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allysonhope · 2 years ago

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girl code | kim taehyung

pairing: taehyung x reader (y/n)

genre: fluff, some angst

warnings: y/n and her best friend have a crush on the same guy, a little swearing, insecurities, taehyung being so cute, y/n not wanting to hurt her best friend, pining

words: 7.4k

summary: y/n is falling for her best friends crush, but she won’t make a move because she doesn’t want to break girl code. that doesn’t stop taehyung from falling for her and trying to make a move

based on a snippet i heard on tiktok of brynn cartelli’s new song girl code, which comes out this Friday! (8/5) i heard the song and i immediately fell in love and had to write about it LOL hope you all enjoy! i’ll add her username so if you want to listen to the snippet as well! :) <3 (tiktok: brynnzzyy)

My girlfriend told me she was into you that night we were introduced outside of the pub

“What are we waiting for? It’s so fucking cold out here! Let’s go inside!” My best friend, Lisa, complained to Jimin and me as we waited outside of the pub.

“We’re waiting for Jungkook! I already told you this. Stop complaining,” I chuckled as my two best friends bickered back and forth about waiting for our other friend Jungkook outside. “Why do you always have to complain about everything? Y/N isn’t complaining that is cold. Oh, and, look, there they are!”

I looked up to see Jungkook waving at us as he crossed the street with a random man by his side. I felt my heart beat quicken and butterflies flutter when I made eye contact with Jungkook’s new friend. He gave me a shy smile and made his way over to us without taking his eyes off of me. I took my eyes off of him when Jungkook stood directly in front of me and wrapped me up in a warm hug.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in forever!” He greeted me with a huge grin and a small kiss on my forehead. I wrapped my arms around his waist tightly, moving my head to the side so my ear was against his chest. With my new position, I saw Jungkook’s friend again, who was once again staring at me. I blushed but quickly looked away from him when Jungkook let go of me.

“You literally saw her this morning, dumbass. What took you so long? It’s freezing out here! And, why did you only say hi to Y/N? Did you forget Jimin and I existed too?” Lisa once again complained, making me giggle as Jimin and Jungkook groaned out in frustration with her nonstop complaining.

“That’s my bad,” the mysterious man spoke up, looking toward Lisa and Jimin briefly before smiling down at me. “I showed up at Jungkook’s house without any warning. I didn’t know that he had already made plans for tonight. I hope you all don’t mind me tagging along unexpectedly. I’m Taehyung, by the way.”

He put his hand out in front of me, hoping that I would shake it, but before I had the chance to Lisa slightly pushed me to the side and placed her hand in his, subtly biting her lower lip. “I’m Lisa. It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung. I hope you know that I’m not always this whiny. I just get a bit cold,” she pouted at him, causing him to let out a small chuckle.

“I don’t mind. My apologies for making you freeze.”

Taehyung then introduced himself to Jimin, while Jungkook pulled me toward the entrance so we could find a place to sit. When we found a table, we sat across from each other and Taehyung sat next to me, smiling warmly.

“Sorry, I don’t think we got to properly introduce ourselves to each other,” he talked into my ear since the pub was so noisy. His closeness and deep voice caused me to shiver slightly and I looked up to see his beautiful smile and comforting eyes looking down at me once again. “It’s Y/N, right?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion that he knew my name. I nodded slowly when I remembered Jungkook greeted me by name when he arrived.

“It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung,” I responded, putting my hand out so he could finally shake it which he did, but he also pulled it towards his lips to give it a gentle peck.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Jimin and Lisa sat down at the booth with us, with drinks and food for everyone as we talked and joked around with each other. Taehyung surprisingly got along well with all of us and fit right in with our friend group. A few times, when he would talk, he would put his arm on the back of my seat or lean in closer to me when he was laughing. I didn’t want to think too much of it because we just met and he could possibly be extra friendly when he had a few drinks in him. I didn’t want to fall too hard for him already because I had known him for less than two hours and I don’t yet really know anything crucial about him. All I know is he has a beautiful smile, a contagious laugh, and a deep, comforting voice.

Jungkook had put the plate of cheesy bacon fries between us and occasionally would lift a fry up to my mouth to feed me out of habit. I didn’t think anything of Jungkook feeding me because it was normal for us to feed each other on a night out, but it seemed to confuse Taehyung when he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“I didn’t know that you and Kook were a couple,” I nearly choked on my drink when I heard him say that. I looked up at him with wide eyes and he tried to rub my back to control my slight coughing.

“Oh, no! Kook and I are not dating,” I nervously laughed when he raised his eyebrows in suspicion and gave me a small smirk.

“There’s no sort of relationship between you two? Then how come he only greeted you and why is he only feeding you fries?”

“Aww, do you want him to feed you some fries too?” We laughed together and I lightly patted his shoulder. “We’re just good friends. We don’t see each other like that, you know? We just so happen to get along really well and he likes to take care of me so feeding me fries is just him being kind.”

“Hmm, okay. I’ll believe you.”

“You know, Taehyung, it’s a little too early in our friendship for you to be getting jealous about other guys,” I teased him with a wide smile on my face. He smirked and leaned closer to my ear, his warm breath giving me chills once again.

“I just like to seek out my competition early,” he moved back to look at my face and winked before rejoining the conversation between Jimin and Jungkook. I blushed as I played with my drink.

That means that he feels it too, right? Some sort of connection. Some sort of attraction. I was pulled out of my thoughts by Lisa calling my name.

“Y/N, will you go to the bathroom with me?” She asked, sliding out of the booth. I, wordlessly, followed her lead and made my way to the bathroom behind her, but that wasn’t before I heard Taehyung’s quiet request for me, or maybe us, to hurry back.

“Y/N! Do you see him?” She squealed when we were finally alone. I looked at her with wide eyes, not liking where this conversation was headed. “He’s so beautiful! And funny. Oh my god, do you think I have a chance? Do you? Please tell me that I do!”

I felt as if my heart dropped to my stomach and I wanted to throw up all over her shoes, as I tried to figure out how to respond to her confession. Obviously, she finds Taehyung attractive. Anyone in their right mind would find Taehyung attractive. I knew that Lisa had a chance. She probably had a greater chance of getting Taehyung to fall for her than I ever would have for him to fall for me. She was absolutely stunning, funny, exciting, and overall, everything that I wasn’t. In more simple words, I am pretty simple. And a guy like Taehyung would never go for a simple girl.

“Yeah…yeah. Obviously, I think you have a chance. He would be missing out if he didn’t want to get to know you,” I fake smiled in her direction and I couldn’t help but feel happy for her when I saw her eyes light up.

This was only an attraction to Taehyung, and I will get over it in no time. I just want my best friend to be happy.

Lisa cheered and pulled me close to her, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Yeah, and if you ever gave Jungkook a chance, then he would be the luckiest man on this planet,” she added cheekily, causing my eyes to roll.

“Jungkook and I don’t like each other like that! We’re just best friends.”

“I know, but I can hope that my best friend ends up with a hottie like Jungkook, and we already know that he treats you right!”

“I’ll find someone one day. Let’s focus more on you and Taehyung,” I smiled sadly, knowing that it won’t be Taehyung that will treat me right because I just gave up the battle for him to Lisa. Lisa and I brainstormed ways to get Taehyung to notice her before we made our way back to the table with the three boys.

“Are y’all okay? You were in there for a while,” Jimin checked in us, worriedly. I let out a small chuckle, thinking about how kind of a friend Jimin is.

“Yeah, we’re good! Just girl talk, you know?” Lisa answered, sitting closer to Taehyung as we planned for her to do.

“Hey,” Jungkook gently placed his hand on my hands that were folded on the table. “You sure you’re okay?” I smiled up at him. I wish that the universe had planned for Jungkook and me to fall in love. Life would be so much easier if I ended up falling in love with him since I already know how caring and gentle he is with me, and obviously, he is gorgeous.

“I’m fine, Kookie. I promise,” he gave me a small smile before removing his hand from mine and continuing his conversation with Jimin.

I looked over and saw Taehyung laughing at something that Lisa said. He smiled down at her with a wide, beautiful smile and I knew my chance with him if I ever had one was over. I sighed and tried to pay attention to what Jimin and Jungkook were talking about. I would occasionally insert my opinion on a topic and I would laugh along to their jokes and their stories. Taehyung looked over at me briefly before placing his arm back around the back of my chair. Lisa was telling the boys a story about the party she went to last weekend when Taehyung reached for the cheesy fries that were placed in front of me. He leaned down to whisper in my ear once again.

“I know it’s not really my place since we just met, but I just want to make sure that you’re really ok,” my heart fluttered at his concerned tone and I looked in his eyes to reassure him that I truly was fine. I forgot what I was going to say for a minute when I looked up and saw how beautiful he truly was up close to me. His concerned eyes and soft smile looked down at me.

“I’m fine, Taehyung. I think the beer is just getting to me a little bit.”

“Here, have some of my water,” he pushed his water cup toward me and encouraged me to drink out of the same cup that his mouth was on. I took a small sip before placing the glass back on the table. “Here. I’ll keep it between us, so if you need more water you can have some of mine.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling flushed that he would share his drink with me so willingly.

“It’s no problem, Y/N. And here,” he grabbed another fry from the plate and directed it toward my mouth. “You should eat some more to make you feel better.”

I ate the from his fingers and smiled a genuine smile at him. “You were just jealous that Jungkook got to feed me, so now you want to establish dominance,” I joked, causing a louder laugh to exit his mouth.

“I would know how to take care of you better than Jungkook does,” he flirted with me, and I was about to reply back with a smart comment about how I would like to see him try to take care of me and treat me well, but Lisa pulled on his arm to start a conversation with him once again.

This is already harder than I thought it would be.

I, stupidly, encouraged her to make a move, told her to pursue what possibly could be love

I walked out of my bedroom to see Lisa dressed up for the day, making me pause and stare at her with a smile. “You look pretty! Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go hang out with Taehyung!” She squealed excitedly. She looked at herself in the mirror one more time before turning to me. “I texted him if he had any plans today and then I asked if he wanted to go to some arcade.”

“Oh, that’s exciting! When is he supposed to pick you up?”

“Any minute now! I’m kind of nervous, but I thought we hit it off pretty well at the pub, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, he seemed to really like you,” I lied to spare her feelings. I wasn’t exactly sure how Taehyung felt about Lisa, but something is telling me that the feelings were not reciprocated. I am hoping that I am only feeling this way because I want Taehyung all to myself, and not because they are true. She jumped up and down when I told her that and squealed even louder when we heard the doorbell ring.

Wow, what a gentleman. Who rings the doorbell anymore to pick up their date?

Lisa rushed to the door, while I walked over to the kitchen to find something to snack on. I heard his deep voice greet Lisa, while I heard Lisa’s soft giggles making me sigh. While I finally found some chips to eat, I heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. Taehyung’s head popped around the corner and he offered me the warmest smile.

“Hey!” He greeted me, walking toward me. “How are you, Y/N?” He put his arm around my shoulders, turning my head to rest on his chest.

“I’m doing good, Taehyung. How are you?” He pulled me away from his chest but kept his arm around my shoulder.

“I’m great! You look great, by the way,” I scoffed and pushed him away from me. I was only wearing biker shorts and a sweatshirt so I knew that he was lying. “I’m being serious! You look good. Are you ready to go?”

I stopped in my tracks and looked at Lisa, who also had a confused face. “Um, I’m not going with you two,” his smile dropped and he sighed.

“Oh? Why not?” He asked disappointed. I was about to answer when Lisa cut in.

“She has plans!” She smiled before grabbing Taehyung’s arm. He looked down at her before looking back at me.

“Oh, with who?” My eyes widened because I truly did not have any plans, but Lisa thought it was a good idea to lie to him.

“Um, I made plans with Jungkook. Nothing too exciting. Just stay inside and watch some movies.” I smiled, but it quickly fell when Taehyung stared at me confused.

“Jungkook has plans tonight with some of our friends,” Taehyung informed me, causing my cheeks to burn red. I let out a fake laugh and scratched my neck out of embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah! I meant with Jimin. Jimin! I have plans with Jimin!”

“You two are more than welcome to join us though. Or we could stay in and watch some movies with you,” Tae suggested. I looked over to Lisa once again, who did not look pleased at all.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to intrude on y’all’s time.”

“No! It’ll be fun,” he insisted, which forced me into joining their date and thankfully, Jimin was available to tag along.

“Ugh! Why are we going to an arcade again?” Jimin asked me as we were in the backseat of Taehyung’s car. I had argued with Jimin for at least five minutes on the phone before I could convince him to go out with me. He had insisted that he could not leave the house because he was too busy watching Netflix, but after I promised to pay for his meal tonight, he reluctantly agreed.

“Because Lisa and Taehyung invited us,” I said, rolling my eyes. He groaned in annoyance before leaning toward me so the other two could not hear us.

“Why are we really going?” He asked, glaring at me to answer him honestly.

“Lisa likes Taehyung,” I whispered, causing Jimin to gasp loudly and both of them to look back at us with curiosity. I hit Jimin’s arm and waited for the attention to be taken away from us before I continued my explanation. “Taehyung thought that it was a group activity at the arcade and he insisted that I come as well. But, I didn’t want to be a third wheel, so who better to drag along with me than my best friend,” I smiled widely.

“Ahh, so you’re using me?” Jimin fake pouted, causing me to smirk at him. “But, uh, I thought there was something between you and Tae.”

I looked at Jimin in shock before profusely shaking my head no. I was confused about how Jimin came to that conclusion because neither Taehyung nor I have shown any signs of possibly being interested in each other. I looked ahead and caught Taehyung’s eyes as he briefly glanced through the rearview mirror. He noticeably beamed once he noticed my eyes. I quickly turned to Jimin, who was already giving me the ‘I told you so look’.

“Shut up,” I muttered to him.

Not long after we arrived at the arcade. Jimin and I tried to stay to ourselves as much as possible, but somehow, Taehyung and Lisa kept finding us.

“Fix your posture,” I heard being instructed in my ear. I immediately knew it was Taehyung and I stiffened as I felt him behind me. “And relax,” I was playing the basketball game, which I was failing at. “Here let me help you.”

He placed his hands on my hips, angling them toward the hoop, kicked his foot in between my two feet to separate them, and pushed my hips down to get my knees to bend. “Perfect,” I blushed as he moved his hands to my hands to help me grip the ball better. “You got this, Y/N.”

I took a deep breath and shot the ball toward the hoop, and surprisingly made it. I squealed in delight and jumped towards Taehyung in excitement. I gave him a quick hug, causing him to chuckle before urging me to continue since the clock was ticking down. I was able to make a few more baskets, but I wasn’t able to make it to the next round. I turned to my right to see Taehyung leaning against the machine, watching me play with a grin on his face. My cheeks turned red, and I played with my hands when I remembered how close we were just a minute ago.

“Thank you for helping me. I’m not too good at basketball.”

“Of course. I couldn’t let you embarrass yourself,” I smacked his shoulder and rolled my eyes as he made fun of me. “I’ve barely seen you all night. You don’t want to hang out with me?” He pouted.

“I’ve just been busy hanging out with Jimin like you’ve been hanging out with Lisa.”

“Looks like Jimin ditched you,” I looked to the back of the arcade where the bar was and I noticed Jimin sitting there with a drink in front of him. I couldn’t help but giggle at him. “I was so worried about Jungkook being my competition that I didn’t even realize the real competition was Jimin,” he remarked, making me tilt my head to the side.

“I think you need to work on your jealousy. Jimin and I are definitely not dating. He’s just my best friend. I’ve known for a long time. It would be too weird, you know?” Taehyung nodded his head in understanding.

“It’s hard not to be so jealous when you’re so beautiful,” As I was about to respond, Lisa made her way over to us and gripped Taehyung’s arm.

“Sorry that I took so long. The line for the restroom was so long,” She greeted me as well and I couldn’t help, but feel bad when I fully registered that Taehyung was flirting with me and called me beautiful. “You want to go play air hockey with me?” She asked him, now ignoring that I was standing with them as well.

“Sounds fun. You coming, Y/N?” He pleaded with his eyes, but I couldn’t bare to spend time alone with the two of them and I don’t think I could convince Jimin to leave the bar now.

“No, I’m okay. I’m gonna go sit with Jimin. I’m kind of tired now,” Taehyung’s eyes followed me as I hurried away, but I didn’t look back since I didn’t want to change my mind.

I definitely need a drink now.

But there you are with your hair pushed back, and a big ole smile gave me a heart attack, got me feeling things I never have before. And we talk all night, but I play it cool. I don’t cross the line, follow all the rules and I wonder if you’re thinking about it too

I grabbed the remote on my bedside table and scrolled through the different channels, but groaned out in frustration when I couldn’t find anything I wanted to watch. Lisa went out tonight to hang out with friends of hers that I never met before. She offered to take me, but I didn’t feel like going out to a bar tonight.

I screamed out in frustration once again when I felt my phone vibrate, wanting to be left alone. I reluctantly picked up my phone to see I received a text from a number that I didn’t know.

random number: hey! i’m hoping this is y/n, if it’s not please ignore this message lol i got your number from jungkook, and if you’re not busy or anything right now if you wanted to come over to my place and hang out with me and my friends! if not, no worries. it’s taehyung btw! :)

I sat up in shock that Taehyung had texted me to hang out with him and his friends when I don’t really even know him that well. I contemplated my options since it didn’t seem like a horrible idea. I didn’t want to be bored at home alone but did I really want to hang out with Taehyung and his friends without any of my friends? I bit my lip and decided that I could just go over to his place a little bit and then hopefully when I come home, Lisa will be there already.

y/n: hey tae! this is y/n btw lmao that sounds fun, just text me your address and i’ll be over soon!

tae: no, I’ll come pick you up in 20! see you soon!!

I quickly jumped out of bed and changed from my pajama pants to a pair of jeans and threw on a random shirt. I decided that my hair looked fine as it is and threw on the first pair of shoes that I could find. I quickly stopped in my tracks and regretted my decision to go. How would Lisa react when she found out I was out with Taehyung? How mad will she be? I sat on the couch and threw my head back on the couch; however, I did not have much time to regret or change my decision because I already heard my doorbell ring. I took a deep breath before I slowly made my way to the door.

When I opened the door, Taehyung was standing on our welcome mat with his hair pushed back, his hands behind his back, and a wide smile.

“Hey!” He breathed out, holding his arms out for me to walk into. I shyly made my way into his arms, hugging his waist. He squeezed me tight and swayed me from side to side a little. “Sorry if my text was a bit random and weird. I just, I don’t know. I guess I wanted to hang out with you. I didn’t really get to spend much time with you at the arcade the other day.”

“It’s okay! I’m actually glad you texted,” I pulled away from his arms and locked my front door.

“Oh, really? Why?”

“Lisa went out tonight so I was bored and alone,” he nodded in understanding, leading me to his car.

“Well if you ever get bored and need someone to hang out with, you can always call me,” he opened the passenger door for me and helped me get into his car. He waited for me to lock my seatbelt before he closed the door and made his way to his side.

We made casual conversation on the way to his house, getting to know each other better and learning more about his friends so I wasn’t as nervous to meet them. I slowly followed him as he led me to his house. He, unexpectedly, reached back and grabbed my hand dragging me so I stood beside him.

“You don’t have to be so nervous. I’ll be right here next to you, I promise,” Taehyung tried to reassure me so I took a deep breath and decided to just trust him. There’s no way his friends could be that bad if Taehyung is near perfect. We entered the house and I already heard loud talking coming from the living room. When I came face to face with all of Taehyung’s friends, they quieted down and stared at me, which was very intimidating.

“This is Y/N. She is also friends with Jungkook. That’s how we met. Y/N, this is Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon. They’re my friends,” he introduced me to the group of guys, who gave me welcoming smiles and small, friendly introductions.

“Hi, nice to meet you guys. Thanks for letting me come to your guy’s night.”

Taehyung led me to the couch, where there were two empty spots left perfectly for us. He let me sit first, which left me between him and Namjoon. Once he sat down, he moved his arm lower to my hip to pull me a bit closer to him since I was sitting close enough to Namjoon that our legs were touching.

“Tae,” I said in a warning voice, causing him to stop in his tracks and move his arm away from my hips. “Are you moving me closer because you’re jealous again?” I teased him, causing him to blush and clear his throat. “This is the third guy in a month that you’ve been jealous of!”

“What can I say?” He leaned closer to tease me as well. “I must really like you,” I leaned in closer as well to tease him back, but then I remembered that I had to follow the girl code. Even though Lisa wasn’t here, I wouldn’t feel right flirting with the guy that she likes behind her back. I leaned back and just gave him a soft smile.

“I’ve already told you that you don’t need to be jealous.”

“I know, but it’s hard!” He complained. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop until people can no longer see you or be near you unless it’s me of course.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t have invited me over to your house with your four roommates,” I sassed him, making him laugh and he rested his head on my shoulder.

“You can just say that you wanted to get me alone,” I puked his stomach for his comment, making him laugh even louder, making me smile at how happy and carefree he sounded. “I missed you too much,” he mumbled. I couldn’t respond before we were dragged into whatever conversation the boys were having.

We ended up throwing on some random comedy movie after an hour or two of pointless, yet very funny conversation. Taehyung continued to be a bit flirty with me throughout the night, but I didn’t engage in the flirting as well. I tried my best to be on my best behavior, but I definitely slipped up a few times, but I couldn’t help it since he’s so beautiful and makes me feel comfortable around him.

I yawned while looking at the tv screen, and I slowly laid my head on Taehyung’s shoulder. He pulled me even closer to him if that was possible and laid a gentle peck on the top of my head. “Are you sleepy, pretty?” I gently nodded my head and I could feel his shoulders shake as he laughed. “Do you wanna lay in my bed?”

“I want to, but I should probably go home,” I complained. He nodded his head in understanding and helped me off the couch. As I was saying goodbye to all of the boys, he put his arm around my waist and helped me walk to his car in my sleepy state. He helped me get into his car, once again, before he made his way over to my home.

“Thank you for coming over tonight. I had a really great time,” he shyly mentioned as the radio softly played. I glanced over at him and I knew that I was screwed because as much as Lisa may like him, I definitely like him more but I shouldn’t. I was the one that encouraged her to make her move and I couldn’t just completely dismiss her feelings just because of my own.

“Your friends are great. It was so much fun.”

“Yeah? What about me?” He asked, nervously biting his lip.

“I think you’re pretty great, too, Tae,” I whispered as this moment started to feel personal to me. “Maybe not as great as Hobi, but still pretty great.”

“I think you’re pretty great, too, you know?” He looked over at me before focusing back on the road. “You’re so kind and sweet. And funny. And I’m really glad that we met,” he listed all the things he liked about me as he drove into my driveway. He turned off the car and moved his body so he was facing me, making me do the same.

“I’m glad that I met you, too. I guess I can thank Jungkook for doing something right,” we both giggled and as he was about to reply to me, we heard a tapping on the window. We both turned to the driver’s side window and saw Lisa smiling at the two of us.

“Taehyung! What are you doing here?” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him when he opened his door. As much as I want Lisa to be happy, I couldn’t sit around and watch this. I felt tears come to my eyes and I quickly tried to blink them away.

“Um, thank you for tonight, Tae,” I said, opening my door. He was about to stop me from leaving, but I cut him off. “I guess I’ll see you around,” I closed the door and turned to look at Lisa. “I’m gonna be in my room. Don’t be too late out here.”

I hurried inside the house as the tears started falling down my cheeks. Ugh! Why does this always have to happen to me? Why can’t I ever just put my happiness before others? I’ve known Taehyung for a month and this is already one of the most horrible heartbreaks that I’ve ever experienced. I crashed onto my bed and hugged my pillow tight into me.

No matter how much I wanted to be with Taehyung, I couldn’t. I can’t be with Taehyung because of the girl code.

So here we are in this photo booth with your eyes on me while she’s all on you under neon lights in this crowded room I was getting shy, don’t know what to do with my hands or my toes

Tonight was Jungkook’s birthday party and I was getting ready to go there with Jimin. I am going to meet Lisa there since she went to hang out with Taehyung this morning. I haven’t seen him since we hung out at his house, but he has texted me occasionally.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Taehyung? Because, sure, Lisa may like him, but he likes you!” I rolled my eyes at Jimin, as I opened the door to leave for the party.

“Yeah? And where did you get that idea?”

“What? Y/N! It’s so obvious. Through his body language, his flirting, and well, Jungkook told me,” I stopped in my tracks and looked back to see if Jimin was telling the truth. “I’m being honest! Taehyung told Jungkook that he likes you.”

“He doesn’t like me, Jimin. He can’t because,” Jimin cut me off.

“Because Lisa called dibs? Who cares? If you like him and he likes you, just go for it! You deserve to be happy,” Jimin put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me into his chest. “I think if you sit down and talk to Lisa about this, that she would understand. Lisa wants you to be happier than anyone does, other than me of course. Your real best friend. She may be a little hurt at first, but she would get over it.”

“This is just too much for me right now,” I told Jimin with tears in my eyes. “I just want to go to Jungkook’s party. Please?” He held me tighter and sighed.

“Okay. We can go now.”

We sat in silence on the way to Jungkook’s house. I really didn’t want to believe that Taehyung actually liked me. This made me feel worse about the situation because how do I tell Lisa how I feel when I was the one who gave her the go-ahead. I was about to get out of the car when Jimin stopped me.

“I just want you to be happy, Y/N. I think you should give Taehyung a chance,” he held my hand and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

“Thank you,” I gave him a genuine smile and got out of the car. When we entered there were already so many people drinking and dancing. I looked around for Jungkook and finally found him with Taehyung and Taehyung’s group of friends. I dragged Jimin over with me, so we could tell Jungkook happy birthday.

I snuck up behind him and wrapped my arms around his back. He jumped in surprise, but relaxed when he heard me scream. “Happy birthday bestie!” He laughed and turned around to give me a quick hug.

“Thank you Y/N!” He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before greeting Jimin as well.

I glanced over to Taehyung, who was already smiling down at me. I gave him a hug, which he immediately reciprocated.

“Hey, pretty,” he whispered in my eye, hugging me tighter. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Mhm,” I hummed in agreement. “I’ve missed you,” I truthfully told him, making him soundlessly chuckle.

“I’ve missed you more.”

I hugged Yoongi, Jin, Namjoon, and Hoseok, happy that I remembered all of their names and faces. Jimin seemed to be getting along well with them, so we stayed there and talked for a little while longer. Taehyung put his hand on my lower back and leaned over to ask me if he could talk to me really quick. I felt nervous as to what he wanted to talk about, but I still followed him.

“I just wanted to apologize,” I looked up at him confused about what he would be apologizing for. “I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable when I invited you over to my house. I…I just thought it would be fun to hang out with you and get to know you more, but I can understand why you felt that way.”

I tilted my head toward him and furrowed my eyebrows. “I wasn’t uncomfortable, Tae.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Y/N. You rushed out of my car really fast. There’s no way that you weren’t uncomfortable.”

Oh. He thinks because I hurried out of his car when Lisa came that he made me feel uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable, I promise. I just was tired and Lisa didn’t know that I had gone over to your house so I just bolted out of there, I guess.”

“So it wasn’t anything that I did?” He had me reassure him and I quickly nodded my head to agree with him. “Okay. Good. I was worried.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I had a fun time,” I gently reminded him. “You could have texted me and told me that you were worried.”

“Yeah, well, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else as well,” he took a deep breath and grabbed both of my hands with his. “I’ve had so much fun getting to know you and hanging out with you, and I wanted you to know that I like you.”

My heart stopped. Why is this happening to me right now? I couldn’t even look Taehyung in the eyes. I felt my stomach twist and my hands start to sweat. I glimpsed around the room and though no one was looking at me, it felt as of everyone was.

“Tae,” I whimpered out, not knowing how I was supposed to respond to him. “I don’t know what to say,” I told him truthfully, with tears in my eyes.

“Hey! That’s okay,” he pulled me into his arms and rubbed my back. “That’s okay, I promise. I already knew that there was a possibility that you wouldn’t like me, and I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.

I pulled away from him and sighed. “It’s not that, Tae. I…I do like you,” his eyes widened and a small smile appeared on his face. “I have to tell you something though.”

“You can tell me anything,” I looked around to see if I could find Lisa, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Lisa likes you, too.”

He exhaled and shook his head slightly. “I had a feeling that she did,” he admitted. “Please don’t tell me this is going to interfere with us.”

“Lisa’s my best friend,” I reminded him. “I can’t break girl code.”

“How is it breaking girl code if I want you, and not Lisa? Lisa and I have nothing going on!” He insisted, but I just played with my lip. “Y/N, please listen to me. I really like you and I know that I might sound insane right now, but you can’t tell me that you don’t feel it too. You can’t tell me that you don’t want me too because I feel it. I know you want this, and I want it too. I want you so bad. I need to be with you so bad. Please break girl code…for me.”

At this moment, it felt like Taehyung and I were the only two people in the room. His beautiful eyes stared down at me with a pleading look. His hands nervously played together and his lip stuck between his teeth. I couldn’t deny my attraction to him anymore. He was standing here, in front of me, telling me that he wants to be with me and give us a try. I would be stupid to deny him just because of Lisa. I grabbed his hands and stepped closer to him, sighing.

“I do want to be with you, Taehyung. I’ve had so much fun just talking to you and being around you. I want to give this a try, us a try, but I want to talk to Lisa first.”

He nodded in understanding and gripped my hands tighter. “Please come back to me,” he whispered and I couldn’t help, but grin at his gentleness.

“I will. I’ll be right back, okay?” He nodded and grinned at me. He kissed my knuckles before letting me walk away to find Lisa.

But I don’t want to break girl code cause who knows where this will go

I found Lisa outside, talking to some of our mutual friends and dancing to the music. I smiled at how carefree and happy she looked at the moment, and I almost backed out of talking to her since I did not want to ruin her happiness. She jumped up and down and waved as soon as she saw me. She ran over to me and gathered me in her arms.

“Y/N! My baby, how are you?”

“I’m doing okay, Lisa. You seem like you’re having a lot of fun,” she nodded, happily. “I just wanted to talk to you, but I don’t want to interrupt your night.”

“You are the best interruption! What’s wrong? Do I need to cuss someone out?” She pulled me to sit away from everyone.

“Lisa,” I already felt tears in my eyes as I took a shaky breath. “I have to tell you something,” she placed her hands on top of mine and looked at me with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know I should have told you right away, but I was scared and I want you to be happy. I,” I looked her in the eyes and let my tears fall. “I like Taehyung and I thought it was just a stupid crush because I had just met him and he was so beautiful, but it turns out I like him more than just a stupid crush. I’m so sorry and I understand if you hate me.”

“Y/N,” she started. “You should have told me right away,” I whimpered, thinking she was mad at me. “Then I would have never pursued him! There’s nothing I want more in this world than for you to be happy. Why do you think I’m always trying to get you to date Jungkook or Jimin? Because I want you to be happy and for someone to treat you right and if Tae makes you happy then I say you go for him because I know he’ll treat you right!”

“But, you like him,” I was confused about how she was so okay with this.

“Babe, it was a small crush. I could have told you after the arcade that he and I were not going to work out. Plus, I could tell he wasn’t that interested.”

“You’re really not mad at me?”

“I promise I’m not mad at you,” she gave me a tight squeeze, rocking us back and forth. “Now go back in there and get your man. I love you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Lisa. I love you too.”

I went back inside the party, feeling way better than I did when I left it. I couldn’t believe Lisa was so kind and okay about this when I was literally freaking out all night. I looked back to where I left my group of friends to see Taehyung standing alone with a drink in his hand now. He had his head down and was nodding his head along to the music.

I stopped at the bar to get some liquid courage before I made my way back to him. While waiting for my drink, I looked back to see him already staring at me. I smiled and signaled for him to wait one minute until I got my drink. After what felt like forever, I got my drink and turned to find Taehyung, who was unsurprisingly right behind me.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he whispered as he towered over me. “Did you get her permission?” He moved his hands to my waist and I smiled, wanting to laugh at how surreal this all was. I set my drink down behind me and wrapped my arms around his neck.

I pulled him into me, knowing that I couldn’t wait any longer. Our lips met and everything finally made sense. It once again felt like Tae and I were the only two people in the world but in a good way this time. He pulled me even closer to him as our lips continued to move in sync. I pulled away from him to breathe, but our breath still mixed together since I didn’t move very far. Our foreheads were touching and we were giggling at each other’s eagerness.

“Let me take you out on a date,” he whispered against my lips. I nodded my head, wordlessly and found his lips again.

I can’t wait to see where this may go.

————————————————————————

masterlist

not saying i love you back prank (jimin)

thank you all for reading! i hope you all enjoyed! :) <3

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matildashoney · 3 years ago

Text

Anything For You: Part One

MASTERLIST // ANNOUNCEMENT // PART TWO Rating: R (death, violence, swearing, sex) Summary: Francesca Giovanna Cartelli is the daughter of Opal and Giuseppe Cartelli, a huge Mafia Boss in New York in the 1920s, a rivalry of the likes of Al Capone. Harry Styles, the security of the neighboring mafia that the family is allied with, has been a longtime friend of the family and specifically took a liking to their daughter. Francesca and Harry have an easy-going relationship, one without pressure and too much stress, but when there’s a hit put out on Francesca and her father sends her away with Harry to be safe, everything changes. Authors Note: hiiiiiii. this is the first story in two years that is new and i'm really excited to share it! i think it's going to be one you all like (i hope). i have a lot planned for this year, story-wise, and i really hope you're all excited and ready. i'm ready to give writing my all and embark on a new journey with you all. love you all so much. happy reading! x

Francesca Giovanna Cartelli, born 1 August 1900 to Giuseppe and Opal Cartelli, the first and only child of the pairing. Giuseppe’s pride and joy and Opal’s very reason for existing. Giuseppe Cartelli, one of New York’s Finest Mafia Bosses. Opal Cartelli, the wife and devoting lover, caring mother, responsible financial advisor of all things business. Owners of one of the very first speakeasies in New York City and owners of nearly half of the Upper West Side. Francesca Cartelli, perfect and intelligent daughter of the two most strategic mob bosses in the business.

Landmark Tavern on 11th Avenue, New York’s arguably most famous speakeasy, that the Cartelli’s own. Francesca’s second home, more so. Her family’s home is down the street, the neighboring and allied mafia’s security living directly above the apothecary on the third floor. Outside, the walls are made of brick and stone, a painted yellow wall decorating the border. Outside decorum makes it seem innocent enough to onlookers, and yet, everyone that knows, knows. Francesca is comfortable here, safe, and it’s the place where she can dance freely and love loosely, a moment to express herself and live her wildest dreams.

“Frankie Giovanna,” a woman – Maisy is her name – calls from behind the bar, handing her a champagne glass and raising her hand for a toast, “to the most beloved and wanted daughter in mob history.”

“To Me,” she giggles, raising her glass proudly, taking a sip and smirking as she feels a hand grace her back and a fingertip adjust the strap on her shoulder. Francesca turns, facing the man that is standing awfully close to her side. “You shouldn’t be here, Styles.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Francesca. Not when there are many, many, people after you,” Harry Styles, her father’s right hand security guard, says strictly, a tight-lipped smirk on his face as he holds his hand out to offer himself for a dance as he always does. “Spare dance, Miss Cartelli? For an old friend.”

“Hm, I would, but what if my new beau sees, Mr. Styles?” Francesca teases, twirling beneath Harry’s arm and turning into his open embrace, her hand patting his chest playfully. “Charles won’t be very happy with you.”

“The only reason I haven’t killed him yet is because he’s a very nice distraction for you, Miss Cartelli. Easy enough to keep track of you when you are being minded by someone, now isn’t it?” Harry says firmly, his hand resting on her lower back and his other occupied by her own.

“How kind of you.”

“It is my job to keep you safe,” he says with a shrug, not minding the implications of his statement. “I’ll do whatever it takes, or your father will have a bullet in my brain, Francesca.”

“Maybe, I’ll care a little more about what happens to you when you stop calling me by my whole name,” she says spitefully, playfully quirking her brows and squeezing his shoulder. “Obviously, I care now, but I’d care a little more if this were the case. I’m not too fond of the formality of our relationship, Mr. Styles. It’s very, how one might say, annoying.”

“How kind of you.”

“Learned from the best, haven’t I?”

“Don’t act like your mother didn’t raise you to be a kinder soul than that, Francesca,” Harry sterns, shaking his head and leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Don’t act like you didn’t have the biggest interest in me when you were a teenager either. Fancied me a bit, you did.”

“How dare you! I did not!”

“You did so,” Harry chuckles, twirling her around once more and pecking her cheek. “It’s okay, I fancied you, myself, a bit if I’m honest. Isn’t that why I took the job of your minder? To make sure no harm came of your way.”

“Careful with your confessions, Harry. Charles might hear you.”

“Charles is preoccupied with Miss Cavalier, over there, Miss Cartelli.”

Charles was always a bit of a wandering eye, so everyone’s said, and this makes that gossip no different. Francesca believed that his distraction was enough to distract her father from what she really wanted, who she really wanted. It was forbidden, though. Much like alcohol and dancing and everything else The Prohibition stopped the easy access to, her love life was nearly off limits because of her father and all forces influencing such. Francesca didn’t love, even really like Charles, if she was being honest. He was, as Harry had said, a distraction, a way to keep her minded while her father hunted down the Mob Boss that was after his wife and daughter.

“Ah, yes, what a gentleman,” Francesca scoffs, shaking her head and taking a step into Harry, their chests hugging each other, their heartbeats nearly aligning under the smooth jazz playing in the background. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, Mr. Styles? Had we been the ones that courted instead, of course.”

“Had we been the ones that courted, instead,” Harry hums, dipping Francesca and holding her head awfully close to his own, “I wouldn’t be dancing with you in front of all these people. I’d be doing something very different, as you cannot live forever.”

“Ah, a Gatsby man. Clever.”

“That’s what I am.” Harry leans down and presses his lips to the tip of Francesca’s forehead lightly, barely enough to feel the ghost of a kiss, but enough to feel the tension rising in the air and the way that they feel for each other, secretly – or not so secretly – as they glide across the floor. More songs pass, more dances shared between the two, when he says, “I have been instructed to take you home promptly at half eleven, Miss Cartelli. I fear it is time to get on our way.”

“Must we?” Francesca whines, jutting her bottom lip and placing her hands in front of her heart. This very well won’t work on Harry, Francesca’s knows this, but it’s the thought and the effort that counts, isn’t it? “One more dance? I’ll even offer a kiss.”

“Tempting as that may be, I would prefer to see another day with you, Miss Cartelli.”

Francesca rolls her eyes and sighs, bidding her goodbyes to the workers and the dancers and the singers and her courting boyfriend who’s taken the interest of a vocalist in the corner of the room. Escorted by Harry, she links her arms in his, ushered through the exit by guards that have known her since before her birth twenty some years ago. Harry walks ahead of her, not for the manner of a man before a woman – which he finds completely ridiculous and outdated – but for her safety. Francesca knows best by know, following closely behind with her fingers laced through his, her head kept down and her hair falling in front of her face.

Blend in, Francesca, Giuseppe always says.

Don’t stand out too much, my darling, Opal encourages.

Most of the street is quiet, which is a pleasantry these days, and gives Harry and Francesca an easy way for conversation on the way home. Francesca speaks of her studies at the college, psychology she’s studying this term, and she’s thinking about taking it again and pursuing a career as a doctor. Harry laughs pleasantly at this, encouragingly, saying that that’s a much better suited career for her than a mob wife.

“I would prefer to be married after I graduate,” she says firmly, taking a step closer to him and walking quickly with his pace. “I’d like to keep my name as a doctor. Cartelli has a certain ring to it, don’t you think, Harry?”

“It sounds lovely for you, Francesca,” he says with a softened smile. He imagines the person she is to marry is richer than he, smarter than he, likely someone she’s met at Landmark’s or at Columbia or even at the local market when they’re going for their soaps and specialties, though he would be lying if he hadn’t thought about pursuing her himself.

Her father would never allow such a thing, though, especially knowing Harry’s track with relationships – so be it because he always put her above his lady, at the time – Giuseppe would never find him suitable to be fit for Francesca, and Harry has come to accept his fate. He will always protect her though, under any circumstance.

Harry has always protected her, which is why the multitude of chatter and the screams originating from where her large brownstone resides begins to worry him. He immediately breaks into a stride, pulling her behind him, hiding her from the horrifying scene ahead of him.

Francesca immediately worries, “Have you heard from Mother, Harry? Maisy hadn’t said that she rung the tavern before we left. She hadn’t told us it’s safe to come home.”

“Styles! Turn Francesca around!”

Francesca instantly recognizes her father’s voice, the duly panicked tone making her heart race and her body shiver with fear. She searches for a sign of her mother, listening carefully for her voice, desperately praying to hear the comforting sounds of her trying to talk her father down from his rage. Maybe someone betrayed him. Maybe someone stole something for the rival Mafia boss. Certainly nothing could’ve happened to her family, not to her family.

Opal Cartelli, lying on the ground with her hand clasped over her stomach, a dark shadow cast around her body, her security guard on the ground nearby, a similar shadow around his head.

“What happened to Mother?”

It’s too late. Francesca can see everything.

“Frankie, dear,” Giuseppe begins to say, stepping around the bodies on the ground and walking towards his daughter and her security carefully. “I need you to go with Harry, okay? I need him to take you somewhere where you’ll be safe.” He wipes his hands on his handkerchief, and under the streetlight, Francesca can see the red stains on his skin. Giuseppe takes her face in his hands and kisses her forehead, and Francesca can feel the tears on his skin. “Ti amo, mia luce del sole.”

“Ti amo, Daddy,” Francesca whimpers, a tear slipping down her cheek as her father presses another kiss to her cheek and then turns her around, nudging her to walk the other way. “Can I at least say goodbye?”

“It’s not safe, right now, my dear. In due time, you can. In due time. I love you.”

“Let’s go, Francesca,” Harry says hurriedly, wrapping his coat around her shoulders and beginning to walk her down the street at an uncanny speed, his gun holstered in his hand. He isn’t afraid to use it, Francesca knows this much, and she’s sure that he would die trying to protect her. “Francesca, you can talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say, Harry,” she says under her breath, panting and heaving for air once they reach the apothecary, Harry rushing to find his keys and usher her up the two flights of stairs inside. “Mother, she’s, she’s.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, closing and locking the doors, the bolted locks they installed when the mafia started living in the neighborhood coming to use in moments like these. “Come here.”

Francesca begrudgingly meets his stare, the tears falling helplessly down her cheeks, her hands immediately reaching for his shirt and burying her face in his neck, crying tears of pain and sadness into his chest. Mother, her beautiful, intelligent, kind mother, was lying dead in the middle of the street, with the person that was meant to protect her, protect them.

If Mother wasn’t safe, she surely isn’t.

Francesca looks at Harry with wide eyes, coated in fear and danger and panic, and whispers, “I’m not safe. They’re going to come for me. Harry, I’m next.”

Harry delicately brushes her hair away from her forehead, tucking the stray strands behind her ears and cups her cheeks, making her look at him for a moment, a singular moment, to listen and hear what he has to say. “As long as I’m alive, you’ll be safe, Francesca. Do you hear me?”

Nodding slowly, Francesca blinks back the tears in her eyes, shaking her head and breaking free from Harry’s grasp, wiping her eyes, and quietly nodding as a thank you for the handkerchief offered to her to nurse her cheeks. “I think I just want to go to bed.”

Harry sighs, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, “Um, that’s something we’ll have to share, tonight, I’m afraid. Until I can get another bed. Unless, of course, you want me to sleep elsewhere. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I,” she says softly, running her fingers through her hair and sighing a deep breath, taking the pins out of her hair, and setting them in her palm. “I don’t mind. I just don’t want to be alone.”

Harry nods, holding his hand out for Francesca to take and leading her up the stairwell and into the main bedroom. Outside, the night looms through the parted curtains, Harry quickly walking to close them and draw them shut, peering outside to ensure that no one is lurking around the house. “Stefan is guarding outside. I think we’re safe, now. I want you to sleep, okay? Get some rest and we’ll regroup in the morning.”

“Have you got any clothes I can borrow?”

“Um, yes, of course,” he says, scurrying around his bedroom and finding a spare pair of sweatpants and a shirt, handing it to her gently and ushering her towards the bathroom. “Here you go, love. Go change and we’ll settle you into bed.”

“Alright,” she sighs, walking into the bathroom next door to the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. Sucking in a deep breath, she looks into the mirror, her eyes welling with tears at the thought of her mother and her father and the way her family is suddenly so fallen apart. Mother, the matriarch and center of her family, held her and her father together, held their lives together so perfectly, and suddenly, in the matter of seconds, she was gone. “Fuck.”

“Francesca?”

“I, um, I’ll just be a minute.” Hurriedly wiping her eyes, Francesca dresses in Harry’s clothes, clinging to the tightness of the shirt on her chest. Much like her dresses that she wears to Landmark Tavern, the shirt clings to her breasts and falls loosely around her curves. Francesca sighs, shaking her head at the thought of anything comforting her in a moment such as this.

Harry is sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, silently praying with his cross tucked between his teeth when Francesca walks into the bedroom, her dress and accessories held tightly in her hands. Looking at her, he drops the crucifix, standing on his feet, opening his arms, and taking the clothes into his hands, setting everything on the lounger in the corner and walking to where she is standing rather quietly in the doorway. Francesca simply nods silently, knowingly, and walks to the side of the mattress where there is a misshapen pillow and untucked duvet. Harry doesn’t say anything about that being his side.

“You must be tired.”

“I’m exhausted, Harry.”

Harry takes one look at Francesca as she stands anxiously at the side of the bed and knows exactly what she needs – a hug from her mother – something that he very well can’t provide. Harry would have to do, for now. He would have to try. “Would you like a hug, Francesca?”

“I think I do.”

Harry gently lays his hand on her lower back, encouraging her to turn around in his grasp and sighing heavily when her arms circle around his shoulders, a shudder leaving her lips as she tucks her face into his neck and a tear falls down her cheek. All the night’s commotion has finally come to this moment, this overwhelming and outstanding moment, where everything has piled in and over her emotions and finally come to pass.

Mother is gone. Father has sent her away for her safety. Harry is the only person she can trust.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Francesca?”

“You’ll stay in here with me, tonight, won’t you?”

Harry doesn’t dare to lift his cheek from her head, simply humming and rubbing her back gently, breathing in her scent and taking in the warmth that she surrounds him with. From the moment Harry laid eyes on Francesca when she was eighteen, when she was old enough to attend to school and travel out with her friends and, more pressingly, when she was old enough to be a target by the opposing bosses, Harry’s had something for her, an affinity, an affliction, a love. He simply couldn’t describe the way she made him feel, the liveliness that she brought into his life of misery. Francesca’s safety ensured the safety of Harry’s family, as well, and neither was something he was willing to risk. Harry had never loved before, not since he was a teenager himself, and to feel the way he does for her, simply put, was not understandable.

Francesca is his boss’ daughter. There couldn’t by anyone more off limits. And yet, there Harry is, inappropriately imagining what it would feel like to kiss her and hold her safely through the night.

“Harry?”

“Oh, of course, yeah.” Harry coughs uncomfortably and hesitantly releases his grasp from around her, smiling softly at her as she stares up at him. Her hand nervously moves to his face, brushing away a stray strand of hair and tucking it behind his ear. “Thank you, my dear.”

“My dear,” she says with a light giggle, one that he’s familiar with, but certainly not in this tone or time of night, “that’s a new one.”

“Figured I’d give it a go, rather that than calling you by your name every five seconds.”

Francesca lowers her voice as she climbs beneath the duvet, “This is quite true, Mr. Styles. You do have a habit of doing that.”

Harry chuckles lowly, turning around and rummaging through his drawers for clean clothes to wear to bed, taking his time in listening to the sound of her breathing slow and her eyes fall shut. “Get a good night’s rest, love, we’ll be off in the morning.”

“Off where?”

“Off to where they can’t find you, I promise.”

Understandingly, Francesca nods, closes her eyes, and drifts slowly into sleep, Harry’s presence watching her protectively from the doorway surely going unnoticed.

══════════════════

Cape Cod, Massachusetts, 1926.

The Cartelli’s bought a beach house there during the midst of the Civil War, a bit tasteless if anyone asked Opal, but it was theirs, nonetheless. One space that was theirs that no one else knew about it, not even Harry, until he was being called at a bright and early hour (he had an inkling without looking at the clock as the sun was rising through the curtains) by Giuseppe, giving him strict instructions to take his daughter before the sun is fully set in the sky and take her hours and hours away to a house where no one knew the whereabouts. Giuseppe had a maid leave a suitcase full of his daughter’s favorite clothes at the backdoor, a collection of cash and identities and everything they would need tucked away inside, a car already parked behind the apothecary for them to take.

Harry knew what this would entail, creating a fake life with Francesca and making her comfortable wherever they may be. Cape Cod, for now. Forever? Not likely.

Cape Cod is beautiful in the summertime, though. Harry knows this well. He accompanied The Cartelli’s on their yearly vacation there once Francesca was old enough to go to speakeasies in town and needed the protection from neighboring mafias and their bosses, and Harry was her friend, he would always protect her. Harry made that much very clear to Giuseppe from the get-go. That’s why Giuseppe trusted him with his daughter’s life for the last eight years. That’s why Giuseppe is trusting him, right now.

Harry leans against the doorway, questioning whether or not to wake Francesca with a cup of tea or coffee. He’s already had two cups worth by the time he’s made the decision to wake her and give her the option. He’s been pacing around the house, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet, making him awfully uncomfortable with the noise radiating through the quaint home.

“Have you got my clothes from my father? I’m sure of it that we should be heading out quite soon. Sun is nearly up for the day,” Francesca yawns, rolling onto her back and stretching her limbs above her head. Squinting behind the sunlight peering in through the beige curtains – hideous color, she notes – she notices Harry hiding a smile behind his mug. This will be his third coffee this morning, she counts in her head. “Are you preparing for a long drive? That’s your third dose of caffeine, this morning, Mr. Styles.”

“Have you been counting, Miss Cartelli?”

“I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to offer your unwanted house guest a cup, more so,” she smirks, sitting upright and rubbing her eyes. Given the circumstance of the previous evening, she felt safe sleeping beside Harry, last night, and wouldn’t mind continuing to do so, if they must, of course.

“Unwanted house guest,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head and setting his mug on the dresser beside the doorframe, walking into the petite kitchen and pouring her a cup. His breath hitches in his throat when her delicate hand splays across his back as he’s pouring the milk, assuming she wouldn’t like hers black the way he prefers, and he quickly recovers, handing her the porcelain mug and gesturing to the tiny table and chairs situated in the corner. “You’re never unwanted in my home, Francesca. You should know that by now.”

“Mm,” she hums contently, taking a sip of the coffee and letting the warm liquid pour down her throat. Harry leans against the counter, his hands holding the faux marble, his eyes intently following her movements. “Do you know where we’re headed? Am I allowed to know?”

“I do,” he says firmly, unwilling to give more information than necessary, “and you’ll know once we get there, but I can’t risk anyone hearing anything until we’re in the car and on our way. Otherwise, you know your father and his demands.”

“Off with your head.”

“Precisely.”

Understandably, she sighs, her eyes fluttering shut with the warmth of the coffee wafting into her senses. Must be best this way, she reasons with herself, not daring to look at Harry and take into account his feelings. He must not be happy with this arrangement – especially not as the most eligible bachelor in New York City. That isn’t something Francesca can worry about, right now. Not when she needs to be on the run from people who are very well set on the intent to kill her.

“Not to rush you, Francesca, but we have to be going any minute.” Francesca hadn’t even noticed Harry had left the room. Looking at him, Harry’s already changed his clothes, new checkered trousers, and a white shirt – his usual – and combed his hair. It looks nice. Harry looks nice, she thinks. “Giuseppe said that we must be gone by ten.”

Francesca looks at the clock hanging above the doorway. The time in question? 09:42.

“Understood.”

“I suggest waiting to bathe until we’ve gotten to where we’re going. It’ll be a long journey. Your suitcase is at the foot of the bed. I didn’t want to search through your things for clothes.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

Harry nods silently, filling his mug once more and taking a seat at the table, leaving Francesca’s empty seat and mug where she left it. Francesca hurries into the bedroom, sorting through the neatly packed suitcase – surely one of the maids did this for her father – and finding fresh undergarments and a neatly pressed skirt and blouse to wear. Francesca was always the more feminine type, and that was certainly shown in her extravagant wardrobe and fancy accessories. Only one of her favorite dresses has been tucked away in the case, and she wishes to thank whoever packed her things for that, for the comfort of knowing she’d have one thing to wear on a night out. If she were to ever go outside again. Harry wouldn’t keep her locked away, would he? They would make new lives and venture out together. Things wouldn’t be so bad.

They wouldn’t be so bad, would they?

By the time Francesca has contemplated her entire situation with Harry and Giuseppe, Harry is knocking on the bedroom door. Ten minutes have passed, he says politely, and they must be getting on their way in a matter of moments. Hurriedly, she readies herself in the bathroom and dresses in her skirt and blouse, brushing her hair with her fingers and letting her curls fall as they may. She digs through the suitcase in a rush, searching for a tiny bag of pins that she may use for her hair after her bath later that evening. Thankfully, she finds just what she’s searching for as Harry knocks again.

Another three minutes has passed. It is now time to go.

Opening the door slowly, the suitcase in her hand quickly taken from her as Harry gestures for her to take the back entrance from the house. He’s in a hurry, she can see, and she doesn’t want to waste time. Giuseppe’s orders are always very strict and timely, and with a purpose, and she knows that there must be people out searching for them as they very well breathe. Harry doesn’t bother locking the doors behind him, merely taking a glance over the house to make sure nothing is out of place and looks in order, this way if anyone comes searching, there is nothing to find. His suitcase is already in the backseat, setting hers alongside it, his coat tucked protectively around his body to hide him away from onlookers – not that anyone could very well make him out with his cap and jacket. Francesca slinks into the passenger seat, hiding her face away from the window and staring at the street she’s grown so fond of. All of it gone in an instant. Mother. Home. New York City.

Harry drives relatively fast for the first hour or two or three. Francesca lost count of the hours somewhere along the way. Minimal conversation and chatter are had without the hum of the car engine and the stir of the radio. Francesca knew that her father had bought this car specifically for their eventual getaway. New radio. New license with numbers that weren’t associated with their name. New antenna. It must’ve been tucked away in a lot somewhere where she couldn’t have found it, because if she had, she surely would have wanted it for herself for school. Now, it’s being used as an escape route from murderous bosses in New York City.

“Giuseppe wants me to take you to the cottage in Cape Cod. The one on the beach?”

“On Oak Street?”

And suddenly, Francesca feels at peace with the forced decision to leave Giuseppe and New York City. At least she’ll be somewhere familiar. At least she’ll have the town and warmth and sunlight and the sand between her toes. At least she’ll have that, the familiarity.

“That’s the one,” Harry says with a hint of a smile. It’s barely there – the smile – but she can make out the curvature of the corner of his mouth. “Have new identities for the two of us, also.”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t been there since you were a kid, Giuseppe said. He, um, influenced, a friend to draw up some signage and paperwork to make it look as though the house was for sale. Our story is that we’ve just married and we’re buying the property.”

“Married, huh?” Laughing for the first time in what feels like days, Francesca wiggles her hand in front of the dashboard and Harry’s face, “And where’s the ring, Mr. Styles?”

“In my suitcase,” Harry says with a pursed smile, patting her thigh and setting his hand back on the steering wheel. “It was my mother’s. I’m meant to give it to the person I fall madly in love with. My epic love, so to speak.”

“And you must settle for me, for now. That’s quite noble of you, I’d say,” she says with a roll of her eyes, hating the pang of jealousy that courses through her veins at the thought of him with another woman. The thought alone sends a shiver down Francesca’s spine. Harry notices.

“It’s not settling for you, Francesca. I’d happily marry a woman like you. Hell, I’d happily marry you. Giuseppe, on the other hand, would absolutely have my head if that were the case. Not to mention, I doubt you’d want to marry me.”

Francesca is taken aback by this, insulted even. “Harry, why would you say such a thing?”

“Because, Francesca, I’m simply a guard for Giuseppe Cartelli and his mafia. I live a simple life, with a simple pay, and I will never be enough for a woman of your candor and your class.”

“That is, quite honestly, the greatest lie I’ve ever been told, Mr. Styles. You’ll need to ask for forgiveness for that one.”

“I apologize, Francesca. Although I do believe it to be true, I apologize for hurting your feelings. I will be more mindful, now, as your faux husband would never say such a thing.”

Opening her mouth to say something, she then closes it hurriedly, realizing without merit that there is nothing left to say.

Cape Cod’s scenery is beautiful in the summertime, she has come to realize. Opal and Giuseppe had only taken her a handful of times in the winter when they were thinking about purchasing the property in the early Winter of 1908. Her eyes dance across the tall, waving grass, the sprinkling sand of the shoreline, and the crashing waves of the sea. Cottages line the shore, tall and wide, small and grandiose, and the one at 12 Oak Street is perfectly quaint enough for a “newly married” couple, as so their story goes. Bushels of flowers line the windowsills, a mailbox sitting on the edge of the drive, the stone pathway leading to the navy-blue front door with a four-squared window making for a perfect entryway.

“What’s our names?”

“Giovanna and Edward,” Harry answers without hesitation, as though he’s been practicing. “Rivers is our last name. It’s French. We’ve just moved from Virginia. You’ll be enrolling in school, tomorrow, to become a midwife. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“May I call you Harry in private? Or are we simply Edward and Giovanna, for now? Until our next move, of course.”

“I would expect you to, and I’ll be calling you Francesca in private. I like your name too much.”

Francesca turns towards the window and away from Harry’s onward gaze, desperately trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. “I do expect you to at least put the ring on my finger, as any fake good husband would do.”

“I would anticipate nothing less, Miss Cartelli,” Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “Or shall I say, Mrs. Rivers.”

“Hm,” she says with a hum of contentment. “That’ll do, but it makes me miss my last name. Cartelli has such charm.”

“Cartelli has a button man and very many angry people attached to it. Giuseppe included.”

Francesca snorts a laugh, shaking her head and leaning back against the passenger seat, a smile sneaking across her features as the cottage comes into view and the car slowly pulls into the driveway. Harry hurriedly rushes out of the car and reaches into his suitcase, tucking the ring in his pocket and walking towards her side, opening her door, and helping her out.

“For you, my darling wife, Giovanna.”

Harry slides the ring onto her finger delicately and a shiver rolls through her spine, once more. Harry notices, once again.

“Why thank you, Edward.”

Harry chuckles and holds out his hand for Francesca to take, her petite figure jumping onto the gravel pathway and smoothing her skirt with her hands, her chestnut curls falling around her face as she does so. He leans forward, so close she can nearly feel his breath on her cheeks, and tucks her hair behind her ears delicately, intimately. “I’ll get our cases from the backseat.”

Francesca swallows thickly, smoothing over where he had just touched her, so lightly it was nearly unnoticeable, and turns on her heel, walking towards the front door and admiring the two chairs situated in the corner. In another life, Francesca could see herself growing old here, with the love of her life, aging with their grandchildren playing on the beach behind them. Although, much to her dismay, the likelihood of any such thing is unlikely.

“Have you got the key?” she says hurriedly, shaking her head of the thought and blinking away a stray tear that has come to form in the corner of her eye. She mustn’t think about such things at a time like this, not when her life is on the line. Future thoughts are for when she’s safe and secure. Maybe in love with someone, hopelessly and devotedly.

“’Course I do. What kind of husband would I be without the key to our new house?”

Francesca knows Harry’s playing the part, but part of her wishes this moment was real; that she really had just married the love of her life, her epic love as her mother would call it, and they were moving into their first place. Ideally, Francesca would be out of school, a midwife at the local hospital, her husband in a safe career – a teacher, maybe, finance would be acceptable, too – and the mafia life way long behind them. This may never be the case, though, and she finds herself longing for a happiness that she’s not quite sure Cape Cod or running will ever bring her.

Harry looks at her curiously, and instead, she smiles politely and takes the suitcases from his hands, waiting for him to open the front door. He doesn’t ask questions, simply opening the lock and taking the suitcases from her hands without any regard to the questionable look on her face. He smiles devilishly, a handsome smile, she must say – or think, more so – and her breath hitches in her throat when his hands slide beneath her knees and behind her back, lifting her into his arms and carrying her through the doorway.

“What on Earth are you doing?” Francesca squeaks, gripping onto his shoulders securely, slightly scared of falling and slightly scared that he’ll hear the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. “Harry! Put me down!”

“It’s tradition for a man to carry his wife through the threshold of their home,” Harry says matter-of-factly. “And although this situation is any less than traditional and ideal, I would like to treat you as though you are my spouse, that includes upholding the traditions. As silly as they may be.”

Francesca’s heart swells in her chest, pounding heavily against her ribs and making her feel so significant in such a way that she’s unfamiliar with. Beaus of the past have never treated her with such respect, and although it is fake, there is part of this that feels so real, so genuine.

“Then I will do the same,” she says surely, a genuine smile spreading across her lips. Leaning forward, she presses a light kiss to his cheek, her breath locking in her throat when his face turns and their noses touch. He lightly sets her on her feet, his hands remaining on her hips for a moment too long. “Um, I’d like to take a bath and then go to the market, if that’s all right with you? Would you accompany me?”

“Of course, Miss Cartelli. It’d be my pleasure.” Harry smiles brightly and nods towards the bedroom in the corner, the bathroom a door slightly ajar adjacent to it, before turning around and gathering their suitcases from outside the front door.

12 Oak Street is even smaller inside than it is outside. Windows introduce sunlight to the lounge and the parlor, the kitchen opposite of the fireplace and the entryway. Francesca would enjoy cooking here, that much was clear, with a bay window overlooking the front yard and a newly installed cooker. Adjacent to the kitchen is the singular bedroom, one that she and Harry must share, she now knows, although she is sure her father believes Harry is sleeping elsewhere. Inside the bedroom, the walls are painted a baby blue shade, one that reminds her of the sea. On the bed is a pure white duvet, one her mother must’ve chosen ages ago, and the thought makes her heart ache. Her mother must’ve loved this place, much like she does. Across the hallway, the bathroom is a pleasant shade of yellow, the clawfoot bathtub inviting and warm overlooking the beach behind the house. Francesca sighs, desperately praying the circumstances will change, and she will stay here forever. Home. She would make this home.

“Francesca? I’ll be waiting for you, out here, okay?” Harry calls from the lounge, distracting her from her thoughts and drawing her attention back to what she was doing.

Undressing, Francesca thinks about the moments leading up to this. Dancing at Landmark’s. Mother dying. Harry protecting her in the city. Driving to Massachusetts. Harry’s mother’s ring on her finger. Carrying her in through the threshold. Kissing his cheek. Noses touching.

His ring.

Admittedly, she hasn’t looked at it since Harry put it on her finger. It’s beautiful, she must say. Cut into a beautifully perfected shape, the emerald gem sits on a gold band. Complimenting her olive skin, the gem shimmers beneath the fading sunlight, and the way it sits perfectly on her skin makes her think that maybe in another life, this was meant for her.

This is Harry, we’re talking about Francesca. He wasn’t made for you in another life. He’s your protector, your friend. That’s where we draw the line!

“Of course not,” Francesca says to herself, shaking her head and blinking hurriedly, shoving away the rational thinking. “Harry is my friend,” she repeats to herself, climbing into the bathtub, letting the warm water welcome her aching muscles. “Harry is only my friend.”

══════════════════

Cape Cod’s town center is a quaint, little market town, filled with many shops and Massachusetts delicacies. Fisheries line the shore. The local grocer rings a bell every time a customer pays and passes through. Markets for small goods and household accessories leave their doors open for the daily rush. Floral shops smell of roses and tulips and arrangements in glass vases. Apothecaries smell of herbs and petals. Markets shine of colors with fresh fruit and vegetables through the open windows. All of it coming together so cohesively to build a town.

Francesca could see why Opal and Giuseppe loved it here, loved the town and the people and the artistry that embraced the town’s ambiance. Francesca could see that she would love it here, especially with her friend at her side, accompanying her all the while.

Harry looks to Francesca as they walk into town, hesitantly reaching between their swinging arms and brushing his hand against hers, the rush of electricity pulsing through his veins as their hands meet and her eyes reach his. Do it, Harry tells himself, pushing himself to reach an inch over and simply interlock their hands. Francesca smiles at him softly, turning her head to the road and following the pathway to the town center, adjusting her blouse quickly and smoothing out her skirt before returning her hand to its previous position, waiting rather impatiently for Harry to make the move.

Gathering his courage, Harry does so after what feels like hours – only it was minutes, more likely – interlocking their fingers and squeezing her hand gently as they walk further into town, the bustling of the community milling about the center and the shops making Francesca smile.

Normalcy. That’s what Cape Cod feels like. Normal.

“Have you got any idea of what you’d like to get for dinner? Your father sent us with money to settle us in until I have a job in town.”

“What will you be doing, Ha-,” Francesca catches her words mid-sentence and quickly recovers, “Edward?��

Harry smiles and squeezes her hand. This would take some getting used to, most certainly, “Likely, I’ll be a policeman.”

“That’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Being in World War One was dangerous, my dear,” he chuckles, shaking his head and encouraging her to walk forward. “I’ll be fine, Giovanna. You mustn’t worry about me. Worry about school and becoming a doctor. That’s most important. For your safety.”

“Fine,” she concedes reluctantly, her pulse quickening at the feeling of his thumb rubbing against her knuckles softly. Francesca is aware that Harry’s doing it to comfort her, to assure her that everything will be okay. Harry is all she has, right now, and the thought of him being hurt is terrifying. “As long as you’ll be safe.”

“Always.”

Harry and Francesca walk in silence for the rest of the short way to the town center, occasionally squeezing each other’s hands and assuring the other that they’re all right. Francesca’s eyes go wide at the sight of the town, the first moment that she’s really experienced being around other people where she’s safe in what feels like a lifetime. In New York, although everyone in her family and friends and the mafia would look out for her, there was always the lingering sense of danger and fear around her. Would today be the day? Would someone hurt her today? And in this moment, with her hand tucked in Harry’s, in the tiny town center of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, it feels as though no one could hurt her, no one could possibly do so.

“Have you got any ideas on that dinner, yet?” Harry wonders aloud, repeating his question and looking to where Francesca is standing beside him, her figure tucked tightly next to his. She squeezes his hand and smiles, nodding excitedly and hurrying into the grocer, immediately taking a basket from the entryway, and beginning to gather some items. Harry smiles to himself, blushing maybe, and thinks about the first moment he saw her.

The moment everything changed.

•·················•·················•

New York City, 1918.

Crisp air hits Harry’s face as he walks into the speakeasy on 11th Avenue, Landmark’s Tavern so he’s heard it’s called. It’s quite cold for November, the wind chilling his cheeks as he hurries inside and shrugs off his coat. His medals still hang around his neck, his pins from the war stuck to his lapel as he walks to the bar and orders a drink – bourbon, neat. He can feel eyes on him, and the feeling stirs panic inside his chest. His hand lays on his gun in his holster, and he walks further into the speakeasy, and relaxes slightly, laying eyes on the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Hair a deep brown color, curled and soft, her skin an olive shade that he’s only seen in the Mediterranean Sea. She mustn’t be more than eighteen, so much life inside of her and life to live. He swallows back his pride when a man steps up to her, his hand splaying over her lower back and kissing her cheek. Harry reasons to himself that they’re together, shaking his head and taking a sip of his drink, the familiar liquid coating his throat. He drank bourbon a lot overseas in the midst of the war, a way to combat the nightmares and the panic of not coming home. His mother was worried, his sister off with her husband and unaware of the fact that he’d gone off to war in the first place. His father had died of Influenza years before his departure, and he was left to care for the family in the only way he knew how – to work.

He takes a seat at the bar, staring longingly at the mysterious woman dancing happily on the floor. Her head adorns a crown of sorts, and he wonders what the occasion might be. Is this her wedding? Is this her engagement? The thought churns his stomach. He’s always been a jealous man.

“It’s Francesca’s eighteenth birthday,” says a man quite near to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Francesca,” Harry repeats slowly, the syllables dripping from his tongue like honey. That fits her, he thinks to himself, halfway smiling at the man who has now moved a seat over to be next to him.

“Francesca is my daughter. I’m Giuseppe Cartelli.” Harry nods behind his glass. He very well knows that name. Many of the soldiers talked about the Cartelli family overseas. The Cartelli Family is one of the most powerful mafia families in all of New York City, rivals of Al Capone, Giuseppe Cartelli is ruthless. “I assume you’ve heard of me.”

“Oh, maybe a time or two.”

“I’m in search of someone to be a guard of sorts for my daughter. In January, Francesca will be attending Columbia for school. Many, and I mean many, are after her, and I need someone that will lay their life on the line to protect her. Do you understand me?” Harry nods without saying a word. “Compensation will be generous, and your time is valuable, I will never take that for granted. I take it you’re an army man, yourself?” Harry nods again. “Know how to shoot?”

“Unfortunately, yes, sir.”

Giuseppe nods, clapping Harry’s shoulder excitedly and taking a sip of his drink before waving over the beautiful woman on the floor. “Frankie! Meet –”

“Harry Styles.”

Francesca Cartelli lends out her hand, smiling softly when Harry takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. Gentlemanly thing to do, she notes in her head for future reference. Handsome, for sure. Francesca smiles and locks his stare. Harry doesn’t move or release her hand.

“Harry Styles. He’ll be your, well, let’s call him your guardian angel, for now. Until you’re safe from everything. It’s best this way.”

Francesca reluctantly takes her hand away from Harry. “Okay, Daddy.”

Harry hesitates for a moment after this, swallows the rest of his bourbon, and then gathers his courage and says, “May I have a dance, Miss Cartelli?”

“Can you dance, Mr. Styles?”

Harry chuckles and nods, taking her hand once more and ushering her to the dance floor, the smooth jazz playing in the background a perfect tune to sway along to. He smiles brightly at her, admiring the way her features shine under the shimmering light fixtures. Her eyes are a honey brown shade, matching her hair, and the golden flecks that shine around her irises entrance him. Francesca doesn’t say a word for a moment or two, allowing Harry to simply take her in and admire her.

Francesca tightens her hand around Harry’s, her arm laid delicately over his shoulder as his hand splays across her lower back, his thumb rubbing her skin lightly. His eyes are beautiful, an emerald shade that dances beneath the moonlight, she’s sure of it. His lips are bright pink and plush, something she’s sure to remember for future reference. Quietly the singers perform behind them, their silence very much looked over by her father as he stares at them intently.

“My father has been scouring every soldier that comes into Landmark’s, tonight. Apparently, some very ruthless men want my head on a silver platter to serve to my father,” she says matter-of-factly, seemingly unphased by the thought of grown men wanting her dead. Maybe she’s used to this by now. Giuseppe Cartelli has been a boss in the Italian Mafia for nearly thirty years.

“I’m just another soldier, then, hm?” Harry says, quirking his eyebrows and twirling her beneath his arm, bringing her back to his chest with a halfway smile.

“I hope not, Harry,” Francesca confesses with a blush to her cheeks. “I must admit, I haven’t liked any of the other soldiers. They’re much too, how would I say this politely, brash, for me. You’re polite, though. Kind, I sense. You wouldn’t want to hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary. How did you ever make it out of the war alive?”

Harry nods to her observations and agrees, “By the skin of my teeth, Miss Cartelli.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” she corrects, shaking her head and giggling with the slight dip that he surprises her with, “Frankie is fine. Everyone calls me ‘Frankie’. Or Francesca if you’d like.”

“Francesca,” he says, the word coming off his tongue so smoothly it nearly makes her shiver. “Beautiful name.”

“My mother named me,” she smiles brightly, and he can tell the affection and the love she has for her mother without having to say another word. “Are you going to take the job, Harry? Of my minder, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t be your minder, Francesca. I would be there to make sure no harm ever comes of your way. I’d lay my life down for you.”

“More or less a minder.” Francesca smiles. “You’d lay your life down for a stranger? You didn’t even have to think about it? You don’t even know me.”

“It’s what a soldier does, Francesca. I protect those that can’t necessarily protect themselves.” Francesca’s face drops and Harry quickly recovers from his previous thoughts. “That and you, might I add, seem like a great friend to have. Great company to keep.”

“Oh, so we’re friends, now, hm?”

“That’s right. Friends.”

•·················•·················•

Grabbing the hefty basket from Francesca’s arms, Harry walks to the counter where an elderly woman is talking to what appears to be her spouse, as his hand is cupping her cheek and kissing her forehead before walking away to a different part of the shop. Harry lays his hand on Francesca’s lower back, nudging her a bit closer to him as they stand behind another woman, her body standing in front of his as they wait for the counter to clear. Francesca’s eyes widen at the sight of a golden band wrapped around his third finger, her gaze travelling between the wedding band and Harry’s eyes on her.

“Couldn’t be married to you if I didn’t have a band myself,” he says, a smirk playing on his features as her cheeks flush a different shade of red.

“I suppose you’re right, Edward,” she says, yawning tiredly and leaning into his chest, her eyes fluttering shut until they hear a ‘Next!’ called from behind the counter. “Hello. How are you doing, this afternoon?”

“I’m well, my dear, and yourself?” the elderly woman greets, a smile plastered on her face as she carefully writes every item in the basket and begins to mark how much they would owe at the end. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you new into town? I’m Rosemary Arthur. That’s my husband, David.”

Francesca smiles and steps forward, easing into her role and the story they’ve set for themselves, Harry easily follows suit and closes his mouth. “I’m Giovanna, and this is my husband, Edward. We’ve just moved in down the street. We’re at 12 Oak Street.”

“That’s the tiny cottage on the beach, Ro! Beautiful house. Perfect home to start in,” Mr. Arthur says from the assortments of fruits, sorting through the apples and taking the bruised ones into a basket to take away.

“Newlyweds, I presume,” Mrs. Arthur smiles, nodding towards their left hands and the way their rings sit perfectly on their fingers, not too tight, not too loose. “Have you got any children?”

“Oh no,” Francesca giggles without thinking, and when Mrs. Arthur’s face falls slightly, she quickly says, “Not yet at least. Our wedding was only a week ago.”

“How long was your engagement?” Mrs. Arthur asks nosily, the elderly woman turning to Harry for a moment and sharing the amount of the groceries. Harry pays her quietly, expecting her to ask Francesca the question. Mrs. Arthur’s eyebrows furrow together curiously when no one answers. “Edward?”

“My apologies, Mrs. Arthur,” Harry apologizes swiftly, his hands beginning to feel warm against Francesca’s back, his cheeks surely heating with embarrassment. “Our engagement was only six or so months.”

“Quickly married, then, yes?” Mr. Arthur says, a gravelly voice echoing through the tiny shop as he walks towards the front counter where they’re all congregated. “Must’ve been keen to get a ring on this lovely lady’s finger.”

Harry notices the blush on Francesca’s cheeks and smiles, encouraging the conversation by saying, “Look at her! A ring was a must! Otherwise, someone would’ve come right from under my nose. I very well couldn’t have that. I’m in love with her. I wouldn’t want to see her with anyone else.”

Francesca looks at Harry with wide eyes and sighs, her heart swelling in her chest against her will at the thought of someone going through this much trouble to protect her. Harry must love her to some capacity, shouldn’t he? He must feel some sort of affection for her, to be willing to go through such lengths to make sure she’s safe. Surely, Francesca feels something for him.

And what is it that she feels? Honestly, she’s not quite sure.

“My husband and I would love to hear the story of your engagement. Wouldn’t we, David?” Mrs. Arthur says suddenly, pulling Harry and Francesca from their gazes and back to reality. “It reminds him of when we were young, once.” Mrs. Arthur wraps their groceries in the basket and slides it over the counter for Francesca to take. “David’s engagement plan had fallen through four times before he could truly ask me to marry him. One thing after another kept getting in the way, but he never gave up on the idea of marrying me. He kept trying until I could say ‘yes’. I admired that about him. Quite obviously. Look at us, now. Forty some years later.”

“Of course, you liked it. My Ro loved the chase, way back when,” Mr. Arthur grins and continues, staring lovingly at his wife from behind the counter and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, kissing her head sweetly. “Mind telling us about your love story? That would truly make our day. Then, of course, you can be on your way. Surely you’re exhausted from a day of travel.”

“Of course,” Harry smiles politely, taking the basket from the counter and setting it on the ground by their feet. He takes Francesca’s hand and interlocks their fingers, squeezing her hand for comfort. “I met Giovanna when I was away for The Great War. Giovanna was given a soldier to write to, myself, and I was her writing accompaniment. Upon weeks of conversation, we had agreed to meet at the dock where I would be let off, where everyone’s family and friends would be greeting their loved ones. I was searching for her, and mistakenly, we had bumped into each other. It was love at first sight. Our affections for each other were much more than what I could have ever imagined, and we fell in love in a hurry. Our lives were forever changed by each other, and it couldn’t have been possible to love another person more than we loved each other. Granted, her father approved of me quickly, so it didn’t cause much trouble to be together. He knew that I would do anything to protect her, no matter the circumstance.”

Rosemary and David nod knowingly meanwhile Francesca looks at him curiously – it’s like he’s imagined this story before; as though, he’s envisioned what this version of their life could have been like.

“Giovanna’s favorite flower is a yellow tulip, she revealed to me one day in a letter, and so I took us to a garden in Upstate New York. Sunflowers and tulips and roses grow in large arrays of colors, and I knew that she’d fall in love with the sight. Our lunch was had in the middle of this field, and when she was walking through the yellow tulips, and I stopped her, took her hand, and asked for her hand in marriage. I said, ‘Marrying you would be the greatest honor I’d ever be fit to do.”

Francesca stares at Harry incredulously, swallowing thickly as tears well in her eyes. Harry knows that her favorite flower is a tulip? Rosemary and David coo at the faux newly married couple, thanking them for their story and wishing them a lifetime of happiness as Harry gathers the basket and squeezes Francesca’s hand to nod towards the exit. Harry bids the two a goodbye, Francesca leading the way out of the grocer quietly, unsure of what to say. Outside, the sun has begun to set, and the watch on Harry’s wrist reads, 6:31.

“Must be getting back for dinner, my dear,” Harry says softly, switching the basket in his hands and grabbing Francesca’s other hand, their fingers slotting through each other’s perfectly. “Given that we both have a busy day tomorrow, we can come back to the market in the evening and grab anything else we might need for the house.”

“Of course,” Francesca hums, too caught in her own thoughts to have anything to say. Harry notices this quickly and squeezes her hand reassuringly. “Yes?”

Harry peers down at her as they walk towards their house, her eyes cast on the pavement and her feet stepping lightly over every crevice in the walkway. Her silence is deafening. “Are you okay, Francesca?”

“I’m slightly confused, that’s all.”

“Confused?”

“How is it that I know nothing about you, Harry, and yet, you know everything about me?” she says without thinking twice, stopping in her tracks without questioning her bluntness and the clarity behind her words. “I want to know more. I want to be your friend. Not simply you as mine. That’s not right. Nor is it fair to you.”

Harry sighs and nods, squeezing her hand and encouraging her forward. “What do you want to know, Francesca?”

“Tell me about your family, about your life. Why did you choose to go to the war? Have you ever been in love? Do you wish you were still in New York with my father and our friends?”

Questions never bothered Harry, until they were questions that he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. How do you very well tell the person you’re in love with that you’re in love with them when it is strictly forbidden? How could you do that?

“My mother and father met in 1890. Mother fell in love with Father easily and Father was in the war, and it made sense to get married quickly. Mother would have been a housewife and Father a cook for the army, and everything was well and good. Mother had my sister, Jo, then she had me, and Father was in and out with the various wars and the army being sent around the nation after the Civil War. In 1903, Father fell sick with Influenza. He died shortly after, leaving me in charge of the estate and everything when I was old enough. That was honestly a bit much for me. I enlisted in the army to get away from my responsibilities. I was a coward, Francesca. I didn’t want to be responsible for my sister and my mother.” Harry doesn’t dare to look at Francesca’s face, for the fear of her disappointment cloaking her features. He couldn’t bear to have her be disappointed in him. “It was when I was in the war that I learnt what true bravery is, sacrificing yourself for another person. I came back alive, I was lucky. I promised myself I would do what it would take to protect my family and my friends.” He lets out a breath that he had been holding in his chest. “I met you that first night I came back from Europe.”

“Me?”

“It was your eighteenth birthday, Francesca. Giuseppe approached every man in the bar that was a soldier to see if you’d hit it off with any of us to be your guardian. I suppose I was your lucky match that night.”

“Ah yes, I remember that now. I remember it well. Daddy called you my guardian angel, so to speak. He was certainly right in that regard. I surely wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

Harry shivers at the thought. Francesca notices. “I don’t wish I was in New York with your father and our friends,” Harry answers honestly, reaching into his pocket and scrambling for the key to the house. “You are my friend. I would do anything to protect you. I know it feels as though you don’t know me, Francesca, but I promise that you do, that you will. I trust you. That is more for me to say than anything else.”

Francesca is pleased with these answers, with the glimpse of Harry’s past and present that she seems to have been given in this moment. And yet, there is one lingering question that is bothering her that she can’t seem to shake. “Have you ever been in love, Harry?”

Harry swallows thickly. Love is a touchy subject. “Yes.”

“Oh,” she says, jealousy beginning to swallow her whole. Jealousy of the sense that she has never had the opportunity to fall in love, to feel so deeply for someone that she would give her entire life for their safety, for their health, for their happiness. Given her situation, she may never be able to feel that, and for that, she’s jealous. “What’s it like? To love someone?”

“Consuming,” Harry says softly, firmly, opening the front door and gesturing for her to walk inside. “Love is all consuming, Francesca. It swallows you whole. Every moment that you are living, you are living for the other person and yourself. Happiness is no longer your own, you share it. It’s the most powerful magic that exists in the world because it is something so indescribable, that it may never make sense to the naked eye. Love is magical and lovely; it is every pleasantry known to man.” Harry stops for a moment and pauses, “Love, though, when it’s taken from you, is the most devastating. It takes your heart and pulls it in a million different directions. It shatters you and makes you whole again. Having loved and been in love is the greatest gift and the worst curse, as you will never know something so tender and great in all your years. Love is epic, Francesca. Epic and extraordinary.” Harry shuts the front door and locks it, walking into the bedroom with Francesca following behind closely.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Would you ever want to be in love, again?” Francesca furiously shakes her head and waves her hands in the air, excusing and apologizing for her own question. “I’m so sorry. I take it back. That was horribly rude and invasive of me. I shouldn’t have asked such a thing. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Harry carefully walks to where Francesca is standing and lays his hands on her shoulders, shaking his head with a smile and gently encouraging her to look at him. He says her name delicately, as though it’s a word that’s only meant to be spoken by the utmost holy of ordinances. “Francesca.”

“Yes?” she whispers in return.

“I already am.” Harry smiles softly, and nods his head, walking towards where their suitcases have been unpacked and their clothes are in the wardrobe. He walks towards the wooden fixture, grabbing his pajamas and walking out of the room, the bathroom door creaking shut behind him. Francesca sucks in the deepest breath her lungs can take, unsure of what to say.

Did Harry Styles just admit that he loves her? That he’s in love with her? Is that even possible? Does he realize what his words have quite possibly said?

On the edge of the bed, Francesca takes a seat, shaking her head and quite possibly contemplating running to the beach and sinking her feet in the water to feel something other than the heat that is rising through her skin. Her whole body is on fire with the thought, the thought of touching him, of kissing him, of feeling his skin on hers. Coursing through her veins is every temptation she has ever felt, every thought to kiss him, or tease or fall in love.

It’s Harry. She can’t. That’s strictly forbidden. Forbidden. Off limits. Father would have a field day and have his head on a silver platter. Gun to the brain. That would be a disaster.

“Bathroom is all yours,” Harry says, breaking her thoughts and smiling softly. He can see that she’s deep in thought, and the thought of it being about him makes his stomach churn with nervousness.

Harry understands why Francesca is so nervous. Hell, he’s nervous. Giuseppe would certainly kill him if he found out Harry was in love with Francesca. He is meant to protect her, not to be in love with her, especially not to want to have a relationship with her. Classic forbidden romance, only, this time, it is one that could never be possible. Not in this lifetime, anyways.

Harry watches as she walks into the bathroom and begins to pace around the bedroom, nervously wondering if he should have said such a thing to her. There’s no way that she’s in love with him. There’s simply no way. Her heart was set on a pretentious, all-too-classy, rich man in the city, with a life in a brownstone and children.

How could Harry give Francesca anything that she really wants?

Harry immediately stops pacing when Francesca enters the room, his heart sinking at the distraught look caught behind her eyes. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Francesca Giovanna Cartelli, what do you want out of life? Tell me what you want out of life, and I will do that for you. I will give you everything and anything. Just, tell me what that is.”

That’s the moment that she knows what to do. Grabbing Harry’s cheeks bravely, Francesca kisses him, pressing her mouth to his with conviction. Harry only takes a moment to gather his thoughts, to realize what is happening, before his hands are circling around her wrists and holding her hands to his cheeks. His eyes flutter shut with the feeling, the way her mouth feels on his, so pure and perfect, soft and delicate. Moments pass with the two simply basking in the way this feels, nothing moving beyond their lips on each other, the night passing through the open windows.

Minutes travel by before Francesca pulls away breathlessly, Harry’s hands holding hers against his face gently, his eyes a softened shade of green that she’s never seen before. Her thumb rubs his cheek, basking in the way he’s looking at her.

“What?”

“Why’d you do that?” Harry asks curiously, his voice barely above a whisper. This is forbidden, whether they be in New York City or hundreds of miles away. He shouldn’t be kissing her.

“Many reasons,” Francesca says boldly, her voice staying at the same volume of his. “Firstly, because if anyone ever proposed to me in the way you told Mr. and Mrs. Arthur, that would be the way I would say ‘yes’. In a heartbeat. Secondly, for sharing parts of yourself that you haven’t shared with anyone else. Thirdly, I want everything you can give me.”

Harry grins at that, a victorious feeling overwhelming him. “And the other reason, Miss Cartelli?”

“Well, that’s a reason for another day, Mr. Styles.”

Fourthly, Francesca thinks to herself, I’ve always wanted to do that.

Harry nods respectively, his eyes travelling between her eyes and the bridge of her nose and her mouth. “May I ask one thing before bed, Francesca?”

“Anything.”

“May I … Could we,” Harry hesitates between each sentence, unsure of what to say. How could he politely ask to kiss her again? And again? And again? Instead, Harry sucks in a deep breath and brings his mouth to hers, desperately praying that she’ll understand exactly what he’s saying. And when she kisses him back, when her lips move intricately against his, he knows that she understands. Harry smiles against her lips, not saying another word.

“Mhm,” she says instead, brushing her thumbs along his cheekbones sweetly before dragging her hands away regretfully, taking a step away from his chest before she’s tempted once more. “One day.”

“One day soon?”

“I sure hope so.”

Harry smiles widely, his cheeks indenting with a dimple that she’s never noticed before this as he turns on his heel and shuts the bedroom door, taking his gun from the dresser and laying it on the bedside table on his side, closest to the door. Harry watches intently as she releases the pins in her hair, gently brushing through the curls and tying the ribbons on her silk trousers. Her routine is so simple, so mundane, Harry wonders if there is a version of it with himself included, with a shared bath and a kiss goodnight. Harry wonders if he would ever be up to par with such a woman of class and poise, her innocence too pure to be ruined by his past. His curiosity has always gotten the better of him, of his mind, and in this moment, he reaches out and touches her shoulder, smiling beneath the moonlight as she stares at him with tired eyes.

“Francesca.”

“Yes?”

“You never answered my question.”

“I believe I kissed you instead,” she says with a giggle. “I thought that would suffice for what I wanted.”

Harry sighs peacefully and traces a heart along the back of her shoulder, “I suppose it does. For now.”

“Have you got any other questions for me, Mr. Styles?”

Harry sighs, “Have you ever thought about getting away from all of this, Francesca?”

Looking at him with confusion, unsure of where the conversation is heading or what it is about, Francesca ponders, “From what?”

“The Mafia, everything.”

“Of course, I have. Many times.”

“Do you detest being in it?” Harry does sometimes. Harry sometimes wishes he died in the war. Harry wishes these things until he realizes that he wouldn’t have met Francesca if any of the previous were to have happened. “Do you wish to have a different life?”

“No,” she says solemnly, thinking carefully about her answer. “I wouldn’t have met you if I wasn’t in it, right? I wouldn’t have met, quite possibly, the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Right.”

“I’m okay with running,” Francesca admits, settling beneath the duvet and laying her head on the pillow, her eyes looking up at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling around her brain. “I’m okay with running, so long as I have someone to run with.”

I’ll run with you, Harry wants to say, I’ll run with you until I can no longer feel my feet. “Understood,” he says instead.

“Have you begun to hate it yet, Harry?”

“Hating something would require me to not be happy with it,” he says, lowering himself to his pillow and laying back, not daring to look at her and succumb to the pressure of wanting to kiss her. “I’m also okay with running, especially when I’m running with a friend.”

Francesca smiles, once more for the day, turning onto her side and letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding for most of their conversation. Exhaling and taking a new breath, she shuts her eyes and whispers, “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Francesca.”

Under the shining moonlight, the two fall asleep peacefully, basking in the warmth radiating from each other and the way they feel, knowing that maybe, just maybe, their chance at true love is not long lost and forgotten.

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