#I’ll probably still do it after too but I’ll reblog them with my writing account and post some over there too

[slushi-chan]

Severen would jump/hop onto the bed making you bounce, his trademark Severen grin on his face.

He probably hops on and lands on his side, head propped up on his elbow looking at you.

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.4

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which the tour begins and though anakin is excited to be back on stage, he already misses having you there with him, and this results in him spending his last night with you by loving on you in every possible way.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 8.7k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“I think we’ve narrowed it down to three options,” Vinny tells Helena and sits next to her, his phone in his hand as he scrolls through the Instagram pages of each potential photographer. “How’d we do?”

Helena hummed as she scrolled through the pictures. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She teased as she paused on one of the pages. “What about this girl?”

Anakin leaned over and saw that she had the Instagram account named elizaphotography open. “She’s my first choice,” he announced before going back to writing down lyrics to a song that’s been stuck in his head all day. “I don’t know about the other guys.”

“Yeah, I liked her, as well,” Theo agrees. 

“Me too,” Helena says and hands Vinny back his phone. “So if she wasn’t your first choice, you’re outnumbered, Vin.”

Vinny scoffs as he shoves his phone into his pocket. “I chose her, too,” 

“Perfect, it��s settled,” Helena claps as she stands up. “I’ll arrange an agreement with her and get her signed onto the tour, which is two days away, if you weren’t aware.”

Anakin felt his heart skip a beat at that. 

Two more days with you at home, then another day stuck on the bus.

He really wanted you with him the whole time, but he also wasn’t about to go back on his words and ask you to give up a great career opportunity just so you can watch him from backstage. “We’re aware, thanks,” he mumbled and felt the eyes of all three of them stare at him, but he just continued writing lyrics that were quickly beginning to sound like a straight up love letter addressed to you. 

“Alright,” Helena says and Anakin misses the weary look she shares with the guys before backing away. “Just making sure. Get some good sleep these next couple of nights, guys. You’ve got a busy three months ahead of you.”

She leaves after that, and Anakin quickly begins to feel a bit bad, but he liked to think his harsh words were justified. “Hey, man,” Vinny says and places his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You okay?”

He nods, closing the book and standing up, giving his two friends an apologetic smile. “Yeah, I’m good,” he answers. “I think I’ll go home early today, if you guys don’t mind. I still need to pack a few things, and I’ll probably forget to do it later on.”

That sounded reasonable, right?

“Sure, man,” Theo says and stands up as well. “You go home, Vin and I will catch up with you in a bit.”

Vinny nods and gives him an over-exaggerated smile, successfully making Anakin laugh as he walks towards the door that Helena left through not even a minute earlier. “Thanks, guys,” he says, grateful that they seemed to understand him better than he thought they would. As he heads towards the exit, he takes his phone out of his pocket and dials your number, bringing the phone up to his ear as he waits for you to pick up. 

“Hi, Ani,” your way too kind voice greets him, and he felt better already. 

“Hi, princess,”

“What are you guys up to?” He could hear you rummaging around with something in the background, and he really wanted to be home with you right now. “Making more hit songs? Preferably about me?”

Your soft laugh met his ear and he refrained from groaning. “All our songs are about you,” he reminds you as he leaves the building the studio is in. “Perks of being the lead songwriter.”

You laugh again and he could picture your pretty smile without even trying to.

“But, no,” he answered. “I’m on my way home.”

“Oh,” you sounded surprised but also a bit happy at the news. “Early day today?”

“No, I just miss you,” and then he was once again picturing your small smile he knew was just for him.

-

“Are you sure you have everything?” You ask Anakin for the third time as he stuffs his headphones into his bag. 

“Yes,” he answers for the third time and turns to face you. “Do you have everything? Still have that email saved that proves you’re a student there and get to take advantage of the student housing on campus?”

“Yes,” you say and kiss his cheek. “Bye, bedroom. See you in three months.” 

You wave goodbye to yours and his room before heading towards the door, and he is convinced there is no one in the world who is cuter than you. 

After locking the door, Anakin takes your hand in his as the two of you make your way towards the elevators. The whole ride down, as well as the short walk to the side of the apartment building, he didn’t loosen his grip on you for a second. 

You weren’t complaining one bit, nor could you blame him for wanting to touch you as much as possible right now. You weren’t doing much better. 

After getting a drive to the airport you meet up with both the guys, who had arrived a bit earlier. 

“Hey, Y/n,” Theo smiled at you when you and Anakin approached the bag check area. They both already had their bags checked, so they were just waiting on the two of you. “Nice to see you.”

You smile at him as Vinny looks up from his place on the uncomfortable airport chair. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, especially after the torture you two put us through on the bus last time, but I’m glad you’re here,” he says and you laugh quietly. “This guy has been acting like a depressed teenage boy ever since you got accepted into that program. Been a real downer.” He points at Anakin with a smirk.

Laughing again, you press yourself against your boyfriend’s side as he glares at his friend. “Shut up, Vin,”

“Be nice,” you lightly slap his chest as he pulls you closer to him. “In all honesty, I haven’t been acting any better.”

Vinny nods. “Fair,” was all he said before he looked back down at his phone.

You lean up and kiss Anakin’s cheek, moving to pull away from him when he tugs you back against his side and kisses you properly. Stepping away with a laugh, you hold out your bag to him with a soft pout. “Get this checked for me?”

He takes it from you without question and kisses the side of your head before walking towards the screening section, leaving you to stand with Theo. 

“Hey, I’m not sure how much you wanted me to know, if at all, but Anakin told me about your mom,” you start and move closer to him. Theo tenses up at that and leans against the wall. “I’m really sorry to hear that she’s sick. How are you doing?”

He sighs and shrugs. “I don’t care that he told you, don’t worry,” he said. “I figured he would, so it’s fine. I’m fine, too.”

You nod, pursing your lips as you think about what to say next. It was clear that he wasn’t, but you weren’t about to call him out on it. That was Vinny’s thing. “Okay,” you murmur, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder. “If there is anything at all I can do, just let me know.”

Theo gives you a semi-forced smile as he nudges your side with his elbow. “Thanks, Y/n/n,” he mutters. “I’m good for now. Promise.”

“Okay,” you repeat and smile teasingly at him. “Are you ready for round two of tour life?”

He smiles, too, and gives you a hesitant nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he answered. 

“You’ll be great,” you assure him as Anakin walks back over to you. “You’ll all be great.”

“You’re sweet,” Vinny says as he stands up. “Far too nice for our boy Anakin here.”

Anakin gives him a blank look and you have to hold back a laugh. “Where’s your girlfriend, Vinny?” He asked as he laced his fingers with yours. “We’re going to be late.”

Vinny rolls his eyes and looks behind you. “Right there,” he replied as Clara rushed over to you after getting her bag checked. “Hey, babe.”

“Hi!” She says back, out of breath as she smiles at you. “I’m so sorry I took so long getting here. I had to order an Uber and the traffic was crazy.”

“You’re fine,” Anakin says as you all begin to walk towards the loading bridge. 

After giving the lady your tickets you were left to board the plane and sit for the next eleven hours. The whole ride there Anakin somehow managed to sleep peacefully with his head on your shoulder while you watched the entirety of the Scream franchise.

You ended up sleeping through most of the third one, but other than that, you didn’t get nearly as much sleep as Anakin did. He was a bit groggy because of it as the five of you made your way through the London airport. Helena was waiting for you when you made it outside, and the sight of the tour bus brought back so many memories from the last tour, it had your hand tightening around Anakin’s as he guided you towards it.

“Alright, guys,” Helena said excitedly as you all got onto the bus. “And girls. Are you ready for your show tomorrow night?” 

Theo tossed his bag onto the top bunk before sitting on the small couch that was next to the even smaller table. “So ready,” he answered with a certain amount of enthusiasm that gave away the fact that he was playing it up a bit. He was excited, sure, but he would rather be at home and helping his sister take care of his mom, but he knew what he was getting into when he joined this industry. 

It truly didn’t wait for anyone. 

“I was waiting for the day we got to go on tour again,” Vinny says as he heads towards the back of the bus and throws his bag onto the double bed. “Just didn’t realize it would come this quick.”

Helena nods as she sits down at the table. “This is all very fast-paced, I know,” she agreed. “How ‘bout you, Anakin? Are you ready?”

Anakin pulls you with him towards the bunk as he nods. “I’m ready,” he says and sets his bag down on the ground, turning to take yours from you and set it down as well. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to this one, though.”

You laugh as he pulls you against his chest. “‘This one’?”

“Yeah,” he states. “This one.”

Shaking your head, you look down at the bottom bunk. “We’re both supposed to fit in that bed?” You ask and he nods, looking over at the small bed as well. “Not sure how that’s going to work. Unless I sleep completely on top of you.”

Anakin smirks and slides his hands lower down your back, seeming to not care at all about the four other people around. Five if you counted the driver. “That’s the plan, baby,” 

You roll your eyes and push him away from you. “You’re such a guy,”

He laughs loudly as he moves to lay down on the bottom bunk, his hand finding yours as he tugs you down as well. “C’mere,” he mumbles. “Let’s see if we fit.”

You huff as you move to lay on top of him, his hands finding their home on your hips almost instantly. “Wow, would you look at that,” you mutter as you settle against him. “We fit.”

Anakin hums, kissing your lips quickly. “It’s you and me,” he points out. “Of course we fit.”

You smile and kiss him again before moving to rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Does this remind you of anything?” He asks as he runs his hands up and down your back.

“Us,” you answer. “Circa…..less than six months ago?”

“Feels like it was yesterday,” he grins. “It also reminds me of when you and I fell asleep on the upstairs couch at my parents house after we threw that graduation party.”

“Oh, my God,” you whine, burying your face against his neck. “Your mom was so mad about that. She came home and the house was a mess.”

“Hey, she said she wouldn’t be back for another three days. I would’ve had plenty of time to clean it up had she stuck to her word,”

“We would’ve,” you pointed out, brushing your nose along his jawline. “I love you, Ani, but we both know you’re awful at cleaning.”

“True,” he agreed. “But that didn’t stop my mom from sending you home and making me clean the entire house by myself while I nursed a hangover.”

You laugh and move to lay half on top of him and half on the small amount of space left on the bed. “It feels like it’s been years since we were in high school,” you admit quietly as Theo and Helena fell into a hushed conversation. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what Vinny and Clara were up to. 

Anakin hummed and you felt the vibrations of it against the side of your face. “It has been years,” he mumbled, his voice giving away the fact that he was tired, despite sleeping for most of the flight. “It’s been almost three since we graduated.”

“I know, but it feels like it’s been way longer than that,” you murmur, tracing the tip of your index finger along the various shapes on his shirt. “Maybe it’s just me. I feel like I haven’t slowed down in so long. It’s been one thing after the other since we finished high school.”

He hums again, turning on his side and draping his arm over your waist. “I know,” he says quietly. “I’m to blame for most of it, I know that. I’m sorry it’s been crazy ever since the guys and I released that first song.” 

You shake your head and press your body against his. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Ani,” you promise, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “I’m just hoping we get some time to ourselves after this. Is that selfish to want? Considering we’ve been spending almost all of our time together since we were seventeen?” 

He shakes his head this time and pulls you closer to him. “No,” he states. “It’s not selfish, baby, because I want it, too.”

You smile up at him, wondering how he was able to assure you so easily with the simplest of words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I want to spend days on end with you in our apartment, in our bed, and not have to worry about anything else all day long.”

You groan and the sound goes straight to his dick, but he did his best to push away the dirty thoughts about you in his head. While you and he weren’t very quiet last time on tour, you also had a whole part of the bus to yourselves, and fucking you on the bottom bunk while Theo slept above him was a bit much, even for him.

“Sounds perfect,” you practically moan and Anakin really had to put in the effort to stop the blood from rushing to the lower part of his body. 

“You should try to sleep,” he changed the subject in an attempt to stop himself from thinking about all the ways he could take you right now. “I know you barely slept on the plane.”

You huff out a laugh, settling against him. “You did enough of that for the both of us, don’t you think?”

He smirked. “That’s the best sleep I’ve gotten while not in an actual bed,” he argued but you just shook your head. “It’s late, pretty girl, and we’ve got a long day tomorrow. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll sleep in a bit,” you say and rest your head on his chest. “Right now I just want to lay with you.”

And Anakin would never complain about laying with you for as long as you wanted, because it was something he wanted, too.

So, he stayed in the bunk with you for a couple of hours before you both changed into more comfortable clothing, and then you were right back in the bed together. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to sleep in this bed by myself once you’re gone,” he confessed quietly, not wanting to wake up his sleeping bandmates. “Now that I know we fit perfectly together on it, it’ll be hard to get used to not having you in my arms.”

“Easy,” you warned just as quietly. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll end up staying with you instead of doing this program.”

“Maybe that’s my plan,” he joked, but he quickly realized how serious his words actually are. You didn’t need to know that, though. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

You nod, kissing his neck and closing your eyes. “I know. And I’m proud of you, too. And I love you,”

His lips found yours in the dark bus, and he kissed you more than a few times before pulling your body right up against his. “I love you,” he swore, wrapping his arms securely around you and feeling the way you relaxed completely against him as you fell asleep. 

-

“Hi,” an unfamiliar voice said from behind Anakin. He turned around and looked up from his crouched position as he tuned the string of his guitar, his eyes meeting ones of a girl he’s never seen before. 

There were a few hours left before he was set to go out on stage, and he was currently going over the standard soundchecks backstage. 

“Hi,” he trailed off, trying to think of where he could’ve seen this girl, because it was clear that she was here for a reason, and it seemed like she knew him. 

“Oh, right, sorry,” she laughed, lifting her hand revealing an expensive looking camera. “I guess since there aren’t any photos of me on my Instagram, you wouldn’t have recognized me from anywhere. I’m Liz, your band’s new photographer.”

She held her hand out to him and Anakin straightened up a bit but stayed in his knelt position. “Oh, hey,” he greets in a much more friendly tone. He shook her hand briefly before going back to working on his guitar. “Yeah, I had no idea what you looked like, just what your Instagram shows. Your pictures are good.”

Liz’s face tints pink a bit as she holds up her camera. “Thank you,” she smiles. “I can’t wait to start taking some for you and your band.”

Anakin laughs as he glances up at her. “I wouldn’t call it my band,” he brushes off her words. “We’re a team.”

“You’re the lead singer and lead songwriter, right?” She smirks as she plays with the settings on the camera. When Anakin hesitantly nods, her smirk grows. “So it’s your band.”

“Not really,” he tries again but shuts up when she brings the camera up to her face.

“Mind if I get some behind the scenes pictures of you?”

Anakin looks down at his ripped tee and worn jeans with a frown. “I look kinda bad right now,”

Liz scoffs. “You look hot,” she grins when he looks up at her. “You’re in your element. The fans will go crazy for it. They want to see you in a natural setting, one where you’re not trying to look good but somehow managed to anyway.”

“Right,” he laughed. “If you say so.”

“You know I’m right. Now smile,” he did as he was told and waited until Liz had taken at least ten photos of him before turning away and focusing on the strings of his guitar. “Thanks. I’ll see you later...in action.”

When he heard her begin to walk away, Anakin lifted his gaze again and watched as she wandered off towards the exit. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite place his finger on, but it was weird. He knew that much. 

But he also didn’t want to judge her after one interaction with her.

Shaking his head, he goes back to tuning the strings and takes another ten or so minutes doing that before setting it aside and pulling out his phone. When he opened his Instagram app, he was met with the picture Liz had just taken of him not too long ago. 

It was already edited to make it look a bit more HD and vibrant, and he wondered how she had managed to do that and post it so quickly. It was captioned ‘One of many to come. Here’s a sneak peak of Anakin before tonight’s show in Manchester! I’m beyond excited to go on this journey with you.’, and she had tagged both his account and the band’s. 

It already had over fifteen thousand likes, and after scrolling through her other posts, he realized that the simple picture of him was her most popular upload already. He couldn’t lie, she was quite talented, and if her posting him was what got her stuff out there, he was more than okay with that. 

Still looking at his phone, he missed the way the door to the parking lot opened and how you quickly made your way over to him. “Ani,” you call and he looks up instantly, rising to stand just as you throw yourself into his arms. 

You kissed him before he could say anything, and he was helpless in fighting off the smile that took over his lips. “Baby,”

You grin at him. “I saw that picture your photographer posted,” you tell him and Anakin could immediately hear the way your voice changed into one he’s heard you speak in way too many times to count. “You looked so hot, I had to come see you for myself.” 

He laughed, holding your waist with both hands. “She’s quick with it, huh? I guess we made the right choice,”

You nod and kiss him again. “So you’ve met her? Officially?” You ask and he nods, running his hands up and down your sides. “Damn, I wanted to meet her before tonight, too.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to talk to her before the show,” he offered as he leaned down and kissed your neck. “You look so pretty.”

You scoff and glance down at the simple white dress you wore, the contrast to his fully black outfit and how different your styles were more evident than ever. “Please,” you laugh. “I don’t even have my makeup done. I was in the middle of it when I saw the post and had to run across the parking lot to come see you.”

“Ah,” he hums, pulling back with a smirk. “So that’s why you’re all hot and bothered.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, glancing around the backstage area before shamelessly gripping the front of his jeans. “You’re why I’m all hot and bothered.”

“Y/n,” he warned as he looked over to see a bunch of the stage crew members scurry around in an attempt to get things ready for the show. “Don’t make me take you right back to that tour bus when I’m supposed to be getting ready for the show.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you tease back, pulling your hand away. “I gotta finish getting ready, and so do you. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He nods, grabbing your hand when you begin to move away from him and pulling you back in for a deep kiss. “See you soon,”

And then you were on your way with a shy smile on your lips, and he was left with a semi hard-on as he helped get the stage set up. It wasn’t part of his job, and there were professionals there to do it for him, but he needed the distraction to help rid him of your effects on him. 

Since you were now in London, Anakin had gone out of his way to book a hotel room for tonight so he can spend his last night with you alone and in an actual bed. Your dorm was about an hour away from tonight’s venue, so you came up with the plan to catch a ride the rest of the way tomorrow morning while Anakin left for the rest of the tour. 

The fact that he had less than twenty four hours left with you did the trick and he was no longer sporting a semi.

Hours go by and it’s finally time for him to go back on stage for the first time since the last tour. Yeah, it was only a few months ago, but Anakin couldn’t deny how much he missed performing. And he couldn’t deny how much he loved seeing you in your personal spot backstage. 

Before he joined the other guys on stage, he stopped next to you with his guitar strap around his body. He pulled you towards him and kissed you hard, grinning when you pulled back and murmured, “Have a good show, Ani,”

That was all he needed to hear as he made his way out on stage, and the loud cheers of the fans had both of you smiling. 

You stand next to Clara as Vinny introduces the band from his place behind the drumkit, and she was as antsy as you were the first time you saw them on stage. 

A flash goes off next to you and you turn, noticing a girl in her late twenties holding up a camera and taking pictures of the guys in various angles. “Hey,” you call out over the beginning chords of Dirty Little Secret. The girl looks over at you with an unreadable expression, making your smile drop a bit. “You’re Liz, right?”

“That’s right,” she yells back, stepping towards you with a small smirk. “And you are…?”

You furrow your brows, assuming she already knew who you were since she was told to look into the band she would be working with, and you weren’t exactly missing from Anakin’s Instagram. He only had two posts now, the one with you, and the shirtless picture of him from the SLACKERS shoot. He posted that one mainly for you, since you so sweetly asked him to. 

“I’m Y/n,” you say and nod towards your boyfriend. “Anakin’s girlfriend.”

“Right,” she dragged the word out as she lifted the camera again. “I knew you looked familiar. Saw you on his Instagram. You guys are cute.”

The way she said that had you narrowing your eyes as she moved past you and towards the stairs that lead to the mosh pit. She didn’t give you the chance to respond, but she was also technically working, so you didn’t really get too annoyed. 

You turn back towards the stage and heat up at the thin layer of sweat that had already settled on Anakin’s skin. His outfit was simple; black jeans, a vintage tee and black converse, but fuck did it get you going. 

As he sang the song he wrote way back when the two of you first got together, you had to stop yourself from moaning out loud at how good your boyfriend looks. Realistically, no one would hear you if you were to slip up and moan, but you also didn’t want to take that chance. A bit hypocritical since you used to receive a lot of dirty looks back on campus after spending hours on end with Anakin in bed, but you couldn’t be blamed. Anakin was beyond attractive, and those walls were far too thin. 

Even though you had pretty much the best view, you were still excited to see the HD pictures Liz took once the show was over. She seemed relatively nice and career focused, and you could only assume that the two of you would get along. Sure, you wouldn’t see much of her since this is your last day on the tour and this is her first, but the potential of a possible friendship forming between you was definitely there. 

The show went on for nearly two hours before the guys were bidding their London fans a goodbye and leaving the stage, all three of them pumped up on adrenaline. Vinny is pretty much all over Clara, and Anakin is no better. After handing off his guitar, his hands find your hips and he pulls you against his sweat coated body. 

You didn’t mind at all, and you were actually having a hard time resisting poking your tongue out and licking a line up his neck. “You guys were amazing,” was all you managed to get out before his lips were on yours. He pressed you against the recently unplugged speaker, his hands bunching up the fabric of your flimsy blue dress. “Ani.”

“I love that sound,” he muttered, kissing you again. “I love this color on you, too. This dress is so pretty, baby.”

You hold back a moan and tangle your hands in his hair. “Anakin,” you said breathlessly. “Let’s get out of here, please?” 

He groaned, kissing along your exposed shoulder. “Let’s go find out how this dress looks on the hotel room floor,” he suggested, pulling away and taking your hand in his as he led you towards the exit. 

The hotel was a short five minute drive away from the venue, so Anakin just flagged down a cab after grabbing your things and his bag. On the ride there, he sent a quick text to the guys and Helena that told them he would meet up with them the following morning at whatever place they decided to station the bus at for the night. 

Then he was pulling you along with him as he took the room key from the lady at the front desk. He barely had the door labeled 306 shut fully before he was pressing you right up against it, his mouth covering yours and his hands gripping the backs of your thighs after you both dropped your bags. “Anakin,” you gasp quietly as he lifts you up. “Please.”

He hummed into the kiss, only breaking it to murmur, “We’re going to take our time tonight, princess,” he rasped, sliding his hands under your dress and gripping your ass. “I’m going to make you feel so good for hours.”

“Ani,” you whined against his mouth, holding onto his hair as he pulls you away from the door and moves towards the bed. You moan as his hands knead your soft skin before he sets you down on the floor just in front of the bed. “I need you.” 

“I need you, too,” he says back, kissing along your shoulders and pushing down the straps of your dress. “I always need you. Remember that, princess.”

You nod as he slides your dress down your body and lets it fall to the floor. When his hands grip your thighs again, you jump up and wrap your legs around his waist and kiss him, clinging onto him as he lays you down on the bed. 

It was nearing midnight, and even though you both have an early day ahead of you tomorrow, the fact that this was your last night together before being separated was hanging heavily at the front of your minds.  

Anakin kissed all along your neck and shoulders as if he was trying to burn the feeling of you into his mind. He was savoring the feeling of your soft skin against his lips as if this was the last time he’d ever experience you, but he knew that was far from the truth. 

You are undeniably and completely his, much like how he is yours. 

“You’re so good to me, Ani,” you praise as he kisses down your body, his fingers gently kneading you through your bra. “I don’t deserve you.”

He shook his head as he pressed a kiss to your hip. “You’ve got it wrong, pretty girl,” he said, running his nose along your pretty pink and lacy panties. “I don’t deserve you. I’ve done nothing in my life that has ever made me deserve you.”

You pout. “You write songs about me,”

“Yeah, but that began happening after I met you. Before I was just a dumb band geek who could hardly keep up with the rest of them,” 

Your mind goes back to the early days of yours and his relationship, back when you were part of the school’s book club and he was part of the school’s band. Realistically, the two of you should have never met because you were so different from one another, but you were beyond glad that you did.

You were sure there was no better person for you than Anakin Skywalker, and you didn’t want the chance to even try to prove yourself right. 

“Look at you now,” you grin. “You’re living out your dream. And you were never dumb.”

Anakin laughed as he kissed your inner thigh. “Maybe not, but you were always a hell of a lot smarter than me,” he pointed out and traced the lining of your bra with his index finger. “And it’s only a dream because you’re right here with me.”

Your face heats up and you bite down hard on your lip, his words sending a jolt of need through your body. 

His hands gently tug the lace down your legs and drop them to the floor, his mouth moving to wrap around your bundle of nerves. You grab his left hand and tangle your fingers together, bringing your joined hands up to your lips and pressing a kiss to the bumpy skin of his newest tattoo for you.  

You place his hand on your chest and he gets the hint immediately, curling his fingers and stroking your nipple through the thin material of your bra as he licks a stripe up your folds. 

“Anakin,” you whine, trying to close your legs but he was relentless as he pushed them back down. “I want you.”

He lifts his head, his mouth glistensing from both his spit and your juices. “I want you, too, pretty girl,” he promised, using his free hand to fuck his middle and index finger into you. “But we’re going slow tonight, the way we both need it.”

You whine again as his mouth returns to your clit, his tongue tracing the letters of his name onto it in time with the thrusts of his hand. Your hand tangles in his hair while your other one fumbles with the clasp of your bra. Once you pull it from your body, Anakin’s fingers go right back to pinching and pulling at your hardening peaks, the feeling of it only making the fucks of his hand that much more intense. 

“Are you going to get me off with your mouth, Ani?” You ask so innocently, despite you literally asking if he was going to make you come with just his tongue and fingers. 

He groaned against your core, the vibrations traveling right up your body and making you squirm a bit. “Yeah, princess,” he answered, slowly fucking his digits in and out of you. “I’m gonna get you off with my mouth.”

You moan loudly and arch your back a bit, placing your hand over his in a tight grip. “Fuck,” 

He smirked and brought his tongue back to your folds, where he fucked you with it right alongside his fingers. “You want it?” He teased, unable to stop himself from getting you to say more and more filthy things that always sounded so sweet coming from you. 

And, of course, you give in to him without any hesitation. “I want it,”

“Let me taste you, pretty girl,” he nearly begged and roughly thrusted his hand. “All over my tongue.”

He sunk the wet muscle into your core and thrusted it a few times. That was really all you needed as your stomach tightened and your back arched. “Ani, oh, God,” you cry out as the knot that had been quickly building up snaps and unravels. 

Anakin greedily cleans up any evidence of your release, slowing down the sharp fucks of his fingers before pulling them out of you completely. He sits back on his knees as he sucks the digits into his mouth, all while keeping eye contact with you. 

Your eyes are blown wide as you watch him pop his fingers out of his mouth before he moves onto ridding himself of his shirt. His bare chest next to his ink covered arm had your mind blanking for a second or two as you were hit with an overwhelming feeling of need for the man in front of you. 

His hand slides up your leg and bends it at the knee, using very little strength to pry your thighs apart so he can stare at your sopping entrance. You writhe and bite down hard on your lip, and his smirk makes your heartbeat quicken. “Move back, princess,” he demands in a deep voice and you oblige right away.

You move back and lean against the ridiculous amount of pillows that were propped against the headboard. Your hands tug on his jeans as you whine quietly, your mind a lust-filled mess at this point. “Take them off,” you beg and he laughs. 

He unzips the black material and kicks them off his legs. They join the growing pile on the floor as he hovers over you and grunts at the way you grab his hand and suck his thumb into your mouth. “You’re so hot,” he muttered as he settled between your legs. 

“Don’t talk to me about who’s hot when you’re literally the most attractive man on the entire planet,” you say and pull him down on top of you. 

Anakin laughs again and grinds his still clothed front against your bare one. “You always know just what to say to make me feel special, baby,” 

You lean in and kiss him hard, tugging on his hair as you did so. “You are special,” you mumble and kiss along his jawline. “Don’t ever forget that.”

He hummed and moved his head down to suck another mark onto your shoulder, wanting all of the guys in your program to see that you were taken and that they shouldn’t even bother wasting their time. “I want you,” he rasped, kissing you again and noisily pulling away. “Are you ready for me?”

“Always,” you answer without hesitation. 

He grins and kisses you again while you take it upon yourself to rid him of his boxer briefs. Your previous release made it easy for him to slide into your core, and the two of you share a moan as he pulls away from the kiss. “Fuck,” he groaned and pressed his head against the side of your neck. 

You were still a bit sensitive, but you were also far too gone to wait any longer. Tangling your hands in his hair, you tug at the slightly long strands as he pulls out halfway before sinking back into you. “Ani,” you whimper as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“I know, baby,” he mumbles and peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders as he begins thrusting into you at a slow pace. He was painfully hard and his body was begging him to go fast, but he didn’t want this night with you to end anytime soon. “You feel so good.”

Like always.

Your sweet moans sound throughout the hotel room as he slowly and sharply fucked into you. Your walls took every inch of him greedily, and the tightness of them had Anakin grunting quietly under his breath. 

Wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, you bring your mouth to his in a surprisingly delicate kiss, despite the current circumstances. Your lips mesh together as his hips meet yours at a slow pace, swapping out the quick fucks you’ve shared since moving into the new apartment together. 

While it was always intimate and personal with Anakin, and it was amazing every single time, on the rare occasion he took his time and touched every single part of you….you never felt more loved, wanted and needed. 

He breaks the kiss and moves his mouth to your neck, where he kisses every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his back to push him even deeper into you. He lifts one hand and pushes away the hair from your forehead that had gotten messy from your previous actions, his fingers running down the side of your face and resting on the curve of your jaw. 

How he was so gentle in one way while absolutely destroying you in another was sending your mind into a frenzy. 

He told you from day one that he would always take care of you, and that meant in and out of bed, and he was never one to break a promise, especially one he made to you. 

He made you feel so good all the time, and right now was one of those times you truly felt connected to him. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he praised quietly, and his sweet praises always made you a blushing mess for him. 

Usually he loved to get you loud, which ultimately resulted in him fucking you hard and quick into the bed, but nothing turned him on like when he took you nice and slow. 

The intense feeling of your walls hugging every inch of him had him going crazy. He had no idea how he was supposed to go weeks without you, and not even in this way. Five years is a long time with someone, and he had never gone more than a few days without you. 

He was going to miss you more than he’s ever missed anything else, but the thought of finally settling down with you after this was over is what he is holding onto. 

He didn’t care that you were both still so young. He wanted you forever, and he wanted everyone to know it. 

As soon as the tour was over, he was going to ask you the question he’s been waiting to ask you since a month into your relationship. 

“Ani,” you whimper, tugging on his hair as he brought you closer and closer to your release with the slow fucks of his hips. “I love you.”

Anakin lifts his head and kisses you deeply, his thrusts stuttering a bit as you clench down around him. He kisses you a couple more times, cradling the back of your head in one hand while his other finds yours, where he laces your fingers together. 

He held you as if you were the most pure and fragile thing he had ever seen, and your already dizzy head swooned further. “I love you, princess,” he rasped, kissing you again as he fucked into you a bit harder but at the same pace. “My pretty girl. I love you so much.”

Though he was going slow, you felt your release quickly approaching. He was so sweet and your emotions were getting the better of you, and you moan against his mouth as you hug him close. “Anakin,” you practically whisper as you tug on his hair. 

He hummed and kissed along your jaw, pausing by your ear so he could murmur, “Come for me, pretty girl,” 

And you do. 

You cling to him impossibly tight as you come for the second time with Anakin mumbling soft praises to you. 

The warmth that flooded around him spurred his own release, and Anakin groans and curses under his breath as your walls suck him in deeper. “Good girl,” he says quietly as he moves to lay next to you. He pulls you into his arms and kisses all over your face as he tangles his legs with yours. “You always take me so well.”

You grin up at him. “Well, I was made for you,” you joke, but both of you believe that your words were true. It really did feel like you were made for each other. 

Anakin laughed and kissed your forehead. “You’re not wrong,” he agreed and ran his fingers up and down your back as you both tried to get your breathing back to normal. 

You lay together in a comfortable silence, your hand resting on his chest as you tried to forget about the fact that you really only had a few hours left with him. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you meet his eyes and match his grin. “We should probably get some sleep soon. We have an early morning,”

He nodded, gently grabbing your left hand. “We should,” he says as he kisses your tattoo of his initial. “But I’d rather be tired tomorrow than waste our time together by sleeping.”

Your smile grows as he pulls you closer to him. “What did you have in mind, then? If you don’t want to go to sleep?”

Anakin hummed in pretend thought as he grabbed the back of your thigh and placed it over his. “I remember saying that I would make you feel good for hours,” he recalled and your face heated up as your hand tangled in his hair again. 

“I think I remember you saying something like that, too,” 

-

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Anakin mumbles against your lips as he holds your body impossibly close to his. 

“I miss you already,” you quietly confess as you pressed your head against his shoulder. “But it’s only three months. And I’ll come see you when it’s our anniversary. And your birthday is coming up, too, and I’m not missing that.”

He kissed the top of your head, the cool air blowing your hair around a bit. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that,”

You smile up at him with tears in your eyes and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you right now if he tried. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss, one that reminded him of the first ever one he shared with you, back when he was an inexperienced teen. 

He didn’t want this moment to end, nor did he want to go back onto that bus without you, but it was nearing the time he was supposed to meet back up with the guys so they can make it to the next location in time. 

Anakin pulled you closer just as his phone went off, and he knew who it was without even checking it. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the text before looking back at you. “It’s Vinny,” he says quietly. “I’ve gotta go.”

You nod and take his hand in yours. “I love you,” 

He kisses your forehead and squeezes your fingers in between his. “I love you so much, pretty girl,” 

You sniff quietly and step away from him. “Have fun, Ani,” you request in a whisper. “And don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

He would always worry about you for as long as he lived, and you knew that. He was actually very worried about you living in London on your own while he was off with two of his closest friends, but he didn’t want to make you any more nervous about it than you already are. “I know you will,” he smiled sadly. “I’m so proud of you. You’ll do amazing.”

Anakin grabbed his bag and moved towards the cab that had been waiting for him for the past ten minutes, and if Anakin hadn’t already told the guy that he’d tip him extra for waiting, he was sure he would’ve left by now. 

“Keep me updated,” he nearly begged as he opened the backseat door. “I want to hear about everything, okay?”

You nod and wipe under your eyes. “I will,” you promised, dreading having to go back to your hotel room to get ready to move into your temporary dorm. “Text me after every show, please?”

“You know I will,” he grinned then softened his gaze as more tears fell from your eyes. “We can handle three months, princess. That’s nothing when I know it’s you who I’m coming back to.” 

You smile with a laugh. “I’ll see you soon,” 

He refrained from going back over to you and taking you into his arms as he knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to let you go again. “I’ll see you soon, baby,” he agreed and threw his bag into the backseat. “I love you.”

“I love you,” 

And then he was gone, and you were left alone on the sidewalk.

-

“Hey, good to have you back, man,” Vinny greeted as Anakin stumbled his way onto the bus. “How are you doing?”

Anakin laughed as he set his bag down onto the floor before laying down on the couch. He wasn’t ready to get into his bunk since the last time he was in it he was with you. “I’m fucked,” he admitted and rubbed his face. “I miss her already.”

Vinny nodded from his place at the small table. “You’ll be fine. Both of you will be fine,” he assured Anakin as he scrolled through his phone. “Hey, did Liz send you those pics from last night?”

Anakin furrowed his brows as he pulled out his phone. “I don’t know, I’ve barely used my phone today,”

“Check your email,” Vinny suggested as he leaned back against the chair. 

Scrolling through various emails and spam alerts, Anakin came to the conclusion that Liz hadn’t sent him anything. “I don’t see them,” he muttered as he looked one last time. 

“Really? Weird,” Vinny mumbled. “She sent them to Theo and I.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes as he opened his Instagram app to see if she posted them onto her account. It was then when he saw that she had messaged him on it, and he clicked on the chat without thinking much of it. 

Liz had actually sent him the pictures, but through Instagram DM’s and not through email like she did for the other guys. He scrolled through the multitude of photos with a small smile on his lips that quickly disappeared as he read the message she sent with them.

Here are the shots from London! Gotta admit, you look good on camera, but even better off ;) Can’t wait for the other locations! See you tomorrow night. 

He read it over a few times before glancing up at Vinny. “Hey, Vin?” He called, hearing his friend hum in response. “Did Liz say anything in her email? Or did she just send the pictures?”

Vinny looked in thought for a second. “Did she say anything? Like what?”

“I don’t know, like….flirty?” Was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell if that’s what it was or if that was just her personality.

“No,” Vinny laughed, suddenly giving him his full attention. “Why? She sent you something flirty?”

Anakin shrugged as he skimmed over the message again. “No, but she seems kinda….forward,” 

“That’s good, no?” Vinny asked as he stood up. “I take it she did send the pictures to you, then?”

“Yeah, through Instagram,”

Vinny looked a tad confused as he stared down at Anakin. “That’s a weird way to get them to you, but at least you have them now,” he offered before wandering off towards the back of the bus. 

“Yeah,” Anakin trailed off, knowing that Vinny wouldn’t have been able to hear him. He wasn’t sure how to respond to Liz, and debated on whether or not he should even respond at all if she was actually flirting with him, but then decided that he must be a bit sensitive to everything at the moment since he was already hundreds of miles away from you, and he missed you a lot.

So, he typed out a “Thanks, they look awesome,” and topped it off with a thumbs up emoji before pocketing his phone and burying his face against the armrest of the couch.

[idontunderstandchemistry]

Uncomfortable - Tim Drake (3/3)

Summary: [...] "Are you saying you are afraid of me?" "I wouldn't say afraid" Dick said, trying to sound casual "It's just the way you've been talking about everything these days. It makes everyone feel..." "Uncomfortable?" Tim asked, with a bitter grin, finally turning towards Dick "The probable consequences of what you all say and do to me make you uncomfortable, Dick?" [...] Extremely hurt Tim Drake living out of coffee and spite.

Wordcount: 2569

Content Warning: Fear Toxin effects; distorted views of reality; swearing; self harm; failed suicide attempt, non-lethal firegun use.

Notes: So... last planned chapter. Maybe I'll write an epilogue about what happens after the events of this chapter, please let me know if you guys would like that. Enjoy!

Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated ❣️

Taglist: @a-night-2-remember @ur--mommy @siminnmsis @neobreakmyback @iceandfireblog

Part 1 - Part 2

My Ao3 account

CHAPTER 3 - THE BOOK

Red Robin must have known this would happen. He just couldn’t ever have guessed that Scarecrow’s fear toxin would feel like fifteen cans of Monster injected directly in his veins, especially since he was severely sleep deprived. If his mind was still rational, he wouldn’t have run away, but the moment he saw the shiny edge of the antidote syringe coming in his direction on Red Hood’s hand, he couldn’t avoid kicking the hooded man between his legs and running. 

The motherfucker was built like a fucking wardrobe, he certainly could outspeed him with a little effort. Well, he did. He wouldn’t ever allow Jason with any sharp object near him again. 

To be honest, it was actually very stupid of Bruce to pair him with Jason on patrol. Tim would never trust a 6’4’’ killing machine full of pit madness and with a history of trying to murder him. Of course, recently Jason wouldn’t hurt a fly and wouldn’t do anything but smoke during patrol, but Tim was ‘safe asleep’ the first time Jason tried anything. Better safe than sorry. 

Running down some dark streets of the narrows, his heartbeat resembled a movie he saw the other day to keep himself awake. Something about war, probably about Iraq or something, he couldn’t really pay attention to it. However, the bullet sounds and his heartbeat was in the same rhythm.

Non-stopping.

Nervous.

Maniac.

Feral.

He could almost smell the blood. That was when he hid in a dark alley and looked at his hands. Covered in broken glass like sprinkles on a milkshake. He didn’t remember falling or breaking any glass, but maybe this was when he grabbed the syringe from Jason’s hand and ran away. Maybe he broke it with his grip.

— There you are… — The voice of the kid echoed on the alley, reverberating on Tim’s eardrums — What the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you simply be gone? We’ve been trying to get rid of you for the past few years! Can’t you simply get a hint?

— What? — Tim asked, feeling trapped like a mouse. Another pair of footsteps. Not too heavy to be Bruce’s or Jasons, not light enough to be Duke’s, Cass’ or Steph’s. Dick. 

— You’ve been a rock on our shoes — The older said, he and the youngest came to the light, but the shadows strangely danced around them like they were made of shadows. — How can someone be so fucking stupid? I fired you! We don’t want you here!

— Get away from me! — Tim exclaimed, looking around for something to defend himself. His hands became tight in fists and he shivered. A beer bottle. That would do.

— So fucking useless, all covered in glass, filled with fear — Robin  said, laughing.

— If you step in my direction again, I’ll tear my face with glass, and then you’ll fucking see something that will leave you awake for the rest of your life, your little shit! — Red Robin exclaimed, breaking the bottom of the bottle and getting it close to his face.

— Do it, you prick — Nightwing said and for an instant, Tim let him win. There was a small cut on his cheekbone now. Nightwing tried to get close again and he grabbed a smoke bomb in his belt, throwing it on the ground and escaping again. 

Knowing Nightwing and Robin, they would never guess he simply jumped into the sewer and would rather meet Killer Croc’s ugly face and big teeths than any of them.

[Red Robin, do you copy?] Batman’s voice echoed in the sewers. 

— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck — Tim said to himself, already knowing of the secret trackers on the communicators. He quickly got it out of his ear and threw it on the ground, jumping on top of it in a desperate attempt to not be tracked. — Fuck you all. 

Gotham’s sewers were Daedalus’ Labyrinth with a special touch: several criminal hideouts, maniac graffiti on every other wall and an unmistakable scent of death and shit. And the shadows and echoes were really giving a spice to the toxin. Scarecrow should really consider moving his operations base to the sewers. Or his labs. Maybe his testing rooms. 

Tim just knew that right now he looked like that skinny rat from Flushed Away and he certainly smelled a little bit like one. That was when he heard that laugh and damn, he got a taste of his own poison. Fuck, his spine was pure shiver ans bone dust pressed together. 

He needed a way out of the sewers before Joker could find him. There was simply no way he would allow that fucker to get him under his power again. No fucking way. 

Getting out of the sewers. Tim realised it must have passed sometime since he ran from Nightwing and Robin. The night was much colder now and he was shivering. His heart slammed his chest with a brutality he shouldn’t expect from such a controlled person. After shutting the sewers again, he heard Jason’s stinky voice again.

— Hey there, fucker! — Red Hood screamed and laughed. Tim looked at him as saw the rifle in his hand. That was okay. He had a broken bottle and if he was going to leave this world, it was going to be on his own terms.

— FUCK YOU! — Tim screamed back before bringing the broken bottle close to his neck, exactly upon the scar that Jason gave him years before — I’m finishing the job way better than you did.

Before he could drag the broken glass through his throat, he fell. He didn’t even hear the sound of the shoot, just saw a man in a suit with a sniper rifle on a window across the street while he was falling. The man sighed and Tim finally could distinguish him from the shadows. Alfred was involved in this fucking hunting too? 

***

Tim woke up feeling his feet hot. That was weird, his feets were cold as a corpse, so why the fuck they were hot right now? He couldn’t formulate an hypothesis. His eyes were still shut and he felt well. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well. Maybe, if he pretended to be asleep, this moment could last forever. Then he felt a soft grip on his hand and whimpered a little with pain. What the fuck? Why was his hand hurting? He felt weight shifting on top of him, like someone was lying on his lap and then sat up on the bed. 

— Drake? — Damian’s voice asked in a low, worried tone. Tim forced himself to open his eyes and then Damian’s eyes widened. The young boy bent over his brother’s leg and patted someone’s head lightly — Father, wake up. Drake opened his eyes.

Still staring at Damian, with little to no energy to look around, Tim heard the usual sound of Bruce waking up - almost nothing, just confusion in the air - and some footsteps approaching.

— Why are you on top of me? — He finally asked while Bruce hugged him tightly — And Damian. And is that Titus on my feet?

— You’re up! — Steph’s excited voice exclaimed, getting closer and holding his other hand. She sighed and he could see how preoccupied she had been. Her eyes never lied to him, she’d been crying — Thank god.

— You’ve scared us, Master Timothy — Alfred said, approaching the bed with Jason and Cass — I hope you can forgive me for the shot, but I’m this family's best sniper and you on the Fear Toxin move like a speedster. 

— What happened?

— We were on patrol and Scarecrow got us with that fucking gas of his — Jason said — Thankfully for my mask, i didn’t breath it in, but you did. I tried to apply the antidote and you kicked my balls, broke the syringe and ran away. I guess we’re even now, right?

— Then little D and I found you in an alley and you threatened yourself with a broken bottle — Dick said. He was standing behind Bruce with Duke. 

— And Miss Cassandra followed you into the sewers and manipulated you to get to our abduction point where Master Jason distracted you while I shot you with a tranquiliser dart — Alfred said — You’ve slept for almost three days. 

— That still doesn't explain what he is doing on top of me — Tim replied as Bruce finally let go of him.

— I… wanted to make sure you were breathing — Damian said, embarrassed, but the embarrassment wasn’t enough to make him get off of Tim. Somehow, Tim didn’t want him to. It felt mostly nice, like an weighted blanket

— Fucking liar — Jason said — He was worried with you. This little brat hasn’t showered since you were put in this bed. Stinky baby.

— Go find something useful to do, Todd — Damian spat, angrily.

— For god’s sake, can’t you guys try to be nice for once? — Duke said — Do you want something, Tim? I can bring you some water or those snacks you like, do we still have them Alfred?

— For sure, Master Duke…

Tim’s chest was filled with a crippling sensation as his eyes got warmer and his sight blurry because of the water accumulating on his eyeline.

— Timbo? — Dick asked, breaking the silence when everyone just stared at Tim’s tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Nobody said nothing until Stephanie, silently, cradled his head on top of her cleavage and, through her shirt, he could hear her heart. She kissed the top of his head and he felt two tiny arms embracing his waist and a head laying on his stomach. While he cried, Tim only got the energy to gently stroke Damian’s hair and feel his hot tears soaking his shirt. 

— I’m… i’m sorry guys I should have — Tim started to say, trying to find the words and failing miserably.

— Sssh… its okay, little bird — Dick said, touching his upper arm, smiling tenderly.

— We should let you rest — Bruce said, silently drying one of his tears.

Steph stepped away and Cass kissed Tim’s forehead while Bruce tried to take Damian off of Tim, unsuccessfully.

— Please don’t leave me alone — Tim said, almost in a whisper, when he realised his family was starting to walk away.

— You’re not going to be alone, Tim — Jason said, dragging a chair closer to the bed — If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here. Gotta finish this book and I don’t really feel like walking downstairs. Little brat seems to want to stay here too.

— Yes! Get off, baba! I’m not leaving — Damian said, annoyed, to Bruce, that simply gave up.

— We’ll be back in some time — Bruce said, looking at his son. His hand reached to Tim’s cheek and gently rubbed it, extra tenderly over his little cut. Tim felt his heart so warm that he felt he could die if he leaned his face towards Bruce’s hand, but he did it anyway. He needed that affection more than anything — We love you, Tim. I mean it. 

Tim said nothing, just bit his lower lip ashamed of his behaviour in the previous weeks, completely conscient that it wasn’t his fault. Not completely, you can’t really blame yourself for your reactions when you’re as depressed as he is, but  it never stopped him from blaming himself either way. 

“What if we go get bat-burgers for the whole family and then come back and eat it here with Timmy?” Cass suggested.

— Brilliant idea, Cass! — Duke exclaimed — Last one in the car will have to wear a pointy-eared crown and imitate Bruce the whole way!

Like this, Cass and Duke stormed out of Tim’s bedchambers, followed by Bruce.

— I want veggie nuggets! — Damian exclaimed, his head still buried on Tim’s stomach.

— And I want a Poison-shake, please — Jason said, starting to open his book.

— Noted. Riddler combo for you, son? — Bruce asked, and Tim nodded lightly.

— Well, I would appreciate a little help with the laundry while we await for Master Wayne to come back — Alfred said.

— I can help! — Steph said, getting closer to the elder.

— I’ll pick the Gordon’s up, they wanted to know the moment you woke up — Dick said, getting closer and messing Tim’s hair — You’ve got us worried, little wing. But everything is going to be okay now, ok? We are going to take care of you, liking it or not.

— I’d like it very much, thanks — Tim got to say, half smiling, before Dick left.

Once the elder brother got out of the bedchamber, Tim felt Damian’s grip on his clothes get tighter.

— Hey — He said, trying to get the boy calmer — Hey, you’re going to suffocate if you keep your head buried on my stomach. 

— I can hold my breath for almost eight minutes — Damian said, but ended up looking up at Tim — I’m sorry I’m not a very good brother. I’m working on myself and trying to be more approachable and kind, but I’ve always felt like you don’t like me and you wanted Robin back and…

— I’d never take Robin away from you — Tim interrupted the boy, holding him by his shoulders — I don’t want it back, and, if my opinion means anything, I think you make a pretty good Robin.

To be honest with himself, when he was saying that, Tim was pretty sure he didn’t mean it and was just saying what he wanted to have heard from Jason when they met. However, when Damian almost smiled and hugged him again, laying with his head looking towards Jason, Tim knew he actually thought that of him. The resentment and the pain were just too strong for him to get to say that without hearing Damian apologising first.

— What are you reading? — Tim asked Jason, still playing with Damian’s hair while the younger boy simply laid calmly on top of his older brother.

Jason looked up from his book and showed the cape to his brothers.

“Little fires everywhere” 

— Would you… 

— No, I don’t mind. Reading it for my baby brothers will please me very much. — Jason said. After adjusting himself on the chair, he started — Sometimes you need to scorch everything to the ground and start over. After the burning the soil is richer, and new things can grow. People are like that, too

Listening to Jason’s voice while playing with Damian’s hair, Tim could only realise, as Titus shifted position on his feet, that this was the first time he was alone with them and didn’t feel the unsettling need to run away. Finally he had peace, at least for a while. Maybe, whoever wrote this book was right.

After burning, the soil is richer, and new things can grow .

The Fear Toxin certainly was the fire that had burned Tim to the ground, and now that he was aware of that, he was richer, and new things could grow on him.

He took a deep breath and felt every centimetre of his body relax, melting under Damian’s weight. 

For the first time in months, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne did not fight when sleep came sneaking into his eyes. He let himself be put to sleep by his big brother’s voice and his baby brother’s hugs. 

Tim Drake stared sleepy at the ceiling of the room where some days ago, Red Robin fighted to stay awake. Tim Drake closed his eyes and let the sands of Morpheus guide him to the unconsciousness, knowing he did not have to fight anymore.

End notes: I don't care what everyone else says, Damian is a cuddly baby and is trying to be a better person. The following day, when Tim wakes up, Jason comes up to him, a bit shy, and hands him a card of this psychologist he knows and recomends Tim to try it because it helped him a lot after everything that happened. Also, in my mind, everyone in the batfamily will be in therapy and the one recomending it will be Jason because I said so. I know this chapter isn't as well written as the others, I think that it is mostly because I'm not used to write "action" scenes, my writing is more "character development" focused, but I couldn't get to the point I wanted without the whole chase scene, so... Well, anyways, I hope you guys have enjoyed it! Please, let me know your opinions about it, if i missed any important tag or things to work on future revision! Stay hydrated, wear sunscreen and seek professional help if you relate to any symptom exibited by Timmy here. Remember, you're not alone and looking for help is the bravest thing you can do!

[nekoannie-chan]

Not public

Title: Not public.

Fandom: Marvel, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Pairing: Jack Rollins X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Rating: Teen.

Word count: 613 words.

Warnings: Secret relationship, mention not explicit of smut.

Summary: You and Jack fell in love.

A/N: This is my entry to multifandom-lover, Annie-1018 & square 3:

"Let me get this straight."

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou  @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz  @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae  @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes  @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1  @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga  @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare​ @endlesstwanted   @chemtrails-club​  @marigoldreamer  @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @here4thefanfics​ @theestorm​ @patzammit​

You held your breath a little and then let it out slowly. You had to control the nervousness you felt whenever Jack was around.

You knew what people used to think about him, but you also knew the other side Jack had.

It had all started with smiles, then silly jokes that were probably not funny at all, and then some innocent little outings to coffee shops and bars.

"Do you have anything to do tonight?" Jack asked.

"Watching some probably boring movie while having cereal for dinner," you answered.

No one suspected what was going on between you, so you were always very discreet.

"I have a better idea; I'll meet you at the usual place on the way out."

You smiled; maybe that night was finally going to happen. After you left the Triskelion, you walked a couple of blocks until you arrived outside the coffee shop where you always met. He was already there, and he immediately took you by the hand to help you get on the motorcycle.

To your surprise, he took you to the new theme restaurant that had opened in town. You were very surprised because you had tried many times to make a reservation without success; there were never places. When you asked him about how he had gotten there, his only answer was that he had contacts.

You ended up that night at his house. You had finally agreed to have a relationship, but you didn't want others to find out; you hated gossip.

"So, do you want to go to the beach next vacation?" Jack questioned.

"Just one more mission and we'll have a whole month off," you commented.

"You still haven't told me where you want us to go; I need to make reservations."

"The beach is fine; wherever it is, as long as it's with you, it's fine," you interrupted him.

"Come on, Y/N, you're taking away the fun and the romance... "

"Romantic? You're the one who doesn't want to kiss me in public or let people know about us," you teased.

"That was a mutual agreement."

"I like to make you angry; you look so sexy, so much that we could right now... "

You grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him closer to you. You started kissing him; the kisses were getting more and more intense until you heard the door open, and you separated immediately.

"Jack," Brock looked at Jack and then at you for several seconds, creating an awkward silence. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to interrupt."

You didn't know how to react either. Brock looked strangely frightened as if he had seen the most terrifying thing in his entire life. Jack caught up with him, and you went back to the office.

There, you began to explain to him everything that had happened in the last few months.

"Let me get this straight. You and Y/N have been in a relationship for over a year now." Brock was still feeling stunned; he didn't expect something like this. He suspected Jack was seeing someone, but he never expected it to be you.

"That's right," you confirmed.

"What's weird about it?" Jack asked although you didn't know if he was making fun.

"Nothing is just... "

"Jack doesn't have to tell you everything he does; you're his best friend, but he also likes to have privacy," you replied.

"Like you were going to have," Brock said as he raised his eyebrows.

"You should learn to knock," Jack complained.

"Just don't be late for the mission; I don't care what you do."

As soon as Brock left the office, you and Jack burst out laughing.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hi!! no need to reply since this does not pertain to writing or your stories (though there all SO GOOD!!) but i’ve been trying to get my account off the ground for a while now after loosing my old one (i had a following but i wasnt active for like a year before i lost it 🥸) if your willing to share any tips i’d appreciate it so much! if not that’s okay too! regardless you are so talented and i love your work! xx

hii!! aw omg you’re so sweet, thank you!!🫂

okay so this might sound completely pointless and annoying, but I have honest to god no idea how my account does so well, it’s a genuine shock to me as I never thought anyone would read my stuff

so im not able to say specifically what helps, as I have no idea how

- but for me, I think consistency, posting a good solid amount definitely helps. I went through a stage a while back where I wrote all the time so that helped (but don’t tire yourself)

- I think knowing your audience helps as well, like knowing what they like, if you have more of a fluff following and what they like specifically or if they’re more into smut, like what kind and how. also some writers are known for their angst while some are known for their headcanons. so I think maybe a specialty helps. I have more of a smut following, I have some feral bitches (I say with love) in my inbox, so i rarely get angst, (which is good bc im not good at it)

- this might sound utterly stupid, but I think have fun with it, post things bc you enjoy it and are proud of them, and hopefully that confidence will attract some attention etc

- make things clear and easy to see, idk if it’s just me, but if I can’t see clearly what it is im gonna be reading, I’ll probably won’t read it- so I think that helps

- broaden out who you write for, or be open to write for other people (if that suits you ofc) or a lot of the time, some writers have a decent following bc of one character who they write really well. like some are known for strictly writing one character and they do it so well, but also, some that write for a few and still do it really well. I guess it just depends on how comfortable you are with other characters (but don’t exert yourself)

- reblog and share other peoples stuff (feedback and stuff), and I feel like you get good karma from it, like you’re thanked for being so nice I guess

- be flexible (within reason) make sure it’s not too much for you

- might be corny as shit, but be yourself or if you’re not comfortable be what you want to be, and be how you wish to be interpreted

- also I think making sure you come across friendly helps make you more approachable and easier to talk to. I feel like a lot of the time people are scared to talk to mutuals (dw I am too) but making sure that it’s clear that you’re kind, definitely makes it easier

sorry if these are too much or not enough, or wrong😭 but hope these help!! if you anything else you can message me💌

[topguncortez]

*not the same anon*

*also this is quite long sorry*

This is going to sound so stupid but im intimidated by you and no not because of you as a person or how you come across, but because of your looks and body - im ugly and overweight. So when I see someone who I think is beautiful doesn’t matter about the size of them, I get defensive real quick, some pretty girls are very mean. I’ve been trying to work on it truly but being bullied for years at school has kind of made me like this. Please don’t think I’m trying to shame you or make you feel uncomfortable I am not, that’s not what I’m trying or wanting to do! I think your a very beautiful person!

I don’t think you are an intimidating or rude person, like you said you’ve put walls around yourself which I completely understand, what I think is the problem that online you can’t tell if someone’s be rude or sarcastic or genuine. I’m quiet good with sarcasm but reading it my mind goes blank. I think that people take things way to heart, or don’t understand what’s being said or how it’s coming across if that makes sense?

The only reason why I came to tumblr last year was to escape what was going off in my real life, lost 8 family members in 2 years all one after another pretty much. Since I found your blog it’s become a safety net for me, not only do you write incredible pieces (all of your whump and angst fics break my heart because I’m an emotional wreck) but it’s a safe and open place to talk about things I could never ever talk openly about to my family, I have 12 brothers I’m the only girl and also the youngest. Your such an open and honest person which is quite rare to find nowadays.

With the reblogs at first I never did it because I thought I was doing something wrong (did i tell you am stupid?) I do it now though, even if the only followers I have are those annoying fake accounts, I’m hoping their fake because they keep asking me if I want to meet up and have sex😳. It is annoying for me as a reader and follower not to see you get the recognition you and a lot of amazing writers deserve. I’ll keep rebloging your work. I saw someone say about the angst prompts and you saying your going to use them in a writing challenge. Am I going to read them? Yes. Am I going to get my heart broken? Yes. Am I going to go and cry in a corner somewhere? Probably. Yes.

Please don’t feel like you have to justify yourself to anyone on here, or explain yourself. Because of you a lot of people on your blog feel like they can be open and honest, when you was having one of your sex talks someone said that they was 23 or 24 and still a virgin and your reply back was so wholesome, no judgement. My friends literally forced me to have sex when I was 19 because I was still a virgin. They told me I was “too old to still be a virgin”. Not only this but your writing is so good, your one shots and series are truly the best. The Professor is probably my fave (sorry) and really can’t wait for vol 2.

I hope you have an amazing day and keep smiling🤍

one, you are not ugly. Do not think that about yourself. Every body is beautiful in its own way. And do not let anyone tell you otherwise. There is no such thing as a "perfect" body, it just simply does not exist. Every body is created in its own unique way. And to me, being beautiful is not just about physical body, but about the spiritual body. Like you said, there are pretty girls/people out there who have mean souls. Beauty is on the inside as much as it on the outside.

two, I get that tone is hard to convey across text. I try my hardest to keep things as light and straightforward as I can. I try to leave out as much sarcasm as I can cause I know that it can be skewed into a negative light.

Three, I am so, so sorry for your losses. I am glad that you can find some solace in my blog, that truly makes me happy. It makes me feel like I am doing something good with this.

One of the most important things for me is having an open door and a positive relationship with my followers/friends/mutuals/ whomever. I have been in some very toxic fandoms where they were very cliquey and it's either you're in or you're not. And I hate that so much cause that's not how a fandom should be.

I want to help people have a good time here in this fandom, whether you're passing through or you're here to stay. As I said before, I'm like that cool aunt that lets you drink at her house and will tell you all her crazy stories.

My asks, and DMs are always OPEN to those who want to talk or who need advice. If I don't know the answer to the question, I'll do my best to give you resources or point you to people who can answer it.

and thank you, thank you for the kind words, it really means a lot to me <3

[scruffygruffy]

FAQs WHICH NO ONE QUESTIONS OR ASK FREQUENTLY (a little presumptive, for sure, but still)

Hello! I’m Charlie and I am an aspiring writer who will chime in on this blog from time to time. This will serve as the macro-microblog companion page (microblog at https://poweredbygay.social/@scruffygruffy). This post will be updated from time to time, though less frequently. 

1. Who are you??

Well, for one, I am an aspiring writer that is using the new year (2023) to make some changes. I have been writing fiction for the past ten years and am back at it after taking a two year hiatus that should have not been. 

2. Why are you--

I’m using this blog as a log to keep track of longer thoughts I have on the books I read as I go through the year. This, in combination with my microblog, should serve as some key accountability measures to try and read more. At least until September 17th or whatever, fingers crossed. 

3. What are you reading?

Currently, I am finished reading Ulysses by James Joyce (via audiobook) and am now reading his preceding novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (also via audiobook). I’ve written elsewhere that I am committed to reading the following for this year (2023):

1. In Transit by Dianna E. Anderson

2. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, by James Joyce

3. Swann’s Way, by Marcel Proust (yes, this is Volume 1 of In Search of Lost Time)

4. Too Like the Lightning, by Ada Palmer (Terre Ignota Book 1)

5. The Plague, by Albert Camus

6. Freedom, by Jonathan Franzen

I will do my darnedest to hold myself to read through these. Any updates here will be to address what I am reading and if I add any new titles here. This includes reading the second Terre Ignota book or delving into Volume 2 of In Search of Lost Time. 

My intention here is that I will read these books and then write up a post that delves into some curiosities that I picked up while reading said books. I guess you could call them book reports, but 1) no one would want to read them, and 2) I don’t want to write them. I promise they will be more shooting-from-the-hip, but nothing too sloppy where I feel like I miss every time. 

4. Wait, you’re a writer...will you share some of your writing??

Maybe. In writing this shortly after the new year (2023), I’m standing firm on that this blog is, unfortunately, not the place to share my fiction. At least, not yet. Maybe. 

I am working on a short story anthology and am writing almost every day, though these are adjacent short pieces. This is more or less in a daily writing prompts sort of fashion. If I’m particularly proud of one of these prompt responses and want to polish it, then I’ll probably share here. My goal for the year is to publish a short story in a lit mag or equivalent, though that’s outside the scope of this blog at the time being. 

5. Do you accept tips?

No. I’m not comfortable asking people for tips (especially through Tumblr, no offense), so I won’t for the foreseeable future. Further down the road I might consider Patreon, but that would only be if there’s considerable interest in what I do. I’m not really expecting that at this time.

6. How else can I support you if I can’t tip??

If you like what you see, then please reblog on this site, interact with each post, and share across the internet. I would really appreciate that, more than anything, to know that my ramblings have some inherent critical value. 

7. Where else can I find you?

As I mentioned above, the microblog companion of this macro-microblog can be found here, @scruffygruffy (Mastodon). I am not on the Funny Blue Bird site, as one microblog is enough and the site is currently undergoing some *changes*. I might branch out to other platforms and can update this page accordingly if I do. 

8. What are you working on now??

Well, a lot of things. Related here, I’m writing nearly daily via writing prompts and my short stories project, and am working my way through reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man after finishing Ulysses. I’ll post a thing about Ulysses on here. When I’m finished with Portrait, I’ll post a thing or two about it here and move on to the next book. 

[nectar-cellar]

Questions :3

Thank you for tagging me @pudding-parade ! I too am nosy and like to know stuff about people 😆 Let’s all be nosy together.

Why did you choose your url?

When I came back to Simblr after a long break, I wanted a new, fun, sim-related URL but all the cute and creative ones were taken. I was like, what is an adult thing in the sims universe? And my poor brain answered with the nectar cellars from World Adventures. So I was like okay I’ll go with that I guess. Then I just never thought of anything better. I didn’t even know if I was going to like the game again after so long away from it. Now we’re stuck with this.

How long have you been on Tumblr?

I started my Simblr in probably 2012 but my really really old posts have been deleted. I made my non-sims Tumblr account even earlier than that and still have it although I haven’t logged in since like 2019. I’ve been on Tumblr for a long time.

Do you have a queue tag?

No, I can’t be bothered to tag things in my queue. I do schedule my posts so that they don’t publish at like 3am which is usually when I write them.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I stumbled on the Simblr community through my non-sims blog. After liking a bunch of CC posts, I decided I wanted to make a blog dedicated to posting my sims, following other simmers, and keeping track of all the CC I wanted to download. This was like 10 years ago, when The Sims 3 was hot, when the community was huge and thriving, and most simmers didn’t hate the game/EA with the passion they do now. 

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I couldn’t decide on a sim to use as my icon so I was like fuck it let me just use a generic little picture. What is nectar made from? Done. I want to change it so bad I just don’t know what to change it to.  

Why did you choose your header?

Because it reminds me of this. 

What’s your post with the most notes?

I have no idea, probably one of my CC posts.

How many mutuals do you have?

I don’t know lol but quite a few I think 💛

How many followers do you have?

Almost 3k. Back in like 2013 or 2014 I gained a lot of followers because I posted some crappy CC that got spread around. Then I left for a few years. Most of my followers are probably not active anymore. Recently, because I learned how to make CC and have been posting those quite frequently, I’ve gained some followers through that too.

How many people do you follow?

2054. A lot are probably inactive. I like to see a variety of sims content :3

Have you ever made a shit post?

Yes ❤

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

I don’t think I’ve ever gotten into any conflicts with anyone.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

I’m used to seeing them.

Do you like tag games?

Yes 💖

Do you like ask games?

Yes!

Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

Quite a few of my mutuals who post TS4 and/or CC get a lot of notes on their posts! Some folks, I definitely didn’t expect would follow me back. 🥺🤩💞

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Everyone whose posts I’ve ever spam-liked/reblogged/commented on. 💋

--

I invite the following people to share their answers, if they would like to! ✨

@treason-and-plot @thesimperiuscurse @pixelbots @wannabecatwriter @descendantdragfi @rebouks @zosa95 @obscurus-noctem @erasabledinosaur @happy-lemon @aprilrainsimblr @maladi777 @keibea @lazysunjade @amuhav @plant-sim @streetlites @ellemant @emperorofthedark @hurricanesims @bastardtrait @heavensims @voidite @getboolpropped

[seraphinitegames]

Seraphinite Games Update 2021

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

I hope it's already starting off to be a great one for you all!

This is going to be quite a long update this time :D

So, basically, I need to change up the way I'm doing things. I was freaking out before Christmas because I didn't have enough time to do everything.

Thankfully, I have Nai on my team now, and wow, I am in serious awe of her organisation skills!

She sat me down calmly at our meeting and figured out everything that needs to be done as well as how to plan it in! She took everything I was anxious about and made it work!!

Things were fine for Book One and even most of Book Two, but I've got so much more social media, and other things, as well as Book Three being SO big. Like, the sheer amount of variations, branches and content going into it. You may not get to see it all in a playthrough, but I'm hoping replays will show just how much is going into it!

Now I'm not complaining about this in the slightest! I am so excited about what's going in this book and that I can put it in there. It's everything I've ever wanted to create in a story! Like, I can't spoil anything, but there's so many chapters in this that I am dying to write the variations for!!

But that doesn't stop the fact that it takes time. More time than I needed for Book One or Two, and I just couldn't find the time on top of social media and everything else that goes along with this last year.

Yet obviously, I still really wanna talk to you guys :D Getting to interact with you and get excited about what's coming and share in your enthusiasm keeps me unbelievably motivated!

It's just now I have a better way of doing it instead of getting so completely overwhelmed.

Nai reminded me that I brought her on board to help ease my tasks, so I need to actually use her for that, hehe :D

So Nai is going to take over the reblogs on Tumblr for me, as well as running my Instagram account. Tuesday and Thursday will still be the days for my pictures, it's just I will send them to her to post for me, then she's got so amazing plans on stuff she wants to do with Instagram too!

She already handles Facebook and Twitter for me, so that's all the same.

I will be cutting down on the amount of asks I do everyday on Tumblr, there will be about 2-3 asks and 2 matchups. But, Nai made yet another fantastic suggestion, so we're going to get a video up together once a month on Youtube where I answer Tumblr asks or asks from other platforms.

Hopefully that means I have more time to properly answer asks. Last year, I was trying to answer as many asks I could fit into my day, but I wasn't getting the time to really answer them as I wanted! I’m also just not willing to go through the amount of horrible messages I get anymore, so I need less of that everyday.

That video will probably be released on the last Wednesday of every month. Things might change as we bed in this new schedule.

Patreon will be exactly the same. I'll still be the main on that one for messages, comments, etc. Though I will be adding a monthly poll to the $5+ tiers...partly because I'm nosey and want to see how you guys play Wayhaven, hehe ;D

Nai also helped me come up with a whole year's worth of content ideas, and guys...there's some really good stuff coming, including the long awaited Book One first meeting scene from the LI's pov, and another Character Q+A!

The weekly updates and update+ will be the same.

Also in even more incredible news, SpunkyCatNinja has officially joined the Seraphinite Games team as editor!! Yay!

I mean, she was already a major part of it, but now it's proper official!

All of this should hopefully mean that I get to have more time for the thing we're all really here for...the actual game :D Somewhere we can go away from the world/internet/social media/real life to romance 4 hot vampires and feel like we're really part of a story and world.

I'm feeling super optimistic about this new plan of action, especially after how much I was freaking out before Christmas! 

So here's to an amazing and productive 2021! <3

[dekusleftsock]

Started working on the big Katsuki meta, I have a ton planned but I think this one will be released over the course of a couple months. I’ll make a post about the order that it’s made to be read as, but you could honestly read them by themselves (hopefully)

Themes will be about, obviously, bkdk, I’ll talk about his relationship to deku somewhat but it’s mainly gonna be about him

I’ll probably mention a few other important characters (or “not so important” ones? 👀)

But general things I’m gonna talk about: forgiveness, narrative importance vs fanon importance, love, toxic masculinity, emotional intelligence, and god, so much more.

I wanna get most of the work done first though and I’m still figuring out the outline and order of stuff so, it’s gonna take a few months. I also want to re do Izuku’s meta, I covered a lot of ideas but not all of the ideas I WANTED to cover and I thought, “well if I gave myself time to just write down things when I remember them I can slowly build on top of the already existing one”.

I also wanna talk about the importance of ships and how they are one of the best ways for the audience to interact with the characters, but that probably will be in a “misc” category. Maybe I’ll just make a whole multipart meta on fandom and media because I think it’s important. (Most of it I’ve already said/talked about on this account but making it into a meta is so that everyone can read it and reference it at any time!) I also want to just.. wait to make that as I see the internet going through yet ANOTHER transformation and I feel like talking about it after that transformation will give me a bigger picture.

Analysis is a science so, while I’m writing, just like when you all read it, I’m learning! Making connections, realizing things, etc. so a lot of this will take a while. Be patient with me please! I’ll try to answer asks and say things here or there with mini metas of my own thought process so it won’t just be radio silence lol. Reblogging things too ofc.

Thank you for your patience! Gonna go over this with my sister, just to figure out the order of things, what is or isn’t a stretch, and make it nice and readable for all of you.

I hope y’all will like it!

[honey-milk-depresso]

Meanie (Azul Ashengrotto x Reader) 8

Part 1,

part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 (END)

The final chapter. Congratulations for surviving this long with my bullshit-

“Everyone, please place the flower we have given you in their coffin.”

The sunlight was shining brightly in the early morning of NRC’s campus, 

but no happiness was to be found.

Just yesterday, you have died.

And it took a moment for Azul to realize that you were truly gone.

Everyone in NRC lined up in a single file to pay their final respects to you, one by one placing their flower in your coffin.

When it came to Azul’s turn, he had to hold himself from crying. He felt as if you were watching him. If he cried, you’ll cry too, and he doesn’t want you to fully leave this world with sadness and guilt.

He looked at you. Even if you’re dead, you looked as beautiful as ever.

He grabbed your cold hands, and placed the flower in the middle of your chest, before he gently used your hands to cover the flower, as if you are holding it.

“I love you,” he whispered, “I hope you go to a safe place.” And he walked away.

=============================================================

Azul walked back to Octavinelle with Jade and Floyd. They were silent. Yes, even Floyd stayed quiet.

The atmosphere was solemn.

Azul was solemn.

Never in his life have he came across death, let alone, someone he hold close to.

He used to love before.

He went back to his office alone and tilted his head up. Jade and Floyd went back to their rooms.

He’s not crying. He won’t cry for you.

Read it.

He heard something whisper.

“What..?”

The notebook.

He glanced to his right, the notebook labelled “ To Azul Ashengrotto”.

“Read it after they die,” Trey’s words echoed in his head as he recalls.

He grabbed the book.

To Azul Ashengrotto.

He stared at it, hesitantly flipping to the first page.

“I’m rewriting this from the accounts of Y/n, Azul. She asked for it. I hope you’re reading this.

- Trey Clover”

So Trey wrote this book for you to him.

“Azul and I were chilling at Monstro Lounge in the VIP room.

Lmao, he was soooo unlucky with his pulls, and had to answer all my questions and stuff. Apparently he thinks Idia is more handsome than Jade. Ooh~ 

I really loved the fact he wanted to spend time with me although he looks so done. I really appreciate it!”

He snorted. That was so you.

“Azul and I hanged out at the Rose Kingdom. I’m so glad Headmaster allowed me to hang out with him! Sometimes I feel like Headmaster is a dad. 

I had so much fun! Though, it’s kinda embarrassing that Azul spoilt me with so many gifts, and all I did was drag him around. I love the octopus plushie he won for me. It’s so chubby, soft and cute, just like him! 

He also bought me food from Trey’s awesome family bakery, and a really expensive pendent. I feel guilty, but I love it! It’s so pretty!”

He sighed. Really? Chubby?

“Headmaster told me I’m going to die in five months time. I’m really scared. I know I’ve joked about I feel like dying cuz of Professor Crewel’s homework, now facing with death, it feels really scary.

I have to tell everyone right? Headmaster told me he’ll tell my friends, that includes Azul. How would he feel? I don’t want him to feel sad..”

He flipped to the next page.

“Azul, Jade and Floyd came to visit me. Actually EVERYONE did! Even Leona and Idia! Can you believe it?? But I was so happy that Azul and the tweels came.

I rubbed my eyes so hard because I didn’t want them to see me cry. I was just so happy to see them!”

“Trey told me something. Well, an offered to do something for me. 

He knew I had a superrrr big crush on Azul, and he said I should tell him. I was so embarrassed at first, but I’m going to die soon, so I have to confess sooner or later right? 

He told me he’ll write a whole record of me of what I want to tell him, and then I can give it for him to read after I die.

Sounds like a good idea, but also kind of cruel. After I die????

What should I do?”

So that’s what you were talking about with him.

“I got to be discharged!

FINALLY OH MY SEVENSSSSS-

I CAN GET FRESH AIR BEFORE I DIE

DO YOU KNOW HOW BORING IT IS TO BE CHAINED TO A BED, DOING NOTHING UNTIL SOMEONE COMES TO VISIT???

PROFESSOR TREIN’S CLASS IS WAY BETTER-

Azul brought me around the entire campus, and to Octavinelle! And we played UNO! Although I lost a lot... But I’m happy I got to spend time with him and see everyone outside of the infirmary! ^^”

“I went to NRC’s Halloween Celebration!

IT. WAS. SO. COOL!!

There were like flying decorations and good food,

I got to see NRC become so lively and colorful! It was amazing!

Also I got to hang out with Azul and the tweels, and of course, everyone else!

I even got to be part of all the scaring and stuff at the Octavinelle’s scare house! heheheh~ 

I love the big finale, I wish it could last forever.”

“I made up my mind. 

I’m gonna ask Trey to help me write that book. I want Azul to have a piece of me even when I’m gone. I won’t leave him alone, and I’ll do everything in my power to do so.

If Trey is giving me the opportunity to do so, I’ll take it! Though, I should’ve done it from the beginning..”

“Azul kissed me. 

Oh my shit-

MMM I SHOULDN’T HAVE DRANK THE PLUM WINE HE GAVE ME BEFORE WE KISSED, I PROBABLY SMELT BAD-

BUT HE SAID HE LIKES IT??? WAS IT A GOOD CALL I DON’T KNOW-

But... I’m happy.. I got the courage to confess to him! On top of that, he said yes! I’m so happy I could cry..”

“I’m going to be giving the notebook to Trey. He’s gonna record it all down for me today. 

Azul, I hope you’re reading this. I want you to flip to the back. I asked Trey to attached something really important I want to share with you.”

He flipped to the back. There was a slip of paper folded, stapled to the page. It also held the pendent he bought for you. He grabbed it, and unfolded the paper.

“Azul, 

I’m writing this to you 5 months before I die. Crowley told me to tell everyone about my condition, but I wrote this for you specially.

Remember I told you in that truth or dare game?

“If I told you I was scared to die, what would you do?”

To tell you now, I’m still kind of scared. But I won’t show it! Pretending not being scared isn’t like lying.

Okay, but a practical thing, you could do anything you want with this book.

You can tear it up, throw it away, hide it or even show to everyone! Totally up to you!

I’m gonna be honest with you, I was and still jealous of you.

You were and are the picture perfect honor student of NRC. I haven’t been in NRC as long as you, but I’m just so jealous you manage to be so cool and flawless in everything you do! Well, maybe except for flying..

But still! You were and still are my role model! You always manage to amaze me! But not only that, you treated me like your best friend no matter what position you are! Maybe that’s why I fell for you, you didn’t show biasness towards me to become my friend. I hope you were genuine about our friendship!

But, I like the fact you actually sometimes don’t need other people to reflect about yourself, unlike me. I can’t reflect about me all by myself. If I were like you, maybe I could’ve been able to live entirely by myself, with my own unique worth and responsibilities. Of course, while still being friends with others!

But when it comes to self reflection, you are down to earth with yourself, you speak to yourself, and that’s very independent of you. Ever since you were little you were like that too, and that’s what made you hardworking and diligent!

I’ll end it right here, to tell you I love you. Ehehe~ Sorry it’s so sudden.

I love you, meanie.”

drip.

Pitter, patter, pitter, patter.

Slowly, Azul felt tears rolling down his face.

He broke. Except... that wasn’t true.

He’d been broken when he first heard you were about to die. He just kept strong for you, as you did for him.

He was so glad, he had spent his time with you.

You needed him. You felt like he’d done everything for you.

But now, you’re gone.

It was thanks to you, he never felt insecure about his past anymore. For the first time he met you, his really lived for the first time. He existed in this world.

“Thank you, y/n..” he choked, smiling meekly at your final goodbye letter to him, as he clutched the pendent he gave you.

“I love you so much...”

From Ramshackle dorm, your slightly dusty octopus plushie rest on the side of your pillow.

From far away, he sensed you hugging it, whispering so close to him although so far,

“I love you too, meanie..”

END

============================================================

HO SHIT-

REBLOG IT I FELT MY TEARS I-

Ok I’m joking

thank you for surviving and following with the story. 

Azul loves you. Bye, have a good day!

@magicpumpkin3 don’t kill me pls-

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Here’s chapter two. Think I’ll probably slow down writing. Appreciate y’all.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 2: I follow every little whiff

💀💀💀

You gave yourself a day off that week. Rather, the desolation of Birch allowed you an excuse to get away from your desk. An internet outage across the town had you up and wandering the main road just after noon. Your grandmother refused to join you so she was left to her true crime novel and the weekday droning of talk show hosts.

After a peek in the book shop where you picked out some used thrillers for your nan and a guilty splurge on one of Babs' pies to add to the surprise, you stopped by the diner and had some soup to warm up from the unrelenting cold. You played around on your phone as you blindly slurped from your spoon. With no available connection, you swapped candies to achieve a score high enough to get to the next round.

After another loss, you put your screen down and added some pepper to the tomato soup. You leaned your chin in your hand and peered across the road. The Asp was just diagonal from The Chipped Saucer and from your seat by the window you could see the comings and goings of the dingy bar.

You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the hundreds of comments on your video. You weren't entirely surprised that the internet cheered at the sight of a woman beating up a man in broad daylight, you'd seen much worse on the web. But many were curious and asked about how it started and about the small town alluded to in the caption.

You picked up your phone and flipped open the camera. You pointed it through the glass as one of the many bikers strutted out of the bar and down the street. You knew him, like most in town, he was the leader's right hand man. Steve Rogers. He had an odd gait, rigid with long strides, and you remember Kelly used to make fun of him when you walked home from school. That felt like forever ago.

You ended the video and dropped your phone again. You'd send it to Kelly when the outage was over. It would be a good laugh. Plus, you hadn't heard from her much since she moved to the city.

You finished your soup and paid. You went out into the street and cut around to the backstreets. You made your way back to your nans and found Pippin scratching at the front door. You stopped and scooped him up before you let yourself in.

"Don't like the snow, do ya?" You set him down and he whipped his tail before skittering off, "hey nan, I got you some stuff."

"You spend too much," she grumbled as you hung your coat and grabbed her treats.

"Only on you," you sang as you entered the front room, "sugarless blueberry pie, your fave, and some books about murder and all that freaky stuff you love."

"Hmm," she watched you put the pie and books down on the coffee table, "suppose the pie will go good with tea."

"Ah, and I suppose I'll be making that tea?" You returned.

"My arthritis…" she pouted but her grin came through.

"Yeah, yeah," you snickered as you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, "we going black today or something lighter?"

"Put on some of the pekoe," she called back, "make a whole pot."

"Will do, ma'am," you trilled and basked in her annoyed mutter.

💀

When the internet came back, you sent of an email to inform the agency of the interruption and promised to meet your deadlines. Then you puttered around and added a caption to the video before you sent it off to Kelly; 'why he walk like that tho'. She sent a series of crying emojis back and told you to post it.

'Nah, it's a dumb joke.' You typed back.

'Saw ur last vid, ppl will eat it up,' she insisted.

'Well, got nothing else to put up. The account’s dying since no one cares about my writing.'

'DO IT.' Her words sealed your resolve and you uploaded the video with some dramatic music in the background.

The response was almost instantaneous. Several comments saying they were happy to see more and others being for another video. 'We all wanna see inside this fucked up town' one added and several latched on. Ignoring the questions of where this was, you gave a thin promise of future small town thug content. 

You turned back to your work email and opened up your draft for your next gig. You couldn't help but smile as you went over your work. You might have just found your niche.

💀

You knew your nan would lose it if she knew you were snooping around the club, so you didn’t tell her. You went down, made her breakfast, went back upstairs to do your work, then tiptoed out in the late afternoon to poke around town for something to upload. Birch was so dull when you lived there but to those outside, it was a novelty you were all too eager to provide.

You got more videos of the bikers; some revving their bikes, others arguing, but there was nothing overly usable. You were getting bored of it until the man himself walked out of the bar. You record the man’s glower expression as he marched down the sidewalk and turned off just down the way.

‘His name is Bucket… wtf?!’ you keyed in and snorted as you waited for it to load to your account.

Still, there was nothing special going on, like always in Birch, and your grandmother was bound to get suspicious if you kept sneaking around. You went back and hid your phone before she could bitch about it. You cooked her dinner and sat with her as your thoughts swung between work and your TikTok.

You went to bed but couldn’t sleep. You ended up watching YouTube on your phone as the windows shook with the night winds. It wasn’t until the darkness began to glow that you were roused from the cocoon of your comforter. You looked out and saw smoke coming from the main road.

You didn’t think before you pulled on your jeans and shoved your feet into your slipper, unconcerned about them soaking through as you barreled down the stairs, the sleeves of your hoodie only half on. The back door bounced behind you and you crunched down into the snow and clamored past the row of lifeless houses. 

You were out of breath as you got to the end of the path and rounded the diner to gape over at the burning garage. You got closer as the line of bikers stood in their leather with breath puffing before them in the frigid night. You stepped back into the shadow of the brick façade of the realty office and swiped your camera open.

Your hands shook and you struggled to steady the image on the screen as the mechanic woman raged in only her tee shirt. You didn’t quite understand what was going on; only that her garage was up in smoke and then men were doing nothing to smother it. She swung at the dark haired man and spat at several others; “cowards”... “fuck all of you!”

You gulped and held your breath as she was dragged away by the large redheaded henchman of the slender outsider. She fought for a moment before she was flung over his shoulder and the biker followed their leader back to The Asp. You sidled in between the building and hid until the voices faded into the wind.

Well, that would be a hell of a video. It might even go viral.

💀

Your phone did not stop. You almost felt bad as you saw the screen limn the edges of your cell as you left it face down on the little table beside the couch. Your nan sat in her rocking chair talking away on her corded phone to Linette from down the road. You suspected that every other person in town was gossiping about the same thing; the fire.

You finished your coffee and rubbed your eyes as you checked the time and ignored the pulsing notifications. It was too much to keep up with.

Your grandmother hung up and sighed, “can’t believe it. You hear?”

“Hear what?” you pretended ignorance.

“That old garage burned down. The one with the lady,” she said, “pity. When I was a girl, that place was a salon. Ma used to take us there to get our hair cut. The barber would give us wrapped candies and pretend to cut himself with his scissors.”

“Oh? It burned down?” you weren’t sure you were very convincing but you also could just say you saw it happen.

“Yep, no one really can say. You know, maybe she was welding or some rag caught, but I bet my money on those bikers,” she sneered.

“Good thing you’re poor,” you kidded, “and why the bikers?”

“Oh, well, you know Kimmy, Linette’s girl, works down at the diner and she saw that mechanic arguing with one of those strangers, the ones dealing with the club men. Well, it’s no coincidence that trouble follows those leather jackets around,” she rocked as she nodded knowingly, “oh, one of the boys I knew back in the day, he was found burnt up with his bike. They said the tank blew… well, I saw it and that tank was pristine.”

“Nan,” you gasped, “you… Jesus.”

“Well, things don’t change in Birch, we just get older,” she continued, “when you’re young, everything seems new but then you age and it’s all just the same.”

“Wow, how… inspiring,” you said dryly.

“Girlie, you gotta be careful,” she intoned, “that fire, that’s a lesson to all the women in this town. To everyone. You don’t cross the Commandos.”

“I don’t think anyone--”

“That’s another thing, there has never been a shortage of stupid people, not now not then,” she girded, “those women who get tied up in that club, their lives are already done.”

You frowned and hid your phone in your pocket as you stood. You rubbed your neck and picked up your empty mug, “I should get started.”

“Mmm,” she said as she dialed the phone again, “I wonder if Fran knows yet.” 

💀

You were being really fucking stupid but peer pressure was not a logical thing. Even through a screen, you found it hard to resist the goads. So there you were, your phone in your hand as you live-streamed your walk down to The Asp. The data costs alone would make you regret it but you were caught up in the hype of you fifteen second of internet fame.

“Alright,” you stopped across the street and gave a view of the moniker with Cleopatra sultrily looking down at you, “this is it… I just gotta play it cool…” you turned the lens towards you and smiled nervously, “hopefully that dude at the front doesn’t stop me.”

Comments flicked up the bottom of the screen so fast and smilies and hearts floated up the side around your face. You crossed the screen as you turned your phone against your coat and approached the bar door. The large biker butted out his smoke and you bared your teeth nervously. He didn’t stop you as he rolled his shoulders and coughed.

You entered to the noise of classic rock and low voices, the clink of glasses and tap of chalk on marble. You glanced around and quickly swept your phone around to give a view of the patrons. You hurried over to the bar and climbed up on a stool.

“You need a drink?” the woman behind the bar scowled. She looked worn out even with her lips painted bright pink and her eyes clouded with blue shadow.

“Uh, sure, can I… can I get one pint of everything you have on tap?” you asked as you set your phone down and shrugged out of your coat. You draped it over the next stool and reposition your phone as you flipped the cam and used the built in stand on the case to angle yourself onto the screen.

“Sure,” she narrowed her eyes and glanced past you.

You swung your feet as you waited for her to pour the five pints; some with too much foam and the others with no head at all. You took the first and held it up for the camera.

“A classic, BudLight,” you held it up to the light, “no head and…” you sipped, “flat.” You plunked it down and coughed as you grabbed the next, “this is a raddler?” you looked at the tap for confirmation, “grapefruit… smells like piss…” you had a sip, “tastes like it too.”

You chuckled to yourself and asked for a water. You made a show of swishing it around in your mouth before you moved onto the third beer.

“Had to cleanse the palate,” you joked, “now… lots of foam on this one, dark. You know, I’m pretty surprised they have Guinness here but let’s see…” you tasted it and crinkled your nose, “that’s it. Exactly like toilet water!”

You read some of the comments telling you to check the bottles for bugs and laughed. Suddenly you were yanked off the stool by the back of your shirt and your phone was swiped up by another man as the first restrained you. You struggled against his thick arm as it hooked around your neck and the leader of their crew stared at the screen of your cell.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he hit the screen with his thumb but the stream kept going. He dropped the phone to the floor and stomped it instead.

“This is the bitch posting about us online,” the man at your back growled. It was Steve, the one with the weird walk.

“I doubt either of you know how to use a computer,” you scoffed, “hey, let me go.”

“And why would we do that when you’re snitching to the whole world, sweetheart?” Bucky kicked your phone away as he crossed his arms.

“Actually, I’m--” you grasped Steve’s arm as it threatened to get tighter, “--promoting your trash business. I was just having a tasting, if you had just asked--”

“Shut up!” Bucky stepped closer and brought your legs up and stopped him as you planted your feet against his stomach.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice came from behind the bar as the waitress shoved aside her empty tray, “hey, she’s just a kid.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky huffed, “she looks full-grown to me.”

“So what are you gonna do?” she said, “she’s young. You can’t--”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he snapped.

“She’s right,” another voice intoned and that man, Sam, came up beside them with a pool cue in hand, “she’s just goofing around.”

“She’s a rat,” Steve insisted.

“You’re being dramatic. It’s called a meme and you do walk a little strange,” he chuckled, “no one’s gonna follow her breadcrumbs back to this shithole anyway.”

Bucky considered Sam and then looked at Steve. He poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth.

“So… you vouching for her?” Bucky asked.

“She won’t cause any more trouble, promise,” Sam said, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better,” Bucky snapped his fingers and you were released, “get her out of here.” 

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VIII

Like wolves we've run wild

Let passion get too much

And let ourselves get burned by the fire

We're walking on wire

But nothing feels higher

Then when I see that look in your eyes

Small Talk, Niall Horan

A/N: here she is!! another part!! you’re probably used to this now, but part 8 got a little long, and will continue in a part 9 but honestly!! who cares!! it just means more vampirerry for all of us 😌 here we deep dive into a few more dates with a dash of some good ole jealousy!! love to see it love to hear it!! and andrea and i would just like to say THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED IN THE 1D CRAFT AWARDS!!!! we cannot believe ysijwa was even nominated, let alone that it won most unique!!! as a thank you, we’re doing a livestream this sunday!! you can send in questions, we’ll discuss the story, and just have a lil chat so please tune in!! details can be found here!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep writing and updating!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist :  ysijwa playlist II

word count: 30k

content/warnings: confessions of an immortal shopaholic, blair waldorf dark au, the glamorization of the sugar baby lifestyle, harry not understanding the concept of sharing, y/n “eat the rich” y/l/n, harry the walking rosetta stone (tw: google translate), an italian chef (and psychic) who will also adopt someone before dessert is served, A Cinderella Story 6: Fifty Shades of Gucci Grey (rated R), an internal monologue of john mulaney’s “now we don’t have time to unpack all THAT!!!”, and a definitive guide on how to get rid of unnecessary parts of an outfit

Harry is aware that he has a taste for excess. 

He wasn’t always like this, truly.  When he was human, everything about his life had been thoroughly middle class.  He was apprenticed to his father, the town’s blacksmith, and spent the majority of his life living in modesty.  He wore plain clothes that had been sewn by his mother with the cheapest and most durable material she could find.  He spent most of his days at the forge, or dutifully completing chores at home.  He prayed quietly in church, took only the bare minimum of what he needed from anything, and, for the most part, kept his head down.  He’d lived his life with no fancies, no frills, and no fun, in the hopes that all his humble modesty would serve him well in his next life. 

And then he ended up eternally damned, so a fat lot of good that suffering had done him.  All he got from following such a plain mode of life was intimacy issues, a newfound bloodlust, and a broken neck. Therefore, when it came to his afterlife, Harry decided to try a different route. 

And that route, lucky for him, always seems to lead him back to Gucci. 

Harry’s tried a lot of styles and a lot of designers in his two hundred and some years of life, but he’s yet to find anything that speaks to him like Gucci does.  Whether it’s a leather wallet, a blue velvet suit, a sheer pussy bow shirt, or a silk neck scarf; if it has the Gucci label stamped on it, Harry probably owns it. 

Whenever he steps foot in the store, sales associates flock to him, knowing that he’ll drop at least five thousand in one visit.  Harry knows he should feel a tad guilty, but frankly, he thinks he’s earned it— more so than those billionaires he compels into making monthly donations to the “charity funds,” also known as his bank account. 

His methods, however, do bring him a bit of flack from his friends.  While Mitch normally does everything with Harry, the laid back and neutrally good-aligned vampire can only spend so much time in a high-end boutique before claiming that he’s “choking on the cologne of the entitled.” Niall, on the other hand, doesn’t let his teasing nature stop him from joining Harry, but Niall’s affinity for polyester usually stops Harry from allowing him inside the store.  And Xander is a non-starter— the last time Harry tried to bring him, the vampire had spent the entire time cracking scathing jokes about Harry being a sugar baby, to which Harry responded with a comment about Xander being jealous of the salesman fitting Harry.  That little argument turned into a three day battle of neither speaking to the other, and had only been settled when they each agreed that the other deserved to lose an eyebrow for what was said.  

Harry could recount more instances of friction caused by his shopping habits, but needless to say, he either frequents the shopping district of Los Angeles by himself, or with Adam, who is wonderfully indifferent to Harry’s methods of obtaining pocket change, as well as how he spends said pocket change, and possesses the bonus trait of having an eye for beautifully tailored trousers. 

It’s Adam who is by Harry’s side as he walks into the Gucci store for the third time in two weeks, his disinterested expression nearly eclipsed by the confident smirk that adorns Harry’s ruby lips. 

It’s almost like they have a censor for him, Harry thinks smugly, as the associates begin to whisper to each other at the sight of him.  Even if he didn’t absolutely love the brand, Harry would come to Gucci just for the boost to his ego. 

Despite having accompanied Harry before, Adam still leans over to his friend, raising a quizzical brow as his eyes scan over the racks of clothing they pass. “Do we have to go to the counter, or—?”

“Oh, I never have to go to the counter.” Harry chuckles lightly, brushing his icy fingers over a smooth silk shirt styled on a mannequin. “They—”

“Mr. Styles!”

The egotistical simper on Harry’s lips grows, and he shoots Adam a smug look before turning around. “They come to me.”

“Mr. Styles, it’s so nice to see you again.” Mr. Koffman, the manager of this particular location, stops in front of Harry after a brisk walk over, fixing the fit of his suit jacket before extending his hand to Harry and Adam. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Harry shakes his hand once, enjoying the usual look of bemusement that flashes through the human man’s eyes at his strong grip and cool skin. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” He replies, shaking Adam’s hand once without moving his attention from Harry. “We’re thrilled to have you back so soon.  I understand we have a suit in the works for you?”

Adam rolls his eyes the moment Mr. Koffman turns away from him, turning his attention to the rack of jackets to the left and running his fingers over the material. 

“Yeah, I got the call this morning to come pick it up.” Harry pauses, giving Adam a sideways glance as his grin grows. “But I was wondering if I could do one last fitting, just to make sure everything’s set…?”

“Oh, uh—” Harry enjoys the frayed tone that echoes from the manager’s mouth as he begins to scramble, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’m so sorry, but we have another appointment coming in fifteen minutes, and—”

Harry sighs in mock disappointment, clicking his tongue as he gives a slight nod. “Ah.  I see.” He sighs again and lifts his shoulders in a small shrug, glancing at Adam from the corner of his eye.  The other vampire is watching him with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to bite back a laugh. 

The light sheen of nervous sweat on Mr. Koffman’s brow begins to drip down his temple. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Styles—”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Harry waves off the apology with an unconcerned air, glancing at his own statement watch and sighing again. “If you could just have my suit sent down to the Gucci location on Rodeo, I’d really appreciate it— I know they’ll be able to squeeze me in for a last minute fitting.” Harry smiles at Koffman, whose face fades a shade paler as the creature gestures to his friend. “C’mon, Adam.”

“No, no, there won’t be any need for that!” Mr. Koffman says quickly, checking his watch again as his hand reaches for the handkerchief in his suit pocket.  He dabs at his moist forehead while forcing a smile at Harry, who gives an easygoing smile back. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Koffman, really— if you’re unable to make some room for me, I’m sure they’ll be happy to—”

“You’ve been a wonderful and loyal customer to us, Mr. Styles— we’d be more than happy to make room for you.” The human smiles again, the action more strained than before as he tucks his handkerchief away and clasps his hands in front of him. “Just— Just give me one moment to arrange it with alterations, and move some things around.  Please, feel free to browse,” He gestures to the racks of clothing around them. “And I’ll be back in a few minutes once we have everything ready for you.”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, faking hesitation as he replies in a slow voice. “Well...if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble…”

“No trouble at all.  Not for you.” Koffman, to his credit, manages to make the response sound natural before scurrying away, already dialing a number on his phone as he speed-climbs the staircase leading to the alterations department. 

The laugh Harry’s been choking on for the last three minutes escapes the moment the human disappears, echoing off the marble walls around them as Harry turns to Adam with a glint in his eye. 

Adam, on the other hand, looks less entertained and more annoyed. “Was that really necessary?” He asks in a bored tone, crossing his arms as his eyebrows raise in question. “Why do you need to try the suit on?  You had, like, three fittings.  It’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I want to make sure it’s perfect before I take it home— I’m spending way too much money for it to possibly be defective.  And I want you to see it in all the glory of the mirrored Gucci fitting room.” Harry pats his friend’s shoulder as he steps past him, his attention captured by a pair of red leather and snakeskin boots sitting on a pedestal in the corner. 

Adam snorts once, short and harsh. “Were those the only reasons, Mr. Styles?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Harry drags a finger over the embroidered side of the boots, his cherry lips rising at the corners. “I do enjoy making Koffman squirm.  He’s so easily bothered by the littlest of things; it’s like an open invitation to cause some trouble.”

“Y’know, if I didn’t know what you really were,” Adam laughs once in spite of himself, shaking his head in disbelief while checking out a pair of plaid trousers. “I’d think you were the devil.” 

Harry’s smile twists into something more sinister as he fiddles with his gold cross, twisting the pendant under the overhead lighting so it glints symbolically in Adam’s eye. “It’s a good thing I’m not, hm?  I’d be unstoppable.”

“We’d all be doomed, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, absolutely. But world-domination aside, everyone knows the devil wears Prada, not Gucci. Get it together, Prendergast.” 

The clicking of dress shoes against the marble steps alert Harry to Koffman’s return before his sputtering heartbeat does, and the vampire turns his head just in time to see him descend down the spiral staircase. 

“Good news, Mr. Styles!” He beams at Harry as he steps off the last platform, nearly tripping over his feet in his effort to get to his client. “I was able to talk to the girls, rearrange some appointments, and we’ll be able to do a final fitting for you.”

“That’s wonderful t’hear, Mr. Koffman.” Harry tucks his cross back beneath his shirt with a pleased grin, catching Adam’s eye over the mortal’s shoulder. “I wasn’t fancying the drive to Rodeo.”

“I wouldn’t either, sir.” Koffman nods solemnly, gesturing to the stairs with a stubby hand. “But we’re always glad to make accommodations for you here.”

And isn’t that the truth, Harry thinks as he makes his way upstairs, Adam hot on his heels as Koffman leads the two of them to the alterations department.  Part of the reason why Gucci— and this location, if Harry’s honest— holds such a place in his unbeating heart is because it reminds him of an era long gone.  When Harry steps through the gold archways of the store, he instantly transforms into a person worth noting, and is waited on as if he were a lord in Victorian England who was set to inherit twenty thousand pounds.  Now, of course, Harry could drop the equivalent of twenty thousand pounds in one shopping trip, but it was a large sum of money back then, when Harry could only dream of such wealth. 

Now, the immortal’s reality involves him being waited on the moment he enters the alteration department, with one attendant handing him a glass of champagne as another shows him a display of accessories to match his custom suit, which hangs proudly inside a garment bag on the wall.  Adam, for all his eyerolls, still accepts the complimentary champagne and appraises the accessories right along with Harry, who gets a chance to roll his own eyes as an attendant named Mara convinces him to try on a platinum watch.

“Would you like to try one as well, Mr. Styles?” The other attendant, Blair— Harry’s favourite consultant at the store, truth be told— bats her eyes at him as she taps a finger over the Rolex already adorning Harry’s wrist. “Could be nice to switch it up, no?”

Harry offers a polite smile as he readjusts the band of the watch on his arm, tutting in reply. “I’m afraid I’m rather attached to the Rolex brand for my watches, Blair.” He sighs before nodding his head at Adam, who’s become enamoured with the platinum band on his wrist. “Best to focus your energy on that one, I think.  He’ll make you some easy commission.”

“It’s not about commission, Mr. Styles, it’s about finding you something you’ll love.” Blair pouts as she leads him behind the dressing room curtain, her lithe fingers unzipping the garment bag covering his suit with one swift motion. “I thought you’d know me well enough by now to know you’re much more than commission to me.”

The smile on Harry’s face only falters for one second, the flicker going unnoticed by the employee as she carefully removes the suit from the bag.  The last time Harry had been here for a fitting, she hadn’t been working— he remembers because the new attendant they’d sent to deal with him had nearly zipped his suit into the garment bag when the fitting was over.  It had been Blair, however, who had originally measured him for the suit, and Harry remembers her wandering fingers that paused at his inseam a moment longer than needed, how she had showered Harry with praise as he modeled the sample suit.  It had done him good then as he strutted around the alterations department, flexing underneath the chandelier light as she’d complimented his every pose, but that had been nearly two months ago.  Moreover, it had been two brunches, four dinners, three walks, and an antiquing trip ago.  A lifetime ago, really.

“That’s very kind of you, Blair.” Harry finally manages to respond, his fingers pausing at the buttons of his shirt as she hangs the separate parts of the suit on their own hangers. “I’d trust no one else with a suit this expensive, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” A light giggle escapes the girl as she hangs the jacket on the wall, stepping back and admiring the pieces with a keen eye. “I’m glad you decided to go with the light grey fabric; it’ll compliment your eyes so nicely.” When she turns back around, Harry doesn’t miss how the same keen eye skirts over the half unbuttoned fabric covering his torso. “I’ll give you a moment to slip everything on.  If you need anything…” The girl tugs the curtain back just enough to let herself out, her pink lips tugging into a simper. “Just call for me.”

Harry’s smile grows tighter as the curtain closes behind her, and disappears the moment he’s out of her sight.  He’d forgotten, really, the effect he has on most mortals.  It had been something he’d paid close attention to before, delighting in how they all unknowingly stroked his ego as their jaws dropped whenever he’d walked by.  In a way, it’s nice to know that he’s still capable of that— he’s still a narcissist, after all— but it’s a little less satisfying when he’s grown so used to that careful attention from Y/N.  When it comes to stroking, he thinks shrewdly, a smirk slowly crawling onto his face as he strips out of the rest of his clothes, there’s no one better than her. 

Once he’s stripped completely, he dresses in the custom suit, pulling the crisp fabric along his muscled limbs and tugging it into place.  He starts with the silk black shirt, slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoning the two sides together, excluding the top three holes.  After that, he steps into the grey trousers, tucking the shirt in and taking a moment to admire the black stripe that runs down the inseam of the pants, which— to Blair’s credit— hug his thighs perfectly.  Once he’s satisfied with the lay of the article, he slips the suit jacket overtop, adjusting the sleeves over the dress shirt as he fiddles with the cuffs.

“Now, don’t worry about the cufflinks with the suit, Mr. Styles,” Blair calls through the curtain, her voice grating across Harry’s admiration with an irritating cadence as she seems to predict his need. “They’re just some samples given by the store.  I’ve personally selected some more appropriate pairs that match your style much better.”

When Harry tugs back the curtain, Adam has shifted himself to the plush velvet couch in the middle of the room, his champagne glass already refilled as he slouches back against the cushions.  Mara, it seems, has disappeared from the fitting room, but Blair is standing just to the side, next to a table lined with gold accessories for Harry to try.

“Well?” Harry asks, stepping to the platform that sits in front of the mirrored wall, his jeweled hands tugging at the starched lapel of the jacket.  He regards himself in the mirror for a moment, admiring the fit across his sturdy shoulders, before rotating around to face the vampire and mortal. “What do you think, Adam?”

Adam takes a long sip of his champagne, mulling over his reply for so long that it sparks irritation in Harry’s stomach, which is only soothed by his long awaited comment. “It looks good.” He nods, squinting his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “A little plain, compared to what you normally wear, but it’s nice.”

“I don’t know if it’s proper to call this plain.” Blair scoffs, looping the tape measure in her hands around her neck as she approaches Harry, her heels clicking against the lacquered floor. “Mr. Styles usually has a preference for something more patterned, true, but there’s something to be said for a sleek, simple suit.” Harry watches the way her eyes flicker down his body, pausing at his inseam with a look that’s less than professional. “And that black stripe along the inside of the pant certainly...draws the eye, does it not?”

Although her words are laced with implications, Harry directs a smirk at Adam as he rakes a hand through his curled locks. “It’s alright, Blair.  Adam’s right, it is a little plain compared to what I normally wear, but every man needs a nicely tailored formal suit in his closet.”

“Exactly.” Blair nods in earnest response as she begins to circle Harry, her detail oriented eyes sweeping over every aspect of the suit.  In the reflection of the mirror, Harry catches the way her eyes settle over the fit of his backside, her heartbeat increasing for just a moment until Harry clears his throat.

“The cufflinks, love?” Harry prompts, raising his arms as he begins to fiddle with the cuffs. “These sample ones are horrid.  You said something about gold…?”

The attendant snaps from her objectifying stupor, her eyes meeting Harry’s in the mirror as a light blush settles over her cheeks. “Yes, I, um, picked some out for you here.” Her heels click again as she retrieves the velvet lined tray that’s studded with jewelry, bringing it to Harry for him to examine. “We have a few variations of the Gucci logo— interlocking G’s, some embossed onto gold coins— but I think this pair we just got in might be to your liking.”

Harry reaches for the cufflinks Blair points to, pinching one between his fingers and lifting it close to his eye to examine it.  It’s a pair of interlocking G’s, but instead of a smooth finish similar to the other pairs before him, these have textured engravings all around the letters.  It takes Harry a moment to realize that the engravings are scales, and the G’s are actually—

“They’re engraved to look like snakes, with black Swarovski crystal eyes.” Blair begins her infomercial-like spiel, holding up the other cufflink for her own examination. “They’re 18K gold with an aged finish, and the attention to detail is just extraordinary.  Even the back is engraved with an Arabesque motif.” She twists the cufflink around in her fingers as Harry does the same, examining the engraving with an approving nod.

“They’re lovely.” Harry murmurs, wrapping his fist around the cufflink to secure it before removing the sample cufflink from his own sleeve.  With one swift motion, he’s swapped one piece of gold hardware for another, fiddling with the fit of the sleeve as he sets the new cufflink amongst the fabric. “S’a nice fit, I think.”

“It’s a wonderful fit.” Before he can reach for the other cufflink, Blair snags his sleeve in her grasp, replacing the sample in a motion nearly as swift as Harry’s. “Beautiful, really.  It’s such an understated suit, which works to its advantage, but the pop of gold on the cuffs will really make everything stand out so much more.”

Harry nods seriously, a pensive look on his face as he examines the sleeves once more before raising his arms. “What d’you think, Adam?  Look alright?”

Adam offers a passive nod as he becomes distracted by the rack of watches again, his fingers draping over another platinum band. “Looks good, man.  But you know that.”

“I know.” Harry flashes a blinding smile at his friend, dropping one emerald eye into a wink as he fiddles with the cufflinks. “But I like hearing you say it.”

“It really is a perfect fit, Mr. Styles.” Blair nearly coos the words as she circles him again, her careful fingers tugging and adjusting the lines of the suit just enough that it can be considered appropriate for her job.  “Gorgeous.  The best we’ve done, I think.” Her fingers dance over his lapel as she adjusts the fall of his open neckline, and a flash of warning ignites in Harry’s stomach as her skin grazes the ink of Harry’s chest. “But the suit is only doing half the work, you know.  The rest is all—” Her touch travels up the lapel and across his shoulder, her body taking a step behind his own as her touch settles on the nape of his neck. “You.”

Although her skin barely brushes the back of his neck, the pin-prick touch bursts into a shudder that paralyzes Harry’s entire body, tensing his every limb.  When it releases, his frame spasms one single time in reflex, yanking itself away from the human’s touch.

The shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by Blair or Adam, although each has their own response based on what they know of Harry.  As his jade eyes harden to stone, Harry catches the cautious movements of Adam, who is slowly pulling himself into a tense and careful posture in the corner of Harry’s eye.  Blair, on the other hand, is merely frozen with her hand still hanging in midair, a confused and bewildered expression painted onto her features.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Styles?” She questions, her self-preservation betraying her as she takes another step forward with her outstretched fingers once again reaching for Harry’s shoulder. “Is something in the suit bothering you?”

Harry gives a rough shake of his head as he leans back from her touch once again, forcing himself to take a deep breath through his nose to collect himself.  When he speaks, his voice is low, raspy, and filled with a quiet fury that exceeds the intensity that would accompany a scream. “I think I’ve mentioned before,” He enunciates each word clearly, his delivery cold in every aspect. “I prefer not to be touched there.”

Despite the tense undercurrent of Harry’s voice, Blair’s expression relaxes once she realizes the cause of it. “My apologies.  I was just trying to adjust the fit.” When she places her hand on Harry’s elbow and tugs at the sleeve, her brow creases at the taut joint, but her voice remains as smooth and slick as ever. “I’ll make sure to keep my hands to myself— or at least, wait for your direction on where to put them.”

The smile that curves over her lips begins to fall as Harry’s face stays as stony as ever, his own mouth dragged down into a frown as the implications of her words settle around him.  Part of him wants to snap right there, to give into the instinct to bare his teeth, swell his chest, and show this emboldened employee what she’s really touching, but Adam’s eyes over her shoulder urge him not to. 

His friend knows how sensitive Harry can get when his guard is at full throttle, especially when that issue stems from anything vaguely related to that particularly haunted place the young woman had carelessly touched. Watch it, Adam’s gaze seems to say as he shakes his head just enough for Harry to notice.  It was an accident. You’re fine. 

Harry inhales deeply once again, grounding himself in his human persona with each rise and fall of his chest. “That would be wise, I think.” He finally responds, straightening his back and turning to face himself in the mirror once again. “Just be a bit more careful.”

It seems that Blair has finally gotten the hint, because every touch of her fingers over him for the rest of the fitting is calculated and precise.  Her hands do drift a little further on his body than what’s necessary, but she makes sure she doesn’t graze against his icy bare skin again.  What Harry finds most curious, however, is that every swipe of her fingers against the fabric grates on what seems to be his last nerve.

They’ve played this cat and mouse game before, always teasing, always touching, and just barely staying out of reach.  But it seems Harry has gotten too lax in his ways, he thinks, as his cold eyes watch the movements of the girl in the mirror, because she’s never been this blatant before, especially in front of another customer.  Does she actually think something could happen between the two of them?  Does she really believe that Harry would drag her behind the curtained partition, meticulously remove the suit he’s just paid thousands for, and trace his own fingers over her supple flesh as if he’s fitting her for himself?

The thought nearly pulls a ridiculing laugh from Harry’s chest, but that laugh is replaced with a pondering thought that irks Harry the moment it flickers into his mind.  He could do that, yes.  He’s certainly done worse, and Blair can probably sense that.  If Harry were in her position, of being the mouse that believes it’s the cat, he would probably think that something was going to come out of all their chasing eventually.  And why hasn’t it?

The answer, of course, comes to Harry a moment after the question does.  Even though Blair is, by society’s standards, objectively attractive, and obviously willing to follow any direction he gives her, Harry is smart enough to not draw attention to himself by hooking up and feeding from a consultant that works at his favourite store.  It had been Niall, he thinks, who summed up a simple yet effective rule wonderfully for him once: Don’t shit where you eat.  Plain and simple.  

But there’s a second answer that grinds at the back of Harry’s mind, festering inside every thought as Blair makes final adjustments, blathers on about accessories and additions, and tries to raise her commission by once again showing Harry watches.  Harry doesn’t want Blair, because Harry has Y/N.  Being touched by Blair feels wrong because Harry’s so used to being touched by Y/N.  And Blair grazing over his neck bothered him so much because he can, apparently, only stand someone’s fingers grazing there if Y/N is the one doing it.

And perhaps festering isn’t the right word, Harry muses, because the warmth that’s spreading through him with that realization feels a lot more like blossoming than anything else.  It flowers within him, lavender weaving through every limb, letting him know that maybe— just maybe— he’s not as selfish as he thinks.  He could be a complete monster, and fabricate a relationship for Y/N while still pursuing other people, but he has, at the very least, one shred of decency hidden within him.  Although he indulges his base desires whenever he’s with her, he at least has the power to resist one of them.

With that in mind, Harry finds it easier to pay less mind to Blair’s lingering touches and sly compliments, and instead focuses on cherry-picking the suggestions he wants to take from her.

“Y’think I should change the shoes, then?” Harry steps down from the platform, drifting closer to the full length mirrors to examine the black leather loafers adorning his feet. “Something more colourful?”

“Not necessarily colourful, no— after all, we’ve worked hard to create a cohesive look.  We wouldn’t want to interrupt that with a sudden burst of fuschia.” Blair laughs once, brushing her hair behind her ears as she hums in consideration. “But something with a bit of gold, maybe?  To match the cufflinks?  We could add some gold hardware to those loafers, or just find a new pair for you…”

“New is always better.” Adam chimes in from the couch, tilting his half full glass to Harry with a wry smile. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Styles?”

Harry points a ringed finger at him, winking once in confirmation. “Right you are, Mr. Prendergast.” He begins scanning the room, his eyes catching every pair of shoes displayed and comparing them in his mind. “Do you have some selections we could look at, Blair?”

“If you give me a few moments, I could certainly run to the back and pull some—”

As Harry’s keen eyes settle onto a pair of boots on display in the corner of the room, he raises a hand, cutting the girl off in one swift motion. “That may not be necessary.” He murmurs, walking over to the pedestal and examining the newest object of his fascination.

The boots are made of matte leather with polished snakeskin over the toes of the shoes, both fabrics shining the darkest black Harry has ever seen.  The leg of the boot is relatively short, and would probably only come to Harry’s ankle, with a black heel that would add an inch or two to Harry’s already tall frame.  But the pièce de résistance that draws Harry’s eye the moment he sees them are the embroidered gold dragons that adorn the outer sides of each boot, their bodies coiled in such a way that Harry almost swears he can see them breathing. 

He slides one finger around the toe of the boot, nearly shivering in how pleasurable the silky surface feels against his skin. “How much?” He mumbles the phrase with a reverent look in his eyes, his voice as delicate as his touch.

Blair’s smile twists into one of apology as words Harry has never heard from her before fall from her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, but those are actually a custom order for another client.  They’re not for sale.”

Harry hums low in his throat, his fingertips dancing over the gold embroidery. “I’ll add another thousand onto whatever they’re paying.” He says, earning a breath of hesitation from Blair and a sigh of exhaustion from Adam.

“Christ, Harry,” The latter groans, rubbing his eyes in a frustrated manner at Harry’s familiar antics. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at sharing?  Did you skip that part of kindergarten?”

“Kindergarten wasn’t really a thing where I grew up.” Harry reminds his friend, shrugging indifferently before turning his attention back to the torn consultant. “So?  Another thousand?  I think that adds on quite a nice percentage of commission for you, doesn’t it?”

“I— Mr. Styles, I’m not really sure if—” Blair stutters over her words as she quickly strides over to him, the clicking of her heels against the marble floor punctuating each pound of her heart in her chest. “I don’t really think we can do that.”

A short laugh echoes from Harry’s ruby lips as a grin dimples his cheeks, the humour of her words apparent only to him. “You know I don’t take no for an answer, Blair.” He raises his eyes to hers and locks their gazes, lowering his voice to a smooth and convincing octave, pupils dilating as supernatural magic flows into his irises.  When her own eyes respond the same, her face falling slack for just a moment, Harry knows he’s alright to continue. “You didn’t answer my question.  How much?”

“Just under four thousand.” The consultant replies immediately as the compulsion settles into her brain. “They would be around five if you wanted to add on the thousand you mentioned before.”

The smile on his face twists into something more conceited, and Harry steps back from the boots with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll take them, then.” Confidence weaves itself through his voice as he meticulously removes the suit jacket from his body. “Call Mara to wrap them up, won’t you?  While I’m changing, I’ll need you to start pulling some more selections for me.”

Blair blinks the compulsion from her eyes as Harry’s stare dips from hers, her tone thick with confusion as she sleepily takes the jacket from Harry’s hands. “More selections, Mr. Styles?  Of what?”

“Yeah, Harry.” Adam’s words are tinged with trepidation as he subtly checks the time on the watch now hanging off his wrist. “Of what?”

“Cocktail dresses, I think.  Although I’m not opposed to a cute little romper, as long as it has a bit of sparkle and shows off some leg.” Harry says thoughtfully, rubbing over his pillowy lips as he ponders the thought. “But I think a cocktail dress would work best.  Black, maybe.  To keep it classy, but not too classy.” He says, shooting a wicked grin at Blair. “I’d like to see a bit of skin.”

“I’m— I’m sorry,” The befuddlement in the human girl’s voice finally begins to clear up, leaving curiosity-tinged jealousy in its place. “What sort of event is this outfit for?”

Harry’s loafers echo around the marble room as he makes his way back to the changing area, a plan already forming in his head as he speaks. “A dinner.  Semi-formal, so no floor length gowns or anything like that.  Maybe bring some matching heels as well, although...” Harry pauses with the changing curtain clutched tight in his hand. “I think a quick trip to Christian Louboutin down the street may yield better results in that department.”

“Quick trip,” Adam quotes scornfully, downing the rest of his champagne and setting the glass down on the gold side table with a groan. “That’s what this was supposed to be, H, and we’ve been here for an hour!  We were supposed to pick up your suit, and then head back to Niall’s for the barbecue—”

“So text Niall and tell him we’re running behind; he certainly has no problem doing that to us.” A snort sounds deep in Harry’s throat as Blair walks to the ornate desk in the back of the room and picks up the gold-plated rotary phone, dialing a short number with practiced speed. “And, with the amount of times he’s complained to me about my lack of punctuality, he should be used to it by now.”

The other vampire rolls his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a groan. “Fine.” He relents, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “But you’re buying me this watch as payment.” 

“Fine.” Harry shrugs as he echoes the word, his voice casual and without a care as he slips behind the curtain and finishes undressing.  

Once he’s hung the suit back up on its hangers and redressed in his normal clothing, he retracts the plush curtain once more to find an annoyed Adam hanging up the phone, his newly purchased boots gone from the pedestal, and the heavy gold accessories that had been picked out for Harry being swapped for finer and daintier pieces.

Harry begins to examine the gold chains, humming in thought over the delicate pendants that swing from them. “How’d Niall take it?” He tosses the question to Adam over his shoulder, not particularly concerned about the answer.

“He told me to call you a wanker and rip off your ear, so,” Adam tucks his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head at the Irishman’s harsh words. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Another hum vibrates through Harry’s throat as he sets a mental note to make amends with his friend at a later date. “So do you want to rip off my right ear, or my left?  I have to admit, my left is my prettier ear, so I’d be appreciative if you left that one alone.”

The laugh that leaves Adam is so genuine that Harry knows he can’t be too annoyed at him.  When his friend joins him in overlooking the jewelry, Harry offers him an airy smile in return, pointing out a detail in one of the pendants to Adam’s interested gaze.

“Explain something to me.” Adam starts after a moment, his own hands grazing over a diamond bracelet. “Why go to all this trouble?  A dress, shoes, accessories… what’s the point?”

If it were any of his other friends asking the question, Harry would take a defensive response, spouting off a justified reply about how he looks so good in the suit that it needs to be seen, and that he can’t wear it and have Y/N not match him in clothing that’s sufficiently up to par.  But Adam’s eyes, albeit frustrated at times, have always been kind, and contain a depth of clarity that Harry can’t resist. He’s always been the most level-headed of the group, second only to Mitch, so the monster always feels safe trusting him with his innermost thoughts. 

“S’nice, I suppose.” Harry replies with as casual a tone as he can allow, lifting his shoulder as the sound of a rolling cart heavy with clothing pricks his ears from down the hall. “I’m taking something from Y/N, so… it makes me feel nice to give her something in return, y’know?  Makes me feel a little less guilty, at least, if she’s having a good time.”

Although Adam’s eyebrows raise at the mention of guilt, he makes no other comment on the surprisingly candid confession from his friend. “I get that.” He says slowly, settling down the gold necklace in his hand with a gentle touch. “I’m surprised you get it, but I get it.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry huffs as Blair rounds the corner and enters the room with a rack laden with black garment bags. “Don’t tell Niall I said that, alright?  He’ll never let me hear the end of it, and if he thinks I’m going soft— which I’m not—” Harry tacks on quickly. “He’ll start trying to fuck with me, and then I’ll have to rip off his ear, and it’ll be a whole thing.”

“My lips are sealed, man.” Adam laughs, gesturing over his shoulder to the clothing cart. “Shall we pick a dress for the lucky lady, then?”

A smirk paints its way onto Harry’s face. “Mhmm.  As long as you’re the one modeling it.”

///

A package arrives the next afternoon.

Like any Saturday when she isn’t working or with Harry, Y/N is home alone, trying to unwind from the previous week’s trials and tribulations.  Although she’s worked customer service jobs at home, working a customer service job in Los Angeles is a whole other demon, and she finds herself more exhausted than she’s ever been more often than she’s not.  It’s probably a good thing, she muses to herself over a cup of tea and her new copy of Sense and Sensibility, that she doesn’t have many friends in L.A., because she wouldn’t have the energy to go out with them anyways.  And honestly, she prefers it that way.  She’s learned to get along with her coworkers enough at her job that she doesn’t feel isolated, and sees Harry enough outside of work that she feels she has a shred of something resembling a social life.  Her quiet afternoons at home by herself are really a godsend, in a way.  They give her an opportunity to recharge to be present enough for social interactions during the week.  Being lonely can be a challenge, yes, but being alone is an entirely different thing, and it’s something that Y/N quite enjoys.

Which is why she’s so confused when her doorbell rings at 2:13 P.M. on a Saturday afternoon.

The moment the sound pricks her ears, Y/N pauses her reading, setting her book down on her lap as she sends a confused look towards the front door.  Her eyes slide to her phone next to her, tapping the screen to make sure she hasn’t missed any messages from anyone.  Harry, surely, would at least text her before showing up unplanned, wouldn’t he?

When her phone screen is found to be predictably blank, and the doorbell rings again, Y/N stumbles her way from her couch to the front door, her chain clanging against the frame as she unlocks it and pulls the door open.

A man she doesn’t know raises an eyebrow at her as she looks up at him, and a spark of fear flickers in her stomach before she realizes he’s wearing a UPS uniform and holding a large brown package in his hands.

“Are you Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” He asks, glancing down at the tablet in his hands. 

“Uh— yeah.  Yes, I am.” Y/N replies slowly, tugging the patchwork cardigan she’d stolen from Harry around her frame. “Hi?”

The UPS delivery man gives her a quizzical look. “Hi.” He repeats back to her in a monotone voice, extending the tablet in his hand. “Sign here, please.”

The urge to argue that she wasn’t expecting anything bubbles up in Y/N’s throat, but she tamps it down as she accepts the tablet, using the pen attached to the device to sign her name.  It’s probably from her mother, she thinks, scrawling her signature quickly before handing the tablet back.  Even though L.A. is famously a city without seasons, her mother has probably knit her two new blankets for the winter months, or sweaters, or some other woolen article of clothing that Y/N will have no use for.

The UPS delivery man swaps the tablet in her hand for the package in his, barely sparing Y/N another glance before retreating back down her hallway.  

“Um, thank you!” Y/N calls after him, shifting the surprisingly heavy package in her palms as she nudges the door shut with her socked foot.  

She carries the box to her living room, setting it down on her coffee table before pausing for a moment to double back and relock her front door (although she’s adjusted to living alone, the fear that’s been implanted in her from a young age about living in a big city still has a hold on her).

The box, she discovers upon further examination, has no return address, but it does sound like there’s multiple items inside when shaken.  And then Y/N remembers that she’s an adult, and should probably not be shaking a box when she doesn’t know what sits inside, so she sits back on her couch with a confused pout— until she once again remembers that she’s an adult, and can open a package addressed to herself.

It takes a moment of struggling to tear off the thick tape lining the seam of the box— a moment which would probably have been shorter if Y/N had retrieved a knife from the kitchen, truth be told— but the opening of the package makes the contents no more clear.  When she pulls back the top of the box, she finds sheets of packing tissue paper, which she tosses onto her living room floor without care to reveal the surprises inside.

And what a surprise the black and white box with Gucci stamped on top is.  Nearly as much a surprise as the second larger black and white Gucci box underneath, or the red and black box next to it labeled Christian Louboutin.

Y/N’s not quite sure how long she sits there staring at the packages in shock, but when she finally manages to unfreeze her limbs to take a sip of her tea, the liquid is considerably colder than it had been when she set it down to open the door.  The packages are so unexpected that it takes her a moment to realize that designer boxes typically contain designer items inside them, and maybe unpacking those will bring her greater insight into what the fuck is happening right now.

Of course, that’s not the case.  

Beginning with the smaller Gucci box, Y/N carefully extracts it from the brown container and sets it on her lap, untying the black ribbon encircling it as if she were dismantling a bomb.  When she lifts off the lid to find a matte black leather clutch purse with a gold Gucci emblem as the clasp, she almost thinks that a bomb would be preferable, because surely, there’s been a mistake.  Y/N certainly hasn’t purchased a Gucci clutch for herself, so it’s entirely likely that this was a gift for someone else, and the UPS man had just gotten the address wrong.  Yes, she thinks to herself, ghosting her fingers over the supple leather in shock, that must be it.  It’s a mistake.  And because it’s a mistake, she should back this all up and call UPS to have them fix it.

And then she remembers the UPS man had said her name, and that’s enough motivation to open the Christian Louboutin box next.

Based on the brand, Y/N suspected that the box would reveal a pair of shoes.  It’s still a shock, however, when she finds a pair of black satin heels that shine even in the low light of her apartment, with a satin ribbon death trap of an ankle tie, and signature red lacquered bottoms.

By the time Y/N reaches the third box, she’s moving on autopilot, her fingers robotically untying the black ribbon and lifting the lid without her instructing herself to do so.  The only words she can manage upon seeing the black cocktail dress is a gentle but emotive “What the fuck?”

The dress, she finds as she cautiously lifts it from the box, is made of satin, and is nothing she would ever purchase for herself in a million years.  The neckline dips into a low V, supported by off the shoulder cuffs, and Y/N can already tell by the cut of the fabric that if she were to slip it onto her body, the knee length dress would cling to her form.  And— Y/N shifts the dress into the light as her eyes widen in shock— as if that weren’t enough, there’s a leg slit that runs so high that Y/N flushes at the mere thought of her thigh peaking through.

It’s that detail, coupled with the suspicion that a single item of the package— let alone all three together— costs more than her rent that leads Y/N to the realization that only one person she knows could have sent all of this.

Folding the dress carefully back in the box and setting it to the side, Y/N fumbles to retrieve her phone from where she had left it earlier.  After unlocking it, she flips to her contacts and clicks on the familiar name, raising the device to her ear with a slow motion.

The phone rings four times before Harry’s voicemail crackles through the speaker. “Hi, you’ve reached Harry.  I can’t talk right now, but if you leave a message at the beep, I’ll try to get back to you.” There’s a moment of hesitation in the recording, and Y/N almost thinks she’s missed the beep before Harry’s accented voice returns. “Unless you’re Niall.” 

The expected beep finally sounds, and Y/N swallows hard as she tries to find the words she needs. “Hey, Harry, it’s, um, it’s Y/N.  I just received your package— I mean, I think it’s from you, because I don’t know who else would send me a Gucci dress— which I can’t accept, by the way.  That’s why I’m calling.  So, um,” She sucks in a harsh breath to give pause to her rambling before continuing. “Just— just call me back, alright?  Thanks.”

While Harry is usually attentive to every call and message from Y/N, her voicemail receives no reply, nor does her second phone call, or her third, or the four texts she sends to Harry in between.  By five P.M., she’s given up on hearing back from Harry at all, and is nearly resolved to pack up the box again and march it to Harry’s apartment when his signature sharp rap echoes on her front door.

Despite her frustration at receiving no reply from him, there’s an air of relief running through Y/N as she tightens the cardigan around herself and strides to her front door.  She unlocks it quickly, her greeting already falling from her lips before the door is even open.

“You better have a good reason for ignoring me all afternoon, Harry, because I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why—”

And then Y/N’s frantic eyes finally settle on the man before her, and the rest of her beration dies before it can leave her throat. 

Harry is leaning casually against her frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest, as usual, and he’s dressed in a grey suit that clings to his body in a way that is so attractive, Y/N didn’t even think it was possible for a man to look this utterly flawless.  The suit fabric looks soft to the touch, more luxurious than anything Y/N could ever dream of, and the black silk shirt that lies underneath looks even softer. The human tries to not let herself focus on the way the shirt is slightly unbuttoned, showing off the inked swallows that decorate Harry’s muscled chest, as well as his usual cross necklace.  However, letting her eyes drift lower proves to be a mistake, as her gaze is immediately drawn to the black stripe that runs down the inseam of Harry’s pant legs, highlighting the muscles of his thighs in a way that makes her mouth water.  Even his shoes, black leather boots embroidered with gold dragons, are attractive in a way that Y/N doesn’t understand.

“Hello, darling.” Harry’s charming voice and dimpled smile pull the girl’s eyes back to his face just in time to see his lips drop into a discouraged frown.

Although Harry is usually greatly fond of seeing Y/N clad in cozy clothes with her hair in a messy ponytail (especially when his own cardigan is part of the ensemble), the look isn’t necessarily welcome at the moment. Yes, she looks adorable in her pastel blue pajama pants with cartoon sheep scattered all over the fabric. And yes, she looks incredibly cute swaddled in an oversized The Nightmare Before Christmas tee along with his patchwork coat. However, given the premise of the plans he’s drawn for tonight, her outfit is far from appropriate. Especially because he’d expected her to be wearing the dress he’d bought her along with the heels and clutch, dishing out a sexy but classy aesthetic rather than the ever-present lonely couch potato one.

He gives her entire body a quick, judgmental sweep, brows cinching. “I— why aren’t you ready?”

The confusion bubbling in Y/N’s mind molds into indignation at his words, albeit a hint of bewilderment lingers. “Ready for what?” Y/N demands, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at Harry expectantly. “I’ve been trying to call you all day about the dress, and you didn’t answer a single time, so I don’t know what—”

“The dress?” Harry’s brow draws together deeper, his easy going demeanor twisting to match Y/N’s within a moment. “Why were you calling about the dress?  Does it not fit?”

Y/N’s mouth gapes open at the question. “I haven’t tried it on, Harry, I—”

“What?  Why not?”

“Because I can’t accept it!” Y/N exclaims, the suffix of obviously unspoken between them. “It’s way too expensive by itself, let alone with the shoes and the purse!”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Harry responds in a slow and careful voice. “Why don’t we step inside, love, and continue discussing this while you get ready, yeah?”

Y/N scoffs at the condescension in his voice, but does as he says, stepping back from the doorway and allowing Harry to walk inside before locking the door behind him. “Ready for what?” She demands again, following Harry’s path down the hallway to the living room. “You still haven’t told me!”

“Christ, Watson, I thought if I sent you a dress and heels, you’d figure it out!” Harry replies with a half-joking sigh, a degree of annoyance beginning to work its way into his tone as he touches the ribbon of one of the Gucci boxes. “You’re losing your touch, huh?”

“Okay, well, apparently I’m a little slow tonight, so fill me in, Sherlock.” Y/N matches Harry’s snippy remark with ease, pinching the bridge of her nose as her head begins to throb in irritation. “What’s going on?  What obvious clue have I missed?”

“I sent you the outfit for you to wear—”

“I figured that much out, thanks.”

Harry’s emerald eyes snap to hers in an exasperated flat glance before continuing. “—to dinner.  I made us a reservation at my favourite Italian place, and I thought that the dress and the shoes would be enough of a hint that I could keep the rest a surprise.” He gathers the ribbon with his fingers again, rubbing the fabric between them as his face drops its usual haughty front. “You really didn’t...you didn’t try it on?  Do you not like it?”

The disappointed hesitation threaded through Harry’s thick accent stops Y/N short, worming its way into her aggravated chest and leaving a spark of guilt behind. When she speaks again, her voice is dulled by genuine warmth, less sharp and pointed and more soothing and grateful. “I...I do like it.  It’s a lovely dress; a little more body-hugging than what I would’ve picked, truthfully, but it’s beautiful.” Y/N offers Harry a soft teasing smile before continuing. “I just...I can’t accept something so expensive from you.”

“Why not?” Harry’s brows re-furrow in sheer confusion as he drops the ribbon from his grip, turning to face her fully. “It’s just a dress, Y/N—”

“It’s a Gucci dress.  And purse.  And Louboutin shoes.” Y/N states with a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms over her abdomen as she drops her gaze to the rug she’d picked out from IKEA. “It’s too much, Harry.  I know you meant well, but I can never...I could never pay you back for this, or give you something as nice, or…”

A disheartened pout tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as he registers the mortal’s words.  It hadn’t occurred to him that his gift could be perceived negatively; he’d just thought she’d like it. He likes to think their friendship is in comfortable enough territory now that gifts wouldn't be a turnoff, especially because of how much more time they’ve been spending together outside of the bedroom. However, as he stands here now watching her hug herself in the living room of the tiny apartment she’d told him she was so proud to afford, he can see how wrong he’d been in that assumption.  Y/N is independent, and has been from the moment he met her.  A gift like this— so extravagant and expensive— could come off as him mocking her financial status, almost, even if it had originally been bought with good intentions.

Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth as something that feels a lot like embarrassment begins to boil in his stomach.  She’ll feel like she owes him something, when that’s the farthest thing from the truth.  If anything, it’s long overdue payment for everything Harry has unknowingly taken from her.  

“I don’t care about that.” Voice dropping quieter, Harry takes a step forward, his cool fingers wiggling their way between hers and pulling her arm from her tummy.  Once her hand is within his grasp, he squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles. He talks slowly, keeping his tone level and honest to communicate the real innocence behind his prestigious present. “I don’t need you to pay me back, and I don’t want you to feel bad.  The money thing— that’s not an issue for me.  And I understand if...it makes you uncomfortable…” His gaze flickers to the ground as well before meeting hers again. “I can take it back if you’d like, if it bothers you that much.  But I was hoping…” 

He rubs his finger over his cherry lips pensively, taking a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “Well.  The reservation is already made, I’m already dressed— and looking like a proper stud, if I may say so myself—” He laughs once in an attempt to lighten the mood, his eyes glued to Y/N’s face to see if she takes to the joke. He feels cool relief flood his veins when she scoffs slightly, the edges of her mouth ticking upwards humorously. “And you’ll match me so well in that dress that it’ll probably put me to shame, dove.”

Y/N glimpses up at him hesitantly, squeezing his fingers with a playful air. “You’re really good with words, y’know that?”

“I like to think I’m good at quite a few things.” Harry grins suggestively, cheekily squeezing her grasp right back. “And I hope I can add ‘getting you all dolled up and convincing you to come along to dinner with me’ to that list. So...what do you say?”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip as she mulls over the suggestion, her fingers grazing over the lionhead ring on Harry’s hand.  He has gone to a lot of trouble, she thinks, glancing over his appearance one more time.  His curls are carefully coiffed, his skin is practically glowing, his trusty cross necklace glints alluringly in the buttery lighting, alongside a small gold hoop on his pierced ear, and the way the suit fits over his body, hugging every flexing muscle and annunciating every hypnotizing curve… 

“What time is the reservation?” She finally asks, eyes flickering to the clock on her wall that reads ten after five.

Harry’s eyes follow hers. “Seven.” He says immediately, licking his lips once as he grips her hand in anticipation again. “We have plenty of time to make it, if— if you want to.”

It could’ve easily been the money Harry spent on the clothing that sways Y/N to say yes.  It could’ve been the humiliation of not realizing what he was planning and ruining his surprise.  But in reality, the thing that causes the next sentence to fall from Y/N’s mouth is the quiet weariness in Harry’s tone— a certain shyness that she hasn’t seen in him before, paired with a specific type of subtle raw hope that makes her heart absolutely melt.

“Alright.” She murmurs, nodding her head once as she draws away from his touch. “I’ll go shower, then, and get ready.  Are you alright waiting out here?”

A relieved smile jolts at the corner of Harry’s lips as he easily nods in return. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.  I’d offer to hop in with you, but…” He gestures to himself vaguely as his grin widens with conceited teasing, shrugging one shoulder offhandedly as if what he says next should be obvious. “We wouldn’t want to ruin perfection, now would we?”

The jesting response pulls an eye roll from the human girl. “Uh huh.” She snorts, snatching her phone from the coffee table as she begins to make her way to the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” Harry calls after her, slipping his own phone from his pocket.  The click of the door lock pricks his ears, but he waits until he hears the shower running to unlock his device and dial the restaurant number.

“Bella Vita Ristorante, how many I help you?”

Harry exhales hard as he rubs a hand over his eyes, his head falling back to hang off his shoulders as his mind recalculates the evening’s plans, shifting things out of place to mold everything around this minor hiccup. He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible, swallowing down the instinctive bothered bite threatening to elbow through. “May I speak to Vincenzo, please?”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment, please.” There’s a shuffling on the other end of the line, and Harry’s gaze slides to the Rolex on his wrist as he waits, not nearly as patient as he knows he should be.

“Hello?” A familiar rough Italian accent echoes through the phone speaker, followed by a light clearing of the person’s throat. “This is Vincenzo.”

“Ciao, Vincenzo, é Harry.” Hi, Vincenzo, it’s Harry. He answers in Italian on reflex, gliding his hand over his lips once more as he fights the urge to tug on his styled hair. “Come stai?” How are you?

Friendly excitement breaks into the man’s voice the second the vampire makes his identity known. “Signor Styles, sto bene, grazie! Non vedo l'ora di vedere te e la tua ospite stasera.” Mr. Styles, I’m well, thank you! I’m looking forward to seeing you and your guest tonight.

Harry glances at the bathroom door symbolically, exhaling curtly through his nose. His tone comes out apologetic and unsure. “Sì, chiamo di stasera.  Abbiamo riscontrato un piccolo problema.  C'è un modo per spingere la prenotazione da sei a sette?” Yes, I’m calling about tonight.  We ran into a little problem.  Is there any way we can push the reservation from six to seven?

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry waits with bated breath for Vincenzo’s reply. The waiter’s response flows through the phone with a rueful heaviness that makes the immortal’s stomach plummet. “Siamo molto impegnati stasera, Harry… È un sabato, dopotutto.” We’re very busy tonight, Harry… It’s a Saturday, after all.

A frustrated sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he scratches at the nape of his neck, once again itching to yank at his curls but forcing himself to refrain the impulse. “Lo so, Vincenzo, e mi dispiace chiederti il ​​favore, ma devo. Sai che te lo devo e ti lascio una generosa mancia.” I know, Vincenzo, and I’m sorry to ask you such a favour, but I have to.  You know I’ll owe you, and I’ll leave a generous tip.

When Vincenzo replies, the hesitation in his voice is gone, replaced by reassurance and familiar fondness. “No, no, Harry, non mi devi niente. Per te, non è un problema. Gli amici aiutano gli amici per gentilezza, lo sai. Mi assicurerò che il tuo tavolo sia pronto per le sette.” No, no, Harry, you don’t owe me anything.  For you, this is no problem.  Friends help friends out of kindness, you know that. I’ll make sure your table is ready for seven.

Harry heaves a grand sigh of relief, a wide smile cracking his face in half. His head swings forward as a light laugh falls from his ruby lips, all tension washing out of his strong shoulders in one swift wave. “Grazie mille. Ti devo, lo fare.” Thank you so much.  I owe you, I do.

His friend’s casual demeanor filters through the phone with a dismissive click of his tongue, and Harry can practically see the older man waving his hand passively. “Senza senso. Ci vediamo più tardi, sì?” Nonsense.  I will see you later, yes?

“Sì. Grazie ancora. Ciao, Vincenzo.” Yes.  Thank you again.  Goodbye, Vincenzo.

As Harry hangs up the phone, he feels a weight lift off his chest.  He knows that it wouldn’t have been a problem if Vincenzo had been unable to move the reservation; all it would’ve taken is a few words of persuasion at the host stand, and Harry would’ve been able to waltz right into the restaurant.  But Vincenzo has been kind to him— has been such a good friend, really— and Harry would hate to tarnish that relationship.

With the new reservation secured, Harry tucks his phone back into his suit pocket, turning his attention to the gifts he’d brought Y/N that are still in their boxes.  He removes the satin dress from its packaging, meticulously folding it over his arm as he snags the clutch and heels with his hands and carries them to Y/N’s room.

Harry nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot, hesitating in the door frame as Y/N’s familiar honey and lavender scent fills his senses, and the vampire’s gaze slinks over a place he’s spent countless hours in as she’s slept soundly next to him.  There’s been a few changes, he observes— warm satisfaction begins to bloom in his chest when he sees the tapestry on the wall has been replaced with the framed Monet print from the antique mall, her half emptied overnight bag is lying on her chair still from her last overnight stay at his condo, and the comforter on her bed hasn’t been fixed back in its usual place.  Harry sets the Louboutins on the ground before tugging the comforter back into order, draping the dress onto the bed and smoothing the creases that formed.  After he lays the clutch down next to the dress, Harry steps back and admires his choices.  It was good that he’d gone with the black satin, he thinks, brushing a hand over the shining fabric with a fulfilled expression.  It’s simple, yet elegant, and matches him perfectly, which brings a flutter of pleasure to his dormant chest like nothing else.

With the dress sufficiently laid out, Harry turns on his heel to leave, and his quick movement blows an unfamiliar scent around the room.  Harry inhales deeply, wrinkling his nose in response to the thick fragrance of carnations and cedar that settle into his senses.  While cedar isn’t one of his favourite scents, he doesn’t usually mind it, but the overpowering presence of carnations nearly gags him, and Harry twists back around to find the source of the offensive stench.

It only takes a second for his eyes to settle on the cause, a new addition to Y/N’s bedroom that he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in.  He takes one stride across the small room to her bedside table, picking up the object with a gentle grip.

The picture frame is made entirely of glass, but has a decorative gold edge lining the small rectangle as both decoration and protection of delicate hands from sharp corners.  In the center of the frame is a photo of three girls dressed in navy blue caps and gowns with red and white sashes around their necks, their arms thrown around each other as their posture curves, and bright smiles on all of their faces.  Although she looks years younger, her hair is longer, and her eyes more naive, Harry recognizes Y/N on the left right away.  The identities of the other two girls, however, stump him.

Of course he wouldn’t recognize them on sight, as Harry has never met any of Y/N’s hometown friends, but his ruby lips drop into a frown when he realizes that he can’t even conjure a name for either of the girls.  No first initial, no general idea— just nothing.  They’re ghosts to him.

Harry traces a finger down the younger Y/N’s face, searching for any part of the woman he knows now in the girl who existed then.  The acne on her cheeks that she’s covered in makeup for the photo match the pattern of light scarring she has on her face, small marks that Harry’s traced in the dead of the night as he listens to her breathe.  Her eyes, while younger, do show a faint glimmer of that stubbornness that he’s been so prone to witnessing.  But it’s her smile, Harry realizes, that is the most different.  While the size and shape of it are the same, there’s a dullness to it that digs into his mind, scraping against his every perception of her.  This is around the time she’d have been with her ex, he remembers, dragging a finger down the edge of the frame.  But what else was life like for her there?  She had friends, obviously, friends who still care about her enough to send her this framed photo drenched in their carnation and cedar scent.  Life couldn’t have been all that bad.

He sets the framed photo back down on her bedside table, scanning the room with a keen eye more closely than he had before.  If he tore through every book on her wall of shelves, would he find any inscriptions written to her from a person in her past?  Notes that had been slipped between herself and others in high school science class, still pressed between yellowed pages as bookmarks?  What if he dug into her bedside table drawer?  Would he find more pictures, letters from those she’d left behind?  It’s strange to think that with all the time Harry has spent in this room, there’s still so many secrets buried within its four glossy walls.

Harry settles his gaze onto the silk dress once again, worrying his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he does so.  Y/N had been worried that a Gucci dress wouldn’t be a good fit for her, and while Harry had thought she meant she couldn’t wear a designer brand, maybe she’d meant she didn’t want to.  Maybe her hesitation didn’t lie in just the cost of the outfit, but in her not wanting something so extravagant.

Sucking in a short breath through his teeth, Harry clears his mind of the thought.  Y/N wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t want to, he assures himself, quickly adjusting the hem of the dress on the bed.  And besides, it’s just for a few hours.  She’ll be out of the dress soon enough, and into…

Harry turns back to her vanity, swiping the overnight bag from where he’d spotted it on the chair.  A pair of sweatpants already lies inside, but Harry still tugs open Y/N’s dresser and snags another pair, as well as a comfortable t-shirt for her to sleep in.  He packs two pairs of fresh panties as well, one high-waisted cotton and another a cheeky pretty lace (the latter is definitely for selfish reasons, if he’s being honest) along with Y/N’s favourite pair of fuzzy slipper socks, because he knows how her feet get cold on the tile of his kitchen floor in the mornings.  

The image in his head brings a smile to his face as he grabs a few hair ties from her vanity and throws them into the bag, along with her half empty bag of makeup removers.  She always gets a chill in the morning in general, so she normally emerges from his bedroom with one of his sweaters tugged around her tired body, half mumbling incoherently until Harry slides a cup of coffee into her hands.  In truth, sleeping next to his icy body probably does nothing to help the mortal, but Harry just tries to wrap her in an extra blanket to help remedy the situation.

Just as he’s tugging the zipper on the back shut, he hears the creak of the bathroom door, followed by the soft steps of Y/N’s feet against the runner rug down her hallway.  Harry straightens up just as the bedroom door is nudged open, and whatever sharp comment was on the tip of his tongue dies away as he sees Y/N.

She’s already done her hair, having styled it into soft curls that are pinned back from her face with two gold clasps on either side of her head, and if Harry were in a more comprehensive mindset, he’d be pleased that the gold will match the adornments on the clutch.  But Harry isn’t in a comprehensive mindset, due to the fact that Y/N’s body, still damp from her shower, is wrapped in only the smallest blue towel Harry has ever seen.

After Y/N shuts the door behind her, she turns around and sees Harry standing in her bedroom with a bag in his hand, and she clutches the towel tighter to her chest in surprise. “Harry—” Her heartbeat stutters as she locks eyes with the creature before her, her cheeks immediately flushing with heat. “What are you doing?  I said to wait in the living room!”

“I know.” He licks his lips slowly as his eyes flicker down her figure and back again, the bright emerald darkening to jade when he meets her gaze once more. “I was just laying out your outfit.  Although now that you’re here, wearing only that—” He gestures to the towel with his free hand as the edge of his lips curl. “Why don’t we just cut out the middleman and have a quick shag?”

Y/N scoffs in response, pushing her way past her lover to her dresser drawers. “I already showered, H, and I even put effort into my hair, so we have to go out.  Can’t waste it, y’know?” With her hand wrapped around the handle of her dresser, the human girl pauses, her gaze drifting curiously from Harry’s face to the bag clutched in his grasp. “What’s that?”

It takes a moment for Harry’s attention to turn from Y/N’s glistening cleavage to the object she’s nodding towards. “Oh, I— uh— I packed an overnight bag for you.” He clears his throat as he sets the bag on the bed, taking a step back from the item like it’s a ticking bomb. “It’s not— I’m not insinuating that you have to stay over if you don’t want to, of course. And you don’t have to use it, but I just thought that if you decided to, you’d want something comfy to sleep in.”

“How is it,” Y/N laughs softly, her curls bouncing as she shakes her head in disbelief. “That you can go from saying you want to fuck me to telling me you packed me an overnight bag, all in the span of one minute?”

Harry presses into the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he chuckles, dimples winking awake and eyes glimmering all at once. “S’easy, really, when you look like that.  It makes me horny—”

“Everything makes you horny.”

“—but I’m still a gentleman.”

A low hum echoes from Y/N’s throat as she opens her underwear drawer, surveilling the contents before she begins to rummage for what she’s looking for. “Alright then.  Would the gentleman be so kind as to step outside so I can finish getting ready?”

Y/N hears two quiet footsteps behind her before she can feel Harry’s cool breath on her neck, her damp skin prickling at the sensation.

“Do I really have to step outside?” He groans lowly as his lips graze the shell of Y/N’s ear temptingly, and she shivers when his teeth follow behind. “S’nothing I haven’t seen before.”

There’s a nagging temptation in the back of Y/N’s mind to twist around on her heel, drop her towel to the ground, give into Harry’s half-hypnotic seduction, and let him drag her back to her bed to take care of the heat that’s beginning to swell between her thighs.  But she knows she’s already pushing the seven P.M. deadline, and if she allows herself to take that detour, she’ll never make it on time.

“Yes.” She mumbles, suppressing a whine as Harry’s lips move to the pulse point on her neck, smudging open kisses down her heated skin. “I just need to do my makeup and get dressed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

A disappointed sigh rustles across the shell of her ear. “Alright.” Harry murmurs defeatedly, smudging one last kiss to her jugular before stepping back from her intoxicating cloud of flowers and sugar that, if the burn in the back of his throat is any indication, is doubly intense from her shower. “I’ll just be outside then, doll.  Take your time.”

Y/N keeps her back to Harry, clutching her towel with a clenched hand until she hears the click of her bedroom door shutting behind him.  She knows that if she looks at him again, and sees that stupidly suggestive smirk on his face, she’d give him whatever he wants— which, considering she’s already trying to do that by going to this dinner, is a bit of a problem.  Once he’s gone, however, she’s free to heave an exhale of relief as she searches for the undergarments she’s pictured in her mind.

While Y/N was in the shower, she’d been trying to picture what she would wear with the expensive dress that Harry had purchased for her.  She only has one strapless bra— a nude coloured cotton contraption, which she’d purchased at a Target last minute for a dinner party a neighbour had thrown back home a few years ago— and she didn’t think that pairing the cheap article with a Gucci dress was going to work.  Some of her friends back home, however, had just mailed her a little care package earlier in the week, and one of the things they’d included was a strapless bustier with a note reading “Here’s to getting L.A.’d!” tucked inside.  They’d meant it as a joke, of course, but as Y/N extracts the lace garment from her drawer, she sends a silent thank you to her friends and their strangely omniscient humour.

Y/N releases her grip on her towel, drying the rest of the dampness from her body quickly before tossing the fabric over the back of her closet door.  After selecting a matching pair of black lace panties, Y/N slips the undergarments on, fidgeting with the bustier to get it to sit right.

A gentle knock echoes from the other side of her bedroom door just as she gets the clothing settled. “How’s it going in there, love?” Harry’s voice floats through the crack in the door, half muffled through the barrier. “Have you got the dress on yet?”

“Not yet,” Y/N calls back, sitting down at her vanity as she analytically surveys her makeup. “Patience is a virtue, Holmes, don’t you know that?”

On the other side of the door, Harry lets out a long sigh, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers along the inside of his elbow. “Yeah, well,” He leans his back against the door, sliding one ankle over the other as he lets the wood support his weight. “‘M not very virtuous, Watson.  I think you can attest to that.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the wooden door, a smug smile peaking onto his lips as he hears the blood rush to Y/N’s cheeks from inside the room. “What?” He taunts, satisfaction laced into his accent. “Cat got your tongue?”

Pressing his head back against the wood to hear better, Harry is met with the sound of a makeup brush sweeping against Y/N’s silky skin, so quiet that human ears could never detect it.  He focuses his attention a little harder to try and picture the steps of her getting ready routine as she performs them. 

A rustling of fabric that sounds a lot like lace pricks his ears, taking his attention with it as Y/N grumbles a reply. “You’re such an ass.”

“Ah, nevermind, then.  Tongue’s still there, and as sharp as ever, I see.” Harry chuckles lowly as he listens to the nearly silent stroking of mascara over Y/N’s lashes.  

He likes that, he realizes, as he raises one hand from its crossed position to rub over his pillowy lips while he waits.  He likes hearing the muted sounds of Y/N getting ready— the bristling of makeup brushes against her skin, the hushed hums that leave her mouth as she debates over what colours to use on her eyelids, the muffled spritz of her perfume bottle against her neck.  The notes of poppies and vanilla mix with her natural scent of lavender and honey, and Harry’s eyelids flutter when the fragrance rolls under the door and envelops him completely.

It takes a harsh bite of his tongue and digging his fingernails into his clenched palms for Harry to restrain the moan fighting to break through his tightened jaw.  Months ago, when he first smelled Y/N in that club, he’d sworn that she smelled more delicious than any aroma he’d ever encountered, but now… Harry wants to laugh at the naivety of his past self, and probably would, if unclenching his jaw didn’t mean letting a growl fall from his throat.  Now, he’s convinced Y/N’s scent is an aphrodisiac created just for him.  All it takes is one small inhale, and his entire body responds.  Even now, as he presses his pounding head back against the panel, he can feel his mouth flooding with venom, his abdomen tightening, and a subtle throb beginning to bulge his—

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice breaks through the cloud of arousal dulling Harry’s senses. “Can you help me zip up the dress?”

The vampire swallows the excess venom in his mouth in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He replies, his voice strained as he struggles to regain control of himself.  He clutches the door handle in his icy hand, pushing the barrier open with restrained strength. “Yeah, I can.”

When he steps into the room, he expects to see Y/N facing the door, her hands clutching the loose dress to her chest the way she’d clutched her towel earlier.  For a moment, there’s a flicker of excitement in Harry’s belly that beats back the desire rolling around inside him.  He’s been waiting to see her in his dress for only a day, but it feels like an eternity, and he pastes a charming smile onto his face as he lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s.

What he’s greeted with, however, is the smooth expanse of the girl’s exposed back, a clear line of tantalizing skin running from the nape of her neck to the curve just below her backside, only broken up by a thick band of black lace with satin ribbing.  

While he was able to control himself in the hallway, the inside of Y/N’s bedroom— with her mouthwatering scent surrounding him and her exposed skin in his line of sight— is an entirely different story.  Harry can feel the way his canopy green eyes darken, and it’s a good thing Y/N is facing the wall, or else she’d see the shards of crimson that he can’t stop from flitting across his irises.  With every step he takes towards the human, he becomes more aware of just how mortal she is— how her heart pounds louder with each passing moment, the shallowness of her breathing as he gets closer, the heat radiating off of every inch of her skin.  Even with his centuries of experience behind him, it’s nearly too much for Harry, whose every instinct is screaming at him to lock the door and ravage the girl in front of him in every way he can.

Harry doesn’t stop walking until the front of his chest brushes against Y/N’s back and his breath is hitting her neck.  He unhurriedly skims his palms over her bare shoulders, feeling the goosebumps that form underneath his icy touch as his hands run down her arms and back up again.

“This…” His voice is thick with desire as one hand travels down the trail of Y’N’s spine, eliciting a shiver from her before grazing the edge of the black lace. “This is new.  I haven’t seen this before.”

“I…” Y/N’s speech falters as she feels Harry’s freezing digits trail down the small of her back as his other hand continues to stroke across her shoulder, barely touching the base of her neck with each movement. “I got it from my friends back home.  They, um—” She sucks in a harsh breath as Harry’s hand inches its way towards her throat. “They sent me a package.”

Harry hums low in her ear, the sound vibrating throughout her body before settling in her warming tummy. “Did they?  How thoughtful.” With his palm finally at her neck, he squeezes it once, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her jugular as his lips brush against the top of her ear. “I should send them a thank you note.”

The feeling of Y/N swallowing beneath his grip sends another wave of desire crashing over Harry, and he bites back a low growl as the fingertips of his other hand find the golden Gucci emblem zipper at the back of her dress.  When he does, he tugs the metal tag up slowly, the sound of the zip barely audible over Y/N’s ragged breathing. 

“S’a shame, really.” Harry murmurs in her ear, letting his teeth graze her earlobe just hard enough to catch her breath. “A crying shame.”

“What—” Y/N’s heart pounds out of her chest as Harry squeezes her neck once more, applying just a smidge more pressure than he did previously. “What’s a shame?”

Harry’s lips trail down her jaw, smearing a single kiss along the dip where it curves to meet her neck. His fingers squeeze her one last time before releasing. “That this pretty little piece your friends sent you is going to end up ripped to shreds on my bedroom floor.” 

The blunt reply incites a squeak of surprise from Y/N as Harry tugs the zipper completely to the top of the dress, settling the seam flat against her flushed back before stepping away.

“Fits like a glove.” Harry murmurs as his hands return to his sides, fixing the fall of his own suit that was disturbed during his previous actions.  He raises a single finger and makes a twirling motion as he dimples a smirk the human girl can’t see. “Give me a twirl, will you, dove?”

Y/N inhales a deep breath as steadily as she can, using the moment to calm her racing pulse before turning around to face Harry with a flustered complexion. 

The dress, made of black satin, has a sweetheart neckline that sits off her shoulders, and hugs tight to the curves of her body all the way down to the hem, which sits just above her knees.  It could be considered conservative, really, if it weren’t for the leg slit running so far up her thigh that Y/N is a little worried about flashing her underwear every time she takes a step.

Harry, however, seems to share none of those concerns, as he hungrily drinks in the sight of her with a satisfied grin and lust swirling through his jade irises.  She’s kept her makeup fairly neutral, save for the bold red lipstick adorning her lips, and while Harry feels a prick of sadness at the realization that he’ll have difficulty kissing her throughout the evening, the idea of smearing said lipstick across her face afterwards erases the feeling completely.  And the dress… “Y’look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, angel.” He hums lowly, rubbing his thumb over his lionhead ring absentmindedly. “So much better than Adam did, and without all the complaining, too.”

Y/N stares at her lover with a blank expression “What—?”

“Does it feel alright?” Harry strides around the mortal girl, examining the fall of the fabric with a keen eye. “I took a guess on your size, though I think I did pretty well. I've licked every inch of your body to the point where I practically have it memorized, so it was relatively easy.” He gives her a cheeky grin as his hand grazes her waist. “But Gucci sizing can be a bit tricky.”

“It— yeah.  It feels alright.” Y/N tugs on the hem of the dress as she feels heat crackle across her ears, shooting him an accusing stare as she touches the thigh slit. “This is a little much, but other than that…”

“That’s my favourite detail, actually.” Harry laughs lightly as he walks to her bed, taking a seat on the edge before reaching for the Louboutin box. “But it’ll feel a lot more natural once you have the heels on.”

“Uh, yeah, about those…” Y/N eyes the offending shoes as Harry extracts them from the packaging, doubt painting itself all over her face. “Those look like six inch deathtraps, and I don’t really trust something that uses a ribbon to attach itself to my ankle, so I think I’ll take a raincheck on the heels.  I have some flats I can wear instead.”

Harry scoffs, a snort echoing from the back of his throat as he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine, love.  I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  You may not trust the shoes, but you can trust me, can’t you?” He unravels the ribbon from one of the shoes and pats his knee expectantly. “C’mere.  I’ll make sure I tie them nice and tight, yeah?”

Y/N nearly chews on her bottom lip before she remembers the lipstick she’d carefully applied earlier. “Alright.” She relents, walking over and lifting her foot to rest on his bent knee. “But if I snap my ankle in half, you’re paying my hospital bill.”

“And I would do so gladly, except it won’t be necessary.” A quiet chuckle rolls out of Harry’s lips as he grips her calf gently, fitting her foot into the sole of the heel with one smooth motion.  Once it’s sitting nicely, Harry diligently wraps the satin ribbon around her ankle, stopping midway up her calf before tying it tightly into a neat bow. “See?  Nice and secure, darling.  You’ll be alright.”

Y/N’s cheeks boil as Harry presses a single kiss to the slope of her knee before setting her foot gently on the ground. “Next one, please.” He smiles up at her with a twinkle in his sea glass eyes.

That twinkle, however, darkens the moment Y/N hikes her other bare foot onto his knee, gripping his shoulder for support as she teeters on one heel.  The leg that she’s lifting is the side of the dress with the thigh slit, and she can tell from the expression on Harry’s face that he has quite the view.

Just like he did previously with the zipper, Harry takes his time slipping Y/N’s foot into the second stiletto.  He trails his fingers all the way up her calf and back down before reaching for the ribbon, and is more meticulous in his motions as he ties the satin around her calf.  

Y/N swivels on her other foot as she tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders, fisting the fabric of his suit between her fingers. “Thanks, H.” She clears her throat as Harry’s cool hands keep their grip on her lower leg, massaging the muscle beneath his fingers with careful and concise motions. “That’s, um, that’s good, I think.”

Harry hums in response, letting her know he’s registered her words, but he doesn’t release her from his grip.  Instead, he bends at his hips, making sure that Y/N can still grasp him for support as he connects his lips to the smooth skin of her calf.

He smudges his mouth all along the area up to her knee, each kiss sloppy and open-mouthed as he inhales more and more of her intense fragrance.  His nose nudges along the tender and dimpled flesh of her thigh, her scent growing stronger the higher Harry gets, and it burns his aching throat with lust and thirst.  He can feel the heat radiating from her core, and he wants nothing more than to burrow his face between her legs and lose himself completely in her taste.  But he’s already come so far, and put so much work into this night; he can’t let it all go to waste because his self-control is particularly weak at this moment. 

With that in mind, he sucks in another long breath, sponging one last kiss to the top of Y/N’s kneecap. “Does it all fit nicely?” He asks, voice gravelly with desire as he squeezes her calf. “The dress, the shoes… is it all alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” Y/N whispers, releasing the fabric of Harry’s jacket before it creases, smoothing it with her palms. “It all fits good.”

“Mmm.  Perfect.” His lips twitch against her skin as he drags another searing breath into his lungs. “Anything I give you always fits so fucking good.”

Another flash of heat rises to Y/N’s cheeks, and she nods weakly in response, not trusting her ability to form words. A quiet hum is the only comprehensible noise she can manage. “Mhmm.” 

Harry straightens up the slightest bit, giving her an expectant look as he releases the grip of one hand on her calf to lightly touch the shell of his pierced ear. “Sorry, pet.  Didn’t hear you quite clearly.” He says, his voice taking on a sterner tone. “Did you agree?”

Although embarrassment begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine, it quickly mixes with irritation.  She knows what he’s getting at, and she can’t afford to let herself give in. “Yeah.” She mumbles, keeping her response as short as she can.

Despite the edge beginning to creep into Y/N’s voice, Harry can’t stop himself from pressing the matter.  He never can, really, when he’s in a mood like this.  When his mouth is filled with venom, when his head is throbbing so much that he can hear a steady drumbeat vibrating through his skull.  He can’t stop.

“M’gonna need to hear you say it, I’m afraid.” He raises his ringed hand to the human girl’s chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger as he regards her with a firm and conceited gaze. “Speak up, minx.  I know you have no issue with being loud.”

All it takes is that one reminder for all of Y/N’s resolve to fall away, her entire body flooding with warmth as she lets out a trembling sigh.  She swallows the weight in her throat down as much as she can, pinning her eyes to where Harry is gripping her calf with a strong hand. “Everything you give me always fits so good.” She whispers, her voice higher than it was a moment before.

Harry squeezes the backside of her knee once. “Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Y/N’s entire body feels as if it’s on fire as sweat begins to bead across her forehead, but her mouth is as dry as a desert. She swallows thickly once more, gathering all the composure she can muster. “Everything—” Her voice cracks once, and she clears her throat as Harry’s thumb sweeps across her chin in an encouraging manner. “Everything you give me always fits so good.”

When she completes the task, Harry gropes her knee once more, but this time the action is a show of satisfaction rather than demand.  He trails his fingers up her bent leg to her thigh, only stopping to dig his fingertips into the crease where her backside begins to plump. “That’s my good girl.”

Delicately setting Y/N’s heeled foot back on the ground, Harry rises from the bed, both of her hands grasped in his own to help her remain steady.  Once he’s eye level with his lover once again, he leans forward and stamps a chaste kiss onto her forehead, his lips already tugging into a small grin before he pulls away.

“Y’ready to go, then?” He questions casually, smoothing the thumb of his right hand over her knuckles as his left hand snags the Gucci clutch from the bed, along with Y/N’s phone.  He unclaps the clutch and settles the phone into its silk lining before handing the bag to the human girl.  

Y/N clears her throat once more as she takes a shaky step towards her vanity, grabbing the lipstick she’d applied before and tossing it into the bag, clasping it shut with a final snap. “I suppose so.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she shoots Harry a nervous glance. “I might need you to carry me down the stairs of my building, though.”

Harry laughs once as he grabs the overnight bag he’d packed with one hand and reclaims Y/N’s left hand in the other. “Don’t worry, pet.  I’ll make sure Cinderella doesn’t lose a shoe.  Or break an ankle.”

“Thanks, Prince Charming.”

“Considering I’m the one that got the dress, I think the Fairy Godmother role fits just a smidge better.”

///

Although it takes careful steps, more than a few stumbles, and Harry’s hand wrapped securely around her waist, Y/N manages to make it down the multiple flights of stairs in her apartment building to Harry’s car waiting below.  After the ten minute car ride into downtown L.A., the majority of which is spent with Harry’s hand sitting perfectly still on Y/N’s exposed thigh, the vampire pulls the car in front of a large restaurant with a line of well-dressed parties winding down the sidewalk.

The restaurant itself, Bella Vita, is one that Y/N’s heard of in passing, but has never experienced firsthand herself, probably because it holds a reputation for being the premier Italian restaurant in all of Los Angeles.  Shock covers her features as she stares out the car window at the grand glass double doors, but only for a moment; after all, could she have expected anything less from Harry, who seems to indulge in luxuries the way most people do chocolate?

When the passenger side door swings open, the surprise returns as Y/N glances up and sees a blonde man she doesn’t know dressed in a suit holding the door open.  The breast of his outfit is embroidered with the restaurant name, but it’s not until Harry, who has already vacated the driver’s side and is behind him, flips the valet his keys.

“Thanks, mate.” Thinly veiled irritation works its way through Harry’s voice as he steps in front of the valet, clapping his large hand over the employee’s shoulder. “I got it from here.”

The valet nods curtly, releasing his grip on the door as Harry extends his hand to Y/N.  The mortal girl grasps it within her own, eager to receive the help he offers as she swings her exposed legs out of the low car and onto the ground. 

“There we go, love.” Harry’s voice softens as he pulls her to stand, giving her a moment to find her balance on her own before sliding his arm around her hips. “Y’alright?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N nods in confirmation as she folds her arms in front of her body, grasping the Gucci clutch in tight hands while she appraises the packed high-end restaurant. “I see why you insisted on the dress now.”

A low laugh rumbles from Harry’s chest as he shuts the car door with his free hand. “I told you, you need to trust me more.  Have a little faith.” He extends his palm towards the valet, shaking his hand quickly and smoothly while sliding him a bill. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo retracts his hand from Harry’s icy grasp with another respectful nod of his head, slipping the bill into the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, Mr. Styles.  Enjoy your dinner.”

Y/N watches as the valet hurries to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in and starting the engine with ease as Harry begins to lead Y/N to the door. 

“So…” She quirks an eyebrow as Harry confidently bypasses the long line of people waiting to be seated. “You’re Mr. Styles here, are you?  Do you come here that often?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, releasing his grip on Y/N’s waist to open the large glass door for her. “Every once in a while, I suppose.” He quips, the answer as non-committal as most things Harry says.  Once Y/N steps into the restaurant, the vampire follows closely behind, clutching her warm hand in his own as he leans down to whisper in her ear. “But I wouldn’t say it’s too often—”

“Harry!”

An older man that looks to be in his mid-seventies emerges from behind the corner, dressed in a fine suit and with an animated grin on his tan, weathered face.  He waves off the host at the stand who had been about to approach the two new guests, his arms already outstretched towards Harry.

“Vincenzo!” Harry responds with equal enthusiasm as he lets go of Y/N’s hand to clutch Vincenzo’s between his palms.  He leans forward and pecks two air kisses onto the employee’s cheeks as the older man does the same. “È così bello rivederti. Come stai?” It’s so nice to see you again.  How are you?

Y/N’s eyes widen in utter shock at the fluent Italian that easily slips from Harry’s ruby lips, watching as Vincenzo takes a step back from him with the same excitement as when he first turned the corner.

“Sto bene, grazie. È meraviglioso anche vederti.” I’m well, thank you.  It’s wonderful to see you, too.  Vincenzo’s attention lists over Harry’s shoulder to Y/N, who is still standing behind him with her mouth half open in bewilderment. 

“Grazie ancora per aver riorganizzato la prenotazione per noi.” Thank you again for rearranging the reservation for us.  Harry reaches back and intertwines his fingers with Y/N’s again as another Italian phrase slips off his tongue with practiced ease. “Ti devo un favore.” I owe you a favour.

“Te l'ho già detto, non mi devi niente. Gli amici aiutano gli amici.” I’ve already told you, you don’t owe me anything.  Friends help friends.  Vincenzo raises an eyebrow as he gestures to Y/N, who’s still a half step behind Harry as he carries out the conversation. “A proposito di ... chi è questo, Harry?” Speaking of… Who is this, Harry?

“Perdonami, sono stato scortese.” Forgive me, I’ve been rude.  Letting go of Y/N’s hand, Harry drifts his palm to the small of Y/N’s back, rubbing his thumb over the satin of her dress as he gently guides her forward for a proper introduction. “Vincenzo, sono Y/N, la mia ... amica.  Y/N, questo è Vincenzo, il titolare del ristorante.” Vincenzo, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my… friend.  Y/N, this is Vincenzo Genovesi, the owner of the restaurant.

Y/N’s ears prick up when she hears her name, and she smiles shyly in greeting at the older man. “Hi.” She wants to offer a more formal presentation, but is unsure if he speaks English or not, so she simply extends her hand to shake his. 

Vincenzo’s smile grows as he grasps her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and planting an innocent kiss to her skin before taking a polite step back. “È così bello conoscerti.  Sei così bello!”

With a gentle squeeze to her love handles, Harry lowers his mouth to Y/N’s ear, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin as he speaks. “He says it’s lovely to meet you, and that you’re very beautiful.” He translates, and Y/N can feel the way he’s smiling into her hair.

A shiver rolls down her spine as his cool breath meets her neck, but she manages to ignore the sensation, and instead sends a grateful smile in Vincenzo’s direction. “Oh… Thank you.  Grazie.” She tacks on, and although she tries her best to mimic Harry’s Italian accent, the way the immortal’s body tenses against her side as he represses a laugh tells her that she didn’t pass the test.

Vincenzo, however, waves off Harry’s amused expression, flipping his hand airily in his direction before taking Y/N’s again. She finds out that he indeed does speak English, and it comes out with a thick accent that holds so much genuine kindness, she immediately takes a strong liking to the aged gentleman. “Wipe that grin off your face, cretino, at least she’s trying!” He pats Y/N’s hand reassuringly, shaking his head with a disappointed scoff. “The last time he brought someone here, they spent the entire time doing a Godfather impression.  And it wasn’t even a good one!”

“How many times do I have to apologize for bringing Niall until you let me forget it?” Harry sighs in exasperation, his hand snaking around Y/N tighter than before. “I’ve already forbidden him from coming back.”

Shaking his head with a hearty laugh, Vincenzo pats Y/N’s hand once more before stepping back to the host stand and grabbing two leather-bound menus from the shelf. “I will never forget, Harry.  But don’t worry; I’ve still reserved your favourite table in the back of the restaurant.  Come, bella donna,” He tucks the menus underneath his arm as he gently loops Y/N’s arm through his own, tugging her from Harry’s grasp as he begins to lead her away from the entrance. “Let me escort you to the table, yes?”

Y/N allows Vincenzo to lead her, but glances over her shoulder to meet Harry’s amused gaze as he trails behind them, large hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as his eyebrows poise teasingly.  The table in question, she discovers, is tucked away in a private corner of the restaurant, framed by a plethora of flora and candles that reflect back on the stone walls.  

Although Vincenzo releases her arm to retract Y/N’s chair, Harry beats him to it, pulling the seat out smoothly and waiting until Y/N is seated comfortably to push the back of it in.  He brushes his cool hand over her shoulder, nudging a loose curl away from her bare neck while offering her a dimpled smile.

As Harry takes his own seat across from her, the older Italian man gives him a knowing look, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Solo un amica, eh?” Just a friend, eh?

The vampire half rolls his eyes, nodding his head slightly as he lays the cloth napkin over his thigh, voice stubbornly flat. “Sì. Solo un amica.” Yes.  Just a friend.

Vincenzo sets a menu down before each of them, clicking his tongue in unconvinced disbelief. “Non guardi un amica come l'hai appena guardata.” You don’t look at a friend the way you just looked at her.

Flipping his menu open with disinterest, Harry makes a bored sound in the back of his throat, waving off Vincenzo with a leisurely gesture. “Vorrei la carta dei vini, Vincenzo, non la tua opinione non richiesta.” I’d like the wine list, Vincenzo, not your unsolicited opinion.

A laugh echoes from the older man’s belly as he shakes his head in amusement, taking a step away from the table. “Certo, Signor Styles.  Lo farò portare subito dal cameriere.” Certainly, Mr. Styles.  I’ll have the waiter bring it right away.  

Turning his attention back to Y/N, Vincenzo takes her hand and kisses it once more. “Bella donna,” He begins, heaving a long sigh. “It was lovely to meet you.  And if this one ever gives you trouble,” he gestures to Harry with a nod, giving her a playfully wink,  “I have five grandsons that would die for the opportunity to dine with a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Harry’s face hardens at the comment, but Y/N laughs at the joke, squeezing Vincenzo’s hand before releasing it. “Thank you, Vincenzo.  It was so nice to meet you… Next time I come, you’ll have to teach me some Italian.” She adds, glancing at Harry as the curiosity of what they discussed before burns a hole in her belly.

The moment Vincenzo leaves the pair to their own devices, the mortal girl leans forward, the inquiry already falling off her lips. “Speaking of Italian…” She runs her finger around the stem of her empty wine glass, cocking her head to the side. “What were you and Vincenzo talking about?”

Harry waves off her question just as he did Vincenzo’s comments. “Nothing important.  Don’t worry,” a sly grin works its way onto his lips as he smoothly changes the subject, “he wasn’t offering to set me up with his granddaughters, if that’s what you were worried about.  It seems he only wants you in the family.”

“Who wouldn’t?  I’m a delight.” Y/N remarks, a wry smile raising the corners of her lips. “But seriously, Harry— where did you learn to speak fluent Italian?”

The answer rolls off his tongue as easily as the language did. “Italy.” He states simply, as if it should be obvious.

And it’s not a lie; he really did learn in Italy.  It just happened to be during the early 1900s, when he had been bouncing around between Florence, Venice, and Rome.  He’d liked Italy, actually, and would’ve stayed there longer, but then an Archduke was assassinated, and Harry had to return to Britain to fight in what was then called “the War To End All Wars.” Harry had figured that he might as well, given that he could shrug off bullet wounds as easily as a knick, and could use his blood to help heal other soldiers when travesties struck. The Italian, it turned out, had come in handy as he fought his way through Europe, but considering the bloody conditions under which he did so, Harry much prefers using it to woo a lovely girl in an expensive restaurant.

“Italy.” Y/N repeats the word in a deadpan voice, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back in her chair, kinking an eyebrow stubbornly. “When were you in Italy?”

Ah, Harry thinks, habitually rubbing his thumb over his ruby lips.  It seems a little white lie is necessary. “During uni.  I did a semester abroad.”

For a moment, he thinks that Y/N doesn’t buy the fib.  Her other eyebrow quirks upwards to meet its partner, but her gaze remains as suspicious as it has been since she first asked the question.  When she finally opens her mouth to speak, there’s a small, irrational part of Harry that thinks she might prod for more. 

“What do you mean, ‘a semester abroad’?” She questions, and Harry is about to over-explain when her posture suddenly relaxes, her arms returning to her sides as an easygoing laugh falls from her mouth, a seemingly entertaining realization dawning on her. “Wait, you grew up in England!  You already lived abroad!”

A breathless and relieved chuckle rolls out of Harry as his shoulders drop, the tension rolling out of him as he leans forward. “I suppose that’s true, hm?” He hums, reaching for Y/N’s warm hand and tugging it onto the table to intertwine her fingers with his own. “I really just went a few doors down the neighborhood, didn’t I?”

“You really did.” Y/N sighs wistfully, drifting her thumb over the back of Harry’s knuckle without a second thought. “I’m jealous, though.  I wish I had gone away for school, even just to a different state.  I could’ve been living in Washington, or Oregon, or New York.  It would’ve been so nice.”

The corners of Harry’s lips weigh down into a frown as he considers the possibilities laced into the comment. “I suppose, but…” He casts his gaze towards their knitted hands.  Hers looks so much smaller wrapped inside his. “If you did, then you might not have moved to L.A.  And then we wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, Mr. Styles, Miss Y/L/N.” A waiter that Harry hasn’t met before appears beside the table with a wine menu clasped in one hand and a basket of bread in the other.  

The server is younger than others Harry has seen before, but Harry knows Vincenzo hires his staff carefully, and that he wouldn’t send anyone too inexperienced to take care of Harry.  From the sweat beading his brow, the vampire can tell that Vincenzo has given the waiter a speech about Harry’s status with the restaurant owner, and the thought brings a small spark of satisfaction to him.  However, that satisfaction disappears the moment he sees the waiter’s eyes linger on Y/N a moment longer than needed. He nods kindly to both of them, but the immortal can’t evade the small spark of irritation that zips down his spine at the employee’s subtle interest in his companion.  Shifting in his seat, Harry tightens his grasp on Y/N’s hand, but keeps his demeanor neutral and polite.  It’s not like he can blame the poor boy, really.  Not when Y/N’s silky lips are sheathed in such a breathtaking shade of red.

“My name is Luca, and I’ll be your server for tonight.” He shifts his attention back to Harry as he sets the bread basket on the table before extending the small leatherbound menu to him. “Here’s the wine list you asked for, Mr. Styles.  I’ll give you some time to look it over, and then I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”

Although his right hand is closer to the server, Harry reaches for the menu with his left in order to maintain his grasp on Y/N’s. “Thank you, Luca.  I appreciate it.”

Luca nods once as he takes a step back from the table, clasping his hands behind his back. “Prego, signore.” You’re welcome, sir. 

Harry’s eyebrow jolts up in mild surprise. “Oh, parli italiano?” Oh, you speak Italian?  He asks, the flip in language gliding down his tongue without so much as a second thought. Harry hadn’t expected it, given that the young man’s natural accent is as American as can be. 

Pausing on the ball of his foot, Luca nods as colour begins to rise to his cheeks. “Sì, signore, la mia famiglia è italiana.  Mia nonna mi ha insegnato a parlarlo quando ero giovane.” Yes, sir, my family is Italian.  My grandmother taught me to speak it when I was very young.

“Tua nonna è una signora molto intelligente, allora.” Your grandmother is a very smart lady, then.  Harry’s mind drifts back to his own upbringing, when his mother would gather him and his sister around the table on Sunday nights, reading them Latin passages by candlelight.  The memory brings a sad smile to his face. “Grazie per il menu. Lo daremo un'occhiata.” Thank you for the menu.  We’ll take a look at it.

Luca nods again, but there’s hesitation in the motion as his eyes drift to Y/N once more, flickering from her own gaze back down to her crimson lips. “Is there anything I can get you before I go, miss?  Some water, perhaps?”

Y/N sends a bright smile to the young man, nodding her head as a strand of her curled hair loosens from its pin. “Yes, please.  And thank you.”

“Due acque, Luca.” Two waters, Luca.  Harry interjects, clearing his throat quietly as he catches the human boy’s eye, giving a curt jut of his chin that signals he’s done ordering for the time being. “Grazie.”

Y/N reaches for the basket of bread the moment Luca has scurried away, her eyes lighting up as she hears the first slice crackle open. “Ooh, garlic bread.” She thrums happily as she takes a small bite while being mindful of her red lipstick, setting the rest of the bread on her side plate as she chews slowly and indulges the flurry of delicious flavors. She talks lightly over a semi-full mouth, careful as to not give Harry an unpleasant eyeful. “So what’s on the menu for drinks?  I’m assuming you’re, like, an expert on wine, right?”

Harry’s lips twitch as he bites back a laugh at the hint of annoyance in her voice. “What makes you say that?”

“You shop Gucci like it’s Target, you speak Italian, you’re a regular at this place…” Y/N’s eyes sweep over their private corner of the restaurant before sending a teasing glance to Harry. “Being a sommelier on the side just seems like something to add to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at.”

Despite the small jab, a satisfied smile settles on Harry’s lips as he squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You really are good at stroking my ego, aren’t you, dove?  I suppose we can add that to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at?”

The familiar comment brings Y/N back to the night the two of them met, in a dark and deafening club that’s the complete opposite of their current location.  She twists her fingers within Harry’s, flipping their hands to examine his palm as memories float through her mind like movie scenes.  How Harry had looked when he first walked over, the soothing and seductive tone of his voice, how she’d done her best to match his flirtatious compliments… how he’d kissed her in his car before taking her back to her apartment.  She should’ve known then, Y/N thinks, that she wouldn’t have been able to let someone like Harry be just a one night stand. 

“I guess I’ll allow you to add it.” Y/N murmurs teasingly as she clasps their hands together once more. “But, unfortunately for me, wine knowledge is not on that list, so… you pick something.  I trust your taste.”

“Alright, then.  No pressure for me.” Harry jokes, snapping his gaze from her hypnotizing irises to peruse the menu once more. “Would you like red, white, or rosé?”

The human hums as she considers the question, pursing her lips in thought, as if the answer she gives is life or death. “Red, I think.” She replies, watching as Harry’s brow furrows in thought while shifting his eyes to the red wine list. 

A moment later, Luca appears again with two glasses of ice water balanced on a tray, which he sets down on the table before each of them.  While both of them offer a murmur of thanks, it’s only Y/N’s show of gratitude that incites a darkening of his cheeks.

Another thread of irritation flares down Harry’s spine, but he forces himself to dampen it down with a reminder that if he were the one waiting on Y/N— rather than being the one sitting across from her— he’d probably be doing the exact same thing. “Penso che abbiamo preso una decisione, Luca.” I think we’ve made a decision, Luca.  He says with a tight smile, snapping the wine menu shut and handing it back to the young man. “Prendiamo due bicchieri del tuo cabernet sauvignon, per favore.” We’ll have two glasses of your cabernet sauvignon, please.

Luca nods as he accepts the menu, his eyes flickering to Y/N’s ruby lips yet again. That’s three times in the last ten minutes...not that the vampire’s counting or anything. 

“Ovviamente. Li prendo per te che scrivi.” Of course.  I’ll get those for you right away. The server answers politely before tucking the menu under his arm and hurrying off.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Y/N says the moment the waiter is gone, her eyes alight with amusement as she pulls her hand from Harry’s to take a sip of her ice water. “But I can’t ignore it.”

Clearing his throat as he reaches for a slice of garlic bread, Harry slinks his head to the side before answering. “Ignore what?” He asks offhandedly, taking a bite of his bread and chewing it slowly.  Had Luca’s fascination with her crimson smile not gone unnoticed?  Or had Harry’s aggravation begun to show on his face?

“The Italian.” Y/N admits, setting her glass down and sitting forward as she rests her bent elbows on the table, propping her head upon her interlocked fingers. “I feel a bit left out, and, truthfully, a little jealous.  I want to learn.”

A playful laugh echoes from Harry’s throat as he taps a ringed finger against the table. “I can’t exactly teach you an entire language over one dinner, sweetheart.  I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Hm.  I know.  It’s tragic.” Y/N sighs, giggling quietly at the way Harry’s laughter cuts off completely and is replaced with a wounded sound of protest. “But what about some important phrases?  Just so I’m not in the dark all evening while you play Roman Holiday?”

Harry prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright.  Why don’t we start with Mi dispiace?”

“Mi dispiace.” Y/N repeats slowly, trying her best to wrap her red lips around the Italian diction. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘I’m sorry’, which one could say in reference to, oh, I don’t know…” Harry shrugs lightly, matching the motion with a theatrical dejected sigh. “Insinuating that your date is without certain… talents?”

Although Y/N laughs again, she reaches across the table and wraps her hand around Harry’s, trying to tamp down the mirth in her voice when she replies. “Mi dispiace.” She repeats again, giving Harry her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“That’s passable, I suppose.” Harry props his chin up in his palm, rubbing his thumb over his pillowy lips in thought. “And then we have ti perdono— I forgive you.”

“How kind of you, Mr. Styles.” Y/N simpers, biting her tongue between her teeth to hold back more sounds of glee. “Give me another one.”

Harry regards her with a thoughtful air, his hand sliding from his mouth to his hair to tug on his styled curls before traveling back down to rest on the table. His voice comes out a tad deeper, a vein of sultriness running beneath it that she just barely detects. “Sei molto bella con quel vestito.”

One of the words tweaks Y/N’s memory from earlier, but she still traces a finger over Harry’s initial rings as she locks eyes with him expectantly. “What does that mean?”

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Harry peers at her through his thick lashes as he encircles his free hand around the stem of his water glass. “You look very beautiful in that dress.”

A pleasurable flush rolls through Y/N’s belly at the compliment.  No matter how many times Harry pays her a positive comment, she somehow always still feels a rush with each word that falls from his soft lips. “Thank you.” She mumbles shyly, tucking her thumb between Harry’s ring and pinkie finger. “I mean— grazie.” 

“Try saying it back to me.” Despite the encouraging words that are said under the guise of teaching, there’s an undercurrent of command that turns the satisfaction in Y/N’s tummy to anticipation. “Molto bella.”

The mortal’s eyes flicker between Harry’s own emerald irises and his mouth as he curls a ringed finger over her hand, stroking the icy digit over her heated skin. “Molto bella.” She repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fantastico, tesoro.” The praise slips easily from his lips as he lets himself bask in the warmth her flesh brings to his. 

“‘Tesoro’,” Y/N repeats, a tinge of confusion settling onto her face. “What does that mean?”

“It’s, uh,” Harry scoffs to himself in realization, unaware he had even let the term fall from his mouth. “It— well, it means ‘treasure,’ but it’s kind of the Italian equivalent of ‘darling’.”

The vampire can hear the way Y/N’s heartbeat spikes, sending a new wave of blood to warm her cheeks. “That—” The human girl mimics the way he’d cleared his earlier as she reaches for her water glass. “That’s pretty.”

“It is, yeah.  You’ll probably be hearing it often.” Harry continues to drag the pad of his finger down the ridges of his lover’s knuckles as a fond smile crescents his Cupid’s bow. “And here’s another one you’ll be hearing often— piegarsi.”

Y/N pauses with her water raised halfway to her lips. “And what does that one mean?”

Harry waits until her mouth has reached the rim of the glass and she’s taken a sip of ice water. “Bend over.” 

The response is instantaneous, just as he’d imagined. The mortal chokes on her water, coughing up a storm as she quickly lowers the drink from her mouth, half bending over the table and yanking her hand from his as her cheeks light with fire. “Harry!” She gasps once she regains her breath, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else at the restaurant overheard his lewd statement. 

“What?” He asks innocently, but quickly gives into snickering, his body curling over the table as he cackles. “I’m not wrong!  You really will be hearing it often, so you should know what it means!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to say it in public!” Y/N exclaims hotly, shooting him a look of irritated disbelief that’s exaggerated to hide the boiling that’s working its way into her stomach.

Still chuckling every few moments, Harry reaches for her hand once again, interlocking their fingers and bringing her palm to his mouth. “Alright,” He kisses her heated palm while gazing at her through half lidded eyes. “Alright, I’m sorry.  Mi dispiace, tesoro.”

Y/N purses her painted lips, but sighs in defeat after a few moments of Harry’s moony eyes boring into her own. “Fine.  I forgive you.  Ti perdono.”

Although the annoyance has faded from Y/N’s complexion, Harry still keeps her hand flushed to his lips, stamping kisses to a new area of skin with unpatterned frequency.  He’s not certain if her warmth is just her or the residual embarrassment, but he doesn’t care.  It’s just nice, he thinks, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at Y/N from across the table.  It’s comfortable.

“I have your glasses of cabernet sauvignon, Mr. Styles.” Luca interrupts from beside Harry, who had been so focused on the feeling of Y/N skin against his that he hadn’t noticed the waiter’s return. 

Harry gently lowers Y/N’s hand from his mouth, setting her palm down on the table with care. “Grazie.” Harry says casually, straightening his posture to allow Luca to set the glasses down. 

Y/N does the same, offering the young server a thankful smile once again. “Grazie.” Her voice rings sweetly from behind her lips, her confidence more stable thanks to Harry’s miniature Rosetta Stone lecture. 

“Prego, signorina.” Luca matches the Italian easily, his eyebrows raising in hopeful shock. “Parli anche italiano?” Do you speak Italian, too?

The human girl’s eyes flick to Harry as her mouth falls open without sound, and the immortal reads the distress signal easily. 

“No, lei non—” He cuts himself off in the middle of the address to Luca when he remembers that Y/N doesn’t like being spoken for.  Harry redirects his attention back to her questioning eyes. “I mean— he asked if you speak Italian.”

Y/N gives Harry an appreciative smile before turning back to Luca, the expression turning apologetic. “No, I don’t.  I wish I did, though.”

“It’s a fairly easy language to learn.” Luca tucks his tray underneath his arm as he regards the girl timidly. “And your accent is wonderful already.”

Harry hides his smirk behind his wine glass, stifling the laugh that’s threatening to sound.  The server must be entranced by her beauty, he thinks, because that’s the most blatant lie Harry has heard in a long time.

Y/N, however, accepts the compliment with ease. “Thank you.  It’s not true, but I appreciate the effort to be kind.”

The tips of Luca’s ears redden as he laughs breathlessly. “Are you, um, ready to order?”

“Oh, uh—” Y/N drops her gaze to the unopened menu in front of her before offering an rueful glance at the waiter. “I still need a few minutes, I think.”

“That’s alright, take your time.  I’ll be back shortly.” Luca assures her, turning to Harry and giving one last nod of acknowledgement before leaving them again.

Despite already having the menu of the restaurant memorized, Harry slides the leatherbound cover open, dragging a ringed finger down the smooth pages as he feigns searching for a dish. “You know…” He flits his gaze to Y/N’s face as an amused grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “That’s really not fair of you.”

Y/N looks up from her own opened menu the moment Harry speaks, a bemused shadow falling over her face. “What’s not fair of me?”

Harry reaches for his wine glass as he laughs gently, shaking his head before taking a small sip of the smooth cabernet. “Being so charming to Luca.  The poor boy looks like he’s going to pass out each time you speak to him.”

Her cherry lips curve into an exasperated smile as she rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what you mean.” She states, turning her attention back down to the cursive menu. 

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Harry replies dryly, quirking an eyebrow as he sets his beverage back down on the table. “So you’re not noticing how his eyes are glued to your mouth every time you say something?”

“Nope,” Y/N pops her lips on the last consonant sound of the word as she reaches for her own wine glass. “Because it’s not happening.  We’re just talking, H.  He’s the waiter; he has to look at me.”

“Right.” Harry drags the word out, completely unconvinced. His own eyes glue to Y/N’s lips as they wrap around the edge of her glass, his throat growing slightly parched as he studies the way they curve in a manner that he deems practically flawless. “So do you think the way he’s staring at your tits is also in his job description, then?”

Y/N snorts at the snarky remark, lowering her glass to rest just in front of her chest. “You’re the one who picked out a dress with such a low neckline.” She unwraps her index finger from the wine glass to point it at him in an accusatory manner. “Why did you get it, then, if you didn’t want my tits out on display?”

Harry takes a swig of his own wine as he fights back a laugh at her bold statement. “Let me fill you in on a little secret, mi amore.” He says, lowering his voice and setting down his delicate glass with a muted thud. “The main reason I got it…” The vampire watches the way Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels the snakeskin tip of his boot brush against the back of her bare calf beneath the table. “Is because I’m curious to see what it would look like as a crumpled heap at the bottom of my staircase.”

The toe of his boot travels higher up her leg, circling around the bend of her knee before just barely grazing the soft flesh of her lower outer thigh.  Y/N does her best to control her breathing, but the effort is in vain when the cold metal zipper presses against her dimpled skin. 

“Harry…” His name leaves her crimson lips in a warning tone as she glances around the restaurant, eyeing the closest couple five tables away. 

“‘M excited to see it later, y’know? Been thinking about ripping it off ever since I zipped you into it.” Harry drags the toe of his boot back down her leg, coasting it lightly against her ribbon-wrapped ankle in small and concise motions. “But I suppose I’ll just have to be a bit more patient.  At least I’ll be seeing you like that; poor Luca could only dream of it.”

The human girl clears her throat quietly, taking another measured sip of her wine as she wills herself to steady. “The only thing poor about Luca is that he’s going to come back to the table and I still won’t know what I want.” She shifts her attention back to the open menu, ignoring the eye roll she receives from her lover across the table as she looks over the Italian in front of her. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

“Let me help, cara— which means, ‘dear,’ by the way.” Harry says in an amused voice, dropping his gaze to the cursive menu. “Do you want fish?  Pasta?  Red meat?  Chicken?”

“Maybe pasta.” Y/N murmurs in reply, running a finger down the booklet page as she reads over the Italian descriptions.  Her eyes catch the prices next to dishes, and she nearly gasps, but bites back the sound of surprise at the last moment.

“Alright…” Scanning down the pasta list, Harry bookmarks a few dishes he thinks Y/N may like. “You’d enjoy the ‘Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe’, I think.” He muses, rubbing a finger over his chin in thought. “Or the ‘Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto’.  That’s kind of like pasta— it’s a potato dumpling, and you can choose if you want a meat or gorgonzola sauce.”

“That sounds good.” Y/N finds the mentioned items on the menu, her eyes sweeping over the Italian descriptions to try and pick out the words Harry mentioned. “I think I’ll go with the last one, with the gorgonzola sauce.” Taking a sip of her wine to seal her decision, Y/N poses a question to Harry. “What are you thinking of having?”

“I’m not sure…” Harry lifts his shoulder in a careless shrug as he continues to scan the menu. “I have a few favourites, and those are always solid choices.  The lamb is quite good here; I haven’t had that in a while.”

As Harry peruses his decisions, Y/N begins to chew on the inside of her cheek, narrowly avoiding her habit of biting her lips and ruining the raspberry lacquer she’d painted on earlier as an idea forms in her head. 

“Harry,” She begins, waiting until he raises his jade eyes to meet hers before continuing. “When Luca comes back over…” The girl chooses her words carefully, doing her best to voice her question in the most understandable way. “Could you order for me?”

Just as she suspected he might, Harry rests his menu back down against the table, giving his whole attention to Y/N as his brows furrow. “You want me to order for you?” He asks, confusion threaded through his accent as his mind flips back to their first date, when Y/N had nearly skinned him alive for attempting to do just that. “Why?”

She shifts in her seat under his hot gaze, her own eyes dropping to her lap as her cheeks sear. “It’s— It’s in Italian, so it’ll probably be easier if you say it.”

Harry shakes his head in disagreement as he tries to reassure his date. “No, doll, it’s alright if you say it in English.  Luca will get it.  And if worse comes to worse—” He cracks a smile, tapping a bejeweled finger against the booklet. “Y’can just point.  He’ll get the gist.”

Despite the solutions offered, Y/N continues to shift around, her foot bumping against Harry’s boot as a soft sigh falls from her lips.  She’d hoped Harry would’ve just accepted the request on her first try, but he seems determined not to repeat his mistake from their first date, which means Y/N has to get a lot more honest.

“No, H, I want…” She purses her lips as she twists her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, gently swirling the dark liquid inside. “I want you to order for me.”

The smile on his face darkens into a befuddled expression. “I mean, I can,” Harry says slowly, closing the menu and sliding it onto the table as he appraises the girl across from him. “But I’m a little confused on your reasoning.  Last time I tried to order for you, you said I was trying to make decisions for you—”

“And you were,” Y/N can’t help but to defend herself, flashing a stormy look at Harry from beneath her lashes. “That’s why I’m telling you what I’d like now.”

Harry’s mouth gapes open as he stares at Y/N with a blank expression.  A scoffing laugh finally falls from his lips as he shakes his head again, reaching for his wine and bringing the glass to his lips. “You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, d’you know that?”

Y/N lets a beat of silence fall between them as she rethinks her question and how best to phrase it in a way that still lets her feel like she’s living in the twenty-first century. “I mean I— you said that it was polite, right?  At that brunch.  Your mom taught you it was a sign of respect.” Her eyes fall to the opal ring sitting on his pinky, sparkling in the candlelight like it always does.

Harry lowers his glass, watching Y/N with a guarded gaze. “Yeah.” He murmurs, licking his lips once as he places his cup back on the table. “She did, yeah.”

“And you’ve gone to a lot of trouble tonight— the dress, the reservation, everything— and I just— I wanted to—” The more Y/N tries to articulate her thoughts, the more tangled her thoughts become, and she sucks in a harsh breath of frustration. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Although Harry has a suspicion about her meaning, he doesn’t try to finish her sentence.  The last thing he wants to do is make Y/N feel like he’s trying to speak over her. “It’s alright.” He says instead, snaking his hand across the table to weave her fingers through his. “Take your time, tesoro.”

Heeding his advice, Y/N takes a moment to just focus on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers wrapped around hers, and allows her thoughts to gather themselves together on their own.  When she tries again, her speech is hesitant, but less frustrated than before.

“I think I… understand you more now.” She mumbles the words, keeping her eyes glued to the shining stones that adorn Harry’s rings. “When you do things that I’m not used to… I know you’re doing them out of kindness, and not because you think I’m incapable.” Raising her stare to meet Harry’s entrancing emerald eyes, Y/N takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve done a lot to make me comfortable, and I appreciate it, so… I want to do something for you.  It’s no Gucci dress—” Y/N laughs breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again as her intent flickers away from Harry’s own for just a moment before— to his relief— returning. “— but you were taught it was a sign of respect, like opening a door, or pulling out a chair.  So if you want to order for me… you can.” She finishes in a quiet voice. “If you’d like to.”

A slow smile spreads over Harry’s strawberry lips as Y/N wraps up her speech. “Really?” He asks, his voice hushed with delight. “And you won’t accuse me of treating you like you’re incapable?”

Y/N’s eyes flash to him in a darkened glare, but her tone holds a jesting bite. “Not unless you piss me off.”

A soft exhale of air leaves Harry’s nostrils, the beginnings of a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He quips in return, catching Luca’s eye over Y/N’s shoulder as the waiter approaches the table again.

Although his body is turned towards Harry, Luca’s eyes canvas Y/N once more, the action bolder this time as his irises spend longer resting on her cleavage after observing her tinted pout.  The lengthened look grates against Harry’s nerves, and he clears his throat in a slightly irritated manner to call the young man’s attention back his way.

“Oh, uhm—” Luca’s ears redden as he turns back to Harry, clearing his throat as he steadies himself. “Sei pronto per ordinare, signor Styles?” Are you ready to order, Mr. Styles?

“Sì,” Harry replies curtly, tapping his thumb against Y/N’s soft hand. “Y/N vorrebbe gli Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto con la salsa al gorgonzola, e io prendo il filet mignon, cotto raro, per favore.” Y/N will have the Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto with the gorgonzola sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon, cooked rare, please. He says smoothly, and he can’t deny the satisfied pleasure that curls inside his belly when he sees the gentle eyes Y/N gives him across the table.

Luca nods once as he takes the menus from the two of them, careful to keep his eyes away from Y/N’s mouth as he gathers her leatherbound copy and scuttles off to submit their orders to the kitchen.

“Okay.” Y/N says reluctantly, squeezing Harry’s hand within her own with a sigh as she watches the waiter disappear. “I will admit, I did notice his eyes drifting a little low there.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Harry asks, eyes widening in dramatized disbelief.  He wills himself to keep a triumphant grin off his face, but knows he doesn’t quite succeed. “Did you just admit I was right?  Did that just happen?”

“Oh, shut up.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N shakes her head as she takes another bite of garlic bread, her tongue poking from her mouth to catch a crumb at the corner of her lip. “If you’re going to act like such a child, I’ll take it back.”

Harry brings her knuckles to his mouth, brushing them against his lips in a tender motion. “I’m just trying to savour the moment, angel.” His cool breath crawls over her skin, eliciting a shiver from the human girl that he adores. “Who knows when I’ll get to experience it again.”

“Never, if I have any say in it.”

“Should we ask Luca to weigh in on this little debate, too? You know, since he’s practically as acquainted with you as I am.” 

“Bite me.”

The monster’s dimples wink at the irony of her insult, and his voice carries a knowing edge that only he can decipher. “Don’t I always?”

They fall into their usual rhythm after that, easily discussing what each of them had been up to throughout the week during their gaps away from the other.  Those gaps, Harry realizes as he listens to a work story from Y/N, are becoming shorter and shorter. He’d swung by Y/N’s cafe for lunch on Thursday to order a mediocre at best sandwich, and indulge in a far from mediocre makeout session in the back of his car.  And watching Y/N hurriedly tighten her ponytail while she stumbled away from his Cadillac, cheeks flaming as she nearly ran to the employee entrance around the back of the building before her break ended, had prompted Harry to call her that night for a long overdue phone sex session.  

Even after they had both helped the other reach climax, and post-orgasm photos had been sent (Harry had received a picture of Y/N stretched out on her bed, her face visibly heated and chest sweaty as she wore nothing but his “enjoy health” t-shirt, and in return, he’d sent a snapshot of his cum-covered abdomen, fingers resting delicately at the edge of his butterfly tattoo), the vampire and human had stayed on the line as they both caught their breath.  Harry had followed the nude photo with a picture of him posing with a glass of water and a thumbs up, smiling grandly amidst his colored cheeks and sweaty curls, captioning it “Make sure to hydrate after a workout!” The energy it took to take the self-timed photo was worth it when he’d heard Y/N’s laugh tumble out from the opposite end of the line. 

It’s the same carefree laugh that she’s trying to stifle now, her hand pressed over her mouth and nose as her eyes send an apologetic glance at Luca setting her plate of gnocchi down in front of her.

“Thank you, Luca,” She manages to choke out, wiping her eyes with the edge of her thumb to stop the saltwater threatening to rush down her heated cheeks. “It looks delicious.”

Harry nods in agreement as the waiter sets his own dish in front of him, his mischievous smirk still shining at Y/N from across the table. “Grazie.” He says as he curls his lips around his newly topped off wine glass.

Y/N bites her tongue to hold back the continuous laughter that’s on the verge of bursting from her chest like a dam.  With every moment Harry keeps his eyes locked on hers, the human girl has to press her lips harder and harder together, and barely manages to wait until Luca has left them again to release the wave of giggles that crest out of her chest.

“Something amusing?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he sets his glass down, hardly able to hold back his own laughter as couples seated away from them begin to take notice of the boisterous sounds.

“You—” Y/N sucks in a ragged breath, half snorting once more as she manages to calm herself enough to take a small sip of wine.  The liquid soothes the raw ache in her throat that is practically raw from the convulsed snickers. “You did not say that to him!”

“I did.” Harry answers smugly, adjusting the napkin covering the light grey fabric stretched over his lap before picking up his knife and fork. “He was too certain that no girl had ever faked it with him just because of a leg shake.  I couldn’t let him live in that delusion; it’d be a crime, really.  Just plain cruel.”

“Oh, right, like telling your friend that all the girls he’s been with have been faking it isn’t cruel?” She gently sets down her wine glass at the edge of her plate as she voices the retort, shaking her head in disbelief. “Poor Niall.”

“Not Poor Niall!  I was trying to help him!” Despite the claim, Harry can’t stop himself from chuckling out the words. “How’s he going to fix his ways if he doesn’t know anything is wrong?”

“Alright, so riddle me this, then, Dr. Phil.” Y/N picks up her fork, spearing a piece of gnocchi and holding the chunk above her plate as she issues her challenge to Harry. “How did you become the expert in whether or not a girl is faking it?  Do you have a lot of experience with that?”

“Not in the slightest.  I think you know that much.” Just as he did before, Harry begins to slide the tip of his boot up Y/N’s calf, relishing in the slight hitch in her breath and stutter of her heart. “If I’m an expert in anything, it’s how to make someone cum until their legs actually shake.  That’s why I can tell the fake from the real.”

Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment as she forms a coherent reply. “I guess I do know that.” She relents, opening her eyes just in time to see the simper that’s growing again across Harry’s face as he continues to rub up and down her leg with his shoe.  Y/N lifts her fork, carefully slipping the sauce-covered gnocchi into her mouth. “But Niall doesn’t— holy shit.” The mortal gasps as the flavours burst across her tongue, the perfect mix of savoury and salty and drenched in decadence.

“It’s good, innit?” Harry pokes his cheek with his tongue as he slices off a corner of his steak, checking the rarity of the meat before bringing it to his mouth. “There’s a reason this is my favourite restaurant, and it’s not just Vincenzo.”

“It’s fucking delicious.” Y/N can’t think to censor herself as she meticulously chews and swallows the bite, savouring every second before poking another gnocchi onto her fork. “I understand the price now.  It’s still outrageous, but I get it.”

Harry watches the way Y/N’s lashes flutter as she chews her bites, and the satisfaction growing in his belly increases. “High quality is worth paying for.” He states, slicing off another portion of steak. 

Y/N nods slowly, swallowing the food before pointing the prongs of her fork at Harry’s plate. “How’s your filet mignon?” She asks, spearing another bite of gnocchi onto the utensil. “Worth the price point?”

Dragging the bite on his fork through the sauce that’s pooled on his plate, Harry beckons her forward as he extends the piece towards her. “Open your mouth and find out.”

There’s something about the way that Y/N immediately obeys the command— setting down her own fork and leaning across the table to wrap her lips around Harry’s— that sends a shiver down his spine.  With her mouth closed, she slides the cut of beef off the silverware and leans back in her seat, chewing thoughtfully with a contemplative look on her face. 

A drop of sauce is smeared from the bite, dripping from the edge of her mouth, and although it goes unnoticed by Y/N, it’s all Harry can see as he watches her savor the bite of food.  He leans forward more, collecting the droplet on the pad of his thumb, which he brings to his mouth and licks off casually before settling back in his chair.

“Like it, tesoro?” He asks, an expectant look glinting in his eye as he slices off another bite for himself. 

Y/N cocks her head to the side as she swallows, trying her best to focus on the flavour and not the way Harry had been so careful not to smear her lipstick as he touched her. “I like the sauce.  It’s sweet, but has a bit of a kick to it.  The steak, however…” She wrinkles her nose the slightest bit. “It’s a little too rare for my taste, I think.  I’m not really a fan of anything bloody.”

Harry curls his tongue inside his mouth as he allows himself a single laugh. “No?” He questions, spearing a piece of meat and sliding it past his lips. “I can’t say the same.  I like my steaks cooked rare.  The bloodier, the better.” 

“I bet you’re one of those weirdos who orders blue steak, huh?” Y/N asks, taking a gulp of her wine to wash out the taste of the meat. “Like, still cold in the middle, and looking practically raw…”

“Oh, no.  Not at all.” Harry’s chuckles increase, and he has to hide them behind a false cough to stop himself from drawing more attention. “It tastes much better if the meal is warm.”

Although Y/N doesn’t grasp the full meaning behind his words— and thank God she doesn’t, Harry thinks, because she’d probably run screaming from the restaurant— she hums in acknowledgement as she swirls the wine around her glass.

“But you’re enjoying your meal, right?” Harry changes the subject swiftly, deciding he’s indulged his one-sided humour long enough. “I have no problem sending it back if it’s not to your liking.”

The human’s eyes widen as she swiftly sets down her glass, shaking her head at the question. “No, no, it’s delicious!  Probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten, honestly.” She collects another bit on her fork, twirling the potato dumpling through the gorgonzola sauce before motioning to Harry. “Wanna try?”

When Harry nods in response, they slip back into their former position, both of them leaning forward in their seats to meet in the middle of the table.  Y/N slips the fork into his mouth, feeling the resistance as Harry’s white teeth meet the strong metal of the cutlery. 

Just as had happened to her a few moments prior, a small droplet of sauce gathers at the corner of Harry’s mouth as she pulls her fork away.  Y/N collects the sauce with her thumb as Harry had as well, but before she can sit herself back in her chair, Harry captures her wrist within his cool hand. 

Keeping his canopy green eyes locked with hers, the creature slips her thumb into his mouth, licking the remnants of the bite off the digit with his slick tongue.  His boot continues its climb up her leg, just barely reaching her thigh again before traveling back down to plant itself firmly onto the floor of the restaurant.

A quiet gasp leaves Y/N’s mouth as Harry lulls his tongue around her thumb one last time, and the barely audible sound raises his strawberry lips into a hint of a grin as he extracts the finger from his mouth.  With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, Harry brings her open palm forward and plants a delicate kiss to the center of her hand.

“That’s quite good.” Harry finally says nonchalantly, attentively setting Y/N’s hand back down on the table and releasing her wrist from his grasp. “I’ll have to try it the next time we come.”

Y/N struggles to regulate her breathing as she retracts her hand from the table, setting it down in her lap as her fingers involuntarily clench into her heated thigh. “Um, yeah.” She wisps, clearing her throat once as she reaches for a slice of garlic bread. “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s really good.  The sauce is— it has a nice balance to it, I think, with the thyme…”

“I agree.” Harry wipes his wet finger off on the napkin laying over his thigh. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you, pet?”

“You would know.” Y/N huffs snidely, cheeks blazing as she reaches for her wine again to extract a heavy gulp of the liquor.  

In the moments of silence that fall between them, Y/N allows herself to canvas the restaurant, observing the interactions of those around her.  True to Vincenzo’s promise of a private spot, the couples nearest to them are all at least five tables away, and partially hidden from view because of the positioning of their corner booth.  However, Y/N’s sharp eyes don’t miss how every formally-dressed staff member, from servers to busboys and hosts, cast their eyes in Harry’s direction each time they pass by.  Some even whisper to their coworkers as they turn the corner, their gazes always lingering on Harry with a mix of awe and wonder.

“Have you noticed how all the staff here watch you?” Y/N asks as she catches the eye of a passing waitress, who offers her a tense smile before sliding her stare towards Harry. 

“Do they?” Harry replies curiously, raising his wine glass to his lips as he lightly shrugs. “I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

“I think Vincenzo’s given them all the update on the prestigious British bachelor, Harry Styles.” Y/N pokes fun, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully as she contemplates Harry with an observant eye. “Or maybe they’ve all just noticed the ridiculous amount of designer labels you insist on wearing.” She teases him with a playful grin, tapping a finger against the Gucci cufflinks on his sleeves. “I feel a bit like a celebrity.”

A modest laugh breaks past Harry’s lips as he lowers the glass, keeping his ringed fingers twisted around the stem. “In my experience, I’ve found you’re treated best when you treat the staff best.  I tip well, so I receive better service.  When I receive better service, I tip more.  It’s a bit of a cycle, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically, the tip of his boot once again exploring the soft skin of Y/N’s bare leg. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.  I thought I’d test the waters tonight and see how well you like the high life before I arrange anything more… extravagant.”

“More extravagant?” Y/N laughs at the idea, propping her elbow on the table and plopping her chin in her hand as her eyebrows raise. “What could possibly be more extravagant than a Gucci cocktail dress, Loubotin heels, and a fifty dollar pasta dish?”

The answer rolls off Harry’s tongue immediately, slathered in a jesting, matter-of-fact tone. “A trip to the Bahamas, obviously.”

Although Y/N’s eyes widen slightly at the comment, it’s not long before she giggles softly, the wine beginning to twist its way through her system.  Harry can smell the way her lavender and honey scent is intertwined with the dark, fruity notes of the liquor, but even if he couldn’t, it would be obvious in the way she draws towards him with a tender smile on her face.  Despite the dewy appearance of her skin amidst the lulled candlelight, it’s the genuine warmth behind Y/N’s eyes that makes Harry feel like her gaze could thaw the ice from his long-frozen limbs.

It’s that warmth that brings Harry to reach over the table after Luca has cleared their bare plates and refilled their glasses, dragging his hands across the linen tablecloth with his palms turned upwards.  He just can’t ever seem to stifle the need to touch her.

The motion is a quiet question in itself, and Y/N gives the desired answer when she fills his empty grasp with her own palms, automatically tangling her bare fingers with Harry’s jeweled digits. For a moment, Harry just sits there, thumbing over her fragile knuckles in the way he’s grown so accustomed to doing, basking in the heat that congregates in his chest and gives him the feeling that he’s glowing.  He almost hates to break the perfect silence between them, which is so understanding, but he’s been thinking about his words too carefully to swallow them back.

“Thank you for agreeing to let me take you out.” He says, his voice gentle and low, a far cry from his usual cocky drawl. “It’s…It’s been a really long time since I’ve done something like this with anyone, let alone had this much fun doing it.” He takes a quiet breath through barely parted lips. “It’s nice.”

His ears prick with the sound of Y/N’s hummingbird heartbeat thrumming in her chest, the pattern bringing an ache to his tummy in an entirely new way, but the ache is quickly soothed by the soft smile that adorns her crimson lips.

“It’s…It’s been a while for me, as well.  Which you know.” She laughs airily, but is too entranced by the vivid color of Harry’s eyes to tear her gaze away. “I’m having fun, too.  I’m glad— I mean—”

Harry continues to rub over her knuckles patiently, keeping his touch as gentle as she is, making sure to gift her an instance to collect her thoughts.

“I’ll admit, I was… worried at first.  When we started to go on actual dates.” The mortal takes a deep breath through her nose, but it hardly calms her down as she inhales the vanilla and tobacco scent of Harry’s cologne. “We were doing so well with just sex, y’know?  And I was worried that adding more would… ruin it.”

The faint grin playing on the edge of Harry’s mouth disappears, and a chill runs through his bones at the possibility of what they have dismantling at the seams. “But it hasn’t… Has it?”

The seconds Harry spends waiting for an answer is agony, but the relief is instantaneous when Y/N replies in a bashful voice. “No.” She whispers, her gaze faltering down to her lap before raising back to him. “It hasn’t.”

“I feel like…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, nearly forgetting to be mindful of his strength so as to not break his skin. “I feel like it’s made things better, even.  Like… like we work better together, yeah?” He clears his throat gingerly as nerves begin to dip into his dormant veins.  He knows he’s treading on dangerously thin ice, and he’s never been more at risk of plunging into the freezing depths below, but he can’t make himself return to shore.  Not now. “Not that we weren’t working well before, because we were.  We were working really well— incredibly well.  But I just feel like tacking on this little bit of extra stuff makes everything more fulfilling.”

A wry smile breaks across Y/N’s face. “Right, because who doesn’t love getting wined and dined before getting their back done in?” She jokes easily, and Harry snorts in spite of himself, grateful for how she always manages to save him from making an ass of himself.

“I just really like spending time with you, I guess.” He squeezes her hands within his own before the sincere moment disappears. “It feels natural.  Really natural.”

“It does.  And while we’re confessing our innermost confessions over garlic bread…” The mortal purses her lips as a sparkle appears in her eyes, glinting at Harry like the North Star. “I want you to know how grateful I am for what we have.  I was feeling really lonely and out of place when we met, and running into you…” Y/N hesitates for a fraction of a instant, just long enough for Harry’s own breathing to catch. “It really helped me get back on my feet.  It’s just nice to have someone who I mesh with so well, especially after such a big move and everything, so…” A new wave of heat works its way over the apples of her cheeks. “I suppose this is a bit of a ‘thank you’.  Thanks for coming up to me that night at the club.”

Harry’s lips quirk at the corners as the tender confession settles into his chest. “Thank you for letting me chat you up.  It was a two way street, love.  Although—” His signature smirk begins to make a reappearance. “It’s not like I had to try very hard— you practically drooled the second you laid your eyes on me.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open indignantly as she yanks her hands back from his, rolling her eyes heavily while smoothing the hem of her dress. “Alright, that’s enough.  Moment over, dickhead.  Go back to sipping your wine and looking hot in your suit in silence.”

Although Harry obeys her order and picks up his wine glass with nimble fingers, his eyes grow teasingly large over the rim, accent dripping with faux shock. “You think I’m hot?”

“I’d hope you know that,” Y/N says cooly as she grasps the stem of her own glass. “I don’t let just anyone choke me.”

It’s Harry’s turn to cough on his liquor as he registers the comment, and he struggles not to spill the dark liquid down the front of his brand new suit as he barks out a laugh.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” he says after he swallows the drink, setting his glass back down on the table firmly. “I don’t let just anyone use my jacuzzi whenever they want.”

“Right, right, because you allowing me to use your hot tub is equivalent to me letting you wrap your fingers around my throat.” Y/N snorts, drumming her digits against the table top. “Practically identical.”

Harry snakes his hand across the table and cards their grips once more, squeezing her fingers playfully as he taps against her knuckles. “It’s not like you complain while it’s happening.”

“Only because it’s hard to talk when my air flow is restricted.”

“Really?  Because you still manage to moan just fine.”

Harry delights in the way her eyes hurriedly dash to the other diners, her heartbeat stuttering in her heaving chest.  He likes that he can still get a rise out of her with his crude jokes, even after all he’s said to her.

“Christ, Harry, lower your voice!  Don’t let anyone hear you!” Y/N protests, cupping a hand over her sizzling cheek.

“No one can hear me, love.” He chuckles lightly as he reassures her with another squeeze of her fingers. “S’why I always request a private table.”

“Oh, so you have a pattern, then?” She quirks an eyebrow at the comment. “Do you bring women here that often to discuss choking?  So much that you need a private table?”

Although there’s a mocking air to her words, Harry’s laugh cuts off. “No.  I don’t.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat as she raises her wine glass to her lips. “I don’t believe you.  I think I’ll ask Vinzenco on our way out.  He seems like an honest man.”

Cool relief flushes through Harry’s body, but he hides it behind an incredulous gasp. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re interested in him.  Do you want Vincenzo to choke you instead?” His face breaks into a look of exaggerated disbelief tinged with fake disgust. “He’s married, you tramp!”

Y/N can’t help but laugh when Harry yanks his hand away from hers, pretending to wipe it on his napkin while gagging, as if touching her is a horrendous act. 

“I hate you.” She giggles, shaking her head slowly. 

“I promise you that no matter how much you hate me, Vincenzo’s wife would hate you tenfold.” Harry shakes out his hand before setting it back down on the table. 

“Don’t worry.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the exaggeration. “I don’t plan on breaking up a marriage tonight.”

“How gracious of you.” Harry murmurs, but he leans forward with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shamelessly canvasses Y/N’s body. “You could, you know.  Vincenzo is only a man.  Look how you had Poor Luca drooling tonight.  You in that dress…” He settles his eyes on her prominent cleavage. “Y’look like Aphrodite, almost.”

Despite the heat that flashes over Y/N’s entire body, she keeps her voice dry when she responds. “I don’t know about that; this isn’t much of a grecian look.”

“Well…” A grin creeps onto Harry’s face, igniting his jade irises with humour. “You look like Aphrodite if Aphrodite was a twenty-first century sugar baby.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open before she spits out an indignant reply. “I’m not a sugar baby!”

“Sorry, who bought you that dress?”

“That doesn’t count—”

“And who do you call ‘daddy’?”

Harry can hear the way blood rushes to her cheeks, and it sends a delicious shiver down his spine. 

Y/N, however, glares up at him through her thick lashes, her hands twisting the cloth napkin in her lap. “You’re a prick.”

“I’m simply stating facts, darling.” Harry sighs lightly, ducking one of his hands underneath the table and reaching to give her bare knee a squeeze.  He revels in the way she jumps at his touch. “And I’ve got videos of you whimpering that over and over to prove it.”

“If you keep this up,” Y/N says, forcing her voice to stay steady as she nods to his grasp on her skin. “You won’t be getting any more of them.”

“Is that so?” Harry’s hand travels further up her leg, the metal of his rings icy against the heated flesh of her inner thighs. “Guess you won’t be getting any more videos of me playing with myself either, then.  Fair’s fair.”

The whimper that falls from Y/N’s lips is so quiet that if Harry were human, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it. “Harry—” 

“You don’t like that, do you?” He taunts lowly, continuing to rub over her thigh as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “The idea of me taking that away? Of never seeing me lose myself for you on video ever again?”

Y/N clears her throat thickly. “N-No.”

“I didn’t think so.” With his free hand, Harry lifts his wine to his lips, taking a long sip as his darkened eyes stay locked to hers. “So you’d better behave for me then, hm?”

Despite the electrifying way her entire body is starting to fizzle, Y/N still manages to choke out an amused scoff. “You’re starting to sound like a cheap porno, H.  Be careful.”

“Careful?  You want to be careful?” Harry asks, eyebrows poised as he digs his fingertips into the meaty flesh of her thigh. “Alright.”

In one fast motion, Harry snakes his hand completely up Y/N’s dress to cup over her lace-covered cunt, running the pads of his fingers over the dampening cloth.  He hooks one finger into the side of the lace and gives a sharp yank, and although Y/N’s not sure how he does it, or how Harry attained the sudden rush of strength needed to do so, she feels the delicate fabric rip right down the center. 

Before she can even process what’s happened, the act is over as quickly as it started as Harry settles back into his seat, eyebrows cocked in a conceited fashion as he watches her assess the new issue. 

“You’ll have to be careful now, won’t you, minx?  Gonna have t’keep your legs closed like a proper good girl— which I know is hard for you whenever I’m around.” He teases, his hand still clenched under the table as the other raises his glass to his strawberry lips. “Otherwise we might have a little mishap, hm?”

Y/N’s breath stutters in her pounding chest as she clenches her thighs as tight as she can. “You didn’t.”

Raising his hand from beneath the table, Harry opens his palm for just a moment, flashing her the scrap of black lace that had once been her panties before coasting his hand beneath his jacket and tucking the article into his pocket. “Didn't I?”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, her voice dangerously low as she leans over the table. 

“Yes?” He replies innocently, wrapping his hand firmly around his glass. “Something the matter?”

Y/N gapes at the man across from her in disbelief. “You’re such a dick, you know that?” 

“I promise you, I’m well aware.” Harry laughs lightly as he polishes off the last of his wine. “But it’s not like you don’t like it.  You wouldn’t bounce on my cock if you didn’t.”

Sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth, Y/N clenches the tight satin of her dress in her fists. “God, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Yeah?” Harry quirks an eyebrow with a cocky smirk. “Good luck trying to catch me without flashing your entire arse to the kitchen staff.”

“I swear on my life, I’m going to rip off your—” 

“Ciao, Harry! Bella donna!” Vincenzo’s voice cuts over Y/N’s thinly-veiled threat as he approaches the table with arms wide and a smile pasted onto his face. “Come trovi tutto? Possiamo portarti dell'altro vino? La carta dei dolci?” How are you finding everything?  Can we get you more wine?  The dessert menu?

“È tutto delizioso, Vincenzo, grazie.” Everything is delicious, Vincenzo, thank you. Harry drawls, his grin growing as he turns to Y/N with a condescending tilt of his head. “What do you think, tesoro?  Are you in the mood for dessert?  Or have you had enough?”

Y/N’s mouth is too dry for her to answer, especially with the way Harry’s irises twinkle suggestively at his own words, so she finishes the last dregs of her wine before shaking her head tightly. “No— no dessert for me, thanks.”

Vincenzo heaves a dramatic gasp as he turns his full attention to her. “Bella donna, what is this?  Surely you want to try our dessert?  Even just some homemade gelato?”

“Oh, no, Vincenzo, thank you, but I don’t think I could squeeze any more food into my stomach.” Y/N fights to keep herself from sounding flustered, but she knows it’s a losing battle when she hears Harry mutter something about how wonderful she is at squeezing under his breath.

Vincenzo clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, twisting his astonished gaze back to Harry. “Harry, per favore, sicuramente puoi convincere il tuo appuntamento a mangiare un boccone di dessert? È sulla casa.” Harry, please, surely you can convince your date to have a bite of dessert?  It’s on the house.

The vampire presses his tongue into his cheek as he appraises Y/N again, the clenching of her abdomen drawing his eye more than anything else. Harry uses the tip of his boot to once again trail up the back of her calf beneath the tablecloth, giving her a wicked grin. “You’re sure you don’t want anything else, tesoro?”

Y/N jerks her head once more as a shadow crosses over her eyes. “No, thank you.” She reiterates in a strained voice.

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Harry twists to face Vincenzo again, voice surrendered. “Grazie per l'offerta, Vincenzo, ma sembra che stiamo bene. Accettiamo solo il conto, per favore.” Thank you for the offer, Vincenzo, but it looks like we’re fine.  We’ll just take the check, please.

The restaurant owner sighs in disappointment, but nods in acceptance. “Va bene, va bene, solo l'assegno. Ma la prossima volta che torni, mi amore,” Vincenzo shifts his attention back to Y/N, who meets his smile as best as she can. “Dovrai provare due dolci per compensare la mancanza di uno stasera, vero?” Okay, okay, just the check.  But next time you come back, my love, you’ll have to try two desserts to make up for the lack of one tonight, yes?

Harry leans across the table and whispers the translation low in her ear, his cool breath sending a shiver down her spine as it rolls over her body.

“Yes, Vincenzo.  Next time.” Y/N promises quickly, clasping her hands tightly around the hem of her tight dress as the thigh slit begins to ride up.

Vincenzo motions over his shoulder for Luca to bring the check, chatting happily to Harry in Italian throughout the whole transaction.  Y/N stays quiet the entire time, instinctively hiding her boiling cheeks behind her hands each time one of them casts a glance her way.  Despite the nerves wreaking havoc in her belly, Harry continues to make casual conversation as he swipes his credit card, laughing and joking with Vincenzo like he has all the time in the world.  By the time the restaurant owner bids them both goodbye, Y/N’s certain she’s sweated well through the thin fabric of her dress from her nerves.

Harry, however, looks perfectly at ease as he tucks his wallet back into his suit jacket. “You handled that well, doll.  ‘M proud of you.” He says easily, rubbing a finger down the condensation dotting his glass of ice water. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Y/N hisses at him, clenching her thighs together as another waiter passes dangerously close to their table. “How am I supposed to walk out of here without anyone noticing?”

“Like this.” Harry rises from the table and extends a hand to Y/N, who eyes it warily from her seated position. “C’mon, love, you’re going to have to trust me.” He goads her with a sigh, wiggling his fingers until Y/N gives in and settles her palm inside his.

Making sure his own body is hiding Y/N from the line of sight of anyone else, Harry helps pull his lover from her chair before removing his jacket with one swift motion.  He settles the rich grey fabric over her bare shoulders, draping the article in such a way that it covers the deep thigh slit that exposes her bare skin. 

“How’s that?” Harry asks lowly, voice tender as he fixes the collar of the jacket around Y/N’s delicate neck. “S’that better?”

The moment Harry’s familiar and intoxicating cologne fills her senses, all the irritation evaporates from Y/N’s veins, leaving behind only the quiet thrum of attraction that’s intensified by the man’s fragrance. 

“Yeah.” She whispers, the cadence of her voice nearing shyness as Harry tugs a lock of hair from underneath the collar of the jacket. “It’s a bit better.”

“Good.” The vampire leans down and stamps his lips to the girl’s forehead, letting his mouth linger for a few seconds before straightening up. “I promise I won’t let anyone see anything.  And even if someone does see something, as long as you’re with me, nobody will say a word.”

Y/N nods gently as Harry grasps her hand in his own to lead her out of the restaurant and back to his car. “Alright.  I trust you.”

That warmth from earlier begins to spread through Harry’s chest again the moment she utters the words. “I’m glad to hear that.” He snakes his hand inside the jacket, brushing his fingertips against her breast before dipping his hand into the pocket.  When he withdraws it, the lace of her ripped panties is visible for only a moment before he tucks it into the back of his slacks with a smirk. “These are mine now. A little spoil of war for my trophy case.”

Despite his protective stance around her as he begins to weave the two of them through tables, Y/N scoffs at the action. “I still can’t believe you did that, you asshole.”

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” Harry glances over his shoulder as he quirks an eyebrow teasingly. “Alright, then.  I can just drop you back off at your apartment, if you’d like.  Go back to my place alone tonight. Gonna have to unbutton my trousers on my own, and peel this nice shirt off by myself, and crawl in between my sheets rather than in between your thighs. Such a shame.”

Y/N can’t stop the whine that echoes the back of her throat. “No, H—”

“That’s what I thought.” Harry steps back from her just enough to tug open the glass front door of the restaurant, his eyes already settling on the valet.  When he speaks, however, it’s just for her to hear, and her alone. It sends a current of anticipation through her veins as it washes across the shell of her ear, his breath smelling of sweet grapes and notes of cherry from their wine, thick with the tangy scent of liquor and cooler than usual from the chilled beverage. Despite that coldness, his next promise settles into her exposed core with a familiar heat that she knows only he can resolve.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet. It’s gonna be a long night.” 

[parkersroses]

delicate. | harry styles.

summary: two lonely people find solace in each other for the night and something delicate blossoms from it. 

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k 

warning(s): fluff and smut (a first attempt at it) 

a/n: aaah i’m excited and nervous to post this. i guess it’s considered a Christmas fic because it’s set around that time. i do hope you guys enjoy this! i also wanna wish you all happy holidays! side note, i recently made a ko-fi account, so if you’re able to and like my writing, feel free to donate to it! anyways, enjoy! reblogs/feedbacks are very much appreciated! all my love and stay safe <3 (disclaimer: the gif rightfully belongs to @hampsteadharry​ )

He pushed through the door of the bar, jazz music filling up his ears as he wandered to get a seat. He sighed as he sat on a bar stool, waiting for someone to attend to him and possibly give him the strongest drink here if he felt like it. 

Harry felt tired. He’s been tired and exhausted for a while now. Tired from work. Tired from the glitz and glam. Tired of people getting close to him because of his name and status. Just mentally and physically exhausted. But that’s not to dismiss the fact that he still loves his job. He loves and enjoys making music and seeing his fans - who he declared as the best fans in the world - singing back his songs to him. 

Though, there comes a time where he doesn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he should lately. Being a well-known singer, songwriter and actor seemed pretty cool but no one knows how tiring and raining it could be. Always having to prove yourself and explaining yourself because of ridiculous rumours that articles make up. Always ending up hurt when you found out your friends were using you because of how well-known you were.

So, he announced that he’d be taking a break from all that. Of course, there was an uproar from his fans but in the end, they understood and sent him lovely messages about having to keep his mental health his main priority. 

So now, here he was, sitting at a bar, trying to drink away his emotions. Perhaps, he would find a girl that he could go home with to fill in the empty space of his bed for the night. His break was quite eye-opening to say the least. Harry realised how alone he felt. He thought it was just all in his head because how could he be lonely even when he still had few of his friends around? But he didn’t know that being alone and still feeling alone were different. 

And the irony of it nearly being Christmas, there wasn’t much magic or cheer going around for him at the moment. He’ll have to get his shit together before going back to visit his family for the holidays.

“What can I get ya?” a voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. A woman stood before him behind the bar, he realised it was one of the bartenders there. She wore a long sleeved black shirt, the sleeves rolled up until her elbows. Her long hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of hair framing around her face. He thought she was pretty. Beautiful, he would say.

Bartender lady snapped her fingers at his face, knocking him out of his thoughts once again. “Seemed to be far away there. Are you sure you’re good here? In a bar?” She said and she smirked at Harry. He felt the blood rushed to his cheeks, having been caught staring at the pretty bartender lady.

“S-Sorry. A whiskey for now will do,” he said softly. Pretty bartender lady smiled at him and nodded. “Alright, then,” she said, heading off to get his drink. 

Harry’s eyes followed her figure, almost like he was entranced by her. He was not sure why he did. Seconds later, she put his drink on a coaster in front of him. “Thanks,” he quietly said as he picked up his drink. 

“Don’t mention it. You seemed like you need it,” she said almost knowingly. He chuckled at her words. Well, she got that right. “Yeah, just trying to clear my head a bit,” he shrugged at her. 

Pretty bartender lady nodded. “Rough day?” She inquired. Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. He probably thought that she was trying to make a conversation other than cleaning shot glasses. He hesitated a little, thinking she might just be another fan and might spill whatever that comes out of his mouth to the nearest journalist. But then, he remembered that he’s already one drink down to probably getting drunk and his mind won’t really care even if he woke up hungover the next day.

So, he shrugged at her question. “Guess you could say that,” he said as he set down the empty shot glass. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a lot of things in my mind. And drinking does numb my emotions a bit. If that made sense,” he chose to say as he looked at her. 

She only giggled at his words. “That sounds quite deep. Should write a song about it,” she joked and for a second, Harry thought she knew about him. Because for once, he’d like to talk to someone who’s unaware of his celebrity status. Someone who’d talked to him with a sense of normalcy. Instead of talking to the famous Harry Styles. 

“Maybe I should. And I’ll credit you in it,” he joked. She laughed, throwing her head back as she did. “Oh gosh, I always wanted to be a famous songwriter,” she said dramatically. They both laughed at this. It was weird to Harry, this scene felt so normal, it felt as if he knew her for a while now. 

She nodded at his empty glass. “Want another?” She asked. Harry thought about it before asking. “Actually, what’s your favourite drink?” Pretty bartender lady was surprised to say the least, but smiled at Harry. “Why?” He only smiled back. “‘Cause I want another drink. And I want to treat you one too. I’ll even pay for yours, love,” 

She blushed at this, not expecting him to be so forward yet sweet. “Cheeky, aren’t you?” She said smiling at him, and she noticed a hint of blush on his cheeks. “My mum always taught me to be a gentleman,” he shrugged,

She chuckled at this. “Fine then. I’ll be right back,” she said, going to get whatever her favourite drink was for Harry. Harry smiled as she walked away. He couldn’t help but feel some sort of liking towards her, but not knowing why. Maybe because she was just a pretty bartender lady. 

She returned later with two glasses of her ‘favourite drink’ and set them in front of him. Harry was skeptical to see the strange colour of liquid, raising an eyebrow at her. She only smiled and raised her glass up. 

“Bottoms up,” she said as she drank from her glass. 

Harry sniffed the drink a bit before thinking he was being silly and drank it. As the sweet taste hit his taste buds, he chuckled as he shook his head. “Apple juice? Really?” He questioned. 

She laughed as she took another sip on her drink. “Well, you asked for my favourite drink and I gave it to you,” she said with a smirk in her face. “So, you don’t drink?” he asked curiously. She shrugged at him. “A bit sometimes. Just don’t prefer it unless I wanna get really drunk,” she let out a small laugh. Harry chuckled at her words, finding himself agreeing with her. 

Harry noticed how pretty of a smile she had. He didn’t know why a tiny detail like that stuck out to him. He found himself quite intrigued with the pretty bartender lady, which he realised he had been calling her that in his head without knowing her name. He stared into her eyes and found himself hypnotized by them. Suddenly, it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. Okay, stop. She’ll think you’re weird.

It was as if his mind took control over him and he found himself asking her, “When do you get off?” He asked, his eyes widening after realising the words that came out of his mouth.

What the fuck!?, he thought.

She was surprised, her mouth agape as she processed what he had just asked. But she seemed to compose herself quickly. “And why do you wanna know?” She asked nervously. 

Harry paused before choosing his next words carefully. “Because you seem really cool to talk too. And I’d like to talk to you more,” he said. He was nibbling on his bottom lip, a habit he had whenever he got nervous. He shrugged before he continued, “It’s nice to have a friend, you know?” 

Pretty bartender lady - and Harry swore he’ll get her name soon - nodded at him and smiled. Like she knew what he meant. “I’ll be off at 10,” she said. It was only 30 minutes until then. Harry was initially surprised at this, not thinking whether she would agree to - whatever he wanted to with her later. 

He nodded in response. “I’ll, uh, wait for you here, then,” he spoke nervously. She chuckled and took their glasses away so she could clean and attend to the other customers before her boss yelled at her. 

As she walked away, Harry called out to her. “Wait!” She turned around, eyes wide when he called her. “Um, what’s your name?” He asked. She smiled as her heart melted at the innocent question. 

“It’s Y/N,” she replied.

Harry nodded, a small timid smile appearing on his face. “I’m Harry,” he said. 

She smiled and nodded at his short introduction. Now, the pretty guy with forest green eyes had a name she could call him. “I’ll see you later, Harry,” she said as she returned to the back of the bar.

Harry sighed, seeming to be smitten already by her. “Yeah. See you later,” he said softly to himself.

❋

Now, Y/N was no idiot. She knew who Harry Styles was. 

She wasn’t like the biggest fan, but she appreciated his music and thought he was a lovely guy in general, according to the fan experiences she read. She didn’t know much about him, other than he was a former member of a very successful boyband and his music was just incredible. Plus, she thought he was pretty handsome.

And when she saw him walking through the doors of the bar, she had to take a double take to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. 

She usually took her job quite seriously, she was polite to all customers and made sure they were always satisfied with their drinks or snacks. It was usually because she wanted to get the tips she needed to pay her rent. So, when Harry sat down by the bar, she couldn’t help herself but go to him. 

But now, she was supposed to meet him after her shift. Which was strange to her because all she did was being nice to him and making up a conversation. Did he realise that she was pretending to not know him? Was this some sort of mind trick that was playing on her? Though, he mentioned how it was nice to have a friend. Maybe there was something behind that phrase that meant something deeper to him. 

It was already 10 PM. Y/N said goodbye to her coworkers as she grabbed her scarf and coat from her locker. Her heart was beating fast because she realised she was about to go on a little rendezvous with Harry Styles, well, that was what she thought. 

She wasn’t expecting anything. She honestly thought he might have just left, realising how silly it was to wait for a bartender friend he just made. 

But she walked towards the front of the bar and he was still sitting in his seat like he said he would, waiting for her. And she felt like her heart might burst.

❋

Harry didn’t think he’d find himself sitting at a 24-hour diner, eating some waffles with a pretty friend he just met at nearly 11 PM. He was starting to blame that one whiskey drink he asked for earlier as to be honest, he didn’t know what was happening. 

When he met Y/N in front of the bar after the shift, he was nervous, shifting on his feet in habit. When Y/N asked him what he had in mind, he froze because he realised he didn’t think this through. All he wanted was to talk to pretty bartender lady Y/N. The rest was all hazy to him. Luckily, Y/N just laughed at this and guided him to her favourite diner. 

They both ordered waffles with honey and blueberry toppings, courtesy of Y/N as she said they were the best waffles she ever had. Y/N got herself a chocolate smoothie while Harry just ordered a nice hot tea. It was a nice little meal. 

“So, Harry, what brings you here to LA?” Y/N asked him as she munched on her waffles. 

Harry sipped on his tea before clearing his throat. “Uh, I live here, mostly for work. But I’m on a break now,” he said, not giving out too much information. “Hmm. But you haven’t lived here long, I assume. Could tell by your accent,” she said knowingly.

He smiled at this. “Yeah? You like my accent, darlin’?” he teased her and pride filled himself as he saw her cheeks flaring up in the colour red. “Quite the flirt, are ya? But yes, your accent is cute,” she said as she ate. “Good to know,” he smiled and winked at her. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at him as she blushed. He seemed to be quite the flirt, teasing her and calling her pet names. If it were any other guy, she would’ve just left. She admitted that she might not have the best ways in maintaining a relationship. It was always whether she was too picky or bossy and her insecurities always got the best of her. She was used to feeling of being used for sex and her body even when she wanted to believe they wanted something more out of it. She closed herself off from love for a while now. While everyone said that her time will come, she just ignored them. Her main priority was herself and that was for sure.

But there was something about Harry that was pulling her in. He wasn’t far from what the papers write about him but at the same time, he was. He seemed somewhat closed off as she was. She didn’t want to pry, she’d never do that. It was like he was in this fish tank surrounded by spectators watching his every move. Maybe the life he has had somewhat prevented him from forming a real, honest attachment. Or maybe she was just making this all up. 

She sipped on her smoothie, her eyes focused on his. She realised how green his eyes were looking up close. “So, I have a question. And I want you to answer this as truthfully as possible,” she said, propping her head on the palms of her hands. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, chuckling a bit before nodding. “Alright, love. Lay it on me,” he said, leaning back on the booth. 

Y/N blushed at the pet name given and cleared her throat. “Why did you want to see me?”

It was silent between them. Harry should’ve known this question would come up. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer it, he was never one to make friends with a random person and go on a little rendezvous late at night. He shrugged at this, “Like I told you, it’s nice to have a friend,”

“That couldn’t be all,” Y/N smiled. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to befriend a bartender and go out with her for a late supper the same night,” Harry blushed at this and scratched the back of his ear with his finger. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to be spontaneous a bit,”

Y/N hummed at this, sipping on her drink. Harry’s eyes were trained on her and she somehow found that a bit intimidating. “I got off work just to clear my mind a bit,” he continued. “Sometimes, I’d go out with my friends, I’d meet some girls and spend the night with them, just to feel something. Just to not be alone,” This was the most Harry had opened up to someone in a while. 

“But you still feel alone,” Y/N spoke. Harry frowned at this, not quite sure what she meant. “You could be with someone, and still would feel alone. I get that,” she explained. 

Harry’s mouth was agape. “Y-Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled out. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,”

“You really don’t know me, do you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. She let out a small laugh. “I knew who you were the moment you stepped foot into that bar,” she said. Harry’s eyes widened. All this time, he was glad he thought Y/N didn’t know him but she treated him like any other normal person. But she knew all along. 

“That was.. Surprising,” he chuckled as he ran his hands through his curly locks. “But, you didn’t seem to look like y’know me. Treated me like a normal person,” She stifled a laugh. “Well, would you rather I’d treat you like royalty? Curtsey in front of you?” She joked. 

Harry laughed at this. “No, no. It was nice. It’s good t’just pretend your life is normal for once,” he nodded at her. “I’m sure you have some friends that treat you like you are just Harry,” she smiled. 

Harry only shrugged at this, “A few of them do. When you’re in the industry long enough, you’d know how to tell apart the few people that are honest and real with you and the many who just use you sometimes.” Y/N frowned at this but nodded. While she couldn’t connect to being in the same industry as him, she knew perfectly how it feels like to be used by people you allowed yourself to get close to. 

He brought his cup of tea to his lips, realising how cold it was getting. “You want some?” He offered his drink to her. Y/N nodded, taking the cup from him. “You like tea?” She asked.

“I do, but I prefer coffee,” he smiled at this random conversation. “Please tell me you don’t take your coffee black,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was daring him to admit it. Harry smirked and shrugged at her. “Sorry, love. It’s the best way to have coffee,”

“No, it’s not! It’s so bitter!” Y/N exclaimed and laughed at this. “I don’t think this would work out,” she pouted. Harry swore his heart beated a little faster, seeing her lips pout. He wondered how they’d feel against his. “What wouldn’t work out, love?” He smiled at her. 

Y/N blushed at this, looking down at her lap before she looked at him again. “Whatever you want this to be,”

They spent their time getting to know each other and by the time it was midnight, Harry ended up paying for their meals, ignoring her protests as he did. Y/N was tempted to wipe off that smug smile off his face. The December air howled as the night went on as the decorative holiday lights lit up the street they walked on. The two walked side by side, their hands brushing against each other’s. If Harry had the guts, he would intertwine their hands together. But he didn’t. Not yet, at least. 

“Random question, but do you prefer sunrises and sunsets?” she asked out of the blue. Harry thought for a moment before answering, “M’not sure, actually. Never really paid attention to them all that much.” Y/N nodded at his answer.

“Sometimes I like to wake up early just to see the sunrise,” Y/N spoke. Harry looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? You like sunrises?” he asked gently, the cold air making his breath visible to see. “I do. I like sunsets too. But no one ever stops to appreciate the sunrises,” she sighed.

“Maybe it’s because they can’t be bothered to wake up so early,” Harry joked, making her laugh. “Yeah. Well, I do that. My apartment has a nice view of it. It’s nice. The city is just beginning to wake up. The golden glow casted upon it,” 

Harry nodded at her. “Is this your way of inviting me over?” He teased. Y/N paused, her cheeks flaming up. It wasn’t her intention, but she might as well have done so. Harry was a nice company to keep and she liked him. She really did like him. “Maybe,” she mumbled. 

Harry smiled at her sudden shyness. It was something he liked about her. He really liked her. And he wanted her to take him back to her home, as pathetic as that made him seem. 

“Well, lead the way, darlin’,”

Y/N struggled to put her keys into the keyhole of her apartment. Nervous was an understatement for her. She had a really sweet and attractive man waiting behind her and she was about to invite him in. She was almost sweating at the thought and she didn’t know why.

She opened the door, letting the warm air of her small apartment flow through them. Harry found it quite cozy. There were plants placed in different corners of the room, he noticed a record player by the television. There was also an easel standing by it. It was small, unlike his luxurious houses, but homey.

“You paint?” He asked. Y/N blushed at this, she forgot to put away your paint and clean up. In her defense, she didn’t think you would have company tonight. “Yeah, s’just a hobby. And somewhat a side hustle,” she said, taking off her coat and putting in on the couch. Harry did the same, subtly wiping his sweaty palms against his dark jeans. 

“Uh, d-do you want something to drink?” she asked nervously. Idiot, you just had drinks. “Or, if y’want, I have some chocolate chip cookies. If you like chocolate chip cookies. I mean, y’don’t have to but-,” Y/N was cut off upon hearing Harry chuckling at her, his expression amused as he listened to her nervous rambling. 

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m good,” he said, smiling at her. She blushed again at the use of the pet name.

It was silence, the only thing that could be heard was their breathing as they looked at each other. Harry slowly walked over, Y/N’s breath hitched as he did so. She was nervous and she was scared, she hadn’t done this in a long time. His arm settled on her waist and it was the first time he touched her. His eyes, green as ever and filled with lust and passion, were focused on hers. She could feel his breath hitting her face due to the proximity between them. 

Y/N gently placed her hands on his chest, feeling it rising up and down as he breathed. His forehead was already pressing against hers, their noses slightly brushing against each other. “Can I kiss you?” Harry finally asked ever so softly. And Y/N couldn’t help but nod her head. “Please,”

His lips crashed into hers, gently at first, but she kissed him harder, making it more passionate. She could hear him moan into the kiss as their tongues battled for dominance. His hands travelled lower to her backside, she moaned aloud as he squeezed them. When they pulled away, they would instantly pull into another kiss again, wanting to be close. Harry lowered his hands further behind her thighs, signaling her to jump so he could hold her tightly against him. 

“Y/N, I won’t be able to stop,” he said, gasping for air. Y/N only kissed him again, replying as her lips were against his. “Then, don’t,”

Y/N wasn’t sure how they made it to her room, laying nearly naked on her bed. She just realised how many tattoos he had on his body. She traced over the art scattered over his skin delicately. “Harry,” she whimpered as she felt his hardened length grinding against her core. She could feel her arousal seeping through her underwear. She gasped as he pressed kisses down her neck onto her collarbones, her eyes rolling back when he sucked a sweet spot there. His fingers entangled themselves between hers, squeezing them tightly. 

“Harry, please,” 

“I got you, baby. Gonna take my time with you,” he said gently as he kissed her forehead.

Y/N could feel her heart beamed at the sweet gesture. She had one-night stands before, but none of them felt as intimate as with Harry. The way he kissed her, held her, it almost felt right. And she wondered if he felt it too. 

When they’re fully naked and Harry lined himself against her, he looked at her, as if he was asking if she was still sure of this; if she wanted this; if she wanted him. Her eyes were shining as the moonlight shone through her curtains, her hair sprawled against her pillow. She was beautiful and ethereal. He almost couldn’t believe it. 

A nod from her was all it took for him to push himself in, the two moaning in relief as pleasure shot through their bodies. He slowly thrusted, taking his time with her. The feeling of euphoria running through their bodies as they held each other close. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, wanting to keep his warm body close to her. “Harry, faster,” Y/N pleaded.

It was almost like a switch went off his head before Harry spreaded her legs further, thrusting harder and further into her. Moans and groans filled the room and the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. Harry had his head buried into the crook of her neck, breathing hard as he felt the pleasure burning at the bottom of his spine. He was close and he knew she was too from the way she was clenching around him. 

“You close, baby?” He breathed out as he looked at her. The bed was creaking with every movement they made. Y/N moaned in ecstasy as she nodded her head, trying to keep her eyes on him. She didn’t want to miss a thing with him.

Harry took her by surprise by pulling out, lifting her up so she sat on his lap. He guided himself into herself, groaning as she welcomed him in her. Y/N moaned loudly as she felt him hit deeper, feeling herself clenching around him. She quickly began to move against him, smiling as she saw Harry shut his eyes in pleasure, murmuring her name. “C-Close, Harry, fuck,” she groaned as she moved faster.

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as if it was possible. He thrusted his hips upwards against hers, adding to the euphoric pleasure that was coursing through them. “I know, baby. Fuck, y’feel so good around me,” he moaned out, looking at her with hooded eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their heavy breaths hitting each other’s faces. 

It was only a glance into his forest green eyes that triggered her high. She moaned out loud, her body shaking against him, and just the sight of her high triggered Harry’s. He groaned against her neck and cursed a string of profanities under his breath as he kept thrusting his hips into her, prolonging his orgasm. When they calmed down from their highs, they took deep breaths before pressing their lips together. Harry could hear a whimper from the beautiful woman above him. He was delirious with the bliss feeling. 

They laid on their sides, admiring each other’s glowing yet sweaty state. Harry closed his eyes and sighed as Y/N brushed her fingers through his hair. “Y’alright?” he murmured to her. She nodded and gave him a shy smile. He thought it was cute of her acting all shy after having done such an intimate and dirty activity with him. He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling as she scrunched it up. “You’re beautiful,” he admitted. 

Y/N let out a deep breath. There was no denying the attraction she felt for him. The setting was so intimate, far from what she thought it was going to be. She felt herself opening up to him, something she prevented herself from doing for a long time. She was scared of this, but she liked it at the same time. 

“Hold me?” she asked and Harry pulled her against his body without a second to waste. Their breathing was the only sound they paid attention to. Y/N nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, her finger tracing the tattoos on his chest. 

“Are you gonna stay?” she asked softly. She was not expecting anything, but she hoped he did stay. 

Harry smiled and pulled her closer. “Only if y’want me to,” he said. Y/N returned the smile, tracing out his lips with her finger, feeling how soft they were. 

“I’d like that,”

❋

When Harry woke up, he felt an empty cold space beside him. Confused at first, he sat up slowly, wondering where the pretty woman he liked was. He turned his head and there she was, sitting by her window looking out into the early morning. She was sipping on something from her mug and she was wearing his dark blue T-shirt from the night before. She looked absolutely breathtaking. 

“You’re up early,” he said, catching her by surprise at the sound of his voice. She smiled at him and made her way to sit on his lap, putting her mug on the bedside table. “You missed the sunrise.” She ran her fingers through his messy bed hair. He sighed, realising how much he liked her doing that simple yet intimate gesture. “Yeah? Was it pretty?” 

“Very,” she sighed as Harry laid his head on his shoulder. He held her tightly in his arms, similar to how he did when they slept. “Well, you’re prettier,” he said, planting kisses up her neck. She realised how deep and raspy his voice sounded in the morning, it sent shivers down her spine. “Well, you’re a charmer,” she murmured. 

Harry looked up at her, taking in her morning glow that she was emitting. “Your eyes are really pretty,” Y/N said softly as she admired his forest green eyes. “Yeah? Y’think so?” he said, playfully fluttering his eyes at her. She laughed at this, throwing her head back. Harry thought it was the sweetest sound. She traced the outline of his lips with her index finger, feeling how soft they were under her touch. Harry kept his mouth agape as she did so. 

“Can I kiss you?” Y/N whispered. He smiled at her, remembering his exact words from the night before, before nodding. “Please,”

The fluttering in his stomach intensified as their lips met. The thing that clouded Harry’s mind was how soft her lips were and how sweet they tasted. Their kiss almost made him feel dizzy for how much passion there was. When they pulled away, he looked at Y/N with hooded eyes, his breathing was heavy from the blissful sensation he felt. He gently wrapped his arms around her frame and it just felt right.

He pulled her into another kiss, a moan elicited from Y/N that sent blood rushing to his lower region. His hands travelled up his shirt she was wearing and he let out a groan, realising she had nothing underneath it. He felt drunk by her touch, her scent; everything. It was a delicate feeling he felt and he didn’t want to let go of it. He could get used to this, the feeling of her. For once in a long while, he didn’t feel alone anymore. 

It was no doubt that Y/N felt the same. 

It all just felt right. 

❋

The snow was covering the backyard, the trees and bushes were covered in white. Y/N watched as the snow fell while sipping on her hot chocolate. The house was decorated for the special wintery day. The tree was lit up and decorated with many ornaments as well as pictures on it, the presents laying closely below it. 

Voices snapped her out of her thoughts, she smiled as she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. She turned around to see her husband holding up a sleepy little girl in his large muscular arms, the little girl they were blessed with as their daughter. Harry was talking animatedly to Ruby, trying to wake her up in the Christmas spirit. 

He gasped and pointed his finger at you. “Look, Rue! It’s mummy! An early bird, isn’t she?” He said to Ruby as he bounced her gently in his arms. You rolled your eyes at his silliness. “Mama,” the little girl reached out to her mother as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. Y/N set her mug on the counter and grabbed lifted little Ruby in her arms. “Morning, Rue baby,” Y/N cooed softly at her, closing her mouth with the back of her hand when she yawned. 

“Think she’s a bit tired,” Harry chuckled at them. “Y’think? Who’s the idiot that woke her up early?” Y/N asked sarcastically at her husband. He only lifted his arms up in defense, a smug smile painted on his face. Ruby quietly giggled at her parents. He sipped on a mug of hot chocolate and she narrowed her eyes at her as he leaned back on the counter. 

“Are you really drinking my hot chocolate?” Harry paused for a bit before swallowing the warm drink. “I’ll make ya another one, love,” he rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N rolled her eyes at him before chuckling. “You better, Styles.” She felt Ruby shifting in her arms and gently bounced her. “Y’alright, bubs?” She pouted at her daughter. 

“Snow,” she said, pointing out the window where the snow was falling. “Yeah, bubs! It’s snowing!” Y/N exclaimed excitedly to her, making Ruby giggle. “Dada, snow!” she exclaimed to her father. 

Harry laughed at his daughter’s adorableness. “That’s right, Rue!” He agreed, stroking through her curly hair that she inherited from him. He placed a hand gently on Y/N’s clothed stomach. “And how’s bub number 2 doing?” He asked softly. Y/N smiled, her heart beaming at the gentleness of her husband. “They’re doing great in there,” she said, placing her hand over his above her two-month growing belly. 

Harry beamed at this, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, eliciting a small whimper from her. 

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. Even after all these years, she found his green eyes just as beautiful and hypnotizing.

“I love you, too,” she said and smiled at him as they broke away. 

Perhaps, Harry would consider himself lucky that his sad lonely self walked into the bar she previously worked at five years ago. Maybe if he hadn’t opened up to Y/N or went back to her apartment, he wouldn’t be able to have this little family he was blessed with. There was something so delicate and real he felt that night that he wanted to keep. So naturally, they both let their walls down and took a chance on each other. And perhaps because it was nearing Christmas that night, he would think of it as some Christmas miracle. 

“Wanna open the presents, Rue?” Y/N asked Ruby as bounced her in her arms. Ruby giggled, not even understanding what her mother said, and nodded. “Yeah? Wanna open presents with mummy and daddy?” Y/N said excitedly as she carried her into the living room. Harry chuckled at the precious sight of them as he followed them.

As they sat down in the living room, he took a moment to just admire his wife and his daughter. Y/N, though wearing one of his Christmas sweaters and sleep shorts, looked just as beautiful and ethereal as she did the night they met. She held little Ruby in her arms, who was busy tearing up the small present in front of her. His wife cheered at their daughter as she took out a little stuffed teddy bear, giggling as she waved it around with her small hands.

Y/N looked up at him and gave him a loving smile as she intertwined her fingers with him. Despite them being in such cold weather, her hands felt warm against his. He admired how they fit perfectly in his. Ruby babbled incoherently to her parents about her gift, in which they nodded like they understood what she said. Harry’s heart warmed up just thinking of how they’ll have another addition to their loving little family soon. 

His heart was full of love and happiness. He no longer felt alone. He had everything he wanted in that moment, his growing little family.

Everything was just right. 

[study-coffee-chicago]

Who Would've Thought? A Government Teacher and an English Teacher (A Halstead Brothers + Upstead + Halstead Daughter! Imagine; Part of AU-gust)

A/N: Thank you for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I'm also donating all the proceeds that from my buy me a coffee account to Save The Children to help the children of Afghanistan. Link to buy me a coffee.

Anyway, enjoy!

"Hey, I know you aren't a morning person," your dad said as he walked up to you sitting at the bar in the kitchen with a piece of paper in his hand.

"You're right, I'm not," you said.

"All I need is for you to look over the seating chart I made for the juniors."

"Make sure you didn't put people who have beef next to each other?" you asked.

"Exactly. And I figured, since it's your class, you'd be the perfect person to do it."

"And because I'm your daughter."

"That, too."

He set the paper in front of you. "Since I'm doing this for you, care to make me my coffee?" you asked

"The pumpkin spice one?" You nodded. "Kid, it's the first week of September. It's like 75 out (23.9 celsius). Fall's not even close. And, technically, it's still summer."

"Listen, Dunkin' came out with their pumpkin spice stuff in mid-August. And, you know the minute it hits September, I get in the fall mood."

"But you still won't go to a Bears game with me and your Uncle Will," he said.

"Dad, I don't understand football."

He pulled the K-Cup out and put it in the Keurig. "I told you that me and Uncle Will could teach you. And, you seem to understand it when you're at school football games."

"I just cheer when everyone else does. It's not that hard."

"Fair enough."

He pointed to the counter of the bar, so you looked down at the seating chart. You waved him back over to you as you heard the sputtering of the Keurig, telling you that all your coffee was almost in your tumbler.

You pointed to two seats. "These two girls have had beef since middle school, so throw them across the room from each other." Your dad grabbed a pen from his breast pocket and drew a line to put one of the girls on the opposite side of the room. "These two are dating, so unless you want them talking all the time, I suggest you at least move the guy to a different group." He drew another line on the seating chart. "And this guy dated these two girls, so you need to make sure that they're as far away from each other as possible."

"Which one is he dating now?" your dad asked as he drew more lines.

"Neither. He was dating both of them at the same time. Get why none of them can be by each other now?"

"Gotcha."

He took the seating chart from you and handed you your tumbler of coffee. "I don't drink it black," you said as you raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, believe me, I know, but I'll leave you to do that because I don't want to mess up your coffee to creamer ratio and have you get mad at me for it."

"Fair enough."

You sighed as you poured your creamer into your coffee because you thought about all the homework that was going to be piled on to your plate this year.

"What's wrong?" your dad asked.

"I'm gonna be drowning at the end of today."

"Can't argue with you there. But tell me if you think your homework load for APUSH (AP US History) and AP Gov (AP Government) is getting too much for one class. I'll talk to the teachers. And, you have me to help you with your government homework." He said the last part with a huge smile on his face.

"Dad," you groaned. "You've been waiting for me to be a junior forever now just so you could be my teacher."

"Yup, and you chose AP over me. How rude."

"Sorry, but college is expensive. It was only like 50 bucks a class when you went to college back in the olden days."

"Young lady, I am not old."

"Fine, you're vintage. Better?" He just glared at you while you finished stirring your coffee and then started making your breakfast. "But, at least Hail- Miss Upton doesn't give us a ton of homework because she knows we're drowning in homework already and have the SATs to worry about, so that's nice."

You were super thankful for your Honors English 11 teacher, who also taught AP Stats. She gave you at least half an hour each class period to do your homework since she knew that most of you had sports or after-school clubs or a part job to get to and didn't have all night to do homework. She was the one who also said to send her an email if you couldn't get the assignment done and she'd give you an extension. She said that your physical health and mental health were way more important than you finishing your homework.

Your dad was like that, too. Granted, he didn't give the students in his class a ton of homework to begin with, and he made the class fun...at least, that's what you heard from the kids who were juniors last year. The only time your dad really gave homework was when he gave out study guides to fill out. He'd give them out a week before the test and then after two days, he'd check that everyone got them done and go over them in class so that everyone had the right answers to study from. Mr. Jay Halstead also didn't give tests on a Monday because that was just cruel...and he knew that when he was in high school, he absolutely hated homework, so he didn't give a lot of it. And, he hated coming to school on a Monday when he forgot to study over the weekend, so he didn't give tests on Mondays.

"You're not going running this morning?" you asked as you cut up a banana to go into your oatmeal.

"No, I think I'll run with you guys after school today at practice."

Your dad was also the high school cross country coach. You weren't a fast runner by any means, but your best friend, Emma, had made it to regionals and was a great runner. And, your dad said that you either play a sport in high school or you get a job, so you joined the cross country team. In all honesty, you liked running for the endorphin rush it gave you after the run and just talking to some of your teammates while running or listening to music or podcasts while running. But, you weren't competitive, so that's probably why you weren't as fast as Emma, and your dad knew this. But, he was just glad you were being active in some way after school and that you enjoyed exercising even if you weren't the best or the fastest runner. He just wanted you to live a long and healthy life, and he knew starting to exercise in high school would help you build those healthy habits.

But, usually what your dad did in the morning was go to school at like six in the morning, so he'd be up at five, and then he'd utilize the weight room or the indoor track to workout. Then, he'd take a quick shower and get ready there, and be teaching by 7:30. Yeah, he was crazy for running that early.

"You know," you started, "Miss Upton likes to run. Maybe you should see if she'll co-coach with you? Or maybe she'll run with you in the morning?"

Jay shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. "Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that Hailey and I are just friends. Nothing more."

"Says the man who lesson planned with her last week," you said, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Y/N, she's a coworker. I would've done that with anyone. It was just coffee. You read too much into things."

"Dad," you sighed. "You haven't dated in years."

"Yeah, since Abby dropped you off on my doorstep." He used to refer to Abby as your mom, but she wasn't around, so when you were around 14 years old, you just started referring to her as Abby. After all, you had never even met the woman, and she didn't want you, not even leaving an address on the note attached to your pajamas, so she didn't deserve the title of Mom.

"So, 17 years. You haven't dated in 17 years, Dad. You gotta get back out there. Even Uncle Will said you need to."

"You talked to your uncle about this?" he asked. "Oh, and put some egg whites in that oatmeal for some extra protein."

"What? You gonna make us lift weights today at cross country practice?"

He shrugged. "You never know. Now, no more talking to Uncle Will about my love life."

"There's not even anything to talk about. But, he does think you and Miss Upton would look cute together."

You added some egg whites to your oatmeal and put it back in the microwave for an extra minute.

"This has been going on for way too long now, Y/N. We're not gonna date. We're just friends and coworkers. Just drop it."

You put your hands up in mock surrender.

Ever since freshman year when you had Miss Upton for creative writing (yes, she taught one section of AP stats, one section of creative writing, and she also taught Honors English 11 and regular English 11 for the rest of her sections), you knew that her and your dad would be a great match. So, you confided in Emma and she agreed. Ever since then, you hadn't really let the topic go.

"Fine," you groaned...even though you and your dad both knew that the topic would not be dropped in the slightest.

"Now, do you want me to drive you, or do you want to drive yourself?"

Usually, since he left before you, you'd just drive yourself to school since you were 17 and had been driving for a year now. But, during the first week of school, your dad didn't do his morning workouts, so he always gave you the option if you wanted to ride to school with him.

You pursed your lips. "Fine. I'll ride with you, just cause it'll save me gas."

Jay laughed. "You're not even the one who pays for your gas."

He was right. He was the one who paid for your gas because you had always studied hard...and you played a sport, so you didn't have time for a part-time job. Because of this, Jay decided he'd pay for your gas. But, you did have to work a part-time job in the summer.

"Fine. It prolongs the time before I have to go to the gas station. How's that?" you asked.

"Miss Upton would be proud of how you worded that."

"Maybe you should tell her that, Dad. It'd be a great conversation starter."

***

"So," Emma began as you were warming up for your run after the school day ended, "how'd the chat with your dad go?"

You sighed while jogging. "I don't think it's ever gonna happen. He's too damn stubborn to ask her out and he claims that they're just friends and coworkers. I hate it. They'd be so damn cute together."

"I know," Emma agreed. "You know, I overheard her in the hallway between classes saying that she was going to chaperone the homecoming dance. Maybe your dad could get in on that and that's how they could talk more?" she suggested.

"Emma, that's a great idea, but I really don't want my dad at homecoming. That is awkward as hell."

Emma laughed. "Sorry, didn't think about that."

"Hustle up!" your dad yelled. "Time to stretch!"

You started your normal stretching routine before your dad started to give his normal beginning of the school year speech. "Alright, I need all of you to listen up. I don't want anybody talking over me, you hear me?" You all nodded. "Okay, good. So, I know that some of you have heard horror stories about the old cross country coach who said that if you miss a practice, then you miss a meet...unless it was for being sick." Most of you nodded.

Before your dad started coaching and the other cross country coach retired, a lot of the students hated the previous coach's coaching style. His coaching style was run more to get better at running...which sounded good in theory. But, this didn't actually work. You see, what would end up happening was that he'd make the runs longer and longer. He'd even make the athletes do a long run on Saturday and then a short run (which to him was three miles) on Sunday. If an athlete didn't send him the screenshots from apps like map my run, then they wouldn't be able to race in the next meet. This obviously was a recipe for overtraining and injuries. You heard that one girl even hurt her IT band from running so much! So, it was no surprise that most people hated the coach and so many parents complained, so he stepped down, and then your dad came in to coach.

"That's not how I coach," your dad continued. "School and your grades are really important. So is sleep. I don't want you guys not getting sleep or not getting to spend time with friends or not have other social interactions because you have to practice for two hours and then go home and do homework and get to bed late. I don't want you guys to be sleep-deprived zombies." Most of you laughed at that. "With that being said, if you're overwhelmed and feel like there's not enough time in a day, just come talk to me and we'll figure it out. Whether that's only coming to practice for an hour or taking a few days off to study for an upcoming test or taking time off for a family emergency, we'll figure out what to do." Everyone nodded. "Alright everybody, let's go run the big loop. Keep track of your split times."

***

You were walking inside with Emma to go grab your stuff from your locker after you had finished practice. Perks of having your dad be a teacher? You and your friend could leave your stuff inside instead of bringing it outside with you.

"Just meet me in my room when you're done, Y/N," your dad told you. "Have a good night, Emma."

"You too, Mr. Halstead," she replied.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jay when it's not school or practice hours?" Jay smiled and then walked down the hall to his classroom to retrieve the stuff he had brought with him for the day...with his shirt sticky from sweat since he had run with you guys today.

He walked out of his classroom with his backpack and gym bag, to come face to face with Miss Hailey Upton walking out of her classroom as well.

"Run with the team today, Jay?" she asked.

"Yeah, you know, first week of school, kind of hard to get my early morning runs in when there's so much to do on the classroom side," he answered.

"Understandable. I've been doing mine after I lesson plan and before dinner. Hopefully, I'll be back to nightly runs soon before it starts getting dark earlier and earlier."

"But, when it gets too dark, then you'll be running in the mornings soon...and then it'll be cold," Jay pointed out.

"There's this thing called a treadmill, Jay. I utilize that in the winter."

"That shows that you're an English teacher: you use big words."

Hailey rolled her eyes. "I see you reading books during your lunch period. I know you know big words, you just prefer not to use them."

"Yeah, because I want the kids to think I'm a cool teacher...not a snob."

"I am not a snob!" Hailey jokingly argued.

"I'm kidding, Hailey! I'm kidding! And, I know you lesson plan and grade on your lunch break, too instead of going to the teacher's lounge."

"Spying on me now, huh?"

"Our rooms are right across from each other and we have the same lunch period, what else am I supposed to do?" he laughed.

Hailey sighed dramatically. "Oh, I guess. Tell you what: come to my room during our lunch period and I can give you some good book recommendations."

"I get enough book recommendations from my daughter, thank you very much. But, I guess I can always use more."

"So, see you during tomorrow's lunch period?"

"See you then. Have a good night, Hailey."

"You, too. Tell Y/N I say hi and not to work too hard on all her homework."

Then, they walked down the hallway and Jay walked back towards where you were still chatting with Emma. All the while, he was thanking God that you weren't there during that conversation between him and Hailey because he wouldn't hear the end of it. But, he was also wondering what the hell he'd just gotten into.

***

"You will not believe what I just saw!" Emma whispered to you the next day in your AP gov class.

"What?" you whispered back.

She had forgotten her laptop in her locker and had to go get it. Which, the route to her locker from the classroom you were currently in went right past your dad and Hailey's classrooms.

"Your dad and Miss Upton are in her classroom eating lunch together."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. "No way!"

You received a glare from the teacher and were quiet. But, you'd be sure to ask your dad about this when you went home tonight.

***

"Uncle Will's coming over for dinner in an hour," your dad told you when you got inside your house after practice. You had decided to drive yourself to school today instead of riding with him. "How much homework do you have?"

"Uh..." you blanched and set down your backpack and unzipped it. Then, you grabbed your planner and flipped it open, laying it out on the kitchen table. "I have an AP stats worksheet that's due tomorrow, I have to read half a chapter in my AP bio textbook by Monday, I have to read a full chapter of my AP gov textbook by Tuesday, and I have an APUSH assignment due tomorrow. Oh, and I should probably read a chapter of the book I chose to read for my English class plus I have to annotate a few paragraphs of crappy 16th-century literature by tomorrow, too."

"Christ," your dad said. "So, what do you have to do tonight?"

"AP stats worksheet, APUSH assignment, and I have to annotate for English. I could always not read the chapter in the book I chose to read if I don't want to."

"Do you want me to just tell Uncle Will to come over this weekend?" he asked.

Jay know knew you absolutely loved his brother and that you were always excited to tell him about your day and how school was going. It had always been this way because, when Jay found you on his doorstep, he was 22, and had just started undergrad and was working on his teaching degree. Because of this, when Will wasn't studying in his last two years of med school and later working in a hospital as a new resident, he was your go-to babysitter. And you absolutely loved when he came over...despite not being able to remember much because you were so young. Apparently, you had been particularly fascinated by Will's red hair and would pull on it every chance you got. But, he'd let you play with it until it really started to hurt him because you were his favorite (and only) niece and he knew he'd do anything for you. This came in handy as you got older because you realized you had him wrapped around your finger and would always ask him for homework help. Or, if your dad wouldn't give you spending money, you'd go straight to your Uncle Will, and usually, he'd give you some.

"No," you answered. "A doctor needs to know stats, right?"

"I think so," your dad answered. "Why? Are you struggling already? Do you need to go into the regular stats class instead of the advanced one?"

You laughed at your dad's concern. "No, I'm fine. Just figured he'd be able to check it for me to make sure I did everything right."

"Oh, good. And, I'm pretty sure he can do that. Now, go take a shower so you can get started on your homework before he gets here and so I can start on dinner."

***

"Guess what?" you asked as all three of you twirled your spaghetti onto your forks at the dinner table an hour later.

"Chicken butt," Will said.

Jay rolled his eyes. "I swear, I wonder if Mom and Dad were lying when they said that you were older. Maybe I'm the older one and they just lied to us because you sure do act like the younger brother."

"Relax, Jay. Just because I'm more fun than you and Y/N likes me better, does not mean that I'm immature."

"Anyway," you said, wanting to tell Will what you had found out earlier today, "do you want to know what I have to say or not?"

"Go ahead," Will said.

"Okay, so today during AP gov, Emma had to back to her locker to grab her laptop. And she went right by Dad and Miss Upton's classrooms." You paused as you looked over at your dad and saw his eyes slightly widen and then go back to normal. "And they were eating lunch together in her classroom!"

"Awe," Will cooed. "My little brother's back on the market. Good for you, man." Then, he turned to you. "Upton's the short, blonde English teacher you've been trying to set him up with for years now, right?"

"He's not supposed to know about the set-up part!" you hissed.

"Oh, sorry. Jay, forget I said that."

"Y/N, I already you've been trying to set us up," your dad laughed. "It's been kind of obvious."

"Now that that's settled," Will started, "how'd it go? What did you two talk about? And are you having lunch together tomorrow?"

"You two are terrible, you know that?"

"Oh, we know," Will said. "But, you can't ground me, so I can be as terrible as I want."

Jay laughed. "She won't get grounded for that, Will. She might get grounded if she keeps procrastinating her stats homework, though."

"Need help, kiddo?" Will asked. "I have to read stats for things like new drugs and stuff, so I'm good at that. Don't know if I can help you with actually solving the problem because it's been ages since I've done that, but I can try."

"No, thanks, though. I just took a long shower so I have to get it done after dinner. I understand it all, though."

"Good, you can always come to me if you need help with it, though," Will offered. "Or, since it's Miss Upton--" He looked directly at Jay when he said Miss Upton and then turned his attention back to you. "--who's your stats teacher, you can always ask her. But, be sure to drag your dad along with you."

"Will!"

***

Two weeks later

"Might want to tell them to drink a ton of water after this, Jay, because it's so hot," Hailey Upton said as she walked up to Jay Halstead--and Coach Halstead for the next few hours--at an away cross country meet on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-September. "Or better yet, get them some Gatorade."

"Hailey?" Jay asked as he turned around, getting his stopwatch ready. "What are you doing here? And, I'd get them Gatorade if I could. I kinda forgot to pick it up last night."

"I'm here because some kids asked me to come to their meet. And, I always try to come to those things if kids ask me."

Jay cocked an eyebrow. "Would two of those kids be my daughter and her best friend?"

"Among others."

He looked down at the rolling cooler she had brought. "What's with the cooler?"

"Well, you may not have had time to pick up Gatorade, but I did. So, there's one in there for each kid plus the coach...and me of course."

"How'd you know Gatorade would help?" Jay asked. "Other than logic of course."

Hailey laughed. "I've run a few marathons in my life, Jay. I know all about proper hydration and how important it is to refuel after a hot run."

At this, Jay raised his eyebrows. He knew that she ran, but she didn't know that she ran marathons. "Oh, wow. Which ones?"

"You know, the Chicago marathon obviously. Always wanted to do like Boston or someplace, but you have to qualify for those, you can't just go and sign up like here in Chicago. Oh, and I've always wanted to do a Disney marathon. I think it'd be cool, you know? Run through Disney World, maybe hop on some rides during the race."

Jay smiled. "That actually does sound really fun."

The announcer said that it was ten minutes until it was time to race.

"I gotta get to the first mile marker," Jay said.

"Okay, where's our tent? I'll go put this cooler under it."

Jay told Hailey where the tent was and was about to leave when she stopped him.

"Where do I get the maps? I can go to the second mile marker to help out with times in case you can't get there fast enough," she suggested.

"That'd, uh, that'd actually be great, Hailey. Thank you. And, you just get the maps from the table right over there," Jay answered and pointed to a table about 200 meters away.

"Awesome, thanks. See you after the race, Coach," Hailey joked.

Jay nodded and started to jog off toward the first mile marker. But, all the while he wondered what the hell this woman was doing to him. Because he felt his cheeks heating up in a blush as he jogged off.

And, as for Hailey, well she was watching as Jay jogged away and loved the way he ran with perfect form and how his biceps flexed just enough that she could see the muscles slightly bulge.

She laughed to herself. If they ever went running together, she'd have to tell him to loosen up because you weren't supposed to run with your arms as taut as his were; he was wasting energy.

But, for now, she just made her way over to the tent and left the cooler and then went to get a map and start off toward the second mile marker to help out a fellow teacher...well, maybe he was starting to be more than just a fellow teacher. Neither of them really knew at this point. But, Hailey liked the thrill of it all. She felt like she was in high school again...a high school student, not a high school teacher.

***

You panted and winced as you crossed the finish line. Shit, your shin splints were really acting up this time, and God, it was so hot out and you felt nauseous and even had to walk during some points of the race. We'll see what your dad had to say about that.

Wait, was that Miss Upton coming up to you?

It is! She actually came!

"Y/N, are you okay? I saw you walking," she said worriedly while your dad jogged over since you were the last one on your team to finish.

"You good, kid?" your dad asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. My shin splints just hurt really bad and I think the heat's making me feel sick."

"Okay, well, I have to go watch the boys and make sure they're ready. Hailey, can you, uh, help Y/N? The medical tent's across from here. Maybe make sure she gets under our team tent without puking and get her something to drink?"

"I can do that, Jay, don't worry."

Emma walked up to you. "Good job!" she exclaimed.

"Girl, I didn't even run as fast as you! You flew through there. But, it's hot as hell!" you said.

"It is really hot. You gonna watch the guys' race?"

"No, Dad told me to sit under our tent in the shade. Gotta get some ice for my shins first, though."

"Shin splints acting up?"

"Yeah."

Then, you, Miss Upton, and Emma walked over to the medical tent where you got bags of ice wrapped around your shins.

***

"I'll run to Mcdonald's and get you ice, too," your dad said before you got in your separate cars back at school after the meet. "What do you want?"

"Uh, a ten-piece nugget--don't forget the honey mustard--a medium fry, and a medium lemonade," you said as your dad typed it into the notes app of his phone. "Thanks."

"I'll see you at home. Drive careful."

"See you in like half an hour."

Then you drove home and decided to start on some homework while still in your sweaty cross country uniform.

When your dad got home, you gobbled down your food because damn, you were hungry after that mentally taxing race. Then, you and your dad filled the bathtub up with ice and cold water.

Time for hell...aka an ice bath. At this point, you'd do anything to prevent your shin splints from getting bad. At least the old coach wasn't coaching because, from all the horror stories you heard, it'd be worse for your shins if he was coaching and not your dad.

After you changed into a pair of spandex shorts and a long-sleeved running shirt and a hoodie, you lowered yourself into the freezing and icy water. You set your phone timer for eight minutes and braved the cold for that long.

Then, after that, you drained the bathtub and took a very hot shower. But, as you were in there, you started feeling nauseous again. You crouched down and actually ended up throwing up a bit in the shower. It was nothing major, you just figured it was from eating too fast. But, you were still really tired.

And this is what you told your dad when you got out of the shower.

"But, I still have homework," you said defeatedly. "I kinda wanna just go to sleep now. It's already 7:00 and I have at least two to four hours of homework to do."

Jay sighed. He never wanted to play this game, but he wasn't going to let you run on not enough sleep tomorrow when you weren't even feeling your best.

"What classes?" he asked.

"Uh, I have to get APUSH done which will take me like at least two hours, and then I have English and stats homework," you answered.

Jay sighed. "I'll give Hailey a call and explain the situation and see if she'll give you an extension on the English and stats homework."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes, now go grab some water and get started on your APUSH homework. And.. it will only be a one day extension."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best Dad ever!"

Then, you grabbed your water and went back upstairs to your room.

But, all you could think about was that your dad and Miss Upton were talking over the phone outside of school. Maybe they were becoming more than just co-workers.

Jay dialed Hailey's phone number and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"Jay?" she asked when she answered.

"Hi, Hailey. Yeah, it's Jay. Listen I have a huge favor to ask you," he said.

"What is it?"

"So Y/N puked a bit in the shower, probably because of the amount of sodium in those damn chicken nuggets she wanted, and then she took an ice bath and then a hot shower, so the quick and significant temperature change probably played a role. Anyway, how it happened isn't the point. It's just that she's really tired and she has AP US history homework that she has to finish. So, would it be okay if you gave her a one day extension on her English homework and her stats homework? If not, I completely understand because you can't just make exceptions because she's a teacher's kid and--"

"Jay, relax," Hailey laughed. "Yes, I'll give her the extensions. What is it that you always tell your team? Their physical and mental health comes first?"

Jay chuckled and then took a sip of his beer. "Yeah, that's about right. And, thank you. Y/N will greatly appreciate that."

"No problem. But, I also have a favor to ask you."

Jay cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"So, we're short on chaperones for the homecoming dance and I was wondering if maybe you could chaperone? And, I figured that since you have a kid and would probably want to be there for her pictures before the dance, you don't have to help us set up. Maybe just chaperone and then help us tear down? If not just chap--"

"Hailey, of course, I'll help out. Now, Y/N, she might not be happy that I'll be chaperoning her school dance, but I'll be there. Count me in."

***

2 weeks later, 3 days before homecoming dance

"Okay, I know I'm just your English teacher," Miss Upton started at the beginning of class that day, "but I still care about your guys' safety. So, please, please, please do not drive drunk or buzzed. Call your parents to pick you up. I can absolutely promise you that they'd be happier that you called them to pick you up than you trying to drive home and getting into a car accident."

"What if my parents will be mad at me for drinking anyway?" one kid asked.

"So, if that's the case, you can always call me and I will come pick you up from wherever you're at. I can lose a few hours of sleep to make sure that you guys are home safe." She started writing numbers on the whiteboard. "Right here is my cell phone number, if you think you'll need it, write it down or make it a contact in your phone. Again, I'd rather not come to school on Monday and learn that one of you is in the hospital because of something that could have been prevented."

You pulled out your phone, you didn't think that you'd need Miss Upton's number, but you figured you'd put it in just in case since two girls from your AP gov class asked you to be the DD for a party. You were kind of friends with them, like you studied for tests together, but that was it. But, you had debated it because it was a party after homecoming and you had never been to a party before...let alone one after a dance.

"Oh, Miss Upton," you said as you put your phone face down on your desk.

"Yes, Y/N?" she asked.

"What color dress are you wearing when you're chaperoning the dance?"

"I haven't really thought it much." She furrowed her eyebrows as she wondered why you were asking this question. "But, probably red. Why?"

"Just wondering."

And now, you just needed to make sure that your dad had a red tie and that he actually wore it when he was chaperoning the dance.

***

3 days later, homecoming

"What about this?" your dad asked as he walked out of his room in dress pants, a white shirt, a navy blue tie, and a sport coat.

You were already in your dress and had gotten your hair and nails done earlier in the day, so now you were just waiting to take some pictures with Emma and then actually go to the dance.

"Hmm, I don't know. The shirt and tie are kind of what you wear to work everyday, so I think you need something different. Maybe a brighter tie or something," you said and then walked into his room and opened his closet.

You sifted through the closet until you found what you were looking for: a black shirt and a red tie.

"I think you should wear these," you said and laid the two pieces of clothing on his bed.

"What? Why? You know I never wear red. That tie has been hung up in my closet since you were probably ten," he argued.

"That's the point, Dad! You need to get out of your comfort zone and wear something besides what you wear to school...or in your case, work. It's a dance, so you have to wear something fancy."

Jay groaned. He knew he wasn't going to be able to win this argument.

"Fine. I'll change."

"Good."

Then, you walked out of his room.

Your plan had worked.

***

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey said as she saw Jay walk onto the dance floor a few hours later when all the lights were off and the cleared-out cafeteria became full of students dancing.

"Miss Upton," he greeted. She laughed. "What?"

"It's nothing," Hailey said quickly. "It's just that, well your tie..." she trailed off while his eyes raked down her body in the slightly tight (but not too tight because they were at a school function) spaghetti strap bright red dress that she was wearing. "Let's just say I now know why Y/N asked me what color dress I was wearing."

Jay groaned and shook his head. "My daughter. Always...you know, I don't know what her game is at this point, but I should've suspected something when she told me to go change."

But damn, Jay thought, she does look good in red.

God, Hailey thought, I wish he'd wear those kind of black shirts to work more often.

***

It was now after the dance and you and your dad had arrived back at home at around the same time.

"You're a little devil, you know that?" he asked when you were both inside.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I plead the fifth," you replied.

"Very funny. You can't do that."

"Yes, I can. You should know this, Dad, you teach government."

"You can plead the fifth in court, but you cannot do it with your dad. So, I know that you asked Hailey what color dress she was wearing just so my tie could match it."

"Oooh, so we're calling her Hailey and not Miss Upton now. I'd say that's a step up. What did you two talk about at the dance? Because I know for a fact that you didn't ask her to slow dance."

"And you didn't slow dance with anyone either, so we're even, kid," Jay retorted.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Get this hair out."

"Okay." Your dad yawned. "I'm gonna get to bed. Now I know why you sleep until noon the day after dances: they're exhausting."

"Tell me about it. Goodnight. Send Miss Upton-- well, Hailey now-- a text to make sure she got home safe!"

You didn't even wait for your dad's witty reply before you bounded up the stairs and into your bathroom.

But, you didn't actually end up taking a shower. You ran the shower while you washed off your makeup and re-did it into something more party-appropriate and then took down your hair and put it up into a ponytail.

After half an hour, you turned off the shower and wrapped your still dry body in a towel after you had stripped off your dress. You peeked out of the bathroom to see that your dad's bedroom door was closed, which meant that he was asleep.

Then, you tiptoed into your room and changed your clothes.

You pulled out your phone to tell the girls to park a few houses down so your dad didn't hear the car pull in the driveway or see the headlights.

Your plan of going to your very first high school party was a go.

***

It had been two hours since you had snuck out and it was nearing two in the morning. And, you weren't feeling too hot. You had decided not to drink because you were the DD out of you and the two girls from class. And, you had kept the car keys away from them so that they couldn't do anything stupid...and so you could keep them safe. You hadn't drank anything, but you had eaten the fruit off of the top of the spiked punch bowl and, for whatever reason, you were starting to feel lighter and happier.

Shit.

Your dad had warned that fruit soaks up alcohol. How could you have been so stupid to forget that? He was going to kill you! There's no way you could call him to pick you up, absolutely no way!

Somehow, you found your friends, they were by the makeshift bar, no shock there because you knew the only reason they were there was to get drunk. Note to self: if people you only know because of one class ask you to come to a party for the sole purpose of being the DD, do not go.

Luckily for you, one of the girls' boyfriends played on the football team and wasn't going to risk his season just for one party. So, you told him that you needed to leave and that you were the DD and asked if he could get the two girls home safely. He agreed and you passed off the car keys to him.

Then you walked outside, the chilly mid-October night air helping to slow the nervousness coursing through your veins about facing your dad.

You pulled out your phone and hit the contact you had made in class a few days ago.

"Hello? This is Hailey," you heard Hailey's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Miss Upton, it's Y/N Halstead," you said.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" You heard shuffling on the end of the line and assumed that Miss Upton was standing up from somewhere.

"I mean, I'm kinda woozy I guess. But, I snuck out and my dad doesn't know where I am." You hung your head. You couldn't believe you had been so stupid.

"And you had a drink so you can't drive home?" she finished.

"Yeah." She didn't need to know the details. All she needed to know was that you needed help getting home.

"Okay, send me your location and I'll be there soon, okay? Is it safe for you? Do you need me to stay on the phone or call the cops?"

"No, no, I'm perfectly fine. Just need someone to drive me home."

"Okay good. Send me that location and I'll be there soon."

Then, she told you the model of her car and the color so you could spot her easily. Once you were off the phone, you sent her your location and she replied with a thumbs up, telling you that she got it.

Your phone rang. You thought it was Miss Upton, but then you looked down and saw it was your dad.

Double shit.

***

"Please don't tell my dad," you said when you pulled up to your driveway half an hour later.

"Y/N, I have--"

But, she was saved from telling you that she needed to tell your dad when the front door flung open.

Your dad must've seen the headlights.

"Go," Miss Upton said. "You're only prolonging the inevitable if you stay in here."

You sighed. "Will you walk me up?"

"Sure."

So, both you and Miss Upton exited the car.

The minute your dad saw you, he ran down the steps to you.

"Young lady!" he yelled. "Where were you? Do you know how worried I was? You could've gotten seriously hurt!" He paused. "Get over here!"

You knew to listen to him when he pulled out the dad voice.

He put two fingers underneath your chin and tipped your head up. "Breathe. Now."

It was faint, but it was there, your dad smelt stale vodka on your breath...mixed with a citrusy scent and teeth that hadn't been brushed since the previous morning.

He sighed and clenched his teeth. Then, he put his hands down and he finally spotted Hailey. "Hailey, what are you doing here?" he asked, unclenching his jaw.

"I always tell my students that they can call me if they need to get picked up from parties and can't drive. So far, Y/N's the only one who has utilized that."

"Well, thank you. I'm sorry she had to make you come out at this time of night." He turned back to you. "As for you, go inside. Not only did you drink, but you went to a party, too. We'll talk in a few minutes."

You hung your head and made your way inside and sat down on the couch in the living room.

Jay walked up to Hailey. "I'm really sorry about her. But, thank you for getting her home safe. How far did you have to drive? I can give you gas money for all of this on Monday."

"Jay, it's fine. I make this offer for homecoming and prom every year. You don't have to pay me. I just wanna make sure all the kids get home safe, that's all."

"At least let me buy you coffee or something. You brought my little girl home safe when I didn't even know where she was. I think that warrants some type of reward."

"If you want to repay me that bad," Hailey began, "I'm lesson planning and grading at Starbucks tomorrow. I guess you can buy me a coffee."

"Done. Text me the time and I'll be there."

"Will do."

"Now, excuse me, but I have to go deal with my daughter."

"Goodnight, Jay."

"Night, Hailey."

Then, she drove off and back to her house while Jay walked up his front steps and wondered what he was going to say to you.

"Look at me," your dad demanded when he made his way into the living room.

You looked up. "I'm so--"

"No," your dad said quickly, cutting you off. "You don't talk. You only listen. Do you understand me?" You nodded. "Good. Do you know how worried sick I was when I couldn't find you inside? I was beside myself, Y/N. I didn't know where you were, I didn't know if you were hurt. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. What you did was stupid and reckless and please do not ever, ever do that again. Never do that again. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," you answered.

"Good."

You took a deep breath before you asked your next question. "Am I in trouble?"

Your dad sighed and sat down next to you. "As much as I want to ground you, no you are not in trouble. I'm just so relieved that you're home safe. And, you made the right decision by not driving and calling someone to pick you up...even if it wasn't me."

"Do you want an explanation as to why I went?" you asked.

"No, God no. I may look calm on the outside, but on the inside, I'm still pissed."

"Can I ask how you knew I snuck out?"

"You forgot to leave your fan on and I knew it was way too quiet in your room."

The doorbell rang.

"Shoot, I forgot to tell your uncle that you're home safe. But, you better go up to bed before me and him talk and think of a punishment for you."

"So you're still mad?" you asked.

"A little mad, but mostly I'm just relieved and disappointed. I thought you knew better." You hung your head. "Now, go to bed."

"Okay." You stood up. "Goodnight, I love you." You gave him a hug.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, too, kid. Now, get to bed."

You went upstairs, but instead of going all the way to your room, you sat down on the landing, intent on listening to your dad's and your uncle's conversation about you.

"Hey, she's home. It's all good," Jay said as he answered the door and then motioned for his brother to come inside.

"Oh, thank God. Where was she?" Will asked as they made their way to the living room and sat down on different couches, facing each other.

"Apparently she went to a party. I know she drank because I smelled alcohol on her breath. It was just a bit, but it was there."

"If you want, we can bring her to Med and I can do a tox screen to see the level of alcohol in her system," Will suggested.

"You know, that's not a bad idea actually."

Jay quickly stood up, but Will stopped him. "I'm kidding, man! Don't do that! She was still lucid when she came home, right?"

"Yeah, she was walking and talking normally."

"Okay, then sit your ass back down and don't drag your daughter to Med. Did you ground her?"

"No, I actually didn't."

"There's a shock. You always said you'd ground your kid if they snuck out. Oh, how things changed."

"I was just so relieved," Jay said and sat back down. "When Hailey pulled in the driveway and Y/N got out of her car--"

"Wait," Will started, cutting Jay off, "Hailey picked her up? Hailey Upton?"

"Yeah," Jay answered. "Apparently she'll give out her phone number to the kids in case they need to get home safe from somewhere after prom and homecoming. And, Y/N called her and not me."

"I wouldn't call you either," Will joked. "You'd probably scream at her in front of everyone at the party."

"I would not!" Will cocked his head to the side. "Okay, maybe, but that's beside the point. All that matters is that Y/N had the wherewithal to know that she couldn't drive and she solved that problem. God, Will, the amount of adrenaline that left my body when I saw her get out of that car was astronomical."

"I bet. So, do you know where she went?"

"I just know it was some party. She got lectured when she got home, don't worry about that." Jay put his head in his hands.

"What? What's wrong, Jay?"

"Anything could've happened to her, Will, and I wouldn't have been there to protect her. I wouldn't have been able to protect my own kid."

"Jay, you can't blame yourself. Hell, most teenagers do this stuff."

"I know, I know. It's just that her grades have been slipping slightly and I'm wondering if I should have her transfer schools." Your eyes widened as you listened to that part of the conversation. "Maybe, having her dad teach at the same school isn't helping her. She went to a party, Will. Maybe it's the kids she's meeting in class, maybe being at another school would be better for her."

"Jay, you can't make a decision like that based on one stupid decision the kid did." He knew his brother was torn up about this, so he changed the subject. "What'd Hailey say?"

"I offered to pay for her gas, but she shut me down."

"Anything else?"

Jay sighed. He knew his brother wouldn't let up. "We're going out for coffee tomorrow to grade. She said I can repay her by buying her coffee there."

"Aw, you're going on a date."

"It is not a date! It's just two coworkers working in a coffee shop together...in their off time."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

A few minutes later, the conversation was over and Jay walked Will out, so you made your way to your room.

One thing was for sure: you were not giving your dad another opportunity to even think about you switching schools.

It was time to grind...starting tomorrow because you desperately needed to sleep right now.

***

You woke up around 11:00 the next day, which was Sunday. Then you got up and went downstairs to eat some breakfast.

"Morning," your dad said. "I made breakfast sandwiches. There's two in the fridge if you want one...or both."

"Thanks," you said. You wanted to ask if he was still mad, but you didn't really want to have an argument right when you woke up.

But, being around teenagers all day must've given your dad a sixth sense.

"Listen, kid, I'm not mad at you if that's what you're worried about. You just... you scared me last night. If something happened to you because I couldn't protect you-- because, as a parent, it is my first responsibility to keep you safe. Anyway, if I couldn't keep you safe because I didn't know where you were, I would never be able to forgive myself."

"Can I tell you why--"

"No. As a teacher at the school, the less I know the better. I really don't want to have to tell the administration and then get kids suspended from their sports for drinking. So, all I know is that you snuck out, went to a party, and drank. I don't wanna know who else was there or whose house it was at."

"But, I--"

"Y/N, end of discussion. Now, I have to go and meet Hail-- Miss Upton, for coffee since she so graciously picked you up when you made a bad decision last night. Don't do anything stupid when I'm gone or else you will be in trouble, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. I'm just gonna study for the SATs."

"Good idea. Be back later. I love you."

"Love you, too, Dad."

***

"...And whatever she's having," Jay said and slid over so that the barista could input Hailey's order.

"Just a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew, please," Hailey ordered.

Jay paid and then he and Hailey waited by the other side of the counter for their drinks to be ready.

Jay laughed. "You and my daughter have the same taste. You both like vanilla sweet cream cold brews."

"I'm shocked you let her get that with the amount of caffeine in cold brew," she said.

"Eh, it's just like once a week. On my rest day when I don't have to be at school before dawn to run, I'll grab her and I something from Starbucks, and then she'll just stop by my room to get it before school starts."

"That's nice of you," Hailey mused.

"Yeah, but nothing compared to Miss I have coffee in my room for the kids and you can drink as much as you want Upton."

"If you've ever heard kids talk about how little sleep they get like I do since I teach AP classes, then you'd get why I do that, Halstead. I hear kids saying that they normally only get four hours of sleep a night because they're up so late doing homework. While I don't think they should become dependent on caffeine at such a young age and need to be getting a lot more sleep than that, they need to stay awake during school. That's also probably the reason why you and I don't give a lot of homework."

"And it's ridiculous how early school starts anyway," Jay said and grabbed their drinks off the counter.

"I'll drink to that," Hailey laughed and then poked her straw in her cold brew and took a sip.

Once they took their seats, they talked a little before starting to grade and lesson plan.

"Not to pry or anything," Hailey began, "but did you ground Y/N? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to, I'm not her parent, so I know I'm not the least bit entitled to that information."

"Well, you did pick her up when she needed help, so I'd say you are entitled to that information," Jay chuckled. "But, to answer your question, no I didn't ground her just because I was so relieved that she was home. The amount of adrenaline and cortisol that dropped in my body when I saw her get out of your car was amazing, Hailey. Thank you so much." He paused and took a sip of his cappuccino. "But, we did have a talk about how she shouldn't be doing that because it's dangerous and if something happened to her, that I wouldn't be able to help her and since I'm her parent, my first job is to keep her safe. She does know that if she sneaks out or goes to a party again, I will be grounding her, though."

"Well, you had a much different and a way better reaction than my dad did when he learned that I snuck out," Hailey muttered.

But, Jay had great hearing and heard her. He put down his coffee and furrowed his eyebrows. "What happened? You don't have to tell me anything you aren't comfortable with."

"Why did you become a teacher?" Hailey asked instead.

"Why did I become a teacher?" Jay repeated and Hailey nodded. "Well, as you know I was in the Rangers in Afghanistan and, while I was there I saw so many kids walking super far to schools or us accompanying children to school. They had to go through so much just to get to school, and I wanted to make a difference in kids' lives here Stateside. So, when I came home, I enrolled in college and got my degrees in education and a minor in history." Hailey had known that he was a veteran, which explained why he took every September 11 off, but she didn't know he became a teacher because of what he saw over there. "What about you?" he asked. "You went into social work before you became a teacher, right?"

For the past almost month and a half, the two teachers had been eating lunch together in either Hailey or Jay's classroom, and during those, they obviously talked about their experience with education and what made them want to go into the teaching field. Hailey mentioned one time that she was originally a social work major but then switched it to education. But, Jay didn't know why.

"Yeah, yeah, I was originally a social work major. But, it uh, it brought up some really bad memories and I didn't think I could handle being around that all day," Hailey answered, staring directly at her coffee.

Jay cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean? Again, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"Um, it's okay. It's a part of my past. So, why I said that you were a lot nicer to Y/N when she snuck out was because, well, when my dad found out that I did, he uh, he..." she trailed off.

Jay's gaze was soft and sad as he finished for her. "Physical?" he asked, referring to the type of abuse she had endured as a child and teenager.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Hailey, I am so, so sorry that happened to you. I'm honored that you'd tell me this."

"It's uh, it's why I give those kids my phone number in case they need help. And, at the beginning of the year, it's on my syllabus, too," she said.

"In case they need a way out, they can call you," Jay said, piecing it together.

Hailey nodded.

Jay reached across the table and gently grabbed Hailey's hand in his. "You're a good woman, Hailey Upton."

She smiled sadly and nodded, grounding herself by focusing on the feeling of Jay's hand in hers.

"Do you want to get started on grading now?" she asked after a minute had passed.

"That might be a good idea," Jay laughed. Then, he let go of Hailey's hand. But, neither of them wanted that little handhold to end.

***

One month later

God, you were in pain. You didn't wanna get out of bed; you just wanted to sleep. Hell, you needed sleep.

Over the past month, you had thrown yourself into studying. You wanted to stay at this school. You loved all your teachers and you didn't want to leave your friends, especially your best friend Emma. And, you were also scared that if you had to transfer schools, that you might not do well on your AP exams or that you'd have a bunch of other requirements that the new school had that you'd have to do the last half of your junior year and during the entirety of your senior year.

You didn't want any of that.

So, you had come up with a plan.

The day after homecoming and that next week, you studied an hour or two hours later than normal. But, you still felt that you had work to do if you didn't want your dad to transfer you at the end of the semester. So, during your study hall hour, you'd go to the teachers and ask how you could get your B+ up to an A- or your A- up to an A. You'd even review questions you got wrong on quizzes so that you could get them right when those types of questions showed up on the tests.

Yes, the teachers probably thought you were crazy because you had good grades already and were trying to be Little Miss Perfect (or they thought that you were trying to get into another scholarship bracket for college or trying to become valedictorian), but you didn't care if you looked crazy. You wanted to finish your high school career at the school you were at now.

Also during this time, you had been "going to sleep" around 10:00-11:00, which was your normal time, just so that your dad didn't get suspicious. But, what you'd actually do was sleep for an hour-ish and then get up and study more.

It started with you studying until midnight and at the latest 1:30 in the morning...and then you'd wake up five hours later at 6:30. It wasn't ideal, but you could manage. Because, since your dad went to school earlier than you, you just brought extra coffee to school and he didn't notice a thing.

But, since all the teachers wanted to get their tests in before Thanksgiving break, for the past two weeks, you had been doing your power nap thing so your dad assumed that you were asleep, and then would wake up and do homework and study until 3:00-3:30 in the morning. This meant, that during the week, you were running on just three to three and a half hours of sleep a night. And, it wasn't like you could catch up a ton on the weekend, or else your dad would get suspicious. So, you just got like seven or maybe eight hours of sleep on the weekends. So, you were constantly in a state of sleep debt and in desperate need of caffeine.

You had done the extra cup of coffee for the first two weeks, but for the past two weeks, you had been drinking two cups of coffee at your house before school and finishing the second cup at school right before classes start, but then going into Miss Upton's classroom and getting another cup of coffee. Then, you'd also get another one from her room a little after lunch. (You made sure to never go in there during her lunch period because your dad and her still ate lunch together and you didn't want him to get suspicious.) Also, sometimes you and Emma would go to Starbucks to study after school. So, lately, you had been averaging four to five cups of coffee during the week and just two on the weekends. Because, again, you couldn't have your dad getting suspicious.

And, your dad and Miss Upton ran together in the morning before school now, so you really had to be careful about what you told Miss Upton. You couldn't have her telling your dad that you were drinking a couple additional cups of coffee. You just told her that your coffee never stayed warm long enough when you brought it from home, which is why you opted for hers. And, she bought it.

To cover the bags under your eyes, you had been wearing a bit of extra foundation and cover-up. And, to make sure that your dad didn't notice at home, you'd wash off all your makeup after school, but then quickly redo the area under your eyes.

So far, he was oblivious.

But, for a week and a half, your stomach had been super achy and you couldn't stand to eat anything in the morning before you had at least one cup of coffee. So, what would typically happen was that you'd end up eating a bowl of overnight oats in your car in the school parking lot before walking inside so that your coffee had time to digest. You figured out that you were fine after that. Well, it was still achy, but not as bad as in the morning.

God, you wish you were at that point right now.

For the past five days, you've been feeling nauseous and your stomach has been achy, but in the morning, there'd be a stabbing pain before you had any coffee. You'd roll out of bed when your alarm went off and go straight downstairs to get coffee because that seemed to be the only thing--besides ibuprofen--that would alleviate the pain.

But right now, right now was the worst you had ever felt in your entire life. You felt like someone was stabbing your stomach and it wouldn't let up. You felt nauseous like you'd puke any second. And, trying to get into another position didn't help. Nothing helped.

Fuck, you had to swallow your pride and your secrecy and go tell your dad.

You needed help and you needed it now.

So, you got up. But, that just made it worse. You swallowed, trying to keep the lump in your throat and not have it go on the floor.

You whimpered and then walked a few steps and opened your bedroom door.

Then, you threw yourself on the floor and crawled across the hallway.

You held your breath as you stood up, anticipating a ton of pain--which came--when you stood up and opened the door to your dad's room.

Then, you went back on the floor and crawled in there with tears streaming down your face.

It took all your energy to whisper, "Daddy."

***

Jay blinked sleepily. He thought he heard his daughter mumble "Daddy", which she hadn't called him in years. But, then he heard it again.

He looked down and saw a figure curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Daddy, make it stop, please," you whimpered.

He quickly flicked on the light so that he could get a better look at you.

"Y/N, baby, what's wrong?" he asked quickly when he saw your tears, your face contorted in pain, and how jagged your breathing was.

"Hurts," you whimpered as more tears fell and you clutched your stomach.

He jumped out of bed and knelt down next to you. "Your stomach?" he asked urgently. You nodded. "Can you sit up?"

You nodded and leaned against his bed. But, that was a bad idea because the minute you were upright, you puked right down yourself. You groaned and pressed down more on your stomach, which just caused you to vomit more and more.

The minute you started to vomit, Jay looked at the clock. He started to soothe you by rubbing your back, but then quickly stopped and ran into the adjoining bathroom to grab the trashcan and put it underneath your mouth instead.

"There you go, there you go," he soothed as he held the trashcan with one hand and rubbed your back with the other. "Get it out. It's okay. It's okay. I'm right here. I'm right here, Y/N."

But, when you puked for almost four minutes straight and were still in pain after, Jay knew something was seriously wrong.

"Don't get up, you'll make it worse," he said. You nodded weakly. "I'm gonna go grab you some water and Gatorade and put those and a bowl in the car. Then, we're gonna go to Med to get you checked out." You nodded again. "I'll be right back. I love you."

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and then sprinted off into the kitchen to grab the stuff he previously mentioned. Then, he ran outside and unlocked his car, turned it on to start heating up, put that stuff in the backseat, and sprinted back inside.

"Y/N, you still awake?" he asked when he walked back into his room.

"Mhm," you hummed with your eyes still closed and your hands still clutching your stomach.

"Okay, I'm gonna throw on a hoodie and my shoes, and then I'm gonna run into your room and grab you some shoes and a hoodie because it's pretty cold out. Are you okay here?" you nodded slowly. "Okay, I'll be right back. Don't get up."

Five minutes later, you had your shoes and hoodie on. You weren't much help getting those on; your dad basically had to dress you as if you were a baby again.

"I'm gonna pick you up and bring you to the car and we're gonna go to Med to see Uncle Will."

"Uh huh," you said, letting your dad know that you had heard him. Then, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and soon felt the chill of the late November air and then the leather seats of your dad's truck on your back and the warmth of the truck.

"There's water and Gatorade. I want you to take a few sips," your dad said. "There's a bowl, too in case you have to puke again."

You drank a few sips of Gatorade and then laid back down and closed your eyes.

As your dad backed out of the driveway, he called Will to explain the situation and tell him that the two of you were on your way to Chicago Med.

After the call, he threw his phone into the passenger seat and reached his left hand into the backseat, and grabbed one of your hands. You gripped your dad's hand weakly as he drove as fast he could to Chicago Med.

He had to make sure that his little girl was okay.

***

"We've got a treatment room right here," Maggie said when she saw Jay sprinting into the ED with you in his arms.

She quickly led him to it and he laid you down in the bed.

Will rushed in with Natalie and April a few seconds later.

"Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me?" Natalie asked.

"Hurts," you mumbled.

"Jay," Will started, "did she puke on the way here at all?"

"No, no, she didn't. She just puked for almost four minutes straight at home and it's worse when she sits or stands up. She's been clutching her stomach since she woke up."

"Gonna- gonna--" you started to heave and a pink basin was thrust under your mouth and then you emptied the few sips of Gatorade into the basin. You started to cry even harder once you finished. "Make it stop, make it stop! Please make it stop!"

Natalie turned to your dad. "Do we have permission to administer medications?"

"Please," he answered, his voice cracking. He was terrified. He was terrified something was seriously wrong. He had never seen you in so much pain. "You have permission. Just please help her."

April pushed antinausea and pain medications as well as a light sleeping medication because it was apparent that, along with puking and being in a world of pain, you were also utterly exhausted.

"Y/N," April started, "you're going to get sleepy soon. But, can you give us your pain level on a scale of one to ten?"

"Ten. My stomach hurts at a ten," you answered while tears still ran down your face.

"Did you eat anything you weren't used to? Drink anything?"

"No, no," you panted. "Just- just lots of coffee. Not a lot of sleep. Studying."

Will and Natalie shared a look. They knew what this could be. And, at least they got it out of you now, because it was clear that the meds were starting to work and you were fading fast.

"Hun," Natalie began, "we're gonna leave April in here with you in case you get sick again. Is it okay if me, your Uncle Will, and your dad have a chat outside real quick?"

"Want my dad. Please."

Natalie smiled sadly. "Okay, he'll stay. We can talk to him later."

Your dad reached for your hand and held it and rubbed his thumb over the top while you drifted into a medication-induced sleep.

Five minutes later, you were out.

Jay looked at his brother. "What's going on? What's wrong with my kid?"

"From what she told us, it sounds like the acid in the coffee she's been drinking has been irritating her stomach lining. Has she been drinking a lot of coffee lately?" Will asked.

"Not that I've noticed. But, sometimes there's a little less in the coffee pot than I think there should be. But, even if she is drinking two cups, that can't cause this, can it?" Jay asked worriedly.

"No, two cups shouldn't. But, if she isn't sleeping a lot, sometimes lack of sleep can make people feel pretty crappy. So, if she's drinking more than her normal amount of caffeine and not sleeping, then that could be what's causing it."

"But, she goes to bed at her normal time," Jay argued.

"That doesn't mean that she's sleeping. She could be lying awake in bed. Has she seemed more tired to you?"

"No, not that I've noticed. Uh, what do I do, Will? Can't you run some tests?"

"I mean, I can run one to see if she's sleep-deprived, it's a plasma cortisol test. If her levels are elevated, that means she's not getting enough sleep. But, it wouldn't give us the reason why her stomach's hurting so bad and why she's nauseous and vomiting," Will answered.

"Then don't run the test," Jay said. "If it's not going to figure out the problem, then I don't want to put her through that. But, what do we do?"

"If it's what I think, an irritated stomach lining, then we keep her for observation for a few days, ween her off of caffeine to a healthy amount, give her antinausea and pain medications, and just wait for her to go home until she feels better," Will answered.

"Okay. I guess we wait. You mind grabbing me some coffee?"

Will laughed because they had just been talking about how you had been possibly drinking too much coffee and now Jay was asking for it. "Yeah, I can do that. My shift ends in an hour, so I'll be down here to wait with you then."

Jay smiled. "Thanks, man."

***

It was 7:30 in the morning the next day, which was Thanksgiving Day, when Jay's phone rang, waking him up. He answered it without checking the caller ID because he didn't want to disturb your peaceful sleep.

"Hello?" he asked groggily.

"Jay? Where are you and Y/N?" he heard Hailey's voice through the phone.

Shit, the Turkey Trot, he thought.

He and you always ran the Turkey Trot every Thanksgiving, sometimes dragging Will along if he didn't have to work. Then, you'd have your Thanksgiving feast later in the day. Granted, your dad had to keep pace with you for the entire time, so it really wasn't a race. But, it was a nice bonding experience, so the two (sometimes three of you) kept it up.

Jay had mentioned it to Hailey one morning when they were running the indoor track before school started, and she said she'd sometimes run it, too. So, Jay had invited her to run it with him and you, and she agreed.

You were convinced that Miss Upton and your dad were secretly dating.

But, Miss Upton had been waiting for you and your dad at the designated meeting spot for half an hour now. And, Jay Halstead was not one to be late.

"Listen, me and Y/N aren't going to be able to make it. She had some stomach issues last night and now she's in the hospital and the doctors are trying to figure out what's wrong," Jay said.

"Oh my God," she said as she started to walk away from their planned meeting spot and towards the parking garage where she parked her car. "What hospital are you at?"

"Chicago Med," Jay answered. "Why?"

"I'm gonna find someplace that's open and grab breakfast and then I'll be there."

"Hailey, you don't have to."

"Jay, I want to do this. I'll be there within the next hour."

Then, without waiting for him to protest once more, she ended the call.

***

When you woke up a few hours later, you rubbed your eyes, despite the IV in your hand, and rolled over.

"Well good morning, or almost afternoon," your uncle Will said and stood up. "How's the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

"Uh, maybe a six, seven?" you said.

But then, you looked around the room.

Why was Miss Upton here?

"I'll go get a nurse and let you three talk," Will said and then left the treatment room.

You looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows. At the same time, the achiness in your stomach started up again and you clutched it.

"Gonna be sick?" your dad asked.

"I don't know," you answered.

He handed you the pink basin anyway (a clean one because last night's was gross and went off to get cleaned) and you set it on your lap.

"Feel like you can eat anything?" your dad asked. "Hailey brought food...and coffee, but we'll have to check with the nurses about how much coffee you can drink."

"You brought it?" you asked as you looked at Miss Upton.

She smiled. "I did. I called your dad to see why you two weren't at the Turkey Trot yet, and he said you two were here, so I figured I'd find somewhere that's open and get you breakfast." She rummaged around in the bag and pulled out a container. "He mentioned you were having stomach issues so I opted for something light, so the fruit and nut oatmeal from Mcdonald's. I also grabbed a packet of syrup in case you wanted it sweeter."

She passed the food to you along with a spoon and a napkin. "Thank you," you said as you took them from her. "Sorry I messed up your run."

Hailey laughed. "It's okay. My run's the least of my problems. Me and your dad just want you to get better."

You tried to hide your smile. She said she and your dad. She cared about you more than she did other students...and you were just waiting for them to slip up and call each other babe at this point.

"Hey, I'm back," Will announced as he walked into the room. This time, he had Dr. Choi and Monique in tow. "Natalie and April have Thanksgiving off, so you have Dr. Choi as your doctor and Monique as your nurse."

You nodded.

"Hi, Y/N, I'm Dr. Choi, as your brother just mentioned. Monique here is just going to check your vitals." You nodded again. "I understand you've been having some stomach issues. Can you tell me when they started? Any changes to your diet or routine that I should know about?"

Here goes nothing.

You looked at your dad as tears formed in your eyes. "I'm sorry," you said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Your dad moved his chair closer to you and gently grabbed your hand. "Tell me what, baby?"

"I- I went to that party because--"

"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to know why because I'm a teacher? Me and Miss Upton are both teachers."

"But I didn't go to drink at all! I hadn't even planned on drinking! I didn't even drink a drink!" you yelled, causing Monique to take a step back. You took a deep breath and turned to her. "Sorry, sorry. I'll be calm so you can do your job." After a few breaths, Monique went back to checking your vitals and you continued your story. "These two girls I know from my AP gov class asked me to come to the party to be their DD. So, I went. But, when I was there, I ate the fruit from the punch bowl and I forgot that the fruit absorbs the alcohol. I'm sorry."

"And when you realized what happened, you called Miss Upton?" your dad asked.

"Yeah," you confirmed. "And, I even made sure to give the car keys to one of the girl's boyfriends who wasn't drinking because he plays sports so that they'd get home safely."

Jay smiled slightly; he had taught you well.

"Did you keep drinking consistently after?" Dr. Choi asked. He couldn't see one drink causing all these problems.

"No, God no!" you said. But, then you clutched your stomach and took in a deep breath.

"Pain?" Dr. Choi asked.

"Yeah, it's not as bad as last night, though."

He looked to your dad. "If she wants more pain meds, will you allow it?"

"Yes," your dad answered.

"Do you want more pain meds?" Dr. Choi asked.

"Please," you answered.

So, Monique started to get the pain medication ready to go into your IV and then pushed the meds.

A few minutes later, once the medication had started to work, you continued your story.

"I heard you and Uncle Will talking," you said.

"When?" your dad asked. "Me and Uncle Will talk a lot."

"The night I snuck out. You and Uncle Will were talking and you said that you might make me transfer schools if my grades don't get better. I don't want to transfer schools, Dad."

Your dad sighed. "Kid, I was mad, but in reality, I wouldn't do that. That was just me being angry and trying to find a solution when I wasn't in the right headspace. Were you so nervous that your stomach hurt all the time?" he asked.

"No," you answered. "but, I started staying up later and doing homework."

"Really? You always seemed asleep to me."

"I'd sleep for an hour and then wake up and study more." Your dad sighed. "I'm sorry. And then I was just sleeping for like three hours, so I'd drink four or five cups of coffee a day and my stomach hurt so bad in the morning if I didn't drink any coffee, so I'd eat breakfast in my car before school."

"For how long?" your dad asked. "For how long have you been bottling this up? For how long have you been waiting to eat breakfast?"

"The stomach aches started a week and a half ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." You started to cry harder.

"Hey, hey it's okay. We know what happened now, so hopefully, Dr. Choi and everyone else here can fix it." He looked up at Dr. Choi who had been intently listening as well. "Right, Doc?"

Dr. Choi smiled. "That's right, Y/N. And, what it seems to me is that you've just been drinking too much coffee, and coupled with the lack of sleep, have had abdominal cramping and nausea due to all the caffeine irritating your stomach lining. So, what we'll do is ween your caffeine intake back down to one to two cups of coffee per day, not go cold turkey because you'll probably feel pretty crappy if we did that, and then continue giving you pain meds and antinausea meds. We'll probably keep you here a few days upstairs in a recovery room just for observation to make sure nothing else is going on."

"So, I have to spend my whole Thanksgiving break in the hospital?" you asked.

"I'm afraid so," he answered.

"Well, this sucks." You looked at the table next to Miss Upton. "Is that coffee for me?"

"It is. I don't know if you can have it, though," she answered.

"She can have it," Dr. Choi answered. "Just, no more after this one seeing as that's a large."

You nodded.

"I got you a vanilla iced coffee. Since apparently, we have the same taste because your dad said you also like vanilla sweet cream cold brews as much as me," Miss Upton said and then handed you the coffee.

"Seeing as everything looks good, me and Monique will check on you later." He turned to the three adults in the room. "If she pukes up that food or her stomach pain gets worse, come get us."

"Will do, Doc," your dad answered.

"Jay," Hailey started, "can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?"

Jay furrowed his eyebrows slightly but nodded. "Of course. Be right back, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad," you said.

Then, your dad and Miss Upton left the room.

Outside the treatment room, Hailey took a deep breath, grounding herself as she prepared to talk to Jay.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out.

"For what?" Jay asked, utterly confused.

"I knew she was drinking extra coffee but didn't tell you! Well, she told me when she brought it from home, that it would get cold too fast, so she always came to my room and had two cups during the day. If I knew she was drinking some at home, too, I would've never let her have any. I'm so, so sorry, Jay!"

"Hailey," Jay began and placed his hands on her shoulders, "it's not your fault. Hell, I didn't even notice it and she's my daughter."

"I know, but I just feel slightly responsible for her being in that hospital bed--"

"It's not your fault, Hailey. I promise. I don't blame you one bit and I know Y/N doesn't either."

Meanwhile, back in the treatment room, you really needed to use the bathroom.

"Uncle Will?" you asked, causing him to look up from his phone where he was trying to figure out what restaurants were open for dinner on Thanksgiving. He really didn't want him and his family eating hospital cafeteria food for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Hmm?" he hummed and gave you his full attention.

"I really need to go to the bathroom," you told him.

He pocketed his phone and stood up and moved over to you. "Okay, I'm gonna help you up and with one arm, I'll hold on to you and with the other, I'll hold onto the IV pole for you. Is that okay?" You nodded. "Do you think you'll need help in the bathroom? I can grab a nurse if you need me to," he offered.

"No, just help me to the bathroom, please. I should be good when I get in there."

"Okay." Then, he helped you up and the two of you made your way over to the bathroom where he stood and waited while you went inside.

Back with Hailey and Jay, Jay reassured Hailey once again that none of this was on her.

"If anything," Jay began, "I should be thanking you. You got Y/N home safe after that party."

"Jay, we've been over this. I would've done it for any one of my students," she said.

"But, would you take their dad up on their offer of buying you coffee if it wasn't my kid you picked up?" Jay asked and tilted his head to the side.

"Probably not," Hailey said, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Can I ask why?" She stayed silent. "Listen, Hailey, it's been a long time since I've seen you as just a fellow teacher," Jay admitted.

She looked up at him. "Since we're all sharing secrets today, it's been a long time since I've seen you as a fellow teacher, too, Jay."

Jay smiled and moved a piece of her hair behind her ear. He leaned in. "Can I?" he asked.

He didn't get a response because she quickly pressed her lips against his. It was the kiss she had been waiting for since she asked him to eat lunch with her that first week of school.

You and your uncle Will had chosen that exact time to make your way back to your treatment room. You two had seen everything: your dad putting a strand of Hailey's hair behind her ear and them leaning in and kissing.

You were glad that one of your hands was free because you whacked Will across the chest in excitement.

It was finally happening!

Jay and Hailey pulled away and looked at each other and smiled.

"I uh, I hope that was okay," Hailey said quietly.

"Oh, it was more than okay. I'd happily do that again, but we should probably get back into Y/N's room. She's probably wondering what's taking us so long," Jay said.

Hailey laughed. "Probably."

The two turned around and saw you and Will standing thirty feet away. Jay's eyes widened. "Uh..." he trailed off as Hailey blushed hard.

"Finally!" you exclaimed.

"Yeah, I agree with Y/N on this one," Will laughed. "But, who would've thought? A government teacher and an English teacher?" He started to help you walk back to your treatment room but turned his head back to Jay and Hailey. "Oh, don't stop on our account."

"Will!"

A/N: hank you guys so, so, so much for reading! Again, please remember to like/reblog and comment because I love reading all your comments and seeing that you liked/reblogged because that means you enjoyed reading the imagine! Again, I am donating all my proceeds on buy me a coffee until the end of AU-gust to Save The Children to help the children in Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee here.

As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’d be happy to add you!

Taglist: @theambracer88@virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

[lightns881]

DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):

The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...

*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*

Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!

I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!

Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)

The Delicious Data

From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.

Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)

In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.

Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!

INxx’s on the Loose!

It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!

It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...

Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?

You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.

But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?

The Gifted Kid Syndrome

To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!

Now, here’s me calling y’all out.

A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.

You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so. 

It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.

And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:

And you want to know why most of you relate?

Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart

No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.

(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)

Now, my next point is where we find a split.

INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)

The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.

I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:

“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”

And another:

“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“

Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.

DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.

DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.

That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.

But I won’t. 

Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.

The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”

This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.

Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?

Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?

Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...

Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?

I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!

Here’s another quote for you: 

“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”

Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.

Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”

So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?

Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.

Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram. 

The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.

Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.

DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.

INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.

That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!

And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!

Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!

And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!