plan on account of not wanting historia to be breeded like cattle, titanised, and eventually devoured by her children, if he was just... gonna let her have her way, she only had to ask him nicely. why ever would historia need eren's permission to have a child? what was she even trying to tell him in chapter 130? why did eren tell her something as pivotal as the genocide plan if the friendship between them wasn't any different from any other in the 104th? why would eren take the risk to meet her in secret and suggest that they do something as radical as fighting the mp's or running away, if all she had to do was just... ask that he let her get pregnant? i suppose that was just a bait for a very specific side of the fandom, at this point, as the extent of the entire cryptic conversation from ch. 130 was never covered, and we were probably just supposed to forget about it. I can only forgive isayama for basically baiting me into shipping erehisu because he still gave historia a decent wrap-up in the ending, she looked in control and happy enough with her new life, which is something i warmly wished for her. she seems to be in a better spot than most of her former comrades, and virtually, she is the true inheritor of eren's original (and later disowned) ideology, as she is the one who will lead eldia into the future as a free nation, whatever that may mean for them now that titan powers are no longer a thing. I'm very proud of her and generally i am happy with how things played out for her and yeah, thinking back on it with a colder mind... i wouldn't have wanted it any other way, ships be damned

wHY WAS LEVI IN A WHEELCHAIR????? like..... scars aside, he was up and about in one panel, and in the next he was disabled... that was just... idk?? weird but i suppose isayama went overboard to provide us with some residual dramatic value here

the genocide being just a red herring. APPARENTLY eren never believed that the genocide was a solid way to achieve freedom. his true intention was to antagonize himself so that his friends would be hailed as heroes, but like... why... he didn't even achieve the complete annihilation of conflict in the world by doing so? his friends might be heroes now, but they're going to spend the rest of their lives fighting for their very lives. if anything, eren sparked new conflicts and made the new order so much worse for the eldians, as they have no choice but to keep fighting, except with the same weapons as anybody else now. he basically doomed his people to a bleak future of war and possibly extinction. he killed 80% of the entire world to cause nothing but a disappointing regretful outcome, and in the end he even disowned everything he ever believed in. in comparison, zeke's euthanasia plan was some genius level shit that would have achieved the same result as eren, except with not nearly as much bloodshed.

the parasite. again, great idea, poor execution. what on earth happened to it? it was the Scientific Shit that made titans happen one moment, and then gone in the next, wrestled to death by a buff war criminal with ptsd... my disappointment is over the roof

eren himself. like, as a whole. oh, what's not to regret about the 180 eren did in the finale? witnessing a mc forsaking every relevant trait that's ever made him who he is, is simply painful on the eyes. isayama basically went and said “remember eren yaeger aka the suicidal blockhead who would sacrifice everything in order to achieve freedom? yes? well forget about him, you've got aaron yogurt now.” …... who even is this man? when he broke down and cried in front of armin, whining like a baby that he wanted mikasa to never move on from him, i legit got second-hand embarassment. I felt actual shame for the way isayama handled his characterisation. like... he is a mass murderer, ok... how can he just... kneel down and cry about his step-sister whom he never did anything to date anyway like it's nothing??? armin is right to be pissed at him but he's pissed for the wrong reasons, sadly. I don't even want to tackle the topic of eren murdering his own mother, as he basically confessed to going through life on autopilot because the founding titan just erased all his feelings, gave him superior knowledge of all things and compelled him to go with the flow of things, aka the exact opposite of what he's been preaching ever since day 1. W HAT on earth man. like i said in point #1, eren's crush on mikasa is actually very frightening too, and it leads us back to that one dark force that overpowered even ymir fritz. eren is in love with a girl who's obsessed, in denial and damaged. and what's worse, mikasa reciprocates his feelings, even though eren always overlooked her or manipulated her. ymir fritz kept misunderstanding all those red flags from the king as love, probably. this is really not a story of breaking the cursed cycle, because it seems to me that everyone has returned full circle in the end.

CONCLUSION: nothing isayama or anyone might have said in interviews or elsewhere could have prepared me for this raging shitfest. the entirety of that last chapter was farfetched to say the least, everything looked half-hearted and rushed, clumsily glued together because the real isayama died and somebody else had to ghostwrite the ending for him. I am sorry if i do sound a bit disillusioned about the whole thing and can't bring myself to be outraged either, but i've been way too invested into this manga for nearly a decade, and now it all blew up in my face, so i guess i no longer give it the power to upset me lol

#sorry for the wait guys. it's not even that great lol i just had to get some things off my chest and then forget about it #i didn't even edit lol. snk doesn't deserve my efforts #snk spoilers #snk #aot spoilers #anti aot #chapter 139 spoilers #aot #snk chapter 139

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g4rous · 3 years

Text

Sunlit memories (Garou x Reader)

tags: fem! Reader, no warnings lol, this is just the first chapter a.k.a the introduction

words: 1.1k

notes: ok so this is the first chapter of the series that I plan to write, so pls feel free to give me some feedback on this and whether you like it and should I continue :'0 💕 Thanks a lot for any kind of support ee 💗

series masterlist

Chapter one

Playful footsteps scattered across the freshly-cut grass, followed by a few equally spirited barks. Whether the small chocolate-colored dog was chasing the ball or the children lay undetermined, nonetheless they all seemed amused. A mother stood next to the gleeful dog owner, both exchanging chuckles and commenting on how adorable the sight in front of them is. Above them dozens of birds filled the air with a familiar amicable tune, as if the soothing music coming from a nearby café wasn’t enough. The park was never lonely, yet so pleasant at the same time. All those chirps, chatters and noises were like an extra spark, and frankly it’d be rather uncanny if it weren’t for them and the pastel sky above, radiant with soft hues. Cases where belligerent monsters ruined the harmony were rare, although enough to cause one to succumb to unease. Be that as it may, people always push through it and find a reason to enjoy the now sunlit park.

Though, while it was interesting to observe the scenery it wasn’t quite what you were looking for. Fiddling with the pencil in your hand, you stared displeased at the blank page of your sketchbook.

“Why isn’t there anything interesting today?” you pondered, eyes impatiently shifting over the scenery.

Almost every day for the past few weeks you’ve been sitting at this very bench, looking out for something eye-catching to draw. It’s funny how you coincidentally came across your now daily go-to place, a surprisingly comfy wooden bench underneath two large oaks, their treetops creating enough shade for another twenty people. Luckily you had your own peace there without anyone bothering you.

“Hmm… Maybe I just don’t feel like drawing people?”

After a small sigh you leaned against your hand and looked up at the treetops. The sky turned golden already, painting the leaves in shades of olive and amber. Your eyes steadily trailed down to the path next to the old oaks, now noticing a small patch of lilies that with their vivid hues and delicate form drew you in almost immediately.

“Huh. Maybe I should just go for something simple and quick?”

Well, that was what you though right before something else caught your eye. Someone to be exact. A few meters away a rather peculiar-looking guy sat on a bench. He leaned against the bench leisurely while folding his arms, his tight black shirt complementing his muscular built. His gaze was relaxed, albeit alert, and his features were sharp. Sunlight peeked on his wild, silver hair, coloring it with subtle sandy hues almost matching with the golden in his eyes.

Now, if this didn’t give you inspiration then what did? And here you thought you’d be drawing those lilies. You sighed in content, stretching your arms for a few seconds before you got to work. Subtly glancing at his direction from time to time, you had already outlined the portrait. Though, truth be told, he had such a pretty face you were trying not to stare at one point.

“What are you doing?”

You didn’t even manage to let go of your pencil before an unknown voice jolted you out of your thoughts. Much to your bewilderment you looked up to see that same man now only half a meter away, glaring at you.

“Well shit.”

Should you apologize or straight up act like you weren’t just secretly drawing some random person? Or better yet, how the hell is that same person in front of you right now? You were embarrassed as much as you were confused and to make things worse the drawing wasn’t even in your sketchbook anymore.

“Are you a hero or something? I don’t remember seeing you anywhere.” the man asked, shifting his gaze from the drawing in his hand to you.

“Hey when did you take that?!” you finally spoke, an apology being far from your mind at the moment.

On one hand it could be legitimate since you didn’t ask for permission to draw him in the first place, but on the other… What kind of punk would just rip the piece out like that?

“If you’re some c-class dunce trying to gather info on me with this-“, he grinned, still analyzing the art piece “-you’re gonna be sorry pretty soon.”

“Dude I’m not a hero.”

“Wait, what?”

That threatening, cocky grin of his from a moment ago dissipated into thin air like it was nothing, but your confused expression on the other hand only grew bigger. Was he serious?

A soft shade of pink made its way to his face for a brief moment, to which you almost chuckled.

“So you’re seriously not a hero?”

“Um, no..?”

“Your luck.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” He headed the opposite direction of you, drawing still in hand.

“Ahh so… can I get that back now please?” you walked behind him, surprised he’s oh so casually trying to leave the scene after such odd behavior.

“Nope, sorry.”

“Aw what, why??”

“Let’s just say it isn’t convenient for me at the moment to have that lying around wherever,” he put both hands in his pockets, “plus I didn’t say you could draw me did I?”

Now your face turned red in embarrassment again. He was right… Though, you still couldn’t help but wonder who this strange guy is. While tearing that drawing out of your valued sketchbook didn’t make for the best first impression, his demeanor wasn’t really belligerent either.

“Ah, sorry about that… However I must say it wasn't polite to take the drawing away like that either.”

His eyes slightly widened in embarrassment before turning away his face again.

"Eh..."

"Don't worry about it though," you smiled for a moment, "I guess it was just a weird misunderstanding or something."

Your eyes shifted on the path you were walking on, already dim because of the now darker sky, “if I may ask, is someone like… searching for you or something?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he glanced back at you, “why are you still following me anyway!? Just go home it’s getting dark.”

“Well, this is the way I take in order to get back home so you can’t really complain,” you smiled to his mild annoyance.

The night sky engulfed the city by now, leaving behind a tranquil atmosphere. Nonetheless, compared to the center of the city, your street wasn’t as bustling. Light shone from the surrounding apartments and lamp posts, and the only sounds present were from the neighbors’ TV’s or the occasional car passing by, much in contrast with the city’s center and night life.

You didn’t ask many more questions as you walked, despite the faint haze in your mind. The man obviously wasn’t too chatty, yet alone keen on sharing any personal details. Be as it may, much to your surprise what you thought would be an awkward walk was actually somewhat refreshing. Hell, you even let out a laugh or two together. Who would’ve thought the on-first-glance intimidating teen is pleasant to be around? Or, well, at least you thought of it like that. In any case way better than walking through those dark alleys alone.

next chapter

#feel free to tell me your thoughts 💕#garou #garou x reader #opm x reader #opm #one punch man x reader #one punch man #garou headcanons #garo

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usedtobe-angstyoikawa · 3 years

Text

Mask

Zuko x reader (tea shop au)

Summary: you become friends with the two baristas from your favorite tea shop and slowly start to fall for one of them (keep in mind this takes place in the modern day, covid is still around sorry :p)

A/n: I came up with this love story kind of idea while in quarantine since where I’m from things are still pretty messy (not just because of covid but the whole country is a mess lol) so it’s hard for me to imagine love scenarios that are so different from the reality I’m currently living in. That being said, this seemed to be good enough to make my brain enjoy it while also tricking it into believing maybe it could happen to me one day (even though I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die alone :’) Anyways I was thinking of making these a series? Don’t know maybe I won’t finish it I’m too busy but I’ll give it a try

Warnings: none at lest yet

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Being alive during a pandemic isn’t easy, not to mention how stressing it is to be a college student as well. The combination of trying to take care of yourself while also loosing your mind and dealing with anxiety isn’t the best. The student life is already tiring on its own, but the social interaction and good fun memories that come with it makes it a little less dreadful. Of course, that is gone now too, so we’re left with only the overworking-yourself-till-your-body-gives-out part of the experience. It may sound depressing but after a bit more than a year you learn to live with it, you adapt and find new ways to relax and have fun.

That’s why you’ve been visiting the new tea shop near your house. It opened a few months ago and since you first stepped foot in the warm, inviting place you haven’t been able to go a day without their so contagious good vibes (and tea too, obviously). Well maybe you don’t visit it every single day but at least three times a week, on mondays, wednesdays and fridays to be exact. It’s become part of your routine, not only is it good because it implies spending time outside of your room but the friendly, cozy atmosphere of that place also helps you concentrate on your studies and actually get the work done. And yeah maybe having to wear a mask the whole time isn’t super comfortable but it’s worth it, at least the shops were opened again. One of your favorite things about the tea shop is the staff, from the baristas to the waiters to the owner, this last one being the first one you met. This man is incredibly sweet and is capable of lifting your mood with such simple words and a warm cup of tea. Iroh, that being his name, moved to your hometown a year before the pandemic started with no intentions of working at any shop, let alone open one. It was the arrival of his two nephews in need of a helping hand that made him come up with the best idea of his life, and the best thing that happened to you later on. You don’t really know what his relatives coming to town has to do with him opening a tea shop but he never explained, so you never asked. He is very fond of his nephews, specially the older one, a boy named Zuko. The other is a girl named Azula, which you learned is the youngest sibling even though she seems a lot more mature than her brother. Both of them work with his uncle, Zuko as a barista and Azula as the cashier, but sometimes she likes to take and prepare your orders too, just to prove she’s better at tea-making than her brother. Every time she does so you play along with it, nodding to everything she says only to then confess to Zuko that you find his tea to be better warmed than her sister’s. You’d like to say that comments like that one make him blush, but there’s no way of telling with the damned mask covering his face. This place has very strict covid prevention policies, which you are glad of cause not many shops did, so you’ve never seen their faces (or at least not the entirety of them). It’s kind of weird cause you’re pretty sure they do know what you look like since you have to take yours off every time you take a sip of your drink or a bite of your food. You only once saw Azula with her mask off, hanging from her right ear. She was outside standing next to the entrance while smoking a cigarette, she had the prettiest face you’d ever seen. But you don’t know what the faces of her brother and uncle look like, though you try to imagine it from time to time. You’re pretty sure Iroh has a beard, you can see it poking out of the sides of his mask, but what really intrigues you is his smile. He’s one of those people who are able to smile with just their eyes, so you imagine his smile is the phisical representation of happiness itself. Now Zuko’s face was harder to imagine. He wore his dark hair right in front of his eyes, kind of like grown out bangs that covered the upper part of his face. You know his eyes are of this yellowish but also hazel like color, and you’re 99% sure he has dark bags under them. But apart from that you aren’t sure what to think of his facial features, you don’t know if he has a beard or a sharp jawline, nor if his nose is pointed like his sister’s or a bit round like his uncle’s. He could have no nose at all for all you know! This types of thoughts are the ones that roam your mind while you’re trying to solve the algebra problem sitting on the book page in front of you. Maybe it’s time for your you to take a break and order another tea, you think of trying out the new matcha one Iroh added to the list last week but instead you opt for the good old jasmine tea, the old man’s favorite.

You’re surprised when you see Zuko starting on your order instead of his uncle, even though he works as a barista too he usually takes care of the food orders. It’s not that he’s bad at making tea (like his sister states), he’s only extremely good at making a few variety of them and messes up any other order completely. Bobba, black and green tee are his specialties, with oolong and herbal coming right behind them, but jasmine is one of his worst. And you’re gonna have to be the one drinking a whole cup of it. You look to your left and catch Azula’s eyes fixed on his brothers back, then they move to you and even though words aren’t coming out of her mouth you know exactly what she wants to say. Shit, good luck.

“Here you go, a jasmine tea with three sugar’s” his voice breaks your staring contest with the girl next to him and it takes you a good minute and a half to react and take the cup. You really wish you had taken a seat next to the window instead of opting for the counter, now you’ll have to try the drink while he’s standing in front of you.

You can feel Azula’s eyes burning the side of your face, you know she’s either at the verge of tears or feeling sorry for you. Before chickening out you lift the cup and bring it to your lips, letting the liquid in and swallowing. Everyone behind the counter stops, waiting for your reaction. They don’t really know what they’re expecting you to do or say, but it definitely isn’t what is currently going on in your head (and mouth).

“Oh. My. Fucking god. This is amazing.”

a/n: this wasn’t proof read so thank you for making it this far :)