#but let’s not write off all the people who pour their time and money and creativity into making these spaces welcoming and wonderful

[zorosdimples]

people who write off entire fandoms as “toxic” or “dead” do a huge disservice to the countless artists, writers, and other members who do their best to keep their communities thriving and welcoming. as is the case in so many online spaces, the loudest voices are usually a small group of people who are intent on stirring up drama and making it everyone’s problem. if you take the time to search for people to follow and actually engage in community—not simply look through the tags to like random posts and read them in secret—you’ll learn that there’s more to fandom than what you see in the tags.

[oddinary4bts]

If Only It Was You | pjm

☆request:

Hi! Congrats on your milestone!!! Can I make a request for Jimin, angst, fluff and smut please. Something along the lines of, you're in an arranged marriage type of situation, maybe rich family want you to marry into another rich family but you're in love with Jimin (friend, boy down the street, your brother's best friend, your choice) you finally can't resist him any more, at a big event like a family party or something and you have sex in the building somewhere. Anything along those lines would be great but I'm happy for whatever you choose. A happy ending would be great too but again, it's up to you.

thank you @pars-ley for the request <3

☆pairings: Jimin x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: arranged marriage!au (they are not married together), angst, smut and a bit of fluff

☆warnings: unedited, alcohol, cursing, the L word, cheating (reader cheats on her husband with jimin oop) explicit content: light hair pulling, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jerking off, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, nipple play, praising, dirty talking

☆word count: 3.5k

☆a/n: i did not write exactly what was requested bc i somehow misread and thought it was supposed to be at the night of the wedding bc i'm dumb but i only realized when i finished writing and i hope you guys still like it :')

☆☆☆☆☆

Jimin hates weddings. He hates the crowds, the lights, the ambiance that is reminiscent of love shared.

Of love he’ll never experience.

You’re beautiful. An angel sent from above in your white dress, your hair sparkling as it cascades down your back. Your makeup is light, like everything about you, and if your family and friends knew you any better, they too would see the fakeness in your smile.

The tightness in your features every time your now-husband wraps his arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss on your cheek.

Jimin clenches his jaw as Jackson, your husband, pulls you close, kissing you. You barely reciprocate, and then you fake your following smile. It goes unnoticed by Jackson, much like it has been doing all night and Jimin scoffs, shaking his head.

“I’ll have a scotch,” your father says, pulling Jimin out of his thoughts.

He’s working behind the bar tonight, helping his mother with the wedding. Indeed, his mother owns a catering company, so weddings and charity events and the likes have been common in his life. He met you at such an event, years ago, while you were both still teenagers and too young to realize that your worlds weren’t made to collide.

Not when you’re the heiress of one of the richest companies in the country, and he grew up on the line between poverty and middle class. But you both couldn’t help the gravity that pulled you towards one another.

In another life, Jimin thinks you would have gotten married. He would have built you a house, given you as many kids as you’d want, loved you every day like it was his last day. He would have kissed you at the altar, would have made love to you on the wedding night, would have held you through your bad days.

He would have given you everything he has. He still wants to, but he knows it’s impossible. Your parents would have never let you marry for love. No, they’ve always been about money and connections, and your marriage to Jackson is just that.

One of money and connections, between a rich Korean company and an even richer Chinese company.

“Coming right up,” Jimin replies to your father.

He wonders, does your father even know that you’ve been in love for all those years?

Does he know that you were telling him you wish you could marry him instead a few days ago?

Jimin pushes the thought away, pouring the glass of scotch your father asked for. He hands it to the older man, who thanks him with a polite smile before sauntering away with the swagger that only rich people have. 

Tonight promises to be hell. Not only because you’re getting married, but also because you’re about to be permanently whisked away from Jimin’s life.

You’re moving to China to live with your new husband. You’d broken down in tears when you’d told Jimin, and he’d held you while you sobbed, kissing the top of your head as if trying to piece you back together. The memory is bittersweet, filled with all the feelings he’s ever had for you, and thinking about it makes his heart ache fiercely.

As the night goes on, Jimin becomes keenly aware that you’re avoiding him, always sending your husband to get drinks for you. It breaks his heart even more - it feels like you’re already gone. When the clock hits midnight, he tells the other barman that he’s going to take a breather if only so that he can be away from you for a moment, away from all the pain he’s been drowning in.

But he should have known better. Because you meet him in the darkness, your soft footsteps revealing your approach, and Jimin turns to look at you.

You’re even more beautiful up close. The moonlight kisses your skin and you look like you’re shining from within. Your eyes are glistening, hosting a myriad of jewels, almost akin to stars. Your lips are curved upwards, yet sadness lingers on your features, much like it’s been lingering in his heart since you told him about the wedding.

“Jimin,” you whisper, your voice so vulnerable he can’t stop himself from crossing the distance between the two of you and taking you in his embrace. 

You melt against him as you bury your face in his chest. The smell of your shampoo hits his nose, followed by the scent of your perfume, the one he gave to you a year ago when he managed to save up the money. 

You’re warm, so warm, yet Jimin reckons he’s never felt so cold.

He murmurs your name, praying to God above to allow him to let you go, yet he can’t. He can’t let go, not when he’s fully aware this is the last time he’ll ever hold you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you breathe against his chest.

He tightens his hold, wishing he could change the outcome for the two of you.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “You’ll be okay.”

“How can I be okay without you?”

Jimin pulls away just enough to look down at your face, a finger reaching up to your chin to tilt your head back. “You’re strong. Stronger than anyone I know. You will be okay.”

The tear rolling down your cheek looks like a gem in the silver light of the moon, and Jimin dries it with his thumb.

“I’ll miss you,” you say in a small, broken voice.

He pecks your forehead. “Whenever you miss me, just look up at the moon.” He looks up, and you mirror his motion. “And then we’ll be together again.”

Your hands reach up, grabbing the collar of his white dress shirt, and you pull him down. He’s taken by surprise, but he knows your lips by heart and it takes him just half a heartbeat before he reciprocates the kiss, his mouth moving in time with yours.

You sigh, and though the kiss tastes salty from the tears that spill from your eyes and his, it doesn’t slow you down. No, Jimin only holds you tighter, hands getting lost in your long curls. Your hair is soft like satin, soft like starlight, and the small, breathy sound you let out when he reaches the back of your head and lightly pulls on your hair makes him go feral.

He’s never had you before. He’s had other girls, and he’s kept his eyes closed the entire time thinking it was you instead, but it’s a line you've never crossed. The farthest you’ve ever gone was one time by the lakeside, when you’d taken your shirt off while grinding on him. He’d kissed your chest, he'd tasted your skin, and it’s still one of his favourite memories of the two of you.

He says your name, his voice rougher this time around, and you retaliate by moving your hands to the front of his shirt, and then down to his belt. 

“I want you,” you breathe out when he puts his hand on yours, trying to stop you.

“What about your…”

He can’t bring himself to say ‘husband’. Not when it should have been him.

“He won’t know,” you reassure Jimin. “He’s already half drunk.”

Though Jimin does not condone cheating, the way your eyes meet his, burning from within, makes him throw caution to the wind and he grabs your face, crashing his lips on yours. You meet him with the same fire, your tongue finding his, and Jimin grunts as your hand moves down and you drag your palm on his hardening length. 

You taste good. You taste inebriating, you taste like heaven melted into the sweetest liquid. It makes Jimin want more of you, makes him want everything and, before you can unbuckle his belt, he drops to his knees, looking up at you.

Your eyes widen, but it doesn’t take long before Jimin disappears under the skirt of your dress, his mouth exploring the soft skin of your leg. He moves up, slowly, his lips grazing your skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he settles on your inner thigh, tongue darting out. But he needs more, needs to know what you sound like when you come, so he doesn’t stop there, finding your core between your legs and giving you a lick over your panties. 

The sound you make is enough to fuel his fantasies for the rest of his life, and Jimin pushes your panties to the side, his tongue parting your folds to dive into your heat. You shudder, saying his name like a prayer, and then he teases your clit, circling enticingly as he tries to coax more sounds out of you. 

You’re heaven personified. His heaven. When he’ll die, Jimin knows all he’ll remember is the sounds you made when he was pleasuring you. He almost wishes he would die now, almost wishes this was his last act on this Earth, if only so that he could go with the taste of you on his lips.

His dick twitches in his pants at the thought, and he reaches down, squeezing himself. He’s hard, harder than he’s ever been, and he thinks he’d be able to come by just tasting you. But then again he wants to feel you, wants to find completion along with you. So he keeps eating you out, lapping you up, drinking you in until your sounds grow breathier, and you try to grind in his face. 

When he wants to pull away, he finds he’s glued to your pussy, glued to the act of pleasuring you, so he decides to make you come, to bring you to the seventh sky, and he pushes a finger inside of you, fighting against your tight walls until they relax and suck him in.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you cry out over him.

He’s unleashed. A beast that just needs to devour you, and so he does, his finger pumping in and out of you in time with the flick of his tongue on your clit. Soon, he adds a second finger inside of you, and he curls his digits to find the sweet, nutty spot inside of you that he knows will throw you over the edge.

He’s not wrong - a few seconds later, you’re climaxing, your walls pulsing on his fingers as your juices sinfully cover his chin. He guides you through your high, up until you whimper from oversensitivity once the waves of pleasure have passed. Only then does he emerge from beneath your skirt, looking up at you.

You’re brighter than the moon above. You’re the most beautiful creature, woman, in the whole universe, and though you’re not meant to be his for this life, he'll make sure that you are his tonight.

Jimin gets up, letting your dress fall back around you, and then he finds your mouth, kisses you with all the might of his love for you. You kiss him back languidly, tasting yourself on him, and he wonders if you think you taste just as good as he knows you do.

Your hands move to his chest, and you start unbuttoning his dress shirt, your hungry fingers soon caressing his skin. You go down, heading for his pants again, and you manage to deftly unbuckle his belt, and then you unbutton his dress pants. It’s enough for you to slip your hand in, and Jimin bucks his hips as you dive underneath his underwear, wrapping your hand around him. 

“I want you inside of me,” you murmur, your lips still pressed on his. 

You deserve better than the ground. You deserve better than getting fucked on a wall, too, but Jimin figures the wall is better than the ground. So he pulls your hand out of his underwear, entwining his fingers with his.

“I’d fuck you in a bed,” he whispers. “I’d fuck you in a shower, on a couch. Hell, I wouldn’t even fuck you.” His heart fills with love for you. “I’d make love to you. We’d go until the sun comes up, and then we’d start again when the sun goes down.” He says your name softly. “I wish we could have this life together.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “If only it was you, Jimin…” you reply. “If only it was you that I got married to. I’d be the happiest woman alive.”

He kisses you again, softer this time. 

“I do want you, too,” he says when he pulls away from the kiss. He looks around, making sure you’re still alone in the darkness of this side of the building. “But we can’t really do that here.”

“There’s a garden,” you murmur. “I saw a weeping willow, with the branches touching the floor.”

“We can’t,” he says. “What about your dress?”

You look down at yourself, at the white dress that would so easily be soiled with dirt. “Fuck.”

Jimin has never heard you swear before, except while his tongue was on you, and he can’t help the surprised chuckle that falls from his lips. But you’re quick to steal his breath again as you let go of his hand to dive in his pants again. The second your fingers wrap around his dick, and you start moving up and down, Jimin stops caring about everything.

All there is is you, and he’ll make sure to please you until you’re spent.

“Let’s go under that tree,” he grunts, his voice rough.

You smile, and Jimin isn’t sure if he will ever see beauty again once you’re out of his life. Because you’re beauty, inside and out.

You pull your hand out of his pants, and Jimin redoes the button and buckles his belt. It doesn’t take too long for the two of you to find the tree you were talking about, hidden in the darkness at the very back of the garden, far from all the wedding lights. The music from the reception is a distant song, one that wraps around Jimin the same way your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you under the branches of the willow, fully hidden from view. 

It’s so dark under the tree that he barely can see you, yet it doesn’t stop him from exploring your body. From slowly undoing your dress, letting it pool at your feet.

That way, you might manage to not dirty it too much. 

His clothes are quick to follow, and soon he stands naked in front of you, your hand already caressing his dick again. He doesn’t waste time before removing your panties, and just like that you’re both nude, your bodies reaching for each other.

Jimin takes his time with you. He takes his sweet time pressing kisses on  your neck and between the valley of your breasts. He takes his time teasing your nipples with his tongue, with his fingers. Fingers that he then dives in your heat to make sure that you’re ready for him. Your wetness is slick, his fingers slipping right in, and so he figures you can take him. He turns you around, pushing your hair over your shoulder so that he can gently bite at the skin of your neck while he guides himself towards you.

He doesn’t have a condom, yet it doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t stop him from gently bending you over, helping you hold onto the tree so that you don’t fall. 

It doesn’t stop him from rubbing his tip on your folds, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the pleasurable feeling. You let out a breathy sound as he starts pushing into you, your walls sucking him right in. 

Your pussy is warm. It’s soft, wet, and it feels so heavenly that Jimin thinks he might come already. He grunts as he bottoms out, and you clench around him once, almost sending him flying over the edge.

“Jimin,” you breathe out.

He bends down, pressing a kiss on the side of your neck. “I know.”

You roll your hips, and his fingers dig in the supple skin of your waist as he groans again.

“You feel so good.”

So do you. Yet Jimin can’t answer - the way you’re moving on his dick surpasses all of his fantasies, and he just knows that he’ll be truly and thoroughly ruined by the end of the night.

Not that it matters.

“You’ll fill me up, huh?” you say, and it’s like lightning striking him in the spine.

Who knew you were so filthy when it comes to sex?

“You’d like that?” he purrs in your ear.

You don’t reply, only circling your hips again, and it feels far too good.

“What a good fucking girl,” he adds, and then he’s straightening, pulling back to fuck into you. 

You moan softly, the sound muffled as you try not to be too loud, yet Jimin focuses on your moan, committing it to memory. And then he unleashes himself, jackhammering into you as he tries to make you come again just so that he can feel it on his dick. 

Reaching around your body, Jimin starts rubbing on your clit, and you say his name in such a sinful way that he feels his balls tightening already. But even then he keeps it in, pushes the feeling aside until all there is is you, the sounds you make, and the pornographic noises your pussy makes every time he pushes in, your wetness coating him so thoroughly he even feels it on his balls.

He’ll go insane. He won’t walk out of this alive, but he doesn’t care. Not if that means he’ll die with you, die proving to himself that you’re his in the ways that matter the most.

You’re getting tighter, your walls clenching on his dick hard as you start meeting his every motion, pushing your hips back into his. He keeps rubbing on your clit, his eyes tightly shut as he holds his cum in. 

“Come for me,” he tells you, and he runs his free hand on your back, losing it in the hair at the back of your head. He pulls on your hair that way, turning your face so that he can capture your lips in a languid kiss.

“Fuck,” you curse in his mouth.

“I love you.”

You come the second he says the words, and Jimin praises you all through your high, slowly fucking you. He milks your orgasm out of you, biting his lips so hard he tastes blood just to keep himself from coming. Indeed, the feeling of your walls fluttering on his dick threatens to push him way over the edge, but the pain keeps it at bay long enough for him to make sure you’re truly spent.

He holds you up, his arm wrapped around your waist as you reach behind you to try and touch him. Your fingers graze the skin of his hip, and Jimin grabs your hand gently, his thumb rubbing the back of your palm.

“You think you can keep going for me?” he asks you, kissing the back of your shoulder.

You nod. “Please.”

Your voice is whimpery, needy, and Jimin immediately complies, starting to fuck into you again, chasing his own high. It hits so hard a few thrusts later that he sees stars, and he stills deep inside of you, releasing his load as he grunts your name. His climax lasts longer than it ever has, and he’s trembling by the time his balls have emptied.

For a minute, all that can be heard under the willow is the mingling of your heavy breathing, and the occasional kiss Jimin presses on your skin. The night returns to its gentle calmness, the shrill cry of a cricket mixing with that of the music. A soft breeze plays with the leaves of the trees, and Jimin thinks he can even hear an owl in the distance, though that might just be his imagination.

He pulls out of you, and you let out a small whine that makes him chuckle. He massages the meat of your ass, and then pulls you up to wrap his arms around your waist as he leans his head on your shoulder.

“I really love you,. You know that, right?” he whispers.

“I love you too, Jimin.”

There’s another silence of him just enjoying your proximity, though your end looms over the horizon, slowly inching closer. It’s like a dark cloud rolling in in the distance, tumbling closer as the storm nears. It breaks his heart, and he keeps his eyes tightly shut, doing his best not to let the tears win.

���Let’s run away,” you say, with so much quiet conviction that the heartache dissipates, and Jimin finally understands.

Finally understands that the sun always comes after the storm.

☆☆☆☆☆

i hope you guys liked this one <3 let me know what you think!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[gucciwins]

Gala After Gala

Harry didn’t know that one moment with Y/N would change his life. 

Word count: 28,920 (no joke)

A/N: hi amores! this has been something i have been working on for months. this is older harry and I can honestly say i've poured my heart into this piece.  special mention to @matildashoney who was just an amazing support as i worked on this on and off. thank you for being patient with me friends! 💜

i hope you enjoy, my loves. buckle in, grab your waters and happy reading!

Warnings: slow burn!!!!! (it’s worth it), angst, fluff, smut (female pleasure) 

Another gala. Another check to write.

Harry has to remind his assistant to stop accepting these invitations for him. Next time he’ll mail a check out instead. He had finished buttoning his velvet maroon coat as he handed off his keys to the valet for the hotel. The doorman guided him down the entry leading him to the extravagant ballroom.

To no surprise, the venue was decorated beautifully. There seemed to be a common theme of gold and flowers. At every turn, he saw a waiter with a boutonniere in their left pocket. The tablecloth shimmered under the dimmed lights, unlike the usual cheap fabric he saw at other events. For food, appetizers were lined up in the back with small places and forks to the side so one could serve themselves to their liking. Dinner was set to start in an hour once most of the guests arrived.

Harry mingled with a drink in his hand, not bothering to force a smile, he had the displeasure of knowing most of the people in attendance, and he can’t say he’s the biggest fan of them. They all had one thing on their mind: money. None of them cared about the cause for tonight, Harry included. All they were there for was to flaunt their money and see who could donate the most, and by the looks of it, Old man Tommy was looking to take the win by how aggressively he was signing his checkbook.

Dinner went surprisingly well. The music was a classical band that didn’t play pretentious music Harry was used to. They also didn’t play covers of pop songs. It was clear that the band had worked a long time with each other because they created beautiful melodies people could enjoy around conversation but also dancing. He never took part in the dancing, finding it tacky, and for the first time since he started attending gala’s, he was filled to the brim because the food was actually good. He cleaned his plate of the salmon he was offered.

After their meal, he knew he had to mingle, so he found an old friend Mr. Horan who he occasionally saw and invited out for a game of golf. He wouldn’t call him a friend, but he made decent company when Harry reached out. The Irish lad could hold his liquor and his jokes weren’t bad, not that Harry would ever let Niall know.

He wasn’t listening to the conversation around him. They were going on about the growth in their companies, and it was laughable. Not that he’d tell them, he wasn’t in the mood to step on their fragile egos.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Harry turns to find a young-looking waiter holding a tray with a single drink.

“Yes?” Harry asked in a bored tone.

“Lady in the black dress sent you this drink.” He nods at a woman standing at the bar's end in red heels. He couldn’t see the designer, but he knew they had to be expensive with the gloss they had on them. He wasn’t in the mood to be hit on, let alone to be sent a fruity drink. The worker did nothing wrong, so Harry took the glass. He didn’t bother excusing himself, instead making his way over to this woman who would most likely cry or scream at his rejection.

“Why’d you send this to me?” Harry questions as soon as he’s right behind her.

She turns around, a pout on her perfectly stained red lips, “you don't like an amaretto sour?”

Harry does his best not to let his face fall because she’s gorgeous. The dress looked beautiful, hugging all her curves. She was confident. He was sad he didn’t appreciate her backside more. Most women Harry knows wouldn’t dare be caught in a dress this provocative at an occasion like this, but she somehow added a hint of modesty to it with her red shawl that matched her lips perfectly. Although she’s stunning, he’s not falling for any trick of hers.

“Not my taste.”

“Oh,” the frown deepens on her face, “it looked like you weren’t enjoying your drink.”

Harry looks down at the brown liquid, “I ordered this.”

She raises her hand and shrugs. “My mistake. Your mood looked a little sour.”

It irked Harry how she had noticed him and his expressions when this was the first he saw her.

He keeps his eyes on her trying to see if he could get another reaction besides her pouty frown. “It’s the environment.”

“You don’t like Galas,” she states. “It’s an important cause.”

“It’s not that.” Harry takes a sip of the drink she sent him, mistaking it for his tequila. He holds back a reaction knowing she noticed his mistake. “I sometimes wish they asked for a check instead of making me pay a ticket and then donate a check once I’m here.”

“Oh.”

“They ask for money and give us little food,” he surprises himself by continuing to talk, not wanting to walk away from her just yet.

“The food offered tonight had large portions.”

“For once,” he scoffs.

“Open bar?” She offers.

“Strange,” he rebuttals.

“But it works.”

Her gaze shifts to someone behind her, and Harry knows she’s about to walk away from him, and he hates that he wants to follow her. She leaves her drink behind, moving around him, getting ready to head to the person seeking her company.

“See you around, Mr. Styles.”

Harry watches her walk away until she gets lost in the crowd. As Harry keeps sipping the drink she ordered for him, there’s one thought swimming around his head.

He had never given her his name, let alone his last name.

For the rest of the night, he had kept an eye on her, seeing as she glided from donor to donor. Everyone laughed with her. She was charming them all. It worked on everyone, even Harry, something he’d never admit to her. As Harry watches her speak with the host of the night, an old family friend comes up to him.

“Styles, where have you been hiding?” Miles asks, a giant grin on his face.

“Nowhere.”

Miles isn’t bothered by his answers; he is already used to Harry’s attitude. “How are you?”

“Well.”

“What are you drinking?”

Harry looks down at the empty glass that once held his second amaretto sour. “Nothing now.”

“Want another of whatever?”

He shakes his head, “good for now, thank you.”

“Why are you still here? I know you do your rounds and leave.”

“Uh…got to know a few people.”

Miles sees that Harry’s gaze hasn’t shifted for a second, and he finds where Harry has been staring for the last few minutes.

“Oh, Y/N.”

Y/N.

He repeats her name over and over, committing it to memory.

“Have you met her?” Miles asked him.

“Only for a moment.” Harry digs for more, “what do you think?

“She’s brilliant. Y/N is an intern for Lifelong Creativity long term but works side jobs with different partners Hope has introduced her to. I can’t tell you exactly what she does, but I know she’s passionate and would talk anyone’s ear off who asks. She’s finishing her degree soon, and everyone wants to snatch her up by the sounds of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was already working up on opening her own nonprofit soon.”

“How old did you say she was?”

“She’s 23.”

“Real young.”

“Yeah, but it’s clear she knows what she’s doing.”

“You should speak with her. I’m sure she’d love to. She knows every person on the guest list. Seeing as she helped create it.”

Safe to say, Harry was intrigued to learn more about Y/N.

Life moved on. He pushed the college student out of his head and continued on with his life, or so he told himself. When a new invitation arrived the following week for an event taking place at the end of the month, he was quick to get Pearl to RSVP for him.

+

Now the night has arrived, and he isn’t sure why he’s here.

It’s not to try to get a look at Y/N, not at all hoping to have a longer conversation. He learned her name; it doesn’t mean he wants to use it.

He spots her as soon as he arrives at the bar. She’s wearing a sage green dress with embroidered flowers all around. She’s wearing white heels tied around her calf, and he wants to know how long it took her to get the perfect bow for each foot. Harry soon sees her with another woman with a checkbook in her hand, another familiar face.

Before he can second guess himself, he’s walking towards them.

“Hello, Lucy.” Harry greets her with a charming smile and a kiss on the older woman’s cheek.

“Mr. Styles, always a pleasure.”

“It’s always mine.”

“I was just speaking with Y/N here, thanking her for helping me plan a successful night.” Lucy smiles at Y/N, who squeezes Lucy’s outstretched hand.

“Quite something,” Harry inputs.

“Evening, Mr. Styles.”

He nods at her, “Y/N.”

“Lifelong Creativity is lucky to have her. I’m glad you were able to help out, Y/N.” They all hear Lucy’s name being called from a distance and know she’s about to leave them alone. “Excuse me, will you?”

It now leaves them alone, making Y/N finally look at him. Her lipstick is a soft pink with an added shine of glitter. He wonders if he were to kiss her if it’d stain his lips just the same. He clears his throat, willing the thoughts away.

“You’re an intern,” Harry states.

She doesn’t seem surprised. “Yes, I, uh, graduate soon.”

“Undergrad?”

She smirks because she knows he’s searching for information about her. Y/N shakes her head, “Grad.”

“What’s your job?”

“I work for various nonprofits as well as hospitals. I’m part of their sub-events team.” She shrugs like it’s nothing of importance, but it is.

She’s part of the team that plans events to gain more funding for their organization and programs. She plans events to get people with heavy pockets, like Harry, to fork away thousands for a cause they believe in. Harry had often disregarded Gala invites due to ticket prices, but if his chances to see Y/N increased, he might just come to them all.

Harry does his best to hide how impressed he is with her.

“I’m sure you’ve reached your goal. Emptied all these fools out of their pockets.”

Y/N flashes him a grim smile. “Good day.”

What he said was clearly wrong because what Harry thought would be a long conversation was cut short.

The rest of the night, he never finds a moment alone with her. It’s as if she was dancing around him, having noticed that he was chasing her. It seemed she loved to play, and Harry didn’t like to lose.

+

Harry needed to pick up his suit from his tailor. He had a date, and this was his good luck suit. He pushed Y/N out of his mind. She was an intern and too young for him. He did not need to think about her or worry about seeing her at another event he attended. He was picking up his burgundy suit that needed fixing. It was made by his dear friend Alessandro. Usually, Alessandro makes alterations, but he was traveling at the moment, and Bartolo was the best. He had been coming to Bartolo long before meeting Alessandro. While his friend always made the most gorgeous suits, he seemed to have gotten his measurements wrong. Not that he minded. Harry liked paying Bartolo a visit, who always told him he needed to settle down with someone. That he wanted to see Harry happy. Harry simply told him it wasn’t the card for him.

He walks in, ready to be greeted by Bartolo, but to his surprise, he sees Y/N seated on a chair facing away from the window with a book in her hand.

“Y/N?”

She looks up, a slight smile on her face. “Mr. Styles, a pleasure.”

“Just Harry, please.”

She shrugs him off.

“Do you work here, Y/N?” He loves the role of her name off his tongue.

“My friend is an apprentice.”

“Dawn?” Seeing she’s the only other worker here besides Bartolo wasn’t that lucky of a guess.

Y/N, for the first time ever, smiles at him. It’s beautiful. It leaves him breathless. “Yes. Does she work with you too?”

Harry clears his throat, “no, uh, I work with Bartolo.”

He was surprised. Dawn had been working with Bartolo for two years, never had he crossed paths with Y/N. It was strange he found himself meeting her outside of their usual environment of a Gala. Seeing her dressed in a silk midi skirt with a slit going up her leg bundled up in an oversized sweater showcasing her university. The chunky boots on her feet gave her extra height, and Harry wished she’d stand up so he could see where she’d measure to him now. At their first meeting, he didn’t take note, but she noticed how she was a head smaller than him by their second meeting. Today he wondered if she’d be lined up to his lips if she would think of kissing him just like he thought of her.

She hums in response, leaving them in silence. He doesn’t know why but he wants her to keep talking. He wants to hear the softness of her voice fill the room.

“Bello!” Bartolo grins, bringing out his suit in his garment bag. Even that bag was customized with his name stitched in gold thread.

“Hello, Bartolo.”

Dawn walks in from the back, a few steps away from Bartolo and Y/N. “Y/N, your dress is ready to try on.”

Y/N follows behind Dawn but calls to him, “see you, Mr. Styles.”

Not a single glance his way. He wanted just one final look, and she didn’t give him that. Harry goes on his way home after paying Bartolo. He goes home with a clouded mind and a heavy heart.

Harry cancels his date that night.

+

No invites have arrived at his house or office.

It has been over a month, and he waits and waits. Harry has never been so aware of time as he has now. He feels every hour move slower, and he has no idea why. What kind of spell has she set on him that she is all he can think of?

He was tempted to look for her online. He had the power to do it, but he couldn’t break her trust. Harry doesn’t know her well, but he knows she’d hate it if someone looked them up without permission.

A knock on his door breaks him out of these thoughts.

“Come in.”

“Mr. Styles,” his temporary assistant Diego, while Pearl was away on maternity leave.

“Yes, Diego.”

“You said to come in if you received a new invitation.” There, in his employee’s hand, is a gold envelope.

In black ink is his name written on the front of the envelope. He opens it and reads from a close partner of his.

Golden Skies Invites you to join us as we celebrate our 10th anniversary.

Formal Attire - Be ready to dance

Anthony Carmichael

+

Y/N was nervous.

She could remember the last time she had felt her palms sweat and her heart wanting to beat out of her chest. It was when she was interviewing in front of the board the last step to seal her fate if she’d be accepted into the Graduate program of her dreams. Now here, she was nervous for an entirely new reason, this one holding less value to her life, but she knew it had the power to change the course of her life.

As much as Y/N loved the game of chase, she wanted to see if Harry was all talk or serious about pursuing her. Y/N had the confidence to go after what she wanted, and right now, she wanted to ask Harry Styles, CEO of Pleasing, a growing business, their net worth growing by the day.

Today she wore a satin midi slip dress with floral applique and lace trims in a dark shade of pink. An open back with delicate buttons on her lower back. This dress only doubled her confidence. She was ready for tonight.

The team had planned a big night as there would be dancing and a live band, unlike the past gala’s she had attended last month. Guests arrived promptly and quickly took a tour of the venue, many judging it, trying to find anything they felt didn’t hold up to their standards. She didn’t mind; she knew she could never please everyone. As long as she pleased her partners, then she knew she had done a job well done.

Y/N had to will herself to stop staring at the doors as they opened, bringing in familiar and new guests. She was waiting for a green-eyed man who never failed to impress with his custom-made suits from Gucci’s creative director.

“Y/N, sweetie. This is marvelous,” Keaton praises, leaning in to kiss both her cheeks, something she had to grow accustomed to seeing as most of her partners were big on the French greeting.

“Oh, uh, thank you. We’ll have to see how the night goes,” she tells him brushing off the compliment.

“You need to relax. Don’t you have Gracie to worry for you?” Keaton questions.

“Yes, but–”

“Nope,” Keaton cuts her off. “You need a drink in hand. You look smokin’, and everyone needs to see it.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“As far as I am concerned, your work here is done.” Keaton passes her a glass of champagne he got from the waiters walking around happily offering them to guests. “Now drink.”

She takes a sip and hums, appreciating the bubbly drink. Y/n might not be sure what brand she’s drinking tonight, but she does know that each bottle costs over one hundred dollars, and if Keaton is telling her to enjoy then she will. Plus, a bit of liquor courage was always helpful.

Y/N spends time speaking with Nora and Liam, part of her team. They get lost in conversation, going over how they’re looking forward to the auction in a few weeks that Nora was happy to be part of. She loved getting people to spend money on her, and she seemed to get offers from everyone in the building. Nora returned with the most insane stories, and Y/N was excited for more. Getting lost in conversation, she forgot about the man she was waiting for to make his presence known. He had RSVP’d, and it wasn’t until Liam told her a broody man had his eye on her from across the room.

She knew Harry had arrived and that he had spotted her before she could spot him, not that Harry knew she was looking out for him. Harry stands alone, a champagne flute in his hand. The music was loud, and the dance floor had couples dancing and laughing out loud, enjoying the night. Y/N hoped she’d be joining in on their fun in a few minutes.

As Y/N walked towards Harry, she admired his suit. It was different from the previous ones he had worn. The suit had a subtle black flower print. As she got closer, Harry acted like he didn’t see her coming, choosing to look at the dancing couples. She allowed herself to notice the details in his suit, from the black velvet lapels on his oversized jacket and his trousers hugging his thighs nicely while the bottom gave a nice balance with a flared hem. She really liked the look.

“Mr. Styles,” Y/N greeted

“Y/N.”

She let his eyes roam over her knowing she looked amazing. This was a borrowed dress, one she would be sad giving back, but it served its purpose. Plus, it wasn’t like she’d have an occasion to wear the dress again, not when all these people would remember.

“Do you dance, Mr. Styles?” Y/N asks as she joins him in, watching couples spin each other around. The music was more lively than the classical she knew he preferred.

“Never.”

“Are you not good at it?”

Harry scoffs, “I’m just not open to doing something intimate with acquaintances.”

“I see.” They stay silent for a few minutes until Y/N decides it’s now or never. “There was something I wanted to ask you.” She tells him, turning away from the dance floor to face him.

Harry gives her no reaction. “Is that so?” She nods. “Well, go ahead.”

She looks behind her, and when she turns back around, she has the most gorgeous smile on her face, not an inch of nerves, not like a few seconds ago, and Harry feels his heart speed up. He wasn’t sure what she would ask, but he might just agree to anything she said if she continued smiling at him.

“I was hoping you’d like to go on a date with me.”

A date.

Harry felt his throat closing up. She was asking him out. He didn’t believe it. Why would she want to date him? He wasn’t aware he had managed to make an impression. Harry’s ego is through the roof at the thought of this gorgeous young woman wanting to go out with him, but on the other hand, his brain is telling him he can’t. That she was younger than him, and he had no reason to involve himself with her.

He knows he has been silent for too long as he sees her smile begin to slip. They both know the answer that’s coming.

“No, Y/N. The answer is no,” he forces out in a neutral voice, hoping she couldn’t pick up on the bitterness he felt towards himself for rejecting her.

Y/N did not move an inch. He had expected her smile to fall or for her to ask him to reconsider, but he got none of that. Instead, she tucked away her smile and gave him a slow nod. Her eyes stayed locked with his, and Harry had trouble reading her. It seemed she was unaffected. So he tries again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

She brushes him off, “you don’t go through life without receiving a rejection. You’re not the first, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

Except Harry doubted that. Who could ever say no to her? Apparently, he could.

He did nothing as she excused herself, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. He had no right to be with someone as sweet and young as Y/N. It was fine. He wouldn’t be seeing much of her after tonight.

Harry would think about this interaction for days, beating himself up for saying no, but it was for the best.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

+

Rejections never came easy.

It wasn’t the first time Y/N got told no, and as she told Harry, it wouldn’t be her last.

Was she disappointed he said no? Absolutely.

Was he out of her league? One hundred percent, and Harry must have known that.

Y/N thought there was something there. She knew who he was. There was a reason she sent him a drink that night. She didn’t ask him out for his connections or because he was crazy rich but because she heard people speak about Harry, a great man. From someone who spends time volunteering at the soup kitchen to donating gifts to hospitals during the holidays. No need to mention the extensive checks he leaves after each gala. Many people are philanthropists or say they are because it’s a write-off or will make them look good, but Harry does it to remember where he came from in that small town in England.

She knew too much about Harry from colleagues and guests but never got to know anything from the man himself, and that is something she’ll regret. Instead of taking the chance to learn from him, she asked him out, and now she’d keep sending invitations to his company while doing her best to avoid him, or at least until she got over the humiliation.

Y/N let herself wallow in pity for only a day. 24 hours is all she gives herself because it’s back to work on Monday. No need to be stuck on something so trivial.

By doing so, she takes herself out to eat. A meal that will always make her smile is dumplings, and she knows just the place. The Dumpling Bar is a favorite place of Y/N’s to dine alone or with her friends. The service is fantastic, never failing to leave her feeling so welcomed and leaving with a full stomach. She always sits in the front, with a nice view of the window facing the small lake it is located by. She treats it as a reward because it is a bit of a drive from her apartment. She wished she lived somewhere closer, but for now, she’ll keep making the drive. The back area is for classier meals, Y/N likes to say, even though they are all eating dumplings. Guests are allowed to have a seat in the backroom for a more intimate dinner.

Upon arrival, Y/N is greeted by Alba, the hostess who, just like her name, reflects the warmest energy she feels every time she sees her.

“Hi, Alba!”

“Hello beautiful, it’s great seeing you. Table by the window, alright?”

Alba points to the table Y/N had been eyeing since she walked in and eagerly lets her know it’s perfect.

“Danielle will be with you shortly.”

Y/N thanks her. It was not long before Danielle took her order, making small conversation and promising her that her food would be out shortly, and true to her word, Y/N did not have to wait long.

Oh, how she was looking forward to eating until her tummy was full. On a full stomach, she’d be too sleepy to even begin to remember why she was feeling sad.  

As Y/N munches on her dumplings, she can’t help but overhears the conversation. Next to her, a couple is sharing dumplings and talking very loudly.

“I told my father that a horse would not make me happy, not when my last one had been a champion. How could I go back to the Hamptons to show my face going from a winning horse to one that would surely be a loser.”

Y/N giggles. Oh, the drama. She enjoys listening to the couple, the boyfriend trying to be supportive and failing.

“Tell your dad to get the best trainer.”

“Chad, you’re not helping. Father is working hard, and I can’t bother him over a coach. Everyone is lousy in the industry now.”

The conversation seems to be going in circles. Y/N enjoys dining alone because she can’t imagine having dinner with someone she does not like. There would be awkward conversation and forced smiles. It’s a big reason she’ll never be on a dating app. Also, it helps that attending so many galas has connected her with many single men, not that any of them have been worth her time.

Y/N was waiting for Danielle to return her card and receipt because she was ready to call it a night. She had a full belly and was craving her bed. She’s humming along to the song being played in the restaurant. She had been trying to think of the song's name, but she’s been coming up blank. The front opens, and she hears Alba’s cheery voice greet them. Curiosity gets the best of Y/N, and she turns her head to the entrance to see who walked in when she sees a man in an emerald suit, the jacket a pinch oversized, and it seems the sleeves were folded in not that anyone would notice, the woman on his arm was gorgeous. It’s clear she dressed up for a night out on the town with how shiny her dress was, maybe even too bright for a fancy dumpling restaurant.

“My date and I have a reservation,” Y/N freezes as she hears the man’s voice. His voice was firm but polite, the English accent thick as he stated his name to Alba’s. He looks around the dining room, and that’s when Y/N looks back down, staring at her used napkin and empty cup that once held her raspberry lemonade.

The hostess nods, “we’ve got the private dining area ready, sir.”

Y/N ducks her head, afraid if he spotted her, he’d give her a look of pity, and she didn’t need that tonight, not when she had seen it when he rejected her.  It was no surprise he said no to her. She could never look that elegant on a weekday, let alone a day after a gala where she stayed hours past all the guests. Y/N sits there in orange bell bottoms and a black knitted sweater.  She looks lovely, and this is her favorite restaurant. This brought all the feelings back Y/N had thought she had let go of, and honestly, as much as it broke her heart, Y/N knew she wouldn’t be coming back any time soon.

+

It’s been a month of endless planning and working with Hermanas Unidas, and Y/N was thankful the night was finally here. Tonight would be a bit different, and she was more on edge than ever. There would be an auction in a few hours, and Y/N wanted everything to run smoothly for Julieta, who has always been a good friend to her but today was her boss.

Y/N had raided Sapra’s, her best friend’s closet, once again. She knew she had to buy new clothes for her events, but she loved her best friend’s style and would rather borrow a dress than spend money on a new one. She was wearing a maxi dress with tie straps. Y/N chose it because she had fallen in love with the velvet material, and after trying it on, she felt sexy, not to mention she loved a slit to show off an extra bit of skin.

Sapra made Y/N promise she’d bring it back soon, stating it was her date night dress, and Y/N didn’t bother asking because whatever Sapra and her boyfriend did was not her concern.

The night had been in full swing since the doors opened to the venue. She had managed to blend into the background for most of the event and successfully avoided seeing the guest list for tonight, meaning she got to enjoy life without a care in the world.

After the rejection, she has happily moved on (or so she’s telling herself) Sapra and Atlas took her out on a double date that left her feeling back in her game. Her confidence was doubled, and she was ready to go out and have fun. No reason she had to stop because of one rejection. Although the man she went on a date with did not go well tonight, she’d be speaking with Colin, who had been made partner at Coulson’s Co. He was a family lawyer, and truth be told, Y/N was eating up everything he was telling her.

He was charming and had a deep laugh that sent chills down her spine. He was drinking wine and offered to get Y/N a glass when he saw she had been eyeing it. It’s safe to say Y/N was upset when Julieta’s assistant approached her to say she was needed backstage. Colin promised he’d miss her and looked forward to finding her soon.

Y/N was sure nothing would wipe the smile off her face until Julieta told Y/N why she was needed.

“Part of the auction?” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re joking!”

Julieta grimaced, “Erica called in sick. Always knew she’d flake.”

“Julieta!”

“Please, mi amor. I really need you. You’re all I have. I can’t do one less, not when I advertised five eligible bachelorettes.”

“Hope they can settle with me,” Y/N mutters.

“Dios, you know I hate when you talk like that. You are a beautiful woman. I’ve never seen confidence like yours, so please bring that Y/N back.” Julieta has done so much for Y/N, and she knows there’s no way she’d say no to her.

“Fine, what will I have to do?”

“It’s a good cause, Y/N, and I’m sure you’ll have a great time. If it’s someone you don’t feel comfortable with, I’ll handle it,” Julieta reassures her.

Y/N relents and allows herself to be dragged to the side of the stage, where four other ladies are lined up.

Here’s to a fun night. She really hoped Colin liked her enough to place a bid on her.

Harry was disappointed, to say the least. He had not caught a glimpse of her all night. He wanted to know what she was wearing, how she had styled her hair, and if she was drinking anything new. Tonight did not have a strict dress code, so he had settled on a simple black custom suit. He paired the suit with a black tank top, and to give it that extra flare, he wore his silver glitter boots.

As he spent the night looking for her, he knew he would not find her. The first time they met was because she wanted them to, and now she was back to blending into the crowd, but he knew he’d find her. He knew it was wrong to want to see her after rejecting her, but she was the only thing on his mind. Harry was never the type to get distracted, but here he is, attending another gala in the hope of getting a single glimpse of Y/N.

Harry knew he would find her, but he didn’t think it’d be by the owner of the organization presenting her onstage as an eligible bachelorette you could bid to take on a date. Harry was prepared to pay the auction no attention, but she always surprised him.  

He hadn’t seen her since he said no to her. Harry had rejected her not because he didn’t like her but because he was older. She was still in school, and he was running a billion-dollar company. He had the time and love to give, but he didn’t want to take away anything from her. He had no idea what she wanted out of life, and Harry was sure one date with Y/N and he’d be ready to get down on one knee because he recognized how intelligent and hardworking she was. It was rare that Harry found a person that could challenge him, but Y/N did it without a second thought. He didn’t want her to miss out on life experiences because he was at a different point in his life than her. He wouldn’t do it to her, no matter how much his heart hurt at never getting the chance to get to know her and the taste of her lips.

The bidding was starting, and Harry found himself with a numbered paddle. The number six stared at him, and he knew he would not be putting his hand down until he won that date with her because Harry was sure every person in that room who bid on her would not treat her the way she deserved.

“Good evening, everyone! I am Julieta, as you all already know. Tonight’s auction is slightly different. We always do amazing vacations, but tonight we decided something different. Behind me stand five beautiful women who are very important to this organization and me. So be aware that if you bid on one or more of these women, they will talk your ear off about Hermanas Unidas. Starting off, we have Clarissa.”

Y/N was the last person to be auctioned for the night. He didn’t know why she would do this? It didn’t seem like her, but then again, Harry didn’t really know her did he?

She walked up to Julieta with a beautiful smile on her face. She scanned the audience, and Harry froze, thinking she was searching for him but there in the second row, she locked eyes with a man and offered him a wink. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if she was seeing someone else already. He knew he was feeling green but swallowed it down, for it wasn’t the place to act out on jealousy of someone he had no ownership over.

“Bidding for the angelic Y/N starts at $500.”

Four hands shot up. Harry’s included.

“$1000,” the blonde guy in the second row offered as he was the first hand up.

“Very well. Do I have $1,250?”

Harry was quicker this time, his number up first. Julieta nodded, accepting his bid. He had his eyes locked on Y/N, and the moment she realized it was his number, he saw her take a step back, surprised to see him bidding for her.

She kept a smile, but he knew it was forced now, no longer carefree.

“$1,500?”

The blonde once again beat Harry, “$3,000.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Is that the best this guy could offer? Harry was ready to lay down all his money if it meant a date with Y/N. The highest bid was for Samantha at $11,000, and the person who bid was her boyfriend, the owner of his family’s business he inherited three years ago.

He decided he’d wait to see how long this guy wanted to play because, for Y/N, he wouldn’t be backing down. “$5000,” Harry countered.

That seemed to get the blonde’s attention as he turned around to get a look at Harry, who only offered him a smirk tempting him to play his game, and by the scrawl the blonde gave Harry, he knew this was now about betting the most for Y/N but also who could prove to have the larger pocket.

“$8,000,” the blonde stood, not even glancing at Y/N anymore.

“$10,000.” Harry has now stepped closer to the stage, not caring that all the attention was on him and his opponent.

“$15,000,” the blonde winced, and it seemed only Harry heard it.

Julieta waited to see if Harry would respond, with one last raise of his paddle, “$30,000.”

The gasps were loud, but Harry didn’t care. His eyes were locked on Y/N’s, who stared at him in disbelief. He had doubled the blonde’s number, and it seemed he was out by the way he shook his head and sat down.

Julieta did not let her surprise show and accepted Harry’s bid, closing the auction with an offer of $30,000 for Y/N to go on a date with him. Harry was proud and shot the blonde man a smug smile as he was guided backstage, as he asked to speak with Julieta when in reality, he went in search of Y/N.

Upon arrival, he found her taking a sip of her red wine for the night. She looked exquisite, not a hair out of place, and her makeup was done to perfection. She shined as the true diamond of the night.

“Y/N,” Harry called out to her softly.

She turned, a frown on her face. “Mr. Styles.”

Harry frowned. He couldn’t detect an ounce of kindness in her voice. “Seems like we have a date,” he joked, wanting to see her smile.

Y/N scoffs, “why did you do it, Mr. Styles?”

“Pardon?” Harry hates how she says his name with so much distaste.

“Why’d you bid on me? It’s clear you have no interest in me.”

Harry wasn’t sure where to go from here because that was the furthest from the truth. He didn’t have to reply because Y/N wasn’t done talking.

“How can you be jealous when you said no when I asked you out?” Harry stays silent. “That’s what it was, right? My attention wasn’t on you anymore, and you didn’t like that. Did flaunting all your money make you feel good?”

“Y/N,” he steps towards her, but she puts her hand up to stop him, and he freezes. “I’m asking you now.”

She frowns, her voice rising. Harry never wished to see her upset, but it’s exactly what he caused. “No, this isn’t you asking.”

Harry sighs. There is no getting through to her. “Come on, Y/N, don’t be difficult.”

It’s clear that was the wrong thing to say because her eyebrows scrunch up, and there’s not a hint of kindness in her eyes, only a blazing fire that he seemed to be the cause of, and he regrets everything he has said to her from the moment he met her.”

“This is how you want to go out,” she points to the number on her chest, displaying her as contestant number five. “Because if so, I’ll take the money, but I won’t go.”

“C’mon, Y/N, give me a shot. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“YOU BOUGHT ME, HARRY!”

Harry winces because he did. He bought a date with her, and some part of him regrets doing this without speaking to her, but it’s too late now.

Julieta comes up behind Y/N and places a hand on her shoulder, “Mr. Styles, thank you for your donation. We will deposit the check the day after your date, you know, for insurance purposes on both ends.”

“Of course, Julieta. I have always been a fan of the work you are all doing.” Harry hopes she doesn’t pick up on the tension between him and Y/N.

“You’re a gem, Mr. Styles.” Julieta shoots him a polite smile before turning her attention to Y/N. “I owe you one, Y/N, but I’m sure you’ll have a great night with this fine gentleman.”

And like that, they’re alone again.

They stand there in silence, waiting for Julieta to turn the corner to return to the party. They don’t want anyone overhearing their conversation. It’s clear they both have a lot more to say.

Harry starts wanting Y/N to know how sorry he is. “Don’t, uh, don’t think of it as a date. Think of it as an apology.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “an apology I’m forced to accept because you paid for it.”

Harry grimaces. There’s no coming back from this.

“What would your girlfriend think of spending $30 grand on another person?”

Girlfriend?

There was no girlfriend in his life. It’s been years since he had a partner. There’s only one girl he wishes to make his girlfriend, but he royally screwed that up, so he knows it will never happen.

“No girlfriend, I can assure you.”

“You’re a liar,” Y/N spits out.

“Enough,” Harry rebuttals. “There is no one.”

“I saw you. I won’t date someone else’s boyfriend.”

“Saw me?”

“Eating dumplings, or I was eating dumplings,” she fumbles. “You walked in with a date. I’m sure you were very cozy in the private room.

Harry’s eyes widened, “Y/N no, it was only a date.”

Hearing it was a date just as much as seeing him with the other woman. It is confirmation enough for Y/N to know there wasn’t another person she’d be hurting if word got out she went out on a date with Harry Styles.

“Please,” Harry begs.

“If I do this, you double the donation,” Y/N counters, and seeing how desperate Harry looked, she knew he’d agree to anything at this moment.

Harry doesn’t even react. He pulls out his checkbook, ready to write the check.

“Make it out to you or the charity,” Harry teases, hoping to ease the tension.

She rolls her eyes, “Hermanas Unidas would be wonderful, thank you.”

“Y/N,” his tone full of defeat

“I’m doing this for Julieta,” Y/N declares.” Not for you.”

Harry nods.

“You can get my number from the sheet. All the details for your reward are there.”

Harry watches her pick up her drink and walk away from him, leaving him alone to feel sorry for himself. And he knows he has a lot to make up for if he wants any chance with Y/N.

+

Y/N has been dreading this day.

It had been a week from the fateful day of the auction where Harry bid $30,000 well, now $60,000 for a date with her. The donation would do wonders, but she had to make it through an afternoon with Harry. Seeing as Harry informed her that it would be something casual but ending with a nice dinner. Y/N had no idea what that meant, but she decided that her brown checkered trousers and an old knitted sweater that always kept her warm would be a safe outfit.

She managed to slip on her shoes as she heard the doorbell ring, perfect timing.

Opening her door, she found Harry smiling, a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. They were a beautiful shade of violet chrysanthemums. Y/N knew these were a rare shade to find, and she tried her best to bite back her smile at the sentiment.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hello, Y/N, you look wonderful.”

She nodded but made no move to invite him in.

“Uh, t-these are for you,” he extended his hand, waiting for her to accept them. She was careful to not have his fingers brush against hers, not needing him to add to her nerves.

“I’ll, umm, go put these in water.”

Y/N knows she left him awkwardly hanging outside her apartment, but she was, in a way, inviting him in. She doesn’t want or need to cross that line with him. After setting the flowers on her counter and double-checking that the stove was off, she grabbed her bag and returned to Harry, who looked awkward waiting for her.

As Y/N locks her door and follows behind Harry, she can see that he did mean casual. He’s wearing wide-leg jeans that don’t do much to give him any shape. He paired it with a duck-stitched cardigan that softened his features in a way that his luxurious suits never have.  

Harry opened her door, offering a small smile as she slipped into his Bentley; the car couldn’t be more than a few months old by how sleek and cared-for everything looked. Y/N thinks of her Camry, better known as Baymax. The car that got her through undergrad and is still by her side now as she’s getting her master’s. Baymax has seen better days, but from what her father tells her, as long as she continues to care for the car as she has been, she has many years left with Baymax.

Harry's playlist in his car allows her to relax, classical music has always had a calming effect on her, and this time is no different. Harry didn’t try to spark conversation during the ride, and Y/N didn’t want to try either. She could feel the tension rising in the car as he fiddled every few minutes with the radio while Y/N tried to figure out where he was taking her.

It was half an hour until Harry turned up a paved road that led them to a large building, the parking lot full of cars. Y/N sat up straight, trying to figure out where he had brought them, but she’d never driven out this way. It was a hidden area, and the road easily missed when driving down if one isn’t actively searching for it.  

They pass a sign that reads, “Sunshine Haven” Y/N wants to say she’s heard the name but can’t pin it at this moment, she’s tempted to take her phone out and google, but something tells her Harry will have an explanation for her. As Harry parks in a spot that reads ‘reserved,’ she unbuckles herself but doesn’t move to get out as she sees Harry has not moved, instead playing with the beaded charm on his key chain.

“Before we go in, I want to say that I did go on a date.” Harry begins, clearly uncomfortable but important enough for him to bring up. “She is not my girlfriend. It was only one date.”

Y/N shrugs, disinterested. It doesn’t matter to her, no more than he does to her right now.

“I asked her out. It was a bad date. That’s all. I don’t even have her number.”

Y/N wishes he hadn’t told her this, that he kept it to himself because it hurts her a lot more than she thought to hear Harry talk about asking another person out. He asked that person out because he was interested in them, while Y/N got a rejection. It’s clear to her now that Harry goes after what he wants, and it’s clearly not her.

“All forgotten,” she tells him with a forced smile and then gets out of the car. Harry follows a few seconds after coming to meet her at her side. Y/N feels the chilly air and is thankful for her sweater because she doesn’t know what Harry has planned, but it doesn’t feel like anything warm is waiting for her.

He begins to walk, and Y/N follows a step behind him. She takes in the beautiful environment growing around her, the trees and shrubs a bright green displaying how much sunlight they must receive daily. Harry stops walking as they reach the welcome center entrance. Y/N sees how fidgety he’s gotten again and knows he has something to share, so she stays silent.

Harry rubs his eyebrow, a tell-sign he’s nervous, “uh, I thought Sunshine Haven Rehabilitation would be a good place to bring you because I’ve seen various causes you’re passionate about, and well, this is one of mine.” He gestures to the entrance, where there’s a bulletin board of all the animals that have been released back into the ocean; on the bottom are sponsors, and listed second to last is none other than H. Styles. His photo icon is of him smiling, that dimple he never seems to show off was on display with a stuffed dolphin in his arms, and it warms Y/N’s stomach in a way she hasn’t felt since she first introduced herself to him.

Y/N knows she has mixed emotions. She can go about this one of two ways: act nonchalant as if her heart didn’t grow three sizes when finding out that Harry brought her to a place that clearly meant so much to him, or embrace the day and see what Harry and this beautiful rehabilitation have to offer.

“Lead the way then, Styles,” Y/N gave him a small smile, hoping to ease his nerves, and the one she got in return managed to call her down as well.

Y/N was ready to get to know the real Harry Styles, even if it didn’t mean anything more to Harry because, at the end of the day, she could make a fantastic friend, which didn’t sound like a bad idea to her. Walking in, a receptionist greets them, asking if they’re here to volunteer or pay for a visit until the lady slips her glasses on and gasps seeing Harry in front of her.

“Young man, you haven’t been here in ages,” she scolds him.

Y/N bites a smile as Harry looks down bashfully. She uses this time to look at the woman’s name tag: Sally.

“Sorry, Sally. I’ve been busy.” Harry wraps her in a hug, and Sally sighs.

“Fine, fine. Go on, I forgot you called in.”

Y/N, not wanting to be rude, moves aside and stretches out her hand. “Sorry, I’m Y/N, a friend of Harry’s. Thank you for having us.”

“Oh, sweetie, aren't you polite.” Sally accepts her hand, giving her a firm shake. “I’d hug you, but this one is known to be jealous.” Sally gestures to Harry, causing Y/N to laugh.

“I know.” Y/N grins at Harry loving the chance to tease him.

“Haha, we’ll be going now.”

“Have fun, dears.”

Harry opens a door, leading them down a long hallway until it shows displays of different areas for each animal in the rehabilitation center. It’s clear how loved this location is, with all volunteers walking around each animal center.

“What are we allowed to do?”

He shrugs, “mainly walk around, feed a seal if we’re lucky.”

She tries to contain her excitement, “are we going to be lucky?”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we.”

Y/N pouts but doesn’t push him. He kind of hoped she would. She lets Harry take the lead in showing her around. A few other school groups are volunteering, and Y/N knows if she were their age, she would have also signed up to volunteer here. Her time in the library was put to good use; she learned how to code and the Dewey decimal system of her town’s library.

She stays silent as Harry tells her about the first section: the sea turtles. Y/N can’t help but take in Harry as he talks about Sunshine Haven with pride; his eyes shine with every new fact he rambles about without looking at any of the information boards displayed. Y/N doesn’t dare interrupt him, letting him guide her. She’s almost tempted to reach for his hand because his strides are more extended than hers, and she always finds herself catching up.

Y/N stops as she sees a sign for the otters. Her eyes shine with delight. She calls his name when she sees him walking away.

“Let’s go there, please.” It’s her first request, and Harry smiles, seeing her waiting for him to say yes and guide them to see the otters, her favorite animal.

“I don’t know, seems busy.” He teases.

She doesn’t stop herself when she reaches for his hand, deciding that she will take him there since he doesn’t seem to want to take her.

“Hurry, Harry. I want to see the otters. Please,” she begs

“Lead the way, love.”

She leads the way to the otters while Harry giggles knowing he’d follow her to the ends of the Earth. Y/N made him feel like a little kid full of happiness and never-ending energy. He wanted to spend every moment with her, and having the day with her would have to be enough for now.

Y/N coos as she catches sight of the otters happily swimming in the cold water. She steps towards the glass waving at the otters, although Y/N and Harry know the otters can’t see her. It doesn’t stop her; if anything, she steps closer, trying to get herself as close to them as possible. She looks like a little kid admiring their favorite animal for the first time.

“Didn’t know you were such a big fan,” Harry tells her as she marvels in awe at the different sea animals.

“Oh, I was certain I would be a marine biologist when I was five.”

Harry laughs, clearly picturing a small Y/N with her wide smile looking at picture books of animals and stating she’d be taking care of them.

“What happened?”

“Biology is what happened,” she shutters in disgust. “They made me dissect a frog, and it broke my heart. I thought they were all about helping animals, not studying their insides.”

“Oh, love.”

Y/N feigns tears, “I’ve never recovered.” She lifts her head to flash him a cheeky smile while he shakes his head at her antics.

Harry giggles at her act of sadness, having believed her bit. “You’re trouble.”

She shrugs, “only a few can handle me.”

And Harry knows he would be lucky to say that she’s his.

+

Dinner is something Harry had been looking forward to all afternoon. He enjoyed walking around Sunshine Haven with Y/N and seeing her relaxed and happy in an environment he loved. Harry led her down some stairs until they were met by a small opening that led them to a large tunnel. Y/N let out a gasp seeing all the fishes swimming all around her. She looked on in awe, not even noticing Harry capturing a photo of the moment.

“That’s a tiger shark,” she breathed out, pointing it out to Harry.

“That’s Tank,” he shares.

“Will she be released soon?” Y/N hears Harry sigh and knows that won’t be the case for Tank. “What happened?”

“They found him young, and his dorsal fin was cut off. Most sharks can survive without it over time, but he was so young that he was seen as prey, not a predator.”

“He isn’t bothered by the other fish?”

Harry guides Y/N to sit down, letting her continue to marvel at the ocean life around her. “We let him roam, then he returns to his own tank. He’s respectful because he isn’t the best hunter, but we’ve seen he loves his space.”

“I’ve always liked sharks. Feel like they’re misunderstood.”

Harry laughs loud and rich, making Y/N smile, knowing she’s the reason he’s laughing. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Come on, they’re a feared animal due to movies or shark bites. There’s a 1 in 7 million chance you’ll get bitten or die from a shark attack. You have a higher chance of getting taken out by the flu.” She tells him as Harry removes the silver food cover to reveal a plate of chili tofu and a rainbow pasta salad.

“You’re right,” he agrees. Harry is constantly in awe around Y/N, finding new ways to be surprised by her, whether it be her beauty or intelligence. “Hope you enjoy the food. I know you mentioned being a fan of tofu.”

“Oh, it smells delicious. Is this from a restaurant nearby?”

Harry ducks his head to hide the blush on his face, “no, uh-I-I made it.”

Y/N widens her eyes in surprise as she takes her first bite. Harry watches as she chews, not looking away from him even when she reaches for her drink.

“Thoughts?” He asks.

She giggles, “it’s amazing.”

Harry tries his best not to look too smug, but he knows he’s failing because his mother always told him the way to someone’s heart was through their stomach, and for her to be a fan of his food means he was a step in the right direction. He wishes he had called his mother more for advice because he knows if he had talked to her about Y/N, he wouldn’t have messed it up so many times.

“Right, Harry. You’ve got to tell me about the time you fell into the waste bins.”

Harry gasps in shock. It’s a story only a few knew around here, “when did Sally have the time to spill these lies?”

Y/N laughs, not at all surprised he was quick to deny the story. “Fine. You can tell me how the dolphins wouldn’t accept your treats.”

“Now, that’s not fair. They’re spilling all my secrets.”

Y/N enjoyed dinner with Harry. He was easy to talk with, never once cutting her off and always having his gaze on her. There wasn’t a moment she thought she had lost him, not even when she rambled on about evaluation reports she had to sit through every few months. She always seemed to do the data cleaning because no one had figured out how to use the template she provided, even with all the lessons she gave each employee.

Harry assured her after dinner that there was no need to clean up, that he had it handled. She agreed and let Harry walk her out, where they got the most gorgeous sunset view behind the trees. Sally waved them goodbye making Y/N promise to come back even if it wasn’t with Harry. Y/N promised she would; she had seen a flyer on the bulletin about rescues they have every other weekend when they open it up for volunteers in training, and Y/N wanted to make time to come out for one of those dates.

The drive home is filled with aimless chatter as Harry tries to learn about Y/N. He’s surprised by how much she’s actually willing to share, but he’s not one to question it. He likes answering her as well. He doesn’t think he’s told someone his favorite cereal choice in years; no one has ever wanted to know something so irrelevant, yet Y/N made his answer feel special. His past girlfriends were into materialistic items, not that Harry minded, but conversations always dulled if they did not involve the newest fashion trends or famous designers.

“I didn’t take you as a Lorde fan,” Y/N tells Harry as she sees him singing along to one of the artist's newer songs.

Harry turns to face her for a moment before turning back to the road, “what did you expect then?”

“Hmmm….you really appreciate Jazz and love any piano piece, so I assumed Joni Mitchell, Carole King, oh, and Van Morrison.”

“Wow! You take me for an oldy, Y/N,” he gasps.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

He shakes his head, laughing, “can’t do that.”

“Knew it,” she celebrated.

“What about you?” Harry turns the question back to her.

“I want to hear what you think.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” he tells her honestly.

Harry racks his brain, trying to picture the type of music Y/N would listen to. He’s never really thought about it, but she seems the type to love melancholy songs or love songs that you can’t help but sing at the top of your lungs.

“You’re a Spice Girls fan.”

Y/N laughs fill the car, and Harry wishes he could store it in his memory forever; he knows he’ll never hear another sweeter sound. “Who isn’t, Harry?”

“Fine, you’re a Taylor Swift fan. You love those romance songs, and maybe Lana Del Rey. She’s got that unique voice.”

She takes in his response for a second, “I mean, you’d find them both on my playlists absolutely, but they wouldn't be top five on my Spotify wrapped.”

Harry chuckles, not surprised he was wrong, “well, who is it then?”

Y/N grins, taking Harry’s phone that was sitting on the console. Harry hears her typing away then a familiar beat fills the car, and she is quick to join the lead singer in singing.

“Paramore,” he states.

“Paramore,” she repeats. “They’re amazing,” she shrugs, “I’ve always seen them have fun with their music, and I love that.”

“My friend’s a co-writer with them on their new album,” Harry shares nonchalantly.

“Shut up!” Y/N yells.

“What?”

“Oh! That’s amazing! Ugh, I’m so jealous. I’ve always aspired to be Hayley Williams.”

Harry has never seen Y/N be more her age than right now as she gushes over a band she loves. He’s always seen her serious and professional, and he likes that side of her, but laidback Y/N is just as sweet. Harry can feel her creeping into his heart.

He’s disappointed when the GPS announces they’re right outside her home. He did not want the date to end. Harry knows he went about everything wrong with Y/N, but he hopes he can get a real chance with her after tonight. Y/N lets him walk her up, his hand on the small of her back. She’s fumbling with her keys stuck in her bag's zipper; he watches on, amused, until she flashes him a slight grin to show she’s got them.

“Thank you for today, Harry.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

“Would–”

Harry cuts her off, having almost forgotten an essential part of tonight, “forgot to hand you the check.” He chuckles, reaches into his coat, and slips out a folded check. He didn’t see Y/N’s face fall as if finally remembering the reason she went on the date tonight.

Y/N looks down at the check and knows that as meaningful as the date was for her, it was still a debt to be paid.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t know what happened in a matter of seconds, but he doesn’t want the night to end on a heavy note, so he shares something weighing heavy on his chest. “I like you, Y/N,” he breathes out. He doesn’t let her answer. “I'll see you soon.”

Y/N watches Harry walk away, leaving her more confused than ever.

+

Harry was shopping for a gift. It was his niece’s birthday in a few days, and he knew that at eight, Abigail had become a big reader, what better gift than a few of his favorite books, as well as a year membership that allows her to get a new book each week. He was browsing a shelf when he froze, seeing someone at the end of the aisle reading a book. He didn’t expect to see Y/N so soon. She looked beautiful. Her hair was in a ponytail, a ribbon holding it all together. It seemed fitting for her. He didn’t expect to see her so soon after their date.

He didn’t know what to say or if he should say anything at all. It’s clear the date went well, at least to him, but when they said goodbye, he felt a shift. It was awful to realize, but Harry was nervous about approaching her. He wished he had a percent of confidence like he did going into corporate meetings, where he always owned the room the second he walked in. Yet, ten seconds in the presence of Y/N, he feels nervous and forgets every word in the English language.

After finally deciding not to approach her and instead head straight to the register, Y/N tucks the book under her arm and turns to find Harry right in front of her. He sees the surprise settle on her face, and he knows he needs to leave. Abigail’s presents can wait. He pretended he didn’t see Y/N and acted like it didn't break his heart to see her smile fall. Instead, he walked right past her like he wasn't hurting her or himself. He knew he was ruining his chances with Y/N, romantic and platonic.

Y/N stood in her spot, frozen. Harry brushed past her like they had not gone out on a “date” two nights ago. As if he didn’t tell her he wanted it to be an actual date that he “liked” her. It was a bunch of bullshit to toy with her feelings, but Y/N has decided she’s had enough. There will be a gala this coming weekend, and she’s decided he no longer deserves a minute of her time.

+

Harry was uneasy, arriving at the gala tonight. He hoped to find Y/N immediately because how they last saw each other left a bad taste in his mouth. He was done with these games. He didn’t care about anything else, not when all he wanted was Y/N, but first, he owed her an apology.

He spotted Y/N right away. He had come to learn that where the conversation was loud and joyful, that is where he would find her. She seemed to be the shining light of every event, as everyone who spoke to her always left with a dazed smile. It’s as if she bewitched them, and Harry knows he’s fallen under her spell as well, and he never wants it to end.

He could see she was guiding a conversation with ease. He took the time to admire her dress; her gowns never failed to leave him breathless, as if each one was perfectly made just for her. Tonight she wore a prune midi dress with a crew neckline and what Harry recognized as cap sleeves. The button detailing falls off-center, allowing the dress to give more shapes to areas of desire. The slit on her dress seemed to lie higher than other dresses he’s seen her wear, and he wished he was lucky enough to know what she had under.

Harry joins the group, pardoning for the interruption and addressing the group before letting his gaze rest on Y/N, who he sees standing close to the gentleman next to her. After a few seconds of staring at her, he can see where her arm is hooked in the crook of the man next to her.

He does his best to hide the shock. Seeing her at an event with someone else, let alone another man, doesn't feel real.

She always came alone.

Now here she was, smiling brightly with the man laughing at each joke she told.

“Mr. Styles,” she’s grinning, and it hurts to know he’s back to that formal name, no longer Harry. The reason she’s happy is because of the gentleman she’s proudly showing off by having him at her arm.

“Y/N,” his voice was low and defeated.

“This is–”

“Excuse me, will you–”  he interrupts before she can introduce her date. He was a fool for thinking he had a chance; he rejected her and bought a date. For fuck’s sake, he really screwed everything up. He heads to the bar hoping to drink away the time.

Y/N isn’t one to allow someone to walk all over her, but it seemed there always was an exemption to the rule, and for her, it was Harry Styles. He’s been insufferable from the moment she introduced herself to him, but she found him charming. She took a shot, and it didn’t land. That was fine. Their date was good but nothing more, not when it wasn’t real.

Tonight when she wanted to present Mr. Styles to her brother-in-law, Isaac, he didn’t give her a chance to speak. He was a real piece of work. As much as she didn’t want to believe all the rumors she was starting to hear about Mr. Styles, they were getting harder to deny, especially when he brushed her aside in almost every meeting they had.

“You alright, Y/N?” Isaac asks, escorting her away from two fellow donors who promised a check of $20,000 and over to the open bar on the other side of the room.

Y/N sighs. There’s no point in lying. “That’s Harry,” she muttered.

Isaac gasps, “no, the handsome guy who glared at me from the moment he walked in and saw you at my side.”

“The very one.” She doesn’t seem to pick up on the last bit of his sentence.

“He’s handsome,” Isaac states.

“And he knows it.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t a douche,” Isaac questions her, confused. “Or Matias said he hadn’t been.”

“You both gossip too much,” Y/N accepts the whiskey he hands her and takes a sip before hammering it all back.

“Taking it back to the old days, I see,” he teases.

“Piss off. You and my brother did much worse, if I recall.”

Isaac scoffs, “Matias and I were the perfect children. Don’t care what you say.”

“Your mother’s front door says otherwise,” Y/N reminds him.

“That’s not fair. You and Sapra took the car up to Bristol for the weekend.”

“With permission,” you remind him.

He scoffs, accepting anything whiskey from the bartender. “How have you two always been the favorites?”

“Because we didn’t fall in love with each other.”

“You’re a wanker!” Isaac nudges her side, careful to not spill her second drink.

Y/N laughs, leaning her head onto her brother-in-law's shoulder. She always has the best time with him. It’s the reason she asked him to come with her tonight, also because her brother asked for her help to get him out of the house to allow him to bring in and hide Isaac’s birthday gifts that he somehow always managed to find each year.

Isaac helps Y/N work the room. She had forgotten how much fun it was to hang out with Isaac. He seemed to always be a package deal with her brother, not that she minded but spending time with him reminded her how much he always made her laugh.

“He’s watched you all night,” Isaac informs her after returning with a new drink from the bar Y/N, having walked away from Daniel, a cold stone CEO who turned into a giant teddy bear promising a check of $10,000 after a five-minute conversation with Y/N.

Y/N shrugs him off, “I’m over it.”

“Sure, babes.”

Y/N scoffs, “I am.”

“You want to be under him, not over him,” Isaac tells her, not at all falling for her charade.

“But he’s been a dick.”

“I think he’s intimated.”

“Of?” Y/N questions.

“You, dummy.” Isaac gestures to Harry, who’s standing next to a few other men clearly in charge of the conversation, but he doesn’t seem to care because he glances at her every few minutes. “He’s probably never met a woman who’s asked him out to get to know him. Maybe he thought you were only trying to sleep with him.”

What Isaac is saying makes no sense to her, but maybe he has a point. Maybe Harry didn’t know her intentions, and that’s why he told her no, it doesn’t explain his other actions, but it is a start.

“Enough.” She’s tired of discussing Harry and would rather head home now before Harry gains the courage to approach her. “ I’m going to the restroom, and you’re getting my coat. I know a good place to eat.”

“You paying?” Isaac teases.

“Yes, you little diva.”

Isaac presses a loud kiss to her cheek, sending her off with a slap to her ass, “off you go.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his dramatics but goes off to do her business. She was feeling hungry tonight. Leaving the restroom, Y/N bumps into someone waiting right outside. She laughs as the person helps her straighten out.

“Haha, sorry there.” She really should be more careful.

“You okay?”

Y/N freezes. Of course, it’s him.

“All good,” she assures Harry.

“Good.”

She stands there awkwardly, waiting to see if he would say anything, but he stays silent.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she moves past him.

“Y/N, wait.”

She looks at him expectantly.

He sighs, and he runs his hand through his hair, a tell sign he’s nervous. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have ignored you. I was having a bad day and didn’t want to bother you.”

“Wasn’t so hard, huh, to let someone know you see them but didn’t have time to talk.”

He shakes his head, “not at all.”

“Hmm…”

“I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.”

Y/N shrugs. “Well, it’s done, I guess. We don’t owe each other anything.”

Harry deserves her hesitancy. He hasn’t been good to her, but he misses seeing her smile and laugh at his awful jokes.

“Ready to go home, babes?” Isaac calls from behind Harry, holding up her coat.

She holds back a smile shaking her head at Isaac, who has a Cheshire grin. Harry looks at her like he wants her to say no, that she’ll stay with him, but she’s had enough of his games.

“Good night, Mr. Styles.”

“Y/N,” he reaches for her hand but stops. They both stare at his arm, having stopped inches from touching her until he drops it back to his side.

“Take care.”

Harry nods as he watches another man drape her coat around her, then place a hand on the small of her back and guide her out.

He really had no chance now.

+

Y/N loved ice cream.

When she was younger, her parents loved taking her out for ice cream after any kind of academic achievement, wanting to shower her with praise just as much as they did her brother, a star athlete. She loved coming because she got to pick a new flavor each week and also how they found out she was allergic to pistachio.

Growing up close in age, many thought she and Matias would not get along, but that was not the case being the younger sister allowed her to see her brother in a guiding light. She loved following after him at least she did until he pushed her down the last few steps of stairs for breaking his favorite crayon. He broke her arm, which she was allowed to hold over his head forever.

He was the reason she had to learn to write with her left hand. Their parents thought they would hate each other after that fight, but it only brought them closer together. Matias realized how fragile his sister was and vowed never to hurt her or anyone again. It's why he became a swimmer. No actual harm would come to him or anyone while Y/N gained the strength to stand up for herself, not wanting to be seen as weak.

As much as Matias denies it, his heart broke when Y/N met Sapra, her best friend, because it meant he was losing her as his best friend, something he’d never dare tell her. Sapra walking into Y/N’s life was amazing because it made her glad she had a brother because it meant she could have Sapra as the sister she never had. From the day they partnered in English for a project, Sapra being the new student and Y/N the star student, they did not go a day without each other. They became part of each other’s families and officially became sisters thanks to the help of their brother by falling in love and getting married.  Now here she was for her weekly ice cream date with Sapra.

“He didn’t!” Sapra gasps as Y/N explains how Isaac cut off Harry and escorted her out like a true gentleman.

Y/N nods, licking her caramel vanilla ice cream. “Yup, he looked like a kicked puppy.”

“Oh, that’s devastating.”

“It was.”

“I thought you liked him.”

She shrugs, “he’s all mixed signals. I ask him out, and he says no. I’m auctioned as a date he buys me. The next time I see him, he ignores me.”

“Maybe he didn’t see you.”

Y/N gives her a deadpan look. “We stopped right in front of each other. Had a book in hand, and he had a coffee. I waved, gave him a smile, and took a step towards him, and he stared past me and then walked past me.”

“Right…” Sapra realized there was no bright side to her situation.

“I seriously don’t get his problem. If this man says he’s doing all that because he likes me, I’ll call bullshit.”

Sapra sighs, “maybe he likes you but doesn’t like how forward you are. Maybe he’s into sweet innocent girls.”

“Ugh, this is why I don’t date. I seriously thought he’d be mature for being older. Seems all that money has clogged his brain.”

Y/N watches as her best friend laughs.

“Speak of the devil,” Sapra gestures behind Y/N, and she does her best to bite back a groan.  

“Noooo,” she groans. “This is my favorite shop.”

Harry notices Sapra staring at him and shoots her a polite smile. “He saw me.”

“He doesn’t know you.”

They decide to ignore him, and it works. Sapra finished her ice cream, and Y/N excused herself to the restroom claiming they had a few more stops before ending their day together. Y/N returns from the bathroom just in time to see Harry standing in front of Sapra, a cup of ice cream in his hand. As she gets closer, she meets Sapra’s eyes which are telling her to stop, but she doesn’t listen, able to catch Harry’s final words.

“--love to take you on a date.”

She’s not sure what to feel. Instead, she doesn’t let an inch of emotion show as she says excuse me taking her seat in front of Sapra again. Y/N sees the exact moment Harry’s face falls as he recognizes her. Then back to Sapra, the person she told him about on their so-called date.

“Y/N,” he breathed out.

“Mr. Styles,” she addressed him coldly. “See, you met my best friend, Sapra. We’ve spoken about her.”

He clears his throat, evident in the growing tension. Y/N’s expressions stay neutral while Sapra looks at Y/N, smirking.

“Well, Mr. Styles, as flattered as I am. The answer is going to be no.” Sapra shrugs, no longer meeting his eyes.

Harry fidgets with his rings, his discomfort apparent, “no, I understand.”

“Heard you met my brother. He’s a real charmer.” Sapra tells him.

“Sorry?”

“At the gala,” Sapra reminds him. “He was Y/N’s date. Think they make a great pair.”

Harry frowns, feeling his skin itch.

Y/n decides to end his suffering. “Isaac is Matias’ husband. My brother, I told you about him.”

“The older brother who painted your mum's wagon pink,” he checks to confirm.

“The very one.”  

“Have a nice day,” Sapra tells him harshly, cutting off the conversation from going any further.

“Good day.” Not an ounce of confidence in his walk. If anything, Y/N thought he looked sad.

Both girls watched him walk away until he was outside and in his car. Y/N isn’t sure what to say, but she can’t say she blames Harry. All through their time in school together, Sapra was the person all the boys asked out. While Y/N was the person, they went to for advice, not that she ever helped them. It wasn’t until she was at university did she realize she didn’t care what others thought. Y/N started working on her self-confidence, and she blossomed. When she first asked a boy in her English class, and he said yes, she felt empowered. She took that energy and put it into her work ethic. It’s why she’s so successful today. She will admit it hurt seeing Harry ask out her best friend, but it also helps put things into perspective that Harry Styles might not be the man she thought he was.

+

Harry is an idiot.

He has one girl on his mind, and to take his mind off her, he asks another out, only for it to be her friend, her best friend of all people. He really screwed this one up.

“You haven’t called me in a while,” Harry’s friend Mitch says as he sips his bourbon.

“I’ve been busy,” Harry mutters.

“Hmm…”

The two men sit in silence. It’s something they have always done. They are not ones to express their feelings unless they need to.

“What shit did you do now?” Mitch asks as he sees Harry pour his third cup of bourbon.

“Shit, Mitch. You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Mitch gives him a pointed look, and Harry relents. “There’s this girl.”

“That’s a first.”

“As I was saying, she—she’s beautiful. And so god damn out of my league, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m fucking 33, and she has me acting like a teenager.”

“Ask her out, simple as that.”

Harry laughs bitterly. “No, Mitch, it isn’t. See, she asked me out, and I said no.”

Mitch winces, “ouch. Bruised her ego.”

“No, that's the thing. She acted unbothered and treated me with respect after.”

He knows he’ll regret that rejection for the rest of his life.

“What were you expecting? A drink in the face.”

He shakes his head, “course not.”

“Why is she a problem if you rejected her?” Mitch emphasizes.

“Because every time I see her, I feel my heart wanting to beat out of my chest. I see her speaking with another man too close, and I get jealous. Hell, I bet on an auction date with her, but I fucked it over by ignoring her the next time I saw her. And today, I was finally working up the chance to go out on a date to get her out of my head, and the person I asked out turned out to be her best friend, and she was right there.” Harry slumped back against his chair, bourbon now forgotten.

Mitch grimaces, “that doesn’t sound great.”

“It’s all shit.”

“Backtrack. Why did you reject her?”

Harry groans because he’d been a fool to say no. He thought he was too old for her or that she was looking for some fun in the sheets, and he wouldn’t disrespect her like that, not when he admired her. “She’s young.”

“Eighteen young?”

“No, you dick.” Harry spits out harshly.  “She’s in graduate school. She’s in her twenties.”

Mitch sits back on the couch, frowning.

“Spit it out.”

“It seems you made a mess of things for no reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Mitch takes a sip of his drink, getting all his thoughts together. “She asked you out, meaning you didn’t seek her out. If I recall, you said she knew your name.” Harry nods, and Mitch continues. “It means she was aware of your age difference. She had an idea of her chances being slim to none to you saying yes. She came in with the upper hand, but you carried the power with your response. You’re going about your feelings all wrong. If you’re not going to treat her like she knows she deserves, then leave her alone.”

Once Mitch had laid it all flat for Harry, he could see that Mitch had a point. She knew what she wanted from the moment they met, which intimated Harry for some reason. She sent him the drink, asked him out, and reached out while he hid and avoided. She held herself with grace and respect, and that somehow intimated him.

He wanted a chance with Y/N to prove to her he could be a gentleman, and he valued her time and respected her. He just had to find the right opportunity. His eyes flickered to the ripped invitation on his desk. An invitation to a Masquerade Ball in two weeks to support Global Warming. He knew who would be there. It was the perfect time to apologize and ask for a date, a real one this time.

+

Y/N hated being sick.

From a young age, she threw the biggest fuss when she would fall in and had to miss school. She told her parents that missing out on learning would ruin her life when she didn’t want her friends to forget her for the days she was gone. Given that when she would go back, she received big hugs; clearly, she was not forgotten.

Now, as an adult or graduate student living alone in her small but entirely her own apartment, she didn’t like to be sick, not when she had to work or had events to attend. Thankfully, Y/N’s work has always been flexible and has health benefits, so she can take the day off. The sad news is that there’s a gala, not one of hers this time, that she promised she’d attend with Sapra. The theme was masquerade, and Sapra had worked on her mask for ages wanting to stand out during the night, and Y/N couldn’t bear to disappoint her. Sapra had been looking forward to this night for ages, even writing it with a pen in her calendar, and she never did that in case plans changed. Y/N felt horrible, but thankfully Sapra was super understanding, and their good friend Dawn was able to come in and save the day. With the promise to send Y/N lots of pictures, they left her with soup and crackers to last her the next few days while she began to feel better.

Harry had been counting down the days to see her. He hoped he was able to spot her among all the people tonight because if not, he’d be asking every person in the room to remove their masks until he found her. He had decided on a gold mask with intricate black designs all around. His dear friend Alessandro took his time with it. He knew he’d take it back to his friend after it was too much of a delicate piece to keep for himself. He knew he would have no use for it after. His suit tonight was velvet, a deep black that held a shimmer in the right kind of lighting. Harry loved the little details in outfits, and he couldn’t wait to notice each one of Y/N’s tonight.

He must have walked around three times and nothing. Not a single citing of her. Harry decides to stop at the bar when a woman in a gorgeous red gown drops her mask, and Harry gasps. It was not Y/N; it was her best friend, Sapra. That meant Y/N had to be around here somewhere.

“Good evening, Sapra.” Harry interrupts her conversation with the short woman next to her. She’s in a yellow gown, one that reminds him of Kate Hudson’s in her iconic role in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. He recognizes her as Bartolo’s worker in the shop. He hadn’t been there since Alessandro came back from his trip. “And Dawn, it’s nice to see you again.”

Dawn flashes him a smile. “You as well, Harry. Bartolo misses you. Says no one comes in to challenge him like you did.”

Harry nods, “I’ll have to visit soon, then.” Sapra elbows Dawn as if reminding her they weren’t team Harry. He notices, and before giving them a chance to make their exit, he asks the question that’s been sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Where’s Y/N?”

Sapra and Dawn share a look before turning back to Harry, matching frowns on their faces. “Girl code, Mr. Styles,” Sapra tells him, voice full of distaste.

“Please, I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to speak with her,” he begs.

Dawn takes pity, having heard Harry bare his heart to Bartolo when he came in for a suit fitting about how nervous Y/N made him and that his confidence seemed to vanish around her. She thought it was a step in the right direction to ask them about Y/N despite his first meeting with Sapra.

“She’s sick,” Dawn shares, not caring that Sapra will give her shit for it later.

He frowns. She’s sick, and she’s alone. That doesn’t sound like a good evening. “Will she answer if I go?”

“You’re kidding?” Sapra asks.

Harry shakes his head, “please, I only came tonight in hopes of seeing her.”

Sapra turns around at the bar to speak with the bartender, and he gives her a napkin and a pen. She clicks the pen and turns around, handing it to Harry. He didn’t tell them he knew where she lived.

“She tells me you said something dumb, and I’ll make sure to burn your empire to the ground,” Sapra promises. Dawn whispers for her to cool it, but Harry understands where she’s coming from.

“Do you know when that restaurant closes down the block from her house? She told me she really likes their soup there.”

Sapra shared a look with Dawn. Yeah, it seemed that Harry had some feelings to sort through.

Harry takes a deep breath. He isn’t sure if she’ll let him in or even want to see him. If it were him, he’d take one look and slam the door shut. Well, he won’t know until he finds out. He knocks two times and takes a step back, allowing himself to look down at her doormat. There is a range of wildflowers displayed, and if Harry’s honest, he has no idea what their names could be. As Harry focuses on anything but the door, he fails to realize it has fallen open.

“Harry?” She whispers, confused.

Harry lifts his head, flashing her a smile. “Hi, how are you?”

She ignores his questions. “How are you here?” Y/N shakes her head. “Don’t answer that. I bet it was Dawn; she’s a softie.”

“Do–Would it be okay if I came in?” He stutters.

Y/N tilts her head and looks his head to toe in his velvet suit, his mask forgotten in his car. She knows this is weird and has a right to kick him out, but he’s carrying a bag, and Y/N can smell the hot vegetable soup she craves when she’s sick.

She moves back, and Harry takes it as a sign to come in. He lets out a sign in relief. While Y/N locks the door, he toes off his shoes, noticing the shoe rack by the door. Y/N thanks him quietly, and he follows after like a lost puppy. She grabs two bowls while Harry begins to unpack the food. He wasn’t sure how much she would like, and Kim, the waitress, suggested two of their largest sizes, and he agreed.

Harry takes the bowl from Y/N and begins to serve her a healthy amount, knowing if she has too much, she could end up puking it all up.

“Thank you, Harry.”

She grabs her bowl and heads to her couch. As she settles in wrapping herself in a blanket, she sets the bowl on her lap. Harry stays frozen in the kitchen, unsure if he’s allowed in her space.

“Are you going to make me eat alone?”

“Sorry?” He breathes out.

“Serve yourself and come sit. You brought me so much soup I’m not going to finish it all on my own”

Harry grabs the second bowl, notices the strawberries, and laughs. He likes getting to see more pieces of Y/N. From her linked shoes at the door, he can tell she’s organized. As he walks further into her living room, he sees a full bookcase with hundreds of books and a little reading nook with a stack of books waiting to be read. He sits at the other end of her couch, sinking into the comfortable cushion; he smiles at her record player and wonders what she last listened to.

“Do you want a blanket?”

He sighs. Y/N’s a sweetheart treating him kindly, accepting him as a guest in her home. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”

They settle into silence, and usually, Harry finds it annoying, always needing a conversation to be going even if he isn’t leading it. However, with Y/N, he relishes the silence because he enjoys her presence. No words are needed.

Y/N ate until she was full, meaning she left her bowl clean, not embarrassed to have Harry see her slurp the last bits of her soup. Harry refilled her water as he placed her rinsed dishes in her dishwasher.

“How was the gala?” She asks after he settles back in his seat.

“Awful,” he answers honestly. It was the truth, he knew Y/N prided herself in the work she did for each event, but he couldn’t lie to her.

Y/N frowns, “good means I didn’t miss anything important.”

He’s surprised she had no hand in the event, but if he thinks about it, each gala he has been in attendance of where Y/N has helped always went without a hitch. He can’t say the same about tonight. “You didn’t plan this event?”

She smiles at his shock. “Not this time. Sapra heard it was a masquerade ball and begged me to get her in. How were the ice sculptures?”

Harry laughs, “melting, a puddle of water all around.”

“Oh, bummer.” She shakes her head, upset she missed it. “They have awful AC in that building.”

Y/N proceeds to tell him about how they reached out, but she’s had a busy schedule, and as much as she loves her job, she’s still only an intern who needs time for her studies and herself.

“Is that why you fell sick? Overworking?” He asks, concerned.

She giggles, “no, I have a healthy work and life balance, thankfully.” Y/N’s phone rings interrupting her. She apologizes as she’s sending off a text before giving her attention back to him. “My neighbor Terry has a one-year-old, and I was babysitting her for the night. We didn’t know she had the sniffles until she woke up colicky from a nap. Turns out their bub was sick; thus, she gave me the bug that took me down.”

“How’s the bub doing?”

“Oh, she’s a fighter. She was not a big crier; she needed a few cuddles and medicine, and she was much better. The thing about babies: they get sick and are better the day after. Their bodies next time around will have now built a strong immune system able to fend it off even better.” Y/N feels her face flush, feeling she shared a bit too much.

Harry sends her a dimpled smile. “My little sister is having a baby in a few months. I think it’s essential to know how to help. Thank you, don’t think parenting books are always so helpful for uncles.”

Y/N can’t hide her grin at Harry’s confession. “Oh, that’s lovely, Harry. Send her my best. I have a link for the best stroller, and I mean the best. It's easy to fold even when she might be on her own. I’ll send it your way.”

Before Harry can thank her, a ding rings loud, and it’s his phone signaling, he’s received her message. “I appreciate it. It’ll make a good gift.”

Her eyes widened, seeing the stroller's price.  “Do you need a discount? I got lots of coupons for this website.” She offers.

Harry is surprised she offered. She must know he’s well off. A stroller that costs a few hundred bucks won’t make a dent in his bank account.

“Sent it anyway,” Y/N tells him. “It’s good for six months.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N grins, happy to be useful even when sick.

Harry takes in her tired eyes and knows he’s taken too much of her time. Instead of letting her rest, he made her stay up when she could have been sleeping.

“I feel like I have overstayed my welcome,” Harry stands up, offering her a sheepish grin.

“No–” she’s cut off by a yawn.

She laughs, rubbing her eye, trying to will the sleep away. “I’m sleepy when I’m sick.”

“Thank you for letting me in.”

“Thanks for the soup,” she counters.

Y/N walks him to the door, the blanket wrapped over her as she tries to keep herself warm. “Will you be alright alone?” He checks, not wanting to leave her alone if she gets worse while sleeping.

She notes his concern, and Y/N knows she can tell him it doesn’t concern him, but he did come out of his way to check on her. “Dawn promised she’s on her way here to give me cuddles. I'm a big baby when I’m sick. Get all clingy.”

Harry can imagine her lying on his chest, blankets up to her neck as he holds her close, rubbing her back. Warm tea and soup at hand to make sure she’s eating. He would love to care for her, but that would be crossing a line. Neither of them were ready for all because of Harry’s stupidity.

“Y/N, before I go, I wanted to apologize. I–It seems every interaction with you, I only seem to leave a bad impression. I genuinely think you’re an amazing person and felt lucky to take you on a date, but after ignoring you, I feel I keep messing everything up. Will–is it okay to call you my friend, or if we can take a step in that direction.”

She knows there’s no possible way they could be friends, not with the chemistry they have together, but Y/N appreciates where he’s coming from.

“Friends it is, Styles.”

“Friends,” he confirms.

And maybe something more.

+

It had been a month since Harry saw Y/N sick in her apartment. He texted her the morning after, and she promised she was doing better; her headache was gone. She teased him about the soup, saying it was the abundance of soup that cured her. He felt a flutter in his stomach at the fact that Y/N thought he was helpful. God, he was really head over heels for her, but they were friends. Friends that texted and sent photos of things that reminded them of each other (Harry was on the receiving end of most images. He did practice his use of emojis for her).

Y/N was going through exams and focusing on the internal work of her internship, as in paperwork and the hiring process to take her on after graduation. She let him know she was still considering her options, but Y/N knew she would be saying yes because the pay was well above what she went in asking for, and she had a healthy work environment. It made him happy to see how well things were going for her. It made him want to invite her to tour his office. He wanted to see her sit in his office chair as she looked at the view of the city.

Wake and Wonder were holding a gala to raise money for their new NICU ward. Harry was part of the board for this event and knew Y/N would be attending, having heard her name throughout the night from the guests. Over the last few months, Harry began to see the importance of these events and attending, most of the guests were snobby and stuck up, but every person working for their organization cared. They were working hard for others and not for their own gain. Harry might have it easy to write checks, so if he can give back, he will.

Tonight, Harry decided to be a bit bold. He left the velvet suit behind and wore a pink Alexander McQueen suit. A double-breasted jacket featured pink embroidered flowers with green stems and leaves down the front. He paired it with matching wide-leg trousers, a white button-down, and black boots. He felt confident in all his suits, but this one was special. It was the first suit he bought himself when he got his first client that would change his life. He knew it brought him luck, and he needed a bit of that tonight.

Every woman he encountered tonight had on a full-out gown. It seemed they were, for once, following the theme to a t. Harry was nursing an amaretto sour when a glimmer of yellow floated by in the corner of his eye. It seemed he wasn’t the only one whose attention was caught. The person went straight to Alexander, the host for the night. He looked elegant in a black suit with gold embroidery around the jacket sleeves and down the front that connected to look like constellations. His partner wore something similar, opting for a deep blue to bring out his eyes, the gold embroidery found coming up his sleeves ending right below his elbows. Harry knew they had an eye for design and liked when they hosted events. The two men hugged her, thanking her. He didn’t realize he had gotten closer until he was able to pick up her voice.

It was angelic. It was familiar. It was Y/N.

She was wearing an elegant yellow satin gown. It had a princess silhouette with puffy short sleeves. He could see the corset back from the few feet away he stood. He knows Dawn must have had to help her, and for some reason, he can’t take the idea out of his head of helping her loosen the corset and out of the dress. It’s a fantasy he needs to push away as Y/N happens to be coming his way.

“Ms. Y/LN,” he greets with a gentle smile.

“Mr. Styles,” she flashes him a bashful grin and makes her way across the venue to mingle with the guest.

Progress. 

That was progress. She offered him a gorgeous smile, one he knew would stay imprinted in his mind forever. Now, all he needs is to gain some courage. Throughout the evening, Y/N danced around him. It’s as if she could sense him coming and would shift in another direction, allowing them both to get tangled in conversation. Harry did not like the chase, but Y/N held all the power in her hands, and he’d do anything for a moment of her time.

Harry was tired, not of Y/N playing a game of mouse with him but of the event. Usually, he spends an hour at most and then heads home, but tonight he’s two hours in, and he’s tired of all the talks and acting like he isn’t dying to speak with Y/N, but he respects her, and he’s been an idiot for too long to ruin the foundation they have created.

He was watching couples on the dance floor, criticizing their waltz. Many were lost in conversation to remember the importance of holding their partner close and letting one person lead.

“Mr. Styles,” Y/N greets with a cheeky grin. He doesn’t hide his surprise as he looks away from the dance floor. He takes her in, admiring her shining eyes and perfect makeup.

“Hi,” he breathes out. “You look beautiful.”

Y/N offers him another smile, a more timid one than her previous one. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to dance?” Harry offers, extending a hand toward Y/N.

She stares at him for a second before placing her hand in his. He led her to the dance floor, his right-hand settling high under her shoulder, his fingers together and pointed down. Her left arm rests softly on his shoulder like a bird perched on a branch. Her hand arched, fingertips behind his shoulder and thumb in front. He feels the lightest touch. Y/N raises her head, meeting his eye as she places the palm of her right hand in the palm of his left, resting her fingers in the cradle between his thumb and forefinger. They both fold their things softly over each other. It’s a light touch, and Harry gets the sense that Y/N is well-versed in the waltz.

“Have you waltzed before, Y/N?” Harry asks as he begins to lead. It’s one of the easiest dances to learn but easy to get lost if a partner is not allowed to lead.

She scoffs, “Surprised?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I am intrigued.”

Y/N laughs, letting Harry lead her around the dance floor. “In undergrad, a few GEs are pointless.” Harry gives her a pointed look. “Come on, Harry. You know what I mean.” The truth is he does. “Anyways, I took a dance class and learned a choreographed dance, tap, salsa, and waltz. That’s only a few.”

Harry nods, impressed, “a woman of many trades, huh.”

She shakes her head because it’s useless talents, but they’re hers. Who knows when one day she might need them, like today, dancing with a handsome man.

“I love this song,” Y/N tells him as he brings her back from a spin. “Moon river makes you feel lost in time.”

Harry agrees, “thank you, Aubrey Hepburn.”

Y/N gasps in surprise, “you know Hepburn?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He teases.

She feels her face flush because he’s right, but Y/N grew up watching these films with her grandmother every Sunday. Some children got taken to church, and Y/N was taught about the best movies to ever exist growing up.

“What’s tonight's theme?” Harry asks Y/N, no longer wanting to dance in silence. He loves her voice.

“Disney, but more specifically, Disney princesses,” she answers with a soft smile.

“And you are?”

She gestures to her dress, the beautiful yellow silk. “Don’t know, Ariel.”

He throws his head back laughing, she teases him with no care, and he loves that he did deserve it. It’s clear what princess she was trying to resemble. “You’re a beauty. You put Belle to shame,” he confesses.

Y/N bites back a grin. “Seeing as she’s an animated character. Thank you.”

Harry’s smile drops, and he falters in his seat, causing Y/N to stumble, but he rights her up like nothing happened. “No, I mean–”

“I know,” she breathes out, giggling at his panic.

As Harry releases the anxiety that passes through him, he goes back to complimenting Y/N. “You fit the role nicely.”

“Does that make you Gaston, my Beast, or Lumiere?” Y/N asks with a smirk.

He doesn’t take the bait.  “Haha, very funny.”

She shrugs, “I try.”

The song is coming to a finish, and Harry wonders how long she’s going to allow him to dance with her. “I’m no prince, but I’d like to be the person who’s able to capture your heart,” he confesses, putting everything out there.

“You’re a poet now?’

Harry smirks, “you don’t take compliments, do you, beauty?”

“I'm not easily swooned,” she confesses.

“I like challenges,” he answers carelessly.

Harry feels her stiffen instantly and knows he’s messed up. In a matter of seconds, he managed to ruin this fun, peaceful energy he had with Y/N.”

“Mr. Styles,” her voice cold and distant. “Thank you for the dance.”

She drops her hands and walks away. Harry reacts quickly. He goes to reach for her but thinks otherwise and instead calls her name.

“No, Y/N, wait, please,” he begs.

She pauses, turning to look at him.

“I shit- you make me incredibly nervous, and I hate that.” She frowns but lets him continue. “You make me question my every thought. Your beauty is overwhelming, and I–I’m older than you. I know that, and the fear of you not liking that or someone saying anything rude to you has stopped me from allowing myself to pursue you. I apologize. I’m so damn sorry.”

“The pursuit ended the minute you said no to me,” she tells him honestly.

“But I-”

She holds her hand up, and he stops talking. “I respect you, Harry. But I also respect myself. I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but I’m not taking any part. It was a wonderful dance, but I’ll be on my way.”

Harry knows she’s right. He’s messed up, but she deserves his honesty. “Y/N, let me say one last thing.”

She gestures for him to go on.

“I know I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t, but would you go on a date with me? No pretense or auction, just you and me where I can get to know you. I’d really love to get to know you.” He asks, putting his heart on the line.

She looks down at her heels, swaying back and forth, and the silence lasts a few seconds, but Harry feels it’s been hours by the time she replies. “Okay,” she agrees.”

“I respect–you will?” He asks, surprised.

She giggles, “I’d love to see you when you’re being charming because, truthfully, as much as I've been enjoying awkward Harry, I’d love to see more. You have my number, and it’s your only chance.”

Harry places his hand over his heart. “I promise I’ll treat you well. Thank you for saying yes.”

Y/N smiles, “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Styles.”

He couldn’t wait to see her for their date.

+

This was his third time standing outside Y/N’s apartment door. This time was different. He felt he could throw up from the nerves. He spoke with his Mum before driving to Y/N’s apartment and shared how he felt nervous about a date. She reminded him he needed to be himself and wear his confidence with pride. It’s something he learned from a young age.

Growing up, he had crazy curls that led to endless teasing, and one day he decided he had enough and got a haircut. He looked in the mirror the following day and didn’t recognize who he was. He let himself be influenced by others, and since then, he decided he wouldn’t care what others said about him. While in uni, he grew out his hair going through the long hair phase that drove his Mum crazy, but his sister loved it as he allowed her to braid it. It’s also when he began getting all his tattoos. Harry had to go through a journey of self-discovery to gain his confidence and keep it.

Tonight, he had confidence, but his biggest worry was Y/N not enjoying the date. All he wants is for her to have a pleasant time with him with no ruse or promise of a check at the end of the night.

Harry knocks twice and waits for her to come to the door. There’s a bouquet of pink roses in his hands because it reminded him of Y/N. He doesn’t know her favorite, but he’ll be sure to ask tonight. Y/N opens the door dressed in what he assumes is her casual wear. She’s got loose jeans and a black button-up she kept open with a white top under. A white ribbon in her hair made her messy bun look perfect. He notices this is another time he sees ribbon in her hair, and he’s curious to see how many strings she has and how many colors. She’s beautiful, and he’d happily remind her every chance he gets tonight.

“Hi, Y/N, you look beautiful.”

Y/N smiles, accepting the flowers he is offering her. The pink roses are beautiful as if there were just cut from the garden. She gestures for him to come in as she grabs a vase from her kitchen. He’s quiet as he watches her work in her kitchen. Once satisfied with how they sit in the vase, she turns her attention back to him.

“Thank you, Harry. It was very sweet of you.”

Harry shrugs, a blush setting on his cheeks. “Anything for you, beauty.”

Y/N’s back is turned to him, not allowing him to see her reaction to the term of endearment. As she grabs her bag and slips it on her shoulder, she offers him a squeeze on his arm, and he takes that as an okay to keep using it. As she’s locking up her door, Harry waits and asks about her day. She shares about having an easy day of classes and how she’s glad she didn’t have to work. Harry opens his car door and helps Y/N into the car. Y/N can see what he means by charming now.

The drive is filled with aimless chatter about the songs Harry is playing and how nice the weather has been lately. Y/N notices they’re headed toward a residential area and not into the city. Harry decides to share what he has planned for them tonight.

“I was thinking we can have a wine and paint night in my backyard if you're up for it.” He runs his free hand through his hair, sparing a look at her before focusing back on the road.

“You want to paint?” She exclaims.

He shrugs, “thought it’d be fun.”

She leans back into her seat, keeping her eyes on Harry as he holds a tight grip on the steering wheel. “I think it sounds perfect.”

Harry sighs in relief, good that’s good.

Arriving at Harry’s house, he feels his nerves coming back because he’s bringing the woman he likes to the place he calls home, where he finds comfort. It’s where he comes back home after a long day of work. He doesn’t know what he’ll feel after seeing her among all his things because he’s sure she’ll be a perfect fit and will struggle to let her go.

Y/N takes in the art pieces he has around the entrance of his house and photos of his family. The credenza by the entrance holds a key bowl where Harry drops his wallet and keys inside. He doesn’t remove his shoes and instead goes through the kitchen's double doors. Y/N isn’t sure if she is supposed to follow him, but a book on his coffee table captures her attention. It’s titled Raising Good Humans. She reads the first page as Harry makes his way back to her with two glasses of wine, one red and one orange.

She places the book down when Harry offers her a choice, and she accepts the orange wine, curious how it might taste. He gestures to the book, “I bought it for my sister, but I realized she probably won’t want to read it all, so I’m highlighting and bookmarking the important sections.”

Y/N hums in surprise. She didn’t take Harry for a caring guy, but here he is, proving her wrong. It’s clear how much he loves his family. “I’m sure she appreciates all the help.”

Harry laughs, “she told me she’s waiting to cash in for all the times I ever embarrassed her.”

“Oh, I understand being the youngest with an older brother. I swear he lived to embarrass me.” She shares that as much as she loved Matias, he was still a pain in her butt at one point in her life.

“Someone needed to look out for her,” he offers. “Come on, it’s out this way.”

His kitchen is gorgeous. The kitchen has color-filled floral wallpaper. There are pops of colors, making the backdrop feel neutral. The cabinets are maroon, closer to pink than red, and the three chairs are muted cyan that sit against the countertop. Y/N can see herself taking a seat there as Harry cooks them dinner. She shakes the thought out of her head and heads out the French patio doors where two easels sit side by side, a small stand in between them to hold their glass of wine and cheese that Harry has set up for them.

“I’m lactose intolerant,” she shares as she eyes the cheese.

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, and he mutters under his breath. “I’m so sorry. That was insensitive of me not even asking what you would prefer. I have cookies if you’d like. They’re gluten-free though or–”

He cuts himself off when he sees her laughing behind her wine glass, and that’s when he realizes she’s joking. Harry shakes his head, their laughter mixing together in the air.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“You’re cheeky, beauty.”

Y/N sets her finished wine glass down as she sees a black canvas apron with her name embroidered resting on what she assumes is her chair. She lifts it gently, running her finger over the yellow stitching. Harry slips his one, his last name embroidered on his, and she knows these must have been specially ordered. The material feels expensive and as if it were made with great care.

“Harry, this is too much.”

He laughs, “it’s nothing, Y/N. I wanted tonight to be special.”

She slips the top over her head and turns away from her, “can you help me tie the back?”

Harry steps close, standing right behind her, his mouth right by her neck. Y/N feels tense at the close intimacy. She doesn’t hurry Harry; she simply enjoys the closeness he’s offering her.

“All done,” he whispers.

She turns to meet his gaze, his eyes lingering before flickering to her lips. He nods, taking a step back, not wanting to cross any lines with her. He’s letting her set their pace.

“More wine, Beauty?”

“Yes, please. It was so good. It tasted just like an orange.”

Harry knows her lips must taste just as sweet. “It’s a favorite of mine. Glad you like it.”

He fills their wine glasses and comes back to sit next to her. He explains all the materials he has for them and how the painting to recreate is a lighthouse with a night sky background. It looks complex, and Y/N knows if she tries to copy it, it will look nothing like the original.

They began painting in silence. Harry had instrumental music playing and told her she could play what she liked, but she assured him she was enjoying the music. The silence was soon filled with chatter as Y/N asked questions, and Harry happily responded. What jobs did he work growing up? Bakery and a bookstore. If he was a good swimmer? Yes. His worst hangover? His best friend Mitch’s bachelor party in Greece. What he liked to bake? Cherry tarts. The questions never seemed to end because she wanted to know everything, but Harry was the same. He asked about her travels and where she wanted to go in the next year? Amsterdam. Her favorite movie? Pride and Prejudice. Her favorite book? A Thousand Splendid Suns.

Y/N was learning a lot about Harry and wanted to soak it all in, not forgetting anything. The first time she met Harry, she thought he was closed off and stuck up. That he had walls up so high, he’d never let anyone in, but Harry today was charming and kind. He gave her his undivided attention and asked questions wanting to get to know her. Harry was closed off because of his high position and how easily people had walked over him. Y/N had always worn her heart on her sleeve, but tonight with Harry, she wanted to keep it protected, but he made it so easy to give herself away.

“Are you ready, beauty?”

She takes a long look at her finished painting and decides she has no other choice. “Ready,” she breathed out.

Harry and Y/N turn their painting to each other, and Y/N gasps at Harry’s beautiful painting while Harry laughs at hers. Harry managed to draw a perfect resemblance of the lighthouse with the moon shining bright and the water so reflective that she felt if she touched it, her hand would go through the painting. “That’s gorgeous, Harry.”

Harry pointed to Y/N, “what did you draw?”

Y/N pouts, looking down at her painting. It might not be a lighthouse, but she loved what she painted. It’s a mermaid with short brown hair and a flower on their head. The scales of the mermaid’s tail were various shades of yellow, green, and blue. The mermaid was looking away into the deep blue sea background. It was nowhere near perfect, but she loved it. “It’s you,” she tells him. “As a mermaid–or well, merman.”

He points to himself, “that’s me!”

She giggles, proud of herself. “Yes, how I picture you if you were born a mermaid. I reckon you’d be the heir to the throne.”

Harry blushes and knows Y/N can tell. He doesn’t mind because she deserves to see the effect she has on him.

“I think I’d be a good-looking mermaid.”

“You'd be the prettiest mermaid in the sea, no competition.”

Harry giggles, letting the compliment soak in. “If you were there, I imagine I’d have a run for my money, beauty.”

She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Harry,” she drags out his name, turning away from him, her smile wide. His dimples pop out as he holds back from teasing her and instead asks if she’s hungry.

“I’d love some pizza,” she tells him honestly.

“Then I’ll get you pizza, beauty. Any preferences for toppings?”

“Love jalapeños.”

“Is pepperoni and jalapeños alright?”

“Perfect, Harry. Thank you.” She leans in to give him a kiss on his cheek. Harry mumbles no worries, his face burning from the sign of affection.

Dinner was delicious, and pizza was the perfect meal to share. Harry wrapped the leftovers and slipped them into a paper bag for Y/N to take home. She argued he should keep it because he paid (she offered, but he refused), but he told her that he remembered life during university, and she couldn’t argue with that logic. Harry drove her home, promising he only had that original cup of wine, and then switched to sparkling water. While Y/N allowed herself to have three glasses, two during the painting session and one during dinner. The drive to her apartment was different than driving to his house. They went from quiet small talk and listening to Harry’s playlists to telling each other their favorite childhood stories.

By the time Harry pulled up to Y/N’s apartment, she had realized that more dates like this with Harry would make her fall deep in love with him. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but a second date sounded perfect. Harry opened her car door and walked her to her door. He handed Y/N her bag and the leftover pizza after she unlocked the door, and she placed the items on her small entrance table. She shut the door, turning to look at Harry and bid him good night. Y/N realized through the night, Harry was careful with his touches and would only reciprocate anything she initiated.

Harry stares at her with a dimpled smile, and she knows that smile will become her weakness.

“My favorite flowers are calla lilies,” she tells him as she leans against her apartment door.

Harry’s eyes open wide in surprise. Does that mean she enjoyed tonight as much as he did? “Does that mean we’re going on a second date?”

She smirks, “I’d be open to the idea.”

He steps towards Y/N, allowing her to stop him, but she doesn’t. Her hands come to rest on his chest. He’s thankful she doesn’t mention the quickening of his heartbeat.

“Is this okay?” He breathes out.

“Mhm…”

Y/N’s hands fist the ends of his open jacket. He doesn’t care if his jacket wrinkles. He only cares that she wants him closer.

Harry leans his head down, his nose brushing against hers. Y/N pulls him closer, desperate to close the gap between them.

“Beauty,” he whispers.

“You can kiss me.” She tells him, “I want you to kiss me.”

She stands on her tiptoes, her hand curling around the back of his neck. His skin is warm, and I grab the hair at the nape and pull him toward me. Y/N knew she would end the night kissing him when he showed up with pink roses at her front door, calling her Beauty.

His hands came up to her cheeks, his mouth eager as he deepened the kiss. It was all-consuming, she knew kissing Harry would be like no other, but this was everything. He was gentle but firm and in control of the kiss. He knew exactly what she needed and gave it to her. He tasted of cherries, his lip balm he told her he carried everywhere, never one for dried lips. It paid off because his soft lips were addictive, and after getting a taste, she didn't know how long she’d be able to go without him.

“You taste sweet, beauty,” he confessed, pulling back, giving her a dimpled smile when he saw the dazed look on her face.

“You can have another taste.”

Harry giggles, “if I knew a kiss would make you so kind, I’d have kissed you sooner,” he teased.

“You can keep kissing me now,” she offered.

Harry was tempted to say yes, to keep kissing her out here as the moon shined down on them, but he knew he’d see her soon. He’d make sure of it.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to plan out our next date.”

“Sounds perfect,” she promised him. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Sweet dreams, beauty.”

Harry kissed her one last time, then broke away. She leaned against the door frame as she watched him walk towards his car, turning to wave at her one last time before driving away.

Yeah, Y/N was excited to see Harry again.

+

After their date, Harry spent every free moment he had with Y/N. Their second date consisted of bowling and wings. Y/N had managed to win by a landslide. Harry complained how it wasn’t fair and to make up for Harry being a sore loser Y/N was happy to indulge him in kisses. It seemed Harry was a winner after all. Harry promised her he wanted to keep seeing her, and Y/N repeated the sentiment.

It seemed from then, their time together grew. Harry would visit Y/N during her lunch on the days she was at work and grabbed dinner most nights after her internships. Harry would pick Y/N up from campus and ask her what she was in the mood for. The answer was almost always ice cream which he was happy to indulge her with.

Sunday, he came to learn were grocery days for Y/N, and after he paid for her the first time he went, he got banned from accompanying her again, which led to Harry sending her groceries every other week. She couldn’t get mad because, without fail, her bouquet of calla lilies would arrive soon after. Y/N had never felt affection this way, and after a talk with Harry, he expressed it was his love language and quality time. He thought he was overwhelming her and promised he’d do better, and it broke her heart for Harry to believe she was anything but appreciative. After talking, she allowed him to surprise her with small gifts, but nothing out of the ordinary because if he showed up with a diamond necklace, she would be breaking up with him.

“Does that mean we’re dating Beauty?”

She rolls her eyes, “unless you don’t want to.”

He clicks his tongue at her response, “now, don’t be mean, baby.”

Y/N seemed to always fall for his term of endearment; something about his accent got her going crazy. “Yes, Harry, we’re dating.”

Harry smirks, liking the thought of being Y/N’s. Their time from then on increased. From coffee dates to morning walks on the weekends and late-night phone calls when Y/N couldn’t sleep and would ask Harry to keep her company. It seemed to happen during the middle of the week, and he’d wake up tired the next day for work, but Y/N was worth it. She apologized every time she called and sounded like she woke him up, but he’d ask Y/N to tell him about her thesis, and she’d settled down as he listened intently and asked her questions when it was allowed.

On weekends Harry would come over to Y/N’s and spend the evening making dinner together, watching TV shows Harry has never heard of, and Y/N promised he needed to watch because he was missing out. Truthfully, he watched to indulge her but came to look forward to their time watching New Girl together. Their evenings started with them sitting next to each other, then her arm resting on his thigh and his arm over her shoulder. He realized Y/N was a big cuddler, always wanting Harry to hold her and be the little spoon. He didn’t mind loving how snug she felt against him. She started falling asleep halfway through the episodes, laughing when Y/N mumbled a reply to the show. Over time, they’d go from cuddling to Y/N sitting in his lap kissing, ignoring whatever was on TV. Their hands explored everywhere above clothing. They rocked against each other, but they’d always stop before taking it a step further, and Harry respected Y/N too much to cross a line she wasn’t ready for with him.

Harry was happy to have her kisses.

Y/N, at this point, had talked so much about her thesis that Harry could understand from a certain perspective what she was writing about and allowed him to read over his thesis and make any annotations for her to fix, grammatically, of course. Harry was honestly very proud of her; it was clear how much work and dedication she had put into her thesis, and he knew she'd do it with ease when it was time to defend it.

“You’re my smart girl, huh. Going to run the world.”

Y/N would hide her face in his chest when he began with the compliments, easily getting overwhelmed. It seemed that dating Harry had brought her happiness she never saw coming.

It was odd if they spent time at Harry’s house. It was more convenient for them to spend time at Y/N’s. Harry didn’t mind because he loved being surrounded in a space that was all hers. Tonight, Harry took Y/N to a sushi restaurant for dinner, and instead of driving her back home, she promised it was still early enough to go to his house and watch a movie. She batted her eyelashes at him, giving him a sweet pout, and he found himself saying yes. He can’t remember a time she allowed him to say no, not that he would ever want to.

Harry played a documentary he had wanted to watch, and Y/N promised she’d stay awake and that the coffee she had earlier in the day would help. Although he doubted it because her coffees seemed to always be on the sweeter side. It was half an hour in that he heard her soft breathing. He knew she would be sleeping until the end of the documentary. Harry was happy to have her cuddled to his chest, that she was comfortable enough to fall asleep. It was close to two hours later that the documentary ended, and Harry looked at the time and realized how late it was and that he still had to drive Y/N home.

“Baby, wake up.”

Nothing. He tried again.

“Beauty, come on. Got to get you home.”

She groaned, burying her face deep in his neck, not bothering to pick her head up.

“Come on, it’s late, baby.”

She raised her hand to her mouth, covering her yawn as she began to sit up.

“Hi,” he cooed softly. “I’ll give you a minute, then we can head out.”

Y/N shook her head, “can I stay?” she whispered.

Harry couldn’t hide his surprise at her request. “You want to stay here?”

“Please, lovie?” Her eyes were filled with sleep, and he wanted her to stay; of course, he did. Tomorrow was Sunday, and the fact that he had the chance to wake up to her tomorrow would not be something he passed up.

“Of course, baby.” Harry lifts his hand to cradle her cheek. She turns her head to kiss his palm; he feels himself melt at her affection.

He helps Y/N to her feet and guides her up the steps to his bedroom. She walks in and sits on his bed as he finds her clothes.

“There’s face wash, a spare toothbrush, and towels in the bathroom for you to use,” he tells her as he hands her an oversized shirt and spare boxers. She thanks him silently as she drags herself to his bathroom. As Y/N gets herself ready for bed, Harry does the same. He washed his bedsheets two nights before and knows it’ll be okay for Y/N to sleep in. As Harry slipped out of his button-up and pants, he wore shorts and an old Stevie Nicks shirt, not wanting to make Y/N uncomfortable.

She walks out a few minutes later, clothes in her hand, his oversized company t-shirt on her frame with nothing else. He’s quick to avert his gaze, surprised to see her only half-dressed.

“Were the boxers not okay?”

“Don’t want them to sleep. Is that okay?”

He nods “ of course, come on, let me tuck you in.”

Y/N drops her clothes by his window nook. Harry has imagined Y/N in his room more times than he counts but now that he has her here, he knows he’s never going to get the image out of his head. She gets under the covers and sighs when the cool sheets hit her skin. She scoots all the way to the middle of the bed. Harry checks to see if she’s comfortable and is about to turn the lights off and leave when she calls his name.

“Where you going?” Y/N asks, concern in her voice.

“To the guest room.”

“You don’t want to sleep with me?”

Harry’s heart feels heavy in his chest, seeing that he has upset her. “I didn’t want to assume,” he tells her honestly.

“Come, sleep with me.” She extends her hand to him, and he’s happy to accept. Harry throws the cover away and drags himself right next to Y/N, placing his hand on her waist and bringing her closer. She turns to rest her head on his chest, using him as a pillow.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Perfect.”

Harry closes his eyes but feels Y/N move. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Kiss, please?”

If he wasn’t careful, he’s sure he’d fall in love with Y/N, but something tells him it’s a little late for that. He leans down and presses his lips against hers in a soft kiss. She hums in appreciation, letting him pull away without a fight giving her a final kiss on her forehead. Now they can both sleep content. As Y/N settles back down on his chest, about to close her eyes, a painting on Harry’s wall captures her attention. It’s hanging next to a photo of a lake in his hometown. It’s a mermaid painting, specifically the one she painted with Harry on their first date two months ago. She told him to keep it, but she didn’t think he’d actually hold on to it, let alone hang it up for him to see every day he wakes up. Y/N sighs against his chest, snuggling closer to him, feeling content to fall asleep in Harry’s arms, knowing she’ll be safe and cared for because Harry never fails to shower her in love and affection.

She can’t wait to make breakfast with him tomorrow, but for now, she’ll sleep.

+

Harry regretted inviting Y/N to the golf tournament. Pleasing hosts this golf event annually for new and old partners. He hadn’t prepared for how good she would look dressed in an active pink skirt and a white polo tank that hugged her figure beautifully. Her hair was up and out of her face, and she had a pink visor on her head to prevent sunburn. She looked prepared for a game of golf, where she promised she wouldn’t play besides chatting up the investors. He was clearly in over his head. Harry had taken one look at her when he picked her up and asked her if she wanted to stay home with him instead. She laughed, hopping into his car, reminding him he had promised her breakfast and she was craving a bagel.

“Beauty?”

“Hmm…” She turned to look at Harry with a beautiful smile on her face, just for him.

He reaches over and brings her in for a kiss. He sighs against her mouth, happy to have her here with him. As much as he loves his company, he only does this to make more connections and keep his company growing.

“If you get tired or hungry, just let me know, and we can take a break.”

She shakes her head, “this is important for you,” she reminds him. “I’ll be fine. Plus, you fed me and filled my water bottle.” She rubs her tummy to show him how full she still is.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re my priority.” He assures her.

Y/N scrunches her nose, placing a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “You’re an absolute sweetheart, lovie.”

Harry hurries out of the car to help Y/N out, earning him another kiss, he’s tempted to push her up against his car and keep kissing her, but Y/N seems eager to see him golf. He checks them in and gets the keys to his golf cart as she waits on the side, looking at the clean facilities. She overhears the receptionist telling Harry they’ll start at hole one on the east side, and his guest will be sent that way.

She trailed behind Harry taking in the lovely view in front of her. His outfit was anything but ordinary. He wore pastel yellow flared pants that hugged his ass just right. A black polo tucked in and a simple Gucci belt completes his look. He decided against a hat but had his glove ready on his left hand for that extra support. Y/N loved the contrast of his tattoos and how his tan skin seemed to shine due to the sunblock she helped lather him in. He almost always has hidden his tattoos, wearing a suit and sweater. She knew it was because of work, and he was easily cold, but she never took moments like these for granted. The contrast of tattoos on his arms while his left hand had endless tattoos, his right hand only a few. She had to wonder what he hid underneath. She had only ever seen the peek of two swallows on his chest.

“Beauty, you alright?” Harry is standing against a golf cart numbered thirteen. It’s been known to be an unlucky number, but she’s never seen it that way.

She shakes away her thoughts and focuses on the man in front of her. He’s been nothing but a sweetheart since the moment they started officially dating a few months ago, and she’s thankful she decided to give him a chance and that he proved to be a good person and not the cold man she met many moons ago,

“Sorry, I was just admiring. Haven’t been to the golf course in some time.” She takes his extended hand and slides into the golf cart, his hand settling on her bare, exposed thigh. A shiver runs up her spine. She’s ready to take it to the next level with Harry but has no idea how to bring it up.

Harry and Y/N don’t have to wait long when a group of men and a few women come and greet Harry. There is a mix of young and older individuals chatting, and Y/N right away spots the man who keeps to himself, much like Harry. He’s an older gentleman dressed in black slacks, a maroon vest, black gloves on both hands, and a frown on his face. Harry introduces her to Jeff, Niall, and Tyler, his good friends. He promised her if she needed anything, she could ask them. They were all welcoming, asking her questions, not a lot of teasing, but they assured Y/N that Harry wasn’t the grump he made himself out to be.

During the first few holes, a lot of conversation was happening, and Y/N sat in the golf cart because she didn’t know how she fit into this crowd. She was a graduate student among these men and a few women who run these million-dollar companies. She hated that Harry felt obligated to bring her because it was their date night, and he didn’t want to cancel their plans. He convinced her when he told her he’d miss her too much if he didn’t see her this weekend.

Harry, after every swing, turns to find Y/N, who’s already looking at him. He came over, and she’d kiss him, telling him how impressive the swing was and that she knew he would win. Slowly, Y/N began to let herself mingle and talk with the other players. She seemed to always gravitate back towards Harry and his small group.

Y/N was standing, arms crossed, visor lowered as the sun beamed down on her. There was a lot of chatter when she realized that the man with the vest who caught her eye was alone again; she decided to approach him as Harry was wrapped up in conversation.

“Hi,” she greets. “I’m Y/N.”

The tall man with eyes as blue as the ocean turns to look at her. He looks at her stretched hand and reaches out to shake hers. “Malcolm Levington. A pleasure, Ms. Y/N.”

“You as well, Mr. Levington.”

He grimaces, “Malcolm is fine.”

She shrugs, “if you say so.” Before he can ask what she’s doing speaking with him, she asks a question. “What is it you do?”

“I’m the owner of Star Horizons,” he shares.

“The hotels,” Y/N gasps.

He laughs, “the very one.”

“Oh, your hotel ballrooms are hard to get a hold of. I’ve been trying to plan an event there for ages. It finally happened a few months back, but it hurt to be told the wait was so long.”

Mr. Levington frowns, “what event was it?”

“Oh, uh, we had a private action event for Hermanas Unidas. They wanted to raise money to open a second location. We exceeded expectations thanks to generous donations and hired full-time staff to get it up and running in two months.”

“That’s wonderful. I heard about this event; it was one of the smoothest experiences we have ever had. We had no problems with staff or guests. We got a lot of guests to come back and stay with us. Were you in charge?”

She grins proudly, “no, I work with the sub-events teams. It’s part of my job to help nonprofits with their events to get donations.”

“Impressive work. Would you care to tell me more?”

Y/N happily indulges Mr. Levington as he tells her about the degree she is working towards. She shares about each event she has worked on. He offers ideas on how to help and ideas for new events. He promises to attend her next event.

“Y/N?” Harry calls her name, interrupting their conversation.

“Harry, I was speaking with Mr. Levington,” Y/N tells Harry, holding onto his forearm and giving it a loving squeeze.  

Mr. Levington looks between Y/N and Harry, a curious look on his face. “Are you his wife?”

“Oh, he’d be so lucky,” Y/N tells Mr. Levington, a loyal partner to Pleasing. She found out a mere seconds ago as Harry whispered it in her ear.

Harry laughs, “Y/N’s my–”

Y/N rolls her eyes. These men don’t need to know about her and Harry, not that she’d mind him showing her off. “Enough about me. Tell me about that TaylorMade Stealth PLus Driver you have there. I hear it has low spin.” She points to the clubs a few feet behind them.

“You golf, Ms. Y/N?” Mr. Levington asks, surprised.

Y/N leads the man away, turning to look at Harry, offering him a wink as the man tells her about his clubs.

They’re about to head to the next hole when he sees Y/N still chatting. The man held on to her every word.

“Now I hear the Sims 2 has a better grip as it’s more lightweight. But don’t take my word for it, I haven’t had the chance to swing it, but from what I’ve heard Harry and Mr. Rowland discuss, I’d say you ask him for a chance to swing, but I do know how you all are about your clubs.” She tells him, knowing she is setting up Harry for an interesting conversation.

“Y/N,” Harry calls for her once again. She turns to see him with a bright smile on her face. “We’re ready for the next hole. Y/N loves to chat, Mr. Levington”.

“She’s a dear. She was telling me about your driver. Seems she thinks mine has a problem.”

“Now, now, don’t go twisting my words,” Y/N chastises.

“Only teasing, Ms. Y/N.” Mr. Levington turns his attention back to Harry. “Think you’ll let me take a swing, Mr. Styles?” Mr. Levington asks.

Harry offers him a sincere smile. “We can work something out.”

“A pleasure, Ms. Y/N.”

Harry stands with a hand on her waist as they watch him walk away. “What did you do, you little minx?”

“What do you mean?” She feigns innocence.

“That man,” he gestures to Mr. Levington, walking next to Jeff with their caddy. “Always comes to our events and never says a word. Here you have him yapping on and on about clubs you probably don’t care about.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” she confirms.

“Then, beauty? You don’t have to be flattering all these old men.” He tells her honestly.

“Jealous, H?” Y/N teases, stepping closer to him, her hand resting on the back of his neck.

Harry hums at her touch. “Course I am. Prettiest girl here on the green don’t want to share you with anyone.”

She leans on her tiptoes, pressing a quick peck on his lips. “Promise I’m enjoying myself.”

“Will you still ride with me?” He asks her, as he hadn’t helped her onto the golf cart after each hole.

“Am I driving?” She waits expectantly.

He offers her the keys, which she snatches up before he can even think of pulling his hand away. “Now, now. Give me a proper kiss, and we’ll go.”

She doesn't even fight him, simply leans in and kisses him. Harry hums at her sweet cherry taste. He knows she must have stopped the cart girl and asked for a Shirley Temple with extra cherries, her favorite.

“Come on, Harry. I want to see you flex those muscles as you swing that club around.”

She skips towards his golf cart labeled thirteen. He sees her skirt bounce, and he groans. He takes a moment to remind himself to breathe. He could do this for a few more hours. He might lose his mind by the end of the evening, but he would endure it.

Safe to say, by the time they reached the last hole, Y/N had all of these men eating out of her hand. Each person listens as she tells another story.

“She’s a good one,” Mr. Levington tells Harry as Y/N tells the others about the time she went to a museum, and security gave her a private tour because she resembled a famous artist. “Never seen anyone so charming. Surprised she picked someone as sour as you.”

“Hmm…clearly, her magic worked on you. Can’t remember the last time you spoke to anyone besides your clubs,” Harry answers honestly, knowing he is lucky to have Y/N.

Mr. Levington chuckles. “Touche Styles. Keep her around. She's good for business and you, it seems. That facade has dropped.”

“Yeah, she’s one of a kind.”

“H,” Y/N yells, “Come tell them about the penguin. How he’d follow my every move.”

“Seems you’re wanted, Styles.”

They bid each other goodbye, and he makes his way over to Y/N. Harry doesn't think twice before taking her outstretched hand, launching into the story of how both penguin and Y/N had been amused with each other.

By the time they get home, Y/N’s exhausted. She wasted all her energy conversing with everyone and now needs to re-energize. Harry stopped by and got them burgers on their way to his house. They were quick to devour in the parking lot.

“Can I stay here?” Y/N asks as she throws herself on his couch, landing face down.

“Don’t want to go home, baby?” He slips off her shoes, giving her calf a squeeze.

She lifts her head searching for him. “If it’s okay. You got that nice bath I want to soak in, please.”

He walks over to her, planting a kiss on her head. “Course you can, beauty. I’ll go set it up for you.”

The bath is the perfect temperature as Y/N sinks in, sighing as her body relaxes. She apologized to Harry because she knew he was the one who must be exhausted from a long game of golf, but he was quick to assure her that it made him happy to take care of her. There was an abundance of bubbles around the tub, so she called Harry back into the room. She wanted him to keep her company.

Harry sat down at the edge of the tub, a bowl of strawberries in hand that he knew Y/N would be happy to eat. He offered her one, and she took a big bite humming at the sweet flavor filling her mouth.

“Yummy,” she giggles.

Harry thumbs away the bit of juice running down her chin; he brings his thumb up to his mouth and licks it clean, “yummy, indeed.”

Y/N feels her face flush and wants to sink underwater but keeps her gaze on Harry. She’s naked in his tub and wants him to touch her. She just has to let him know.

“Another, baby?”

She shakes her head no.

He frowns but doesn’t fight her; instead places the strawberries on the counter. He settles back down until Y/N gestures for him to come closer. He smirks but does as she asks. He leans in close until they’re nose to nose, and she presses her lips against his. She moans as Harry slips a hand in her hair; he pulls back as Y/N looks up at him, dazed. She follows him, but he doesn’t let her kiss him. Y/N whines for him to come back.

“What do you want, beauty?”

Y/N pouts. She doesn’t want to say it. Isn’t it clear what she wants?

“Harry,” she whines.

“Need you to say it, Y/N. Not a mind reader.”

Y/N sighs because he’s right. She leans forward, pressing a kiss to his thigh through his pants. “I want you to touch me,” she breathes out. She lifts her head, meeting his gaze. “I want you to touch me, please.”

Harry runs his hand down her neck, following a water droplet until he reaches the top of her breasts. “Is this okay?” His finger skims along the top, and Y/N wants more. She needs more.

“Yes,” she huffs, eager for his touch.

His hand sinks into the water, caressing her breasts, and she leans into his touch, moaning as he gets to know her body more intimately. He shifts position to kneel next to the tub, his hand pinching her nipples until she hisses from the contact. His lips settled on her neck as he bites down in different spots. It’s all so much, but Y/N is loving every second. His hand dances over her until Y/N has enough and directs him to where she needs him. His fingers glide over her steadily, whispering touch that works her into a frenzy, filling her with need. His mouth drifts down her jaw to the delicate space behind her ear. He swipes his tongue across her skin before blowing cool air, and a shiver wracks her body.

“Harry,” she whispers.

He finds her clit, rubbing his thumb back and forth in circles as he gives her the pleasure she’s been searching for. She loses her train of thought as he curls one finger inside her and rubs her in all the right places, bringing her closer to the edge faster than she thought possible. Her orgasm is fast and blinding. She grips the tub’s edge so hard that her hand aches, but Harry doesn’t stop.

“One more,” he whispers, his mouth tangling with hers in a hot kiss as they battle for control.

She shakes her head, “c-can’t.” She doesn’t think she’s ever orgasmed back to back with a partner in bed. She orgasms just fine, she can admit she’s had shit partners in bed before, but no one has ever treated her with so much care and passion as Harry.

“Oh fuck,” she yells as Harry wipes away the bubbles uncovering her breasts. He moves away from her lips, not caring that there’s water spilling over the edge as he drags his tongue over each pebbled tip promising Y/N next time, he’ll focus more attention on them.

Each touch Harry gives her is magic. She loves how in control he is of her body as he works to provide her with what she needs. His thumb moves quicker over her clit, two fingers moving in and out of her slick, making it easier for him. Y/N’s body gives in to Harry, and she knows she’s close once again. Y/N throws her wet arms around his neck because she needs him close. She feels herself tip over the edge. Breathless and satisfied.

“Gorgeous,” he mutters against her soft neck. “My beauty was gorgeous.” Each word is followed by a kiss.

Y/N feels heavy but relaxed as he holds her close to her breasts against his soft polo.  “H,” she manages to breathe out.

“Alright, baby?”

“Magic,” she giggles, her chest heaving as she leans back into the water, trying to catch her breath.

Harry laughs as he carefully separates from Y/N to reach for a towel from his towel warmer. She notices the towel and perks up, only now realizing how cold the water has run.

“If an orgasm is all you needed to be, my good girl, I would have begged to give you one sooner,” he tells her teasingly. Y/N whimpers at his words, leaning into his touch as he helps her out of the tub, still a gentleman as he averts his gaze. “Let’s get you in some clothes and then to bed.”

“Kisses and cuddles?” She requests quietly.

Harry chuckles. “Course, baby. Anything you want.”

+

Y/N had never been so comfortable in a relationship.

She had always been a confident, independent person. Yet, when it comes to Harry, she has come to let herself be taken care of because she sees he finds joy in caring for her. Y/N had never had an equal partnership where her partner put her needs next to his. She understood he was running a billion-dollar company, and she was finishing her degree soon. They were at two different points in life, but Harry always treated her events and exam nights with so much importance it sometimes overwhelmed her.

Harry was happy with her, and that’s all she could ever ask for. Date nights were reserved for the weekends and coffee dates during the week, and Harry always made time to pick her up from campus, so she didn’t have to ask for a ride from a friend. He made himself a part of her life effortlessly.

For a long time, she worried about how she fits into his life, but after dinner with Harry’s friends one weekend, she learned how much of himself he had already given her. Harry held her hand during dinner and asked what she liked to order, going as far as to order her second food option in case she didn’t like hers. He kissed her cheek any chance, not wanting to overwhelm her and his friends with PDA but also reminding her that he was thinking of her. The little things made her realize she was falling in love with Harry.

As Y/N met Harry’s friends and heard embarrassing and loving stories about Harry, she knew it was time for Harry to meet her friends properly. Sapra tried to convince her to invite Matias and Isaac, but Y/N wanted to save meeting her brother for another time. Harry suggested brunch, and Y/N couldn’t argue with that logic. If Sapra or Dawn said anything too embarrassing, she’d just get them drunk on mimosas.

“Are you nervous, Y/N?” Harry asks as she keeps her eyes on the restaurant's door, waiting for her friends to walk in.

Honestly, she was nervous because they knew everything, from when Harry rejected her to when she danced with him. She knows why they are a little weary (Sapra more than Dawn), but they haven’t had a chance to see how Harry really is. Y/N had told them how happy Harry made her. That he dedicated time to her and made her feel important and loved. She knew her friends would accept her if she saw how happy she was, but she also wanted them to like Harry.

“Is it our age difference?”

Y/N frowns that hadn’t even crossed her mind. “No, is that something you think about?”

Harry sighs, reaching down to grab her hand and bring it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss. Her eyes stay on his face trying to figure out what he’s feeling. “It’s crossed my mind,” he shares honestly.

“It’s not a concern for me,” she promises him.

His green eyes focus back on her, and Y/N sees the glimmer of a smile. “I know, Beauty. It’s not something you’ve ever brought up, but I fear if one of your friends brings it up, then it’ll concern you, and I’ll most likely end up losing you.”

Y/N wishes they weren’t having this conversation now, but it’s her fault for being lost in her head when she should have been assuring him that her friends would love him. “Harry, lovie, I’m in this with you. In this relationship, it’s you and me. No one else. Thank you for being honest with me, but my friends do not influence how I feel about you.”

Harry fails at biting back a smile. He lowers his head, closing the gap between them in the booth. “How do you feel?”

Y/N knows she can be cheeky and tease Harry, but she wants to assure him that she sees a future with him and hopes he feels the same. “I’m crazy about you,” she whispers.

He doesn’t respond but connects his lips against Y/N’s, getting lost in each other, not noticing Y/N’s friends being directed by the hostess to their table. Harry pulls back breathless, allowing himself to get lost in Y/N’s eyes. “The feeling is very much mutual, beauty.”

“Hey lovebirds, can you not do whatever before I’ve eaten,” Sapra teases, pointing at how Y/N is fisting Harry’s button-up tightly. Y/N feels her face heat up and pulls away from Harry.

Dawn flashes them a smile, “it’s nice to officially meet you, Harry. This one’s always talking about you.” Dawn gestures to Y/N, who giggles bashfully against his shoulder.

Harry kisses her cheek, whispering how cute he is before turning his attention back to Dawn and Sapra. “Not as much as she talks about you both, I bet. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

As Y/N’s friends are telling Harry story after story, she realizes that she’s falling in love, and by the way, Harry is holding her hand tightly in his lap that he is too.

+

Harry has never been so happy to have someone make themselves at home in his house. His mother and sister had always told him it was too large for one person, but he told them it wouldn’t always be him. He didn’t know what he wanted in a partner, but after meeting Y/N, he realized he was waiting for her.

It was too soon to say he was in love, but he was basically there. Harry had no intention of letting her go, and by how Y/N enjoyed showering him with kisses every chance she could, he knew she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

Everything was perfect.

She found herself in his study when she needed a quiet place to study. Usually, it meant he gave up his chair and settled on watching her from the couch next to the window. She would have her laptop in front of her, and if he let her, she’d work for hours without a break. He took it upon himself to bring her a snack and drink every hour to ensure she was well nourished. Harry found pleasure in cooking and making snacks because it was one way she allowed him to take care of her.

This evening Y/N was working on her laptop while Harry read a report for the upcoming month. Y/N sighed, closing her laptop and leaning back into the chair. He lifted his head in concern to find her already looking at him, a frown on his face.

“Beauty, what’s wrong?”

Y/N throws her hands up, “you're giving me too much?”

“Sorry?

“I didn’t need a new bag.”

She’s talking about her backpack ripping, and Harry thought nothing of replacing it for her.

“Your old one ripped.”

“My shoes were perfectly fine,” she fires back.

“The laces were barely holding together,” he reminds her.  

“I didn’t need new underwear.”

Harry smirks, “now that was for my pleasure.”

Y/N huffs, “Honey, I’m serious. I don't need all these material items.”

Harry sighs and pats his lap for her to come to sit. She does so without a second thought. She gets comfortable straddling him as his hands rest on her hips.  

“I like providing for you,” Harry expressed.

“I can provide for myself, mister.”

He nods because he knows she can. “But it makes me happy.”

“Harry,” she deadpans.

“Gives me a love boner.”

Y/N scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Be serious.”

Harry’s hands cradle her face, his thumbs rubbing her cheeks affectionately. “Baby, you could run me dry, and it gets me going because it means I was able to take care of you.

She sighs. “God, you're so cute,” she mumbles.

Harry grins, knowing he’s won. “Will you be my good girl and let me spoil you?”

Y/N nods slowly. He leans in to kiss her, but she stops him. “If you ever give me a diamond, I'm out,” she reminds him.

“Got it, no diamonds…. What about pearls?” He jokes. At least, she thinks he is.

“Lovie,” she exhales.

Harry has decided he’s had enough of the conversation and kisses her. Y/N always tastes so sweet. He gets lost in exploring her mouth against his that he doesn’t realize she has started rocking against him. Since Harry had given Y/N two orgasms in his bath, they’ve been more physical, but Harry isn’t in any rush, and neither is Y/N. They’re taking it slow, learning every part of their bodies before taking that final step in their relationship. He pulls back the dimples on display, he runs his index finger over Y/N’s swollen lips.

“Popcorn and Survivor, beauty?”

“Oh, Styles, you sure do know the way to a woman’s heart, don’t you,” she teases.

Harry pecks her lips. “Only yours, beauty. Only yours.”

+

Y/N couldn’t believe Harry would do this to her.

Harry sent over a large red box with a bow holding it closed. The carrier bid her goodnight, and she hurried to her kitchen to open the package. Removing the lid, she found a gorgeous emerald green dress. She picked it up, admiring the silk, and quickly pulled her phone out of her sweat pocket to call Harry. He answered on the first ring.

“Hi, beauty,” he greets cheerfully.

“Harry, tell me you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” He feigns.

“You sent me a dress for tonight.”

“Ah,” he giggles. “That I did. Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Good. I'll be there at seven to pick you up.”

“You want to go together?” They knew they were both attending, but for some reason, she assumed they’d arrive separately.

“I didn’t get a matching tie for nothing.” He laughs. “See you soon, beauty.”

Y/N hurried to get ready, excited for what the night had in store for her and Harry.

Harry knocked on her door at seven on the dot. She rushed to the door, swinging it open and telling him to come in as she rushed back into her room. He laughed because he had never seen Y/N frazzled, and here she was, rushing, knowing she was running late. Harry put the blooming calla lilies in a vase he knew she kept under her sink.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Harry. My curler was being stupid, and then I couldn’t find my heels.” She huffs as she stands at her entrance, slipping on her heels.

Harry takes a minute to admire the dress on her. It’s an elegant satin spaghetti strap dress with a high slit up her left leg. Her hair is in an elegant updo, with a few strands framing her face. She’s gorgeous, and she’s all his to show off tonight.

“You sure you don’t want to stay home tonight?” He asks, reaching his hands out for her to take.

She shakes her head, knowing exactly what he is thinking. “Absolutely not. It’s a big night.”

And it was.

Y/N’s internship was hosting their gala of the year, where she played a prominent role in helping with the budget and the guest list. He would never keep her away from an event where she was an important guest.

Y/N grabs her clutch that holds her most essential items, such as her lipstick, ID, cash, and keys. She’s telling Harry she’s ready to go when she catches a yellow vase on her table filled with her favorite flowers.

“H,” she sighed. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He kisses her cheek. “Anything to see that pretty smile.”

As she focuses on Harry staring down at her, she realizes she didn’t kiss him hello. Y/N leans in close, pressing her glossed lips against his. Harry hums at the familiar feel. He wants to take it further but knows they need to get going.

“All set?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go then, my gorgeous date.”

Arriving at the venue, Harry offered his keys to the valet as Y/N was helped out the door. Harry met her by the first step and offered his arm. She happily accepted. Walking in, Y/N was awed at the displays of gold scattered around the room. The table decorations were pristine, the lights were perfect for photos, and the ballroom was full of people. As soon as they were inside, Y/N was whisked away by her director, Valentina. Y/N gave Harry an apologetic smile but promised to find him later. Harry had always been good at spending time alone, but for once, he wished Y/N could have paraded him around the room as they introduced each other to people they knew. He knew that time would come.

It’s a beautiful and busy evening; at one point, a waiter finds him a single drink on a tray and hands it over to him, saying that a woman in an emerald green dress sent it to him. It was an amaretto sour, his new favorite. Y/N smiled from across the room when she saw him raise it in her direction as thanks.

The event was winding down, the string quartet was playing their final songs, and Harry was ready to call it a night. After an entire evening away from him, Y/N managed to make her way across the room and stood before him.

Y/N perks up as she hears the opening notes to the song the quartet is playing, their song. Moon River. Harry doesn’t tell her he’s turned the song into her ringtone.

She holds her hand for him to take, and he takes it without a second thought until Harry realizes she’s leading him to the dance floor.

“We’re going to be the talk of the town,” he tells her looking at the lonely dance floor.

Y/N shrugs, “it doesn’t matter.”

As opposed to the first time they danced together, holding space between each other, they were much closer this time. Y/N wrapped her hands around his neck, and his hands found their place on the low of her back.

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that your opinion is the only one I care about,” Y/N promises him.

Harry’s dimples break through and she grins, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. She settles back in his arms as their song plays, lost in their own world.

“You know,” Y/N lifted her head, resting on his shoulder. “You once told me you didn’t dance, and yet this is the second time I have gotten you to dance, hmmm?”

Harry laughs because she’s right. “I was waiting for the right partner,” he affirms.

“And is that me?”

“Beauty,” he says softly, his emerald eyes locked on hers. “It could only ever be you,” Harry promises.

Y/N smiles in delight. They might not have had the easiest journey to getting to this moment, but Y/N knew she wouldn’t change anything for the world.

Dancing with Y/N on an empty dance floor to a song he knew had now become theirs, he knew meeting Y/N would be the thing to ever happen to him in life, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for them together.

thank you so much for reading! i love you endlessly, amores 💜

please come tell me what you loved or your favorite part on anything at all. always happy to receive a message. 

[bluesidez]

AHH CMON REQUESTS!! I know the inbox is flooded girl omg.

okay so as a request, i would really love to see a story where black, plus size reader and Miguel take on wedding planning. Reader is happy enjoying cake tastings, dress shopping, venue hunting etc. and groomzilla!miguel is trying to make everything perfect for her. It can be nsfw, but I trust you with whatever the vibe is! Love you down!! ✨✨✨✨

["It’s My Wife’s Day!"]

lab tester: @leoeloo 🩻

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader, black!Reader, PlusSize!reader

summary: No one is going to stop Miguel's fiancé from having the best day of her life, not if Miguel has anything to do with it.

content warning: AAVE (YAY!), sorry to anyone named Elana or Finley, Miguel gets a little mean here (I tried to keep it reasonable but he’s giving Libra Diva DOWN), mentions of food, some cultural (traditional) things from both sides but nothing crazy, there is one scene that could be triggering for my fellow big girls (but it's handled with care I promise), 18+ at the end so MDNI, it's also pretty suggestive throughout

word count: 8,888k EXACTLY (there should be no mistakes for as long as I've been working on it....but hey)

a/n: AHHHH! I was so happy to receive this request! (You have also been very sweet to me since my very first fic and I really appreciate that!!!) I said on my blog that I really love all things weddings, so this was a super fun write. I just love imagining Miguel in this position of making sure that his girl has everything while the girl is in complete bliss. (The mom here was also heavily inspired by my own mom who is much more active than I am in terms of telling people off.) As per our DMs, I did sprinkle in a little GR!Mig mannerisms! And! I added him being super in love with reader…but that’s a given. I do hope you enjoy! Also, I LOVE YOU!

Miguel refers to reader as his wife constantly before they’re actually married.

Also a headcanon for Miguel here that isn’t said explicitly is that his Libra trait of indecisiveness is on at all times. 

Miguel could never forget the day you set his heart ablaze when you said those destined words:

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

He was over the moon. Weeks of him getting you to warm up to him, months of him chasing after you, years of him trying to show you that he’s the right one for you, and finally, your hand was adorned in the rock he’s been planning for you for eons. You were truly his lady, now and forever. 

The proposal was quiet and intimate, mostly because Miguel was a bit fearful you would say no, a seed of doubt growing the longer he waited. He steadily reminded you to get your nails done and paid for your hair appointments every now and then. Each time he thought he could do it, he chickened out. 

Then, one night under the stars after an unnecessary work event, his feelings just overloaded. 

You were so ethereal.

He remembers you laughing over something his drunk coworker had said, eyes sparkling as you retold the story. Your curls were parted to the side, earrings dangling past your jaw. Your legs were swinging over the edge of his trunk, not a care in the world as you talked with vigor. 

He thought that he couldn’t live without this. He couldn’t have a life without small moments like this with you. He couldn’t imagine a moment where you weren’t by his side. 

So, the words spilled out of him like water. He took your hands in his and poured his heart out. Finally, the ring box that had practically melted a shape into his thigh was being freed. 

You cried when you noticed what he was doing, emotions doing a complete 180. 

“No wonder you kept giving me extra money for my nails,” you let out a watery laugh as you leaned into him. 

Now, here you both were, almost a year later in the middle of wedding planning. 

The theme and colors were carefully handpicked, the venue was booked, and almost every week, the two of you had something to look forward to. 

Miguel was currently prepping ingredients for tonight’s dinner, listening as you chatted about your great wedding dress search of the day. 

“We stopped by one store, but the lady behind the desk immediately turned us down. I didn’t want to ruin such a good vibe, so I left it at that. Ma was ready to hurt her though.”

Miguel felt his nerves tighten at the news, “What?”

“Yeah, as soon as me and my entourage walked in, she ran up to us saying something about a short stock, but we knew she was lying-”

“What’s the name?”

You raise your eyebrows at his abruptness. 

“Miggy, it’s really ok. Don’t worry over this,” you got closer to him, taking his face into your hand. 

“I’m not. What’s the name?”

You pull his face down to yours, “Nuh uh. I’m not giving you the name. We said we weren’t going to be stressed out over this process, remember?” 

Miguel closed his eyes and brought his hands down your body, leaning his forehead against yours, “I remember.” He blew out a breath and squeezed your ass in hopes that it would help calm him down. 

“Good. Now, you stay right here and I’ll go get ready for dinner. I wanna tell you about this poor girl whose dad didn’t like a single thing she put on.”

You kiss him three times, the last kiss lingering a little longer with Miguel humming into your lips and lean back with a warm smile. Miguel’s hands clinged to you until you were too far to reach and you walked upstairs to change into your house clothes. 

Miguel stood next to the island, tapping his fingers against the granite with a tongue poking into his cheek. 

The dress shopping process was the one he was the least involved in, opting to be surprised on the day you walked down the aisle. You wouldn’t even let his family pitch in for the dress, saying something about running up your dad’s pockets. 

But how does a dress shop conveniently run out of dresses once his fiancé walks in?

Right as Miguel was considering googling every dress shop in the area, his phone buzzed to life. 

Just the person he wanted to hear from.

“Hello?” Miguel turned to toss some butter on a skillet, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

“Miguel…”

He stopped in his tracks, knowing the exact tone of voice your mother was using. 

“What happened?”

“Today was so beautiful!”

“But?”

“But that one shop on James Street? Terrible.”

Miguel would have usually chuckled at the dramatics, but this situation was no laughing matter to him.  

“You should have seen the way the people in there turned they nose up at us! One lady was about to jump out of her skin. All of this for some of the ugliest dresses I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Miguel shifted his position and stood up straight, tossing minced garlic in the sizzling butter, “Did they say anything to you?” His hands were gripping the phone enough to leave indents on his skin.

“Other than telling us how she wouldn’t have anything we would like, no. She didn’t even want us taking a seat in the lobby.”

He moved to grab a pen and a notepad from the drawer, “Do you have the name of the shop?”

“Lady Love. They should call it Lady A Lie.”

Miguel smiled, thankful that he could count on his future mother-in-law to be his partner in crime specifically when it came to making sure that no one brought harm to you. The number one thing that he and your mom had in common was their need to spring into action.

“Thank you. She didn’t want to tell me anything.”

“Trust me, if she hadn’t begged me not to act a fool, I would have cussed that heifer out. She was so nasty and so rude. That ol’ cow.”

“They’ll have a notice from my lawyer by the morning.”

Your mother hummed, “Let me get my iPad out and get to rating they store. It was a bleach blonde butched buffoon named Elana at the front desk. She was the one giving my baby a hard time. Nobody in there was trying to stop her either.”

“I’ll remember that,” Miguel could hear you coming down the stairs, fuzzy slides creating a steady tempo against the floor. “Let me call you back later.”

“She must be coming back. Tell her to bring me back my shoes!”

Miguel chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Was that Ma?”

“Yeah,” Miguel reached to place some chicken on the hot skillet, satisfied with the simmered ingredients he added. “She said to give her those shoes back.”

“She’ll get them back! I’m using them right now. What else were you two talking about?”

Miguel turns down the boil of the pasta noodles, shoulders tensing, “She was telling me about Lady Love.”

You clicked your teeth, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I’m not!” He turned the chicken over while you grumbled into his back. “But she called me with very upsetting news. What am I but a good son? I had to listen.”

“You two are gonna work my nerves.”

“Don’t say that. We’re just not going to sit back and let someone disrespect you like that. What kind of man would I be if I just let somebody not treat you right and I have the means to stop it? So, please. Let me do this.”

You huffed and buried your face into his back, fingers pressing into his skin. His words shut you up. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you, cariño. Now, can you get the salad and the wine out of the fridge? This is almost ready.”

“What are you making?”

“Marry Me Chicken and Pasta.”

“So funny.”

“Ah, I know. It must really work, huh?”

Miguel walked hand-in-hand with you down the fancy boutiques in the shopping district. 

You both had just gotten done wandering aimlessly as you waited for the cake-tasting appointment. Miguel had to be stopped multiple times from buying everything you complimented. 

He was extremely happy to see you giddy about the cake tasting. It was something you’ve been looking forward to since the day you both confirmed a wedding date. 

He’s studied your Pinterest boards heavily, the notifications dinging with every pin. He knows you want to go all out for the cake. Something large enough to feed both of your huge families and something grand enough to match the venue and the theme. 

He arranged for the best of the best to be trying out today and if that didn’t work, he’ll seek someone else. He’ll even bake the cake if he has to, although you’d push him out of the kitchen.

“I hope they have that Biscoff flavor. I heard it was really good,” you turn to him with a hopeful smile. 

Miguel smiled back at you, “I’m sure they will.”

He only lets go of your hand to hold the door open for you, eyes enjoying the view of your body in the flowy dress you were wearing. Earlier, he couldn’t stop kissing over the deep Queen Anne neckline of it, claiming that you smelled too good. You two almost didn’t make it out of the house on time.

“Hello! Welcome in!”

The bakery was bright and homey. The desserts on display were placed on light peach stands and risers and the smell of caramel and cinnamon was strong in the air. Square canvases covered the walls with cute paintings of some of the featured desserts.

“Miguel, look!”

You pull him over to some Miffy-shaped buns filled with different flavored custards. 

“That is too adorable to even eat.”

“But I do hope you’d still be willing to give it a taste!”

You both look up to the friendly face behind the counter. They were a lanky figure with a glitter tattoo of a unicorn cupcake planted on their arm and pink gauges in their ears 

“You two must be the future Mr. & Mrs. O’Hara. Lovely to meet you all.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Miguel reached his hand out to give a firm shake. 

“My name is Finley and I’ll be assisting you all today. We have several beautiful flavors for you to try.”

Finely directed you both to a square table booth in the corner of the bakery. Miguel slid next to your right side in order to wrap his arm around with one hand and eat with the other. 

“Other than the standard Chocolate, Vanilla, Strawberry & Cream, Red Velvet, Marble, and ‘Wedding Cake’ flavors that we offer, the samples for you here include Tiramisu, Passionfruit, White Chocolate Raspberry, Lemon Blueberry, Cookies & Cream, aaaand Dulce de Leche!”

Miguel’s eyebrows went up, feeling skeptical but open. 

“Woah,” your eyes grew at the neat display of confections before you. “I’m so excited.”

 “I’ll be right over here if you guys need me. Enjoy!”

You picked up a fork and dug straight into the Strawberries & Cream.

“That is so freaking good,” you groan out, eyebrows scrunching. 

“Let me see,” Miguel turned to you with his mouth open, eyes full of mirth.

“Miguel, please.”

“What? It’s practice for the real deal.���

“When we’re the only ones in here?”

“It’s going to feel like an intimate moment just between us, no?”

You sigh, defeated. He doesn’t even budge when you shove a giant piece of cake in his mouth. He grabs your hand before you can retreat, licking slowly away at the leftover cream. 

He focuses on the golden fork, working in between the prongs. Time slows down as you watch the white icing disappear into his mouth. His eyelashes are long and pretty and his lips are plump and a little wet from his tongue. 

One more pass of the fork through his mouth and he’s looking up at you with the same fire from this morning. 

You clear your throat, “Is that how you’re going to eat the cake?”

“Something like that.”

You two slowly but surely make it through the rest of the flavors with you trying to stay unflustered and Miguel trying to up the ante. 

He’s grinning and chuckling at your ruffled state until you get to the Dulce de Leche cake. He harrumphs as you cut into it. 

“No, no, you wanna eat cake so bad, so eat it!”

“This isn’t the cake I was talking about-”

“I’m going to shove this fork so far down your throat if you even think of finishing those thoughts out loud.”

 “You know I love it when you get that way,” Miguel sighs and reaches to eat from the fork before you can say anything back. 

You wait in silence as you watch his face contort from disgusted to neutral to pleased. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah?”

“A little too sweet. Abuela wouldn’t like it.”

“Do you like it, though?”

He paused as he watched you take a bite. 

“Maybe.”

“Would you like it as our wedding cake?”

“No….”

You smirked at him, “But you want it as your groom’s cake?”

“…Yes.”

He looks so conflicted about it that you almost feel bad for him.

“Miguel it’s ok if you like it, no one is going hurt you. You know you have a sweet tooth.”

“It is really delicious, like eerily so. It’s not my favorite cake, though.”

“Oh? Was it the Cookies & Cream one?”

“Close.”

You look around the plate, confused as to how fruit flavors have anything to do with sandwich cookies. 

Miguel got closer to your ear, lips grazing the top, “My favorite is you.”

You push his face back with your hand while he grins into your palm. 

“I see you two lovebirds are enjoying everything,” Finley walks back over to the two of you. “Any standouts?”

Miguel lists off the ones you were enjoying the most with ease. 

“We also enjoyed this Dulce de Leche one but we decided it would be best for my cake but before we move on, do you have any Biscoff cake samples that we can try?”

“Of course, let me go get that for you.”

He looks back at you cheesing at him.

“You remembered!”

“Always.” 

Finley comes back with a small Biscoff bundt cake. 

“Now, unfortunately, we don’t offer this flavor for any tiered cakes.”

You took a bite and almost soared. The flavors were just the right mix of salty and sweet, some caramel coating the top. 

Miguel looked from you to Finley, “Can you just do it for one tier?”

“Um, I can ask my boss when she comes back-”

“You can leave her number with me. I would really love to talk with her face-to-face.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good,” Miguel reaches over to wipe some salt off of your lips. “My wife wants a pretty grand cake and she has some particular ideas. We want to be really involved in the process for the best result. No surprises.”

“Absolutely. Would you still want to place that order for the groom cake? We have a sale on toppers for them right now.”

They place a pamphlet on the counter with countless toppers of grooms in pure agony. Some are being dragged by their wives and others are running away. Miguel turns his lip up and moves his eyes to Finely without lifting his head up. 

“These are very tacky and senseless, so no. We’ll place the order for it at the same time as the main cake.”

Finely moves to remove the pamphlet, face red and eyes wet, “I apologize. A lot of the future husbands enjoy them.”

“Do I look like the other husbands that come through here?”

“N-no sir! Not at all.”

“Tell you what, give me your boss’s number and your business card. We’ll circle back. Thank you for today’s tasting.”

“L-let me at least give you some extra dessert before you leave. Free of charge!”

Miguel helps you stand as Finley hops around the store grabbing any and everything. 

“I really hope you consider choosing us for the wedding.”

“The wedding?”

“Your! Your wedding!”

“Hmph.”

Miguel grabs the box from Finley’s shaking hands and promptly leaves the store with you on his arm. You turn back to Finley with an apologetic look and a quiet sorry leaving your lips, though you’re sure they’re still shocked by Miguel’s behavior. 

“I’m going to set up more appointments. We need a backup cake,” he says as he guides you back to the car. 

“You loved those cakes and you scared that poor person to death.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just me eating these cakes. And those were some of the most horrible toppers I’ve seen yet. Who does that?” 

“You would be shocked to know that not every man is willing to celebrate and proudly love their partner.”

Miguel turned the car on and let the cool AC hit his face. 

“But, if you still want to look at more bakeries, we can. More cake for me.”

You turn his face to yours and kiss his lips gently. 

“Now what’s all this about eating me-flavored cake?”

He shifts the gear into reverse, “Let’s get home and you’ll find out.”

When you said you wanted creative and unique pre-wedding photoshoots, Miguel didn’t hesitate to make sure he could pull it together for you. Now he’s starting to regret it. 

You walked out into the studio apartment with an oversized button-down that looked like it could be his, some thigh-high stockings squeezing at your thick thighs, and some black lingerie peeking through the thin shirt material. Your makeup was simple but jaw-dropping with glossy lips and a lovely blush that brought out a glow to your skin. Your hair was in a blowout style, curls bouncing with every step closer to him.

This specific photographer that you had mentioned in awed passing was known for her eye for romantic detail. Her pictures truly captured the love between couples in raw form. When you showed Miguel the pictures on her website, he was quick to get in touch with her to set up a decent amount of photoshoots. What he didn’t expect was for her to have an influx of assistants and protégés to have wandering eyes. 

“Are you going to move the lights or are you going to keep gawking at my wife like an idiot?” 

The one assistant who clearly didn’t understand what Miguel’s death stares meant jumped at his voice and rushed to move things within the set, the entire back of his neck beet-red. 

“Baby, don’t be like that, he might just be nervous,” you slid your hands up his chest, straightening out his “work” shirt. “Don’t fuss at him.”

 “He should do his job then,” Miguel shifted his gaze from the scrambling boy to you, voice getting quieter as he peered down at your excited face. “You do look beautiful, though. Can’t blame him.”

“You like it?” There was a spark in your eye. It was something that Miguel knew all too well.

He glided his fingers down your back, feeling the heat of your skin through the shirt. Your eyes never left his lips as he drew closer. You could feel his breath covering your skin.

The flash of a strobe light caused you to jump.

“These are going to make such stunning outtakes,” Xina gasped as she moved her camera back up to her face again. “Sorry to scare you. Please continue this and we can do the original plan in a second.”

You laughed as Miguel pulled you even closer, pressing kisses against your neck to avoid ruining your makeup. 

The original idea of the shoot was to have Miguel look like he’s coming home from work and walking in on you dancing around in his clothes. The idea was cute, domestic, a little sexy, and true to life. While it wasn’t the set of photos going out with your wedding invitations, it was something fun for your socials. 

As the scene played out, Miguel didn’t expect you to open up your shirt even more as he came back through the entryway. It made for a nice expression when he looked up to see you passionately dancing around the couch. 

You urged him toward you with your finger, hips moving to the music blasting over the speakers Xina had behind the equipment. Miguel grinned and headed your way. 

With Xina’s direction, the both of you were able to get out lively photos as if it were just a normal day in the soon-to-be O’Hara home. 

By the time you all were finished, Miguel was only in a tucked-in tank top with his hair tossed and turned. You still looked perfect on his lap, grinning down at him as he mischievously bit his loose necktie that you placed on your shoulders.

“Perfect!” Xina smiled behind the camera. “Now, one little thing I like to do at the end of each shoot is have the couple face me with their faces together for one final picture.”

You kiss Miguel on the corner of his mouth and lay his tie on top of his head before turning to Xina. Miguel follows with a lazy grin on his face.

It would have all been so well if that same assistant wasn’t still staring at you like he’s never seen a beautiful woman before when Xina started to wrap up. 

He met Miguel’s eyes and almost turned blue in the face trying to look busy.

There were so many more photoshoots to go in the near future. He’s not sure how he’ll make it through the next ones without making a scene. 

“Miguel! The invitation samples are here,” you knocked on his office door, giddy with excitement.

Miguel rolls back from his desk, glasses perched on his nose, “C’mon, let me see.”

You stride eagerly to his seat and he’s waiting with the same energy, pulling you into his lap once you’re within arms reach. You make a noise of excitement as run your finger under the envelope flap. Miguel leans his head on your shoulder waiting to finally see the design you so meticulously planned. 

You slid the cardstock out, gasping as you saw the paperdoll drawings of you and Miguel on the page. The artists did a fantastic job of designing you both in such a stylistic, yet recognizable way. 

“Oh my god, look at the little outfits!”

You panned through the cut-out clothes, one with you all’s work outfits, another with casual outfits, and the last one with a wedding dress and a tux. You brought the papers up to cover your mouth as you laughed again. Miguel’s heart soared at the charming way you reacted. 

“Look! They even captured your cute nose right!”

“You love my nose, huh?”

“Stop,” you snicker as you pull out the last picture. It’s one from a more recent photoshoot with you both in formal, dressy attire with scissors and measuring tapes in your hands and paper hearts everywhere to match the paperdoll invitation. 

Miguel took the invitations from your hands, wanting to get a better look. It really was one of a kind, something you both would be able to look back fondly at. 

He ran his thumb across the words, really taking in the fact that you’ll be walking down the aisle right into his arms. He read the words once more. 

Save the date…

2025…

Miguel &…

“How the hell did they spell your name wrong?”

You looked up from the picture in your hand with a frown, “What?”

“We waited this long for samples and they spell your name fucking wrong.”

You read over the invitation again and let out a groan, “Of course. Let me call the company-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You looked busy when I knocked, I don’t want you to get sidetracked.”

“Making sure that my wife’s name is spelled correctly on our wedding invitations isn’t getting sidetracked. I’ll handle it.”

You felt your shoulders drop, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying releasing from your body. 

“Thank you so much, baby,” you sent him the number with a small smile on your face. 

Miguel gave your lips a peck, “Anything for you. Don’t worry your head about it.”

You stood up to leave, but not before he gave your thighs a squeeze. 

When he was sure you rounded the corner, he immediately pressed the number, blowing slowly through his mouth. 

He was about to work his way to free invitations and a year's worth of service once he was finished. 

Miguel laughed at the video you sent him. You were practically glowing with the turquoise waves in the background and braids in your hair. A giant plumeria was tucked behind your ear and you held a big fruity drink in your hand. 

You were out on your bachelorette’s trip, enjoying the waves in the sand as you caught up with your bridesmaids. He hadn’t seen any annoyed texts yet, so he assumed that the trip was not falling to pieces. 

He could hear your friends in the background bickering about how they had to take your phone away sometimes to stop you from texting him. 

“She got a few more months of being a hoe!”

“Will you shut up?! I’m making a video.”

“It’s true, though! We’re about to go get drunk as fuck. Don’t worry, Miguel, we got her!”

You just rolled your eyes and smiled at their antics before the video ends.

The mood of the video contrasted your texts entirely. They really did get you drunk.

“i miss you alreadyyyyyy”

“I miss you too but you need to have fun”

“I’ll see you soon. I’ll be waiting for you at the airport in just a few days.”

“good”

“you better be waiting for me”

“i wont you”

“shit”

“want you”

“you and your dick”

“gonna sing to him”

“Him?”

“yeah him”

“he’s mine”

“gonna love on him”

“and you”

“miss you so baaaaad”

“the bed is empty without you :((((“

“I hope you remember all of this when you see me baby”

“my name is mrssss oharaaaa”

“idk who baby is”

“Ok well Mrs. O’Hara you need to go to sleep”

“i will go to sleep mr ohara”

“gonna dream of you”

“and my big dick”

“You do that”

“Send me a pic when you wake up”

The night could have ended perfectly. He knew you had fun and crashed safely in your room. There were no problems with the resort or the reservations. You were constantly flooding his phone with pictures without talking because of the “No Miguel” rule he was sure your friends set. 

Miguel wanted to close his eyes in peace. 

So when his assistant sent him the picture of one of the most crucial parts of your wedding, he could feel his neck tightening. He called Ben instantly.

“What the fuck am I looking at?”

“The broom! They had a lot of them at the store but this one was plain and white, so I feel like it’s perfect for the wedding.”

Miguel pinched his forehead in an attempt to keep his eyebrows from molding together, “Do you have a schedule for when you’re this stupid, or is it only reserved for me?”

Ben was silent for a second, “I don’t understand, I thought you said you needed a broom? Is that not what this is?”

“A broom to jump over Reily. For weddings. I told you to check with Jess about it because I knew you weren’t going to have the slightest idea what I was talking about. Imagine if I brought this home to my wife. She would be offended.”

“W-what’s the difference?”

He might find out the difference once Miguel hits him over the head with it. 

“I’m going to fire you.” 

Miguel wasn’t really. He was just so tired. 

“Return the broom. I’ll take care of this in the morning.”

Ben was stuttering and blubbering as Miguel smacked the red button. He needed to look at the pictures you sent again. He didn’t need to fall asleep in such a bad mood. 

Miguel was certain that if he were a celebrity, this would be the wedding of the century with the way the bill was racking up. 

Not that it really mattered, because it was his wife’s day. Anything you wanted, he was going to get it. 

You both agreed on a buffet-style dinner for the reception with different stations and servers to accommodate your huge families. 

Currently, you both were tasting the traditional foods that the caterer had to offer and it was looking less than desirable. 

The greens were a bit bland, the catfish was ok, and the mac & cheese was delicious. 

The pork was a bit dry, the wedding cookies could have been better, and the mole was missing something. 

“I think,” Miguel pushed his food around the plate. “It’s missing banana.”

“Really? I’ve never thought to add that before.”

“For future reference, it’ll really make the difference.”

You wiped your fingers above the plate, “I think this might be a sign to leave the traditional stuff to our dessert table. Some of these are great but I’m sure both of our families will be up in arms with complaints. And maybe this is for the better! Tradition is too on the nose.”

Miguel admires your positivity because this is probably the sixth caterer you both have tested out. 

“We know you’re popular from your page, so what is it that you’re most confident in?”

The woman before you all smiled, “Since you're both looking for a pretty ambitious spread, I think things like a pizza bar or build-your-own stations should be the way to go.”

Through another round of dishes, you and Miguel were amazed by the specialties that the chef had to offer from the customization to the endless amount of options.

After a long Q&A trial between the chef and Miguel:

“Do you have simpler options for the kiddos?”

“Is it possible to do this station and this station right next to each other?”

“Should I hire more help for you?”

“Do you sell this mac & cheese separately?”

“Can you try this mole one more time?”

You both settled on five different stations with food ranging from BBQ to fries to candy. No one will be able to say that they went home hungry.

“Are you satisfied?” you rub Miguel’s chest on the way out to the car.

“Completely. I think it’s going to be great.”

The big day was getting closer and closer with finalizations being made and arrangements galore. The cake flavors were chosen, your dress was being edited to perfection, makeup and hair appointments were already made, and Miguel’s suit was tailored like no other. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were all fitted, especially after Miguel’s constant trips to Lyla’s shop. He was there for nearly every snip, tuck, and seam.

The time was really winding down and you both could really feel that as you walked into the reception venue. 

Miguel woke up that day to a phone call claiming that the venue had been overbooked and was seeking him out to cancel his event. He’s never called people faster in his life. The threats that were made was not something he was proud of, but he’s glad he didn’t wake you up.

Now he has the pleasure of watching you glide around the tables in awe.

“Miguel! Look at the plates! The silverware! The centerpieces!”

It truly was magical watching your vision come to light. 

Miguel followed after you with a grin painting his lips, checking every table for faults. The wedding planner was also next to him, waiting with bated breath for direction from Miguel.

“This should be here,” Miguel pointed to a lone party favor in the middle of a plate.

The planner moves it with ease, used to Miguel’s demands at this point in the process. 

Miguel kept walking towards the tables closest to where you and he would be sitting. 

“I thought I said that these two weren’t supposed to be next to each other? We don’t have time for arguments that night,” Miguel picks up two placeholders. “I don’t want to have to carry our aunts out of here myself. Fix it.”

The wedding planner grabbed them and made a note on their clipboard.

“And where’s the centerpiece for our table?” Miguel checks his watch. “It was supposed to be here yesterday.”

“There was a delay in the flowers. They were the wrong shade, remember? They should be here first thing tomorrow morning, and we’ll have the final touches to it.”

“And you’ll have the pictures sent to me?”

“Of course.”

“Miguel!” you were on the other side of the hall by the dessert table. “The lights over here are shaped like hearts! How cute is that!”

Miguel’s arms unfolded, demeanor shifting as he watched you get excited by the different labels. His chest rose up and the scowl on his mouth disappeared. 

“You really love her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“This is a toast to everyone who has been with us on this long, long journey.”

Your closest friends and family laughed at Miguel’s words. 

Who’s to say that Miguel essentially blacked out making sure that everyone walked down the aisle correctly just a few hours earlier? No one brave enough to bring it to his face.

“You guys have been here from the start. From the moment I decided to pursue this angel of a woman, you guys were right there cheering me on. Now we’re here years later about to take on one of the biggest days of our lives.”

The table was a mix of happiness and nostalgia, excitement and fondness.

“I can’t thank you all enough for being a part of our bridal party. I can’t even thank you guys enough for encouraging us as a couple. The love in this room truly knows no bounds.’

Miguel lifts his glass up with one hand and squeezes your hand with another.

“So here’s to the present and the future. To family and friends. To us, your future O’Hara’s.”

The table clinks their glasses together with a cheer, watching as Miguel kisses you with so much adoration. 

Tomorrow was going to be whimsical.

Today was starting out obnoxious. 

Anything that could go wrong was going wrong for Miguel.

First, woke up almost an hour late due to playing stupid games all night with his groomsmen. He would have preferred one my night with you before the “I do’s,” but apparently that was bad luck. Instead, he got an extensive game night with a couple of beers. Nothing to have him over the edge, but definitely something to make him feel like he was in college again.

Second, he couldn’t find his cufflinks that he had made specifically for this day. They were custom with your initials and your birthstone on them. The room looked like a whirlwind after he searched top to bottom only for Gabriel to have them the whole time and tell him almost forty minutes later. 

He wanted to strangle him.

“Miguel, I have the rings too. There’s no way you think that Peter B. is a better ringkeeper than I am.”

“If you lose them, I swear to god I’m going to-”

“Yeah, yeah. Death, Grim Ripper, stabbing, big whoop. Go calm down.”

Third, for some reason, Peter B. had Mayday in the hotel suite when the only children that were supposed to hit the aisle were his niece and your nephew. 

“Why is that baby here?” Miguel tried to keep his voice level because it’s not Mayday who ran in here, it was Peter who’s constantly doing what he wanted. She was walking around and chatting with the groomsmen who were kind enough to keep up her conversations. Four-year-olds had a lot to say.

“Ah, she’s just here until her grandma comes by to pick her up!”

“Peter, if I pass out before I see my wife today, you’re going to be the first reason.”

Lastly, when everything was finally settled and he was ready to go to the ceremony venue, Gabriel came running in and almost gave Miguel a heart attack. Something about you and crying and Miguel almost broke the door down trying to get out.

“Miguel, don’t look at her!” Gabriel ran after him as he made his way to your suite.

“I’m not, damn it, I just need to make sure she’s ok.”

He was on your floor in a flash, your friends waiting outside the door. 

“Where is she?”

“She’s inside. We calmed her down for the most part, but her aunt got up here somehow and started to talk shit.”

“Miguel, if Jess and her mom weren't able to remove her, it would have been bad. She kept saying things about how you’re being tricked. She kept telling her that she wasn’t worthy enough to be a bride.”

“What?” Miguel walked towards the door. “Let me in.”

“Let us make sure you can’t see her, first.”

“I really don’t give a-”

“Miguel.”

He turned to Gabriel who pushed his hands down in a pressing motion, “Ya relájate, yeah? She’s not going to be centered if you aren’t centered.” 

With that in mind, Miguel waited at the door until he was allowed in. Your friends said you were in the bathroom with the door cracked. He walked over and turned his back to the door, tapping in a light rhythm so as not to startle you.

“You ok, baby?”

He could hear your sniffles and it took everything within him not to take the hinges off the door just to get to you. 

“No, not really. I, I’m terrified.”

“Honestly, me too.”

The door moved a bit, and your voice sounded closer, “What if I’m not the woman you need?

He scoffed, “And what if I’m not the man you need?”

You were quiet for just a moment, “You are more than what any man has ever been for me. I don’t think there’s been even a day where I could fix my lips to say that I haven’t felt your love and your heart. You’re…you’re everything to me.”

“So how do you think I feel when someone has convinced you that you aren’t enough for me?” Miguel turned his head to the crack. “No woman has opened my eyes like you have. No person has stolen my heart and cared for it the way that you have. I can’t even begin to describe the ways in which you’ve changed me for the better. You are my world.”

“Miguel,” your voice was watery as you took a deep breath. 

“If you want to call this entire thing off and go to the Justice of the Peace, that’s fine with me. We can send our family straight to the reception. I don’t care, as long as I have you.”

“No, I want to still have this ceremony. I still want to present our love. I’m just overwhelmed right now.”

Miguel moves to slide his wrist through the door, “Give me your hand.”

You laugh as you take his hand in yours, careful not to lean on the door and smoosh it.

“You are worthy to me and this is only a new chapter in the foundation that we’ve built. No jealous aunt nor any other family member is taking what we have away. I chose you, you chose me, ok?”

“Ok,” you squeeze his hand as rubs the top of yours with his thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Miguel’s heart was hammering in his chest like a hummingbird fluttering around nectar.

He stood at the end of the aisle with his one hand grasping one wrist and a knot in his throat. The seats were filled with waiting people, but he didn't think anyone was more ready than him. Gabriel had patted him on the back once he was down the aisle, now he stood with his daughter at his side making sure Miguel really didn’t pass out.

Miguel’s tunnel vision shifted as everyone got up to watch you come around the corner. Miguel’s breath stopped. 

You really were his world. 

Your smile was blinding as you stepped towards him, your father’s arm wrapped tightly around yours. The closer you got, the more Miguel could feel the air coming back into his lungs.

As he waited for your father to put your hands in his, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was so lucky, he couldn’t believe it. 

As he held his hands out, he had to will himself to relax. 

You stepped closer to him, your warm palms bringing life back to his. 

“You’re shaking.”

He looked to his hands and they did have a faint tremor to them, “I’m excited.”

With eyes for only each other, you both made it through your vows. Miguel damn near brought the audience to tears with his imagery of a lost younger version of himself and you finding him in his aimless pursuit of living. How you opened up to him like a waterfall behind thick vines. How you wrapped your arms around him. How you upgraded his life. 

You almost brought him to tears when you spoke about how he loved you. How he stood tall between all that was against you and guided you to better days. How he never went a day without showering you in some form of love, even when he was feeling like shit. How he made you want to grow old with him and walk through life together. 

To the shock of no one, you both said “I do” with ease, no objection to be heard. 

When he kissed you, the world stopped for only a second and came back down with the celebration from your guests. His hands on your jaw brought you closer to him and one swipe of the tongue before he pulled away had you excited for later. 

One more kiss and you both turned to the crowd ecstatically. The broom was placed in front of you both and with three taps on your hand you both took a huge jump over it. Your family and friends cheered even louder. 

Walking down the aisle to the doors, Miguel could actually pay attention to the crowd. So many people were smiling and wiping tears from their faces. It only solidified the love that he had for you. 

You both laugh as flower petals fill the air around you on the way to the car. 

It was really a joyous occasion. 

Miguel was so happy, he didn’t care what anyone else did.

Ok so, he did stop one of his baby cousins from sticking their entire head in the fondue machine, but other than that, he was so relieved.

The DJ announcing you two as Mr. & Mrs. Miguel O’Hara elevated his mood and the trip to the dance floor for the first dance had his spirits high. 

The two of you had a sexy number, with his hands barely leaving your hips and his fingers sliding up the slit of the sparkly dress you changed into. 

After that, it was hard for him to keep his hands off of you. He tried to distract himself with catching up with family, grabbing food from each station, having dance competitions, laying sleeping kids more comfortably in chairs, anything to stop himself from just dragging you to your reserved hotel room. 

When you two stood near the cake feeding each other bites with hearts in your eyes, he couldn’t help but to lean into your ear and whisper, “Still the second best flavor.”

You hit his chest with one hand and covered your cake-filled mouth with the other. 

By the time you drove off with ribbons and flowers trailing the back of the car, Miguel was practically buzzing getting you all to himself. 

He made that known by carrying you bridal style to the room without a care in the world and you laughing into his neck. 

You kissed his neck as he refused to let you, even for the elevator, “You’re so silly.”

“The better to make you laugh, Mrs. O’Hara.”

“I love it when you call me that. Say it again.”

“Mrs. O’Hara. My beautiful bride today, my beautiful wife for life.”

He passes through the door after you reach to scan the keycard. As soon as he closes it you’re on his face kissing all over. 

“My husband,” you say in between the passes of his lips against yours. “Mr. O’Hara. Will you put me down?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Then how will we finish off our night with a bang? C’mon, baby, I have a surprise for you.”

“Fine,” four more kisses and Miguel let you go. 

“Just go sit on the bed and I’ll be right back.”

Miguel laid his jacket on a chair and walked over to the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt carefully, not wanting to tear the expensive material. He slid his shoes off carefully too, sliding into the fluffy slippers the hotel provided. 

He would say he wishes he could have done more for tonight, but the two of you will be enjoying the fresh air of a foreign country in about two weeks time. 

He sat on the bed as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. There was no telling what you had in store, and he can’t wait to find out. 

“Close your eyes!”

Miguel obeyed, curious as to what you had in store. He could hear the padding of your heels on the carpet getting closer. 

You took his hands and guided them to your ass and with muscle memory, he took a handful.

“I’m already sold,” he said, feeling some light fabric hit his wrists. 

You chuckled at his face, seeing his tongue poked out to the corner and his hands feeling and kneading your body. 

“Ok, open ‘em.”

Miguel parted his eyes to see you in beautiful white lingerie. A white open lace see-through babydoll set hugged your tits tight. Panning down, he could see your thin panty with the string pulled over your hips and the curve of your body on display. Going further down, on your left leg, there was a garter digging into your skin that read “Miguel’s Wife” in bold, red cursive letters. 

“You like it?”

Miguel looked up to you with a tinier veil adorning your hair.

“This garter might be the only thing that makes it out unscathed.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” he leans forward to plant kisses along the top of your chest, pulling your thick thighs around him. “We’re gonna get a complaint.”

“Good,” you raked your nails down his nape, earning a groan from Miguel as you continued to his back. “I want you to make love to me.”

You start to grind along him, feeling the bulge in his suit pants grow. Miguel hummed and started to remove your top. It looked gorgeous on you, but it was useless to him at the moment. Your skin was sparkling all the way down to your nipples and it only made Miguel want to devour you more. 

You gasp as he smacks your ass and hikes you up, his mouth latching onto your areola like it’s fruit from the chocolate fondue today. 

“I’ve been wanting this all night,” Miguel mumbles into your skin. “You looked so amazing today.”

“So did you,” you tilt his chin up to look at his face. “I saw you looking at me all night. You’re not very discreet.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

He got up with you in his arms and flipped you over, “Everybody there should know how I feel about you by now.”

You were a vision. Smooth skin contrasting with the stark white of the panty and garter, veil sprawled out behind you like a halo. Miguel bent down to kiss you again, truly in awe that this was who he had as a spouse. 

“I want you to know how I feel about you too,” you whisper against his lips. 

You guide his hand from your face to your breast to your panties. You part your legs, thighs shaking in anticipation. Miguel's eyes get wider as he sees your lips through the peek-a-boo hole of your underwear. One swipe and your essence is on his fingertips. 

Miguel brings his eyes back to you as he takes his fingers and brings it to his lips, sucking it off with a pop. 

You bite your lip watching him lick his fingers and unbuckle his pants. 

The air is tight and heated, with you open and waiting and Miguel watching and wanting. 

He leans back and pulls his pants down. You look down hoping to see a peek of what’s about to rock your world. 

At the sight of your name and “MIC” in bold black letters across the band you bust out in giggles. 

You sit up as he comes around to the side of the bed, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I’ll never forget it.”

You laugh even more when you see it up close.

“Help me take this off,” he turns around to show your name and “Husband” printed on the back.  

You lean into his back in a fit of giggles, shocked but giddy. 

“We really are soulmates,” you say as you pull the briefs by the leg. “Meant to be.”

Miguel turns back around, bending to slide your mouth with his, “Forever and ever.”

True to his word, it really felt like you were his favorite flavor with the amount of marks he left on your skin before he got back in between your legs. You were so wound tight that with one lick from your hole to your clit, you were already trapping his head there. 

Miguel hummed and hiked your hips up, mouth moving to kiss your lips as if he were making out with the ones on your face. It was absurd how loud it sounded. His tongue kept swirling along your walls while the tip of his nose rubbed against your clit. 

You didn’t know where to keep your hands, but it did look good with your ring dazzling on your finger as you brought your hands to his head buried deep in your pussy. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried as he started to nod his face along your flower. 

Just when you could feel yourself ride to the edge, he took his middle and ring finger and spread you open. You shouted his name as you felt the cool touch of the ring slide in and out alongside the heat of his tongue. 

You don’t remember when you came down, but you remember Miguel’s drenched face kissing along your shaking thighs. 

“No Dulce de Leche is beating that, Mrs. O’Hara,” he reached to pull the soaking lace off, careful not to move the garter. 

“C’mere,” you hold your hands out, wanting to feel him on you. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

Miguel groans into your mouth, grinding his dick along your wet folds. He finds your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“I love you,” he sighs into your mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

One sweet session later, he had you on your stomach, back arched, and yelling into the pillows as he pounded into you. 

You could see stars as his hips smacked loudly against your ass. The headboard was knocking against the wall with every push. 

Miguel was really feeling the wedding attire as he had one hand gripping your veil by your back and the other pulling at garter. 

When you came around his cock, he was diving in right after, letting go into your sea. The shudders of you afterwards had him moving a little more and turning your face to the side to kiss your panting lips. 

By the time you two finished, you were sure the sun was soon to rise. 

Your hair was a mess, the veil was somewhere across the room, and you both were tangled up in the sheets. 

You laid your head on Miguel’s chest, content to listen to his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. He’s rubbing your arm and kissing the top of your head. 

“Thank you so much for stepping up and making this day so magical for me,” you look up at him. “Words can’t explain how appreciative I am.”

Miguel looked back at you, eyes warm, “I just want to see you smile. Thank you for giving me space to handle things.”

You pucker your lips and he reaches to comply. 

“Now, we need to get some sleep. Gotta regain some energy.”

“You’re absolutely right,” you say as you tilt your eyes down to the sheets. “Because I’ve got a show to put on when we wake up.”

Miguel just laughs as he pulls you onto his chest. 

The birds chirping were a nice background noise to you all’s slumber. 

I went through several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares in order to finish this. BUT! I am happy with the result. As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

[mrsnancywheeler]

finnick odair x sweet & oblivious!partner hc's

based off this request

masterlist

finnick usually considered how sweet you were one of the most endearing things about you

except when it was towards certain people who didn't seem to understand it was just your way, being so sweet, in a tooth rotting way, that they assumed you must be flirting with them

additionally you always assumed they were doing the same back even if their flirting was egregiously overt

someone could wink and comment on how nicely your jeans fit, yet you'd assume it was genuine, smile, and thank them even tell them where you got the pair

finnick was constantly in your ear telling you that people were hitting on you, which you'd laugh off and deny

you'd try and make an effort to be more conscious of it when you could see how much it upset finnick that other people would act like you weren't with him

finnick of course never blamed you, it was just how kind you were that would draw everyone in

he adored the sweetness though

the way you'd dedicate lengths of time to find or make something he liked, spend hours with mags and annie to keep them in good company, the way you'd softly take care of him if he wasn't even slightly feeling well, when he was sad you'd cradle him, kiss him, say the loveliest things he imagined a person could no matter how cheesy

"you don't have to doubt us, finn, I'd stay with you past the time when everything's dust, I'm never going to let you go"

"you're my everything, the sea, the sun, the moon, the air, the wind, the grass, the dirt, it's like the angels decided we were meant to be."

"I think I'd be yours in every lifetime and you would be mine, we'd always find each other."

you'd call him handsome, say he was hand sculpted by angels, what a pretty boy he was, literally any time you had the chance

your kisses were so soft, hugs so warm, finnick felt like he genuinely could lay with you for eternity

you'd write him cheesy little poems that would have him blushing and kissing you until you were giggling and kicking your feet as he peppered you with kisses

finnick couldn't understand how someone as sugary sweet as you were could ever love someone as damaged, as ruined as he felt

but if you even saw a glimpse of those feelings you'd fall into pure prose of how worthy he was of love and you could pour buckets of it on him every day

even if he had enough money to buy a new closet for any piece of ripped clothing you'd insist on stitching things back together for him, it's what you parents had once done for each other so you adored doing it for finnick too

nsfw - finnick also was enthralled by the times your obliviousness came into clutch for him, he'd see how far he could go before you even realized what he was trying to do to you, all the comments he could make without you realizing the intentions, it was always adorable when you finally did manage to catch on

you'd bake him his favorite sweet treats, make breakfast and feel guilty if he ever didn't wake you up when he woke and ended up making it for both of you

finnick loved it and seeing the way you insisted on doing anything else to make up for it

finnick would move the heavens and the earth for you and all your kindness, he could never do enough for all the things your big heart would do for him and others

maybe you thought he was made by angels, but he was sure you were one, in the flesh, his own guardian angel intent on showering him in love

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Echoes Of Revenge || Part 1

Character: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Y/N, an analyst at Goldenlix Capital, discovers her promotion hopes crushed by favoritism. Seeking solace in a nightclub, she encounters her past tormentor, Bucky.

Warning: Betrayal, heartbreak, manipulation.

Part 2 : Shattered Echoes

Part 3: All The Lies

Part 4: Sweetest Dreams

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Y/N, an ambitious analyst at Goldenlix Capital, had consistently delivered profitable predictions for the hedge fund. 

Despite her hard work, the promotion she longed for slipped away when the CEO's nephew, Simon, secured the portfolio manager position.

Frustrated, Y/N sought solace at a nightclub with her colleagues. As Y/N immersed herself in the pulsating beats and vibrant atmosphere of the nightclub, she was unaware of the watchful eyes observing her every move. 

The rhythm of the music and the clinking of glasses provided a temporary escape from the frustrations at work.

Suddenly, a lavish display of expensive drinks arrived at her table, catching Y/N off guard. The waitress informed her that they were compliments of the house, leaving Y/N momentarily puzzled by the unexpected gesture.

Just as she wondered who might be behind this gesture, Bucky entered.

Bucky made his entrance with confidence, navigating through the crowd with a swagger that suggested a newfound maturity. 

Dressed in an impeccably tailored, expensive suit, he exuded a sense of self-assuredness. His arrival was accompanied by the subtle clink of cufflinks and the rich scent of a high-end cologne.

As he approached Y/N's table, Bucky flashed a charming smile, his eyes hinting at a mixture of mischief and sophistication. 

However, Y/N, ever focused and unswayed by external displays, remained unimpressed by his polished appearance. She eyed him skeptically, silently signaling that material possessions wouldn't alter her priorities or impressions.

With a smirk, he approached Y/N, confidently revealing, "I thought you could use a taste of the finer things tonight, Y/N. It's on me.”

There, she unexpectedly encountered Bucky, a college classmate with a history of teasing her. Now claiming to be the club's owner, Bucky attempted to flirt with her.

Unimpressed, Y/N looked down on his attempt to impress her. "Owning a nightclub doesn't change who you are, Bucky. I'm focused on my career," she retorted, dismissing his advances.

Undeterred, Bucky tried a different approach, acknowledging his past mistakes. "People change, Y/N. Maybe you should loosen up and enjoy the night," he suggested.

Maintaining her composure, Y/N replied, "I'll pass on the life lessons, Bucky. I have bigger goals than spending my time with someone who hasn't really grown up.”

Y/N's colleagues discreetly made their exit, leaving her alone with Bucky. He nodded appreciatively, acknowledging their departure, and sat beside her, pouring a drink into her glass.

"So, what's the problem? I never thought the nerd of my class would spend money on the expensive table," Bucky remarked teasingly.

Y/N scoffed, "This is expensive? I didn't realize."

Surprised by her nonchalant response, Bucky commented, "Where is the timid Y/N I know? She's gone.”

Y/N gulped her drink, contemplating his observation. "Money. Everything could change because of money," she admitted. 

Her past, rooted in a modest upbringing, had shaped her determination to succeed. Working hard to escape financial constraints, her dream was to become a fund manager.

She looked at Bucky with a hint of disdain. She doesn't appreciate people like him who lead careless lives just because they come from wealthy families.

Bucky noticed the scattered name cards of Y/N's colleagues on the table and picked one up. Reading it, he remarked, "Goldenlix Capital? You work there? That's impressive."

Y/N responded with a nonchalant "hmm."

Bucky, perceptive, ventured, "Let me guess, you didn't get the promotion?"

Surprised, Y/N asked, "How...?"

Bucky leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen many types of people come and go in this place," he said, revealing a hint of insight into the workings of the professional world they both navigated.

Bucky's casual revelation about his observations at Goldenlix Capital intrigued Y/N, prompting her to give him a scrutinizing look. As she contemplated his words, Bucky continued, "It's a tough world out there, especially when you're navigating corporate ladders."

Y/N, still guarded, responded, "You seem to have it all figured out."

Bucky chuckled, "Well, not everything, but I've learned a thing or two. Sometimes it's not just about hard work; it's about playing the game.”

Bucky leaned in, a glint of sincerity in his eyes, as he proposed, "Let me be your client."

Y/N, skeptical, questioned, "Why?"

Bucky shrugged a hint of nostalgia in his tone, "I don't know. Perhaps because of a nostalgic feeling. I want to help an old friend."

Y/N, maintaining her guard, retorted, "We were never friends. You always used me."

With a sly smile, Bucky countered, "Then, I'll use this as my apology letter."

The air between them carried tension, a mix of unresolved history and an unexpected proposal.

As Bucky got closer, the alluring scent of his elegant perfume enveloped Y/N. Their proximity seemed to amplify the tension, a subtle dance of conflicting emotions.

"I'm serious. Give me your name card," Bucky whispered, a soft murmur against the rhythmic beats of the music.

Y/N, somewhat reluctantly, handed over her name card. Bucky took it with a charming smile, his gaze lingering on hers. "Tomorrow your boss will go nuts," he predicted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With a final, lingering look, Bucky gracefully rose from his seat. "See you next time," he said, leaving Y/N in a state of contemplation, the lingering scent of his perfume and the enigmatic encounter resonating in the dimly lit ambiance of the nightclub.

Excitement mixed with intrigue surged through Y/N as she stepped into the bustling office the next day. Her boss, Ivan,  beckoned her into his office with an animated expression, "Y/N, we've just landed a significant new client. The funds have been wired, and you're in charge."

Perusing the financial statement, Y/N's eyes widened at the substantial amount. "This is impressive, sir. I'll ensure it's handled with utmost precision," she assured.

Ivan leaned back in his chair, a shrewd smile on his lips. "Not just impressive, Y/N. Make it triple. We need to show our new client the prowess of Goldenlix Capital.”

Y/N nodded, her mind already racing with investment strategies. "I'll diversify the portfolio, perhaps allocate more in growth stocks, considering the current market trends. And we can leverage options to enhance returns without taking excessive risk," she suggested.

Ivan impressed with her immediate analysis, nodded in agreement. "Exactly, Y/N. Show them why you're the rising star here."

As she left his office, Y/N couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events—Bucky's proposition at the nightclub, the mysterious new client, and now the challenge to triple the investment. 

Now witnessing his portfolio's profits tripling under Y/N's adept guidance, Bucky couldn't help but be impressed. As rumors circulated about Y/N potentially becoming the next portfolio manager, her boss and colleagues acknowledged her exceptional skills.

One day, Bucky approached Y/N with a mixture of admiration and amusement. "I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Looks like you're not just the 'nerd' from our college days anymore."

Y/N, maintaining her professionalism, Y/N replied with a slight smirk, "Money talks, Bucky. It's all about making the right moves in the market."

Bucky, however, seemed persistent in keeping the conversation personal. "Or maybe it's about making the right moves in life," he teased, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unyielding. "Let's keep it professional, Bucky. This is business.”

As Y/N attempted to make a swift exit, Bucky intercepted her, his hand gently restraining her. Irritated, she shot him a sharp look, demanding, "What?!"

Bucky, undeterred, asserted, "I'll double my money."

Y/N, skeptical, retorted, "What for? You already have enough. You need to learn about limits."

With a wry smile, Bucky countered, "If I have to pay a high price just to have a date with you, then I will pay everything."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N dismissed his proposition, "Yeah, right."

Bucky leaned in, a teasing glint in his eyes. "My silly Y/N. Don't you know why I always played with you back then?”

Y/N, unamused, shot back, "You bullied me to get my attention. Are you in kindergarten?”

Y/N, after a moment of contemplation, finally relented, "Fine. One date. But no, I don't want your money. The stock market is not good this time. What if you get mad because you lose money?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone playful, "There's no way I'm going to be mad at you, silly.”

As Y/N and Bucky shared that one date, their connection deepened, weaving a thread of unexpected intimacy into their lives. 

The complexities of their relationship unfolded like a carefully scripted narrative, intertwining the professional and personal in a way that left Y/N simultaneously exhilarated and hesitant.

Her life, seemingly perfect after successfully handling Bucky's portfolio, took an unforeseen turn when her Ivan dropped a bombshell – he wanted to hand over Bucky, her biggest client, to his nephew, Simon. 

The news sent shockwaves through Y/N, her world suddenly tilted on its axis.

Y/N, with a mix of frustration and anxiety, found herself standing at Bucky's doorstep, the weight of her predicament evident in her eyes. Sensing her distress, Bucky welcomed her inside, "What happened, Y/N? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N explained the situation, "My boss wants to hand over your portfolio to his nephew. It's a complete mess, and I don't know what to do."

Bucky, leaning against the wall, studied her with a thoughtful gaze. "You came to me for help. Looks like our roles are reversing."

Y/N, a hint of vulnerability in her voice, admitted, "I never thought I'd need help, especially from someone like you.”

Bucky, his expression softening, replied, "We all need help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak.”

As Y/N faced the uncertain aftermath of seeking Bucky's help, she soon discovered that her most significant competitor, Simon, had mysteriously vanished from the office scene. 

The absence of the rival candidate created a void that only she could fill, paving the way for Y/N to enter the role of project manager uncontested.

The news rippled through the office, and Y/N found herself at the center of surprise and admiration. 

Colleagues congratulated her on the unexpected turn of events, and her boss, puzzled by his nephew's disappearance, acknowledged her as the natural choice for the project manager position.

Gratitude and curiosity again led Y/N to Bucky's door, a soft knock signaling her presence. As Bucky opened the door, a knowing smile played on his lips, "Come to thank me, Y/N?"

Y/N responded with a hint of appreciation in her eyes, "I can't deny that your mysterious touch might have played a role in my unexpected promotion. So, thank you."

Bucky, stepping closer, his gaze lingering, remarked, "I'm always here to help, especially when it comes to you.”

Three months had passed, and Bucky, in the routine of his daily activities, eagerly anticipated seeing his girlfriend. The past week had kept Y/N busy as she jetted off to Dubai to meet with a new client.

However, on this particular day, as Bucky went about his usual tasks, his assistant interrupted, a hint of apprehension in their voice, "Sir, the police are here."

Bucky, initially thinking he had misheard, questioned, "Huh?"

The police, standing with an air of authority, informed Bucky that he was accused of money laundering. Unfazed, Bucky dismissed the accusation with a roll of his eyes, stating, "Money laundering? I'm a legit businessman.”

The police countered, accusing him of using Goldenlix Capital for money laundering. Bucky scoffed, insisting the company was legitimate. 

The turning point came when his assistant displayed a live news report on their phone, revealing that Goldenlix Capital was now branded as a scam company.

Bucky, disbelief written on his face, uttered, "What?!" Realizing the severity of the situation, he urgently reached for his phone, attempting to call Y/N, only to face the frustration of her unanswered calls. 

As the news of Goldenlix Capital being labeled a scam investment company flooded every media outlet, Bucky was engulfed in chaos. Desperate for information about Y/N's whereabouts, he pressed the police, hoping for reassurance.

Bucky questioned, anxiety seeping into his voice, "Have you seen any news about Y/N?"

The police, maintaining an air of detachment, replied, “She went missing."

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief, and he uttered a baffled "Huh?!" The absence of Y/N from the news coverage added another layer of mystery to an already bewildering situation. 

As he grappled with the unfolding events, uncertainty and concern for Y/N's safety overshadow the chaos surrounding Goldenlix Capital.

The unfolding chaos threatened his professional empire and the stability of the connection he had built with Y/N in the past few months.

Fury burned within Bucky as the realization sunk in – he hadn't merely lost money; he had been played. The anger surged through him, a relentless fire fueled by the betrayal he felt. Determination set in, transforming his frustration into a resolute mission.

His mind raced with questions about Y/N's motives, but the lack of information only intensified his desire to uncover the truth. 

Bucky, driven by a newfound resolve, vowed to track down Y/N and unravel the mystery behind her involvement, or lack thereof, in the scandal that had befallen Goldenlix Capital.

As Y/N sat on the beach, watching the chaos unfold on her tablet, a sense of satisfaction washed over her. Finally, her carefully orchestrated plan to destroy Goldenlix Capital was playing out as intended.

The roots of her vendetta can be traced back 15 years when her family, once content in their middle-class life, had fallen victim to a deceitful investment scheme. 

Flashback Start

Introduced by a relative, Y/N's father had invested a small amount in Maxim Capital, enticed by the promise of a 7% monthly profit. The regular returns had built a false sense of trust.

However, driven by greed, Y/N's father had invested half of their savings into Maxim Capital. The deceptive scheme vanished six months later, leaving the company in ruins and wiping out a significant portion of Y/N's family's hard-earned money.

As Y/N's family crumbled into financial ruin after the Maxim Capital scam, her relative, who had introduced them to the fraudulent investment, callously shrugged off any responsibility. The repercussions were severe, forcing Y/N's father to take desperate measures.

Unable to secure a traditional loan due to his plummeted credit score, Y/N's father sought assistance from a loan shark. The borrowed sum might have been small, intended for crucial medicine for Y/N's ailing mother, but its interest was exorbitant.

The loan shark in question, Nicholas Barnes, was none other than Bucky's father.

Fueled by a burning anger and a thirst for revenge, Y/N channeled her emotions into her studies, delving deep into economics to comprehend the intricacies of investments. 

Her pursuit of knowledge became a double-edged sword, with academic excellence as a guise for a more sinister motive.

Even as she immersed herself in her studies, Y/N never lost sight of her plan for retribution. Every lesson about investments and financial strategies became a tool in her arsenal to orchestrate the downfall of those who had once exploited her family's vulnerabilities.

As Y/N navigated the complexities of her revenge plan, an unexpected twist unfolded in the form of Bucky. Fortune seemed to favor her, and she couldn't quite comprehend why the "Goddess of luck" appeared on her side. Bucky's growing interest in her became a peculiar element in her carefully crafted narrative.

While Y/N couldn't fathom the reasons behind Bucky's fascination, she saw it as a stroke of luck. 

Y/N, cleverly using her position at Goldenlix, exploited the opportunity to gather information about the victims of the investment scams discreetly. 

The guise of her role gave her access to crucial details, names, and backgrounds that would later become instrumental in executing her revenge.

In the case of Bucky, her intentions were more straightforward – to pilfer his wealth. The intricate dance of trust and vulnerability between them served as a cover for her ulterior motives. 

Y/N, driven by a desire for retribution, saw Bucky's financial downfall as a key component of her revenge plan.

Their shared history of friendship only fueled Y/N's determination to make Bucky understand the anguish of misplaced trust. 

Just as Nicholas had played with her father's trust, she intended to manipulate Bucky's emotions, leading him down a path of betrayal that mirrored her family's pain years ago.

Flashback End

As Y/N settled into her seat, her fingers danced across the keyboard with purpose. Each keystroke represented a meticulous calculation, determining the amount of money – with the accrued interest over 15 years – that Goldenlix Capital had pilfered from their unsuspecting victims.

With a determined click of the 'Send' button, Y/N initiated a digital cascade that would return the ill-gotten gains to those who had fallen prey to the investment scams.

Despite the years that had elapsed since their losses, she hoped this restitution would bring peace to the victims.

As Y/N gazed up at the sky, a quiet moment of reflection enveloped her. The weight of her actions, the meticulous plan for revenge, and the redemption she had sought for her family hung in the air. 

She hoped, somewhere beyond the vast expanse above, that her parents would be proud of her unconventional method of reclaiming their lost money.

One year later, in the quiet embrace of a small town, a remarkable female teacher had become a beacon of inspiration at the local elementary school. 

Known for her exceptional skills in teaching mathematics, she cultivated a passion for numbers among her students. She led them to triumph at the Olympic level, earning gold medals for their achievements.

The echoes of her dedication resonated through the halls of the school, leaving an indelible mark on the young minds she nurtured. 

The once-sleepy town now boasted a newfound pride in its educational achievements, thanks to the remarkable teacher whose commitment and expertise had transformed the academic landscape.

The routine exchange of greetings became a familiar melody in the small town's elementary school. Every morning, as students hurried through the hallways, they would greet their beloved teacher with a cheerful, "Morning, Miss Y/N."

Y/N, now a beacon of knowledge and guidance for these young minds, responded with a warm smile, echoing, "Morning, don't run in the hallway."

"Okay."

The simple yet affectionate interactions spoke volumes about the transformation Y/N had undergone – from a seeker of revenge to a nurturing educator shaping the future

As Y/N reflected on the passing year, a bittersweet smile played on her lips. Justice had been served as the boss of Goldenlix, and Ivan faced the consequences, forced to part with his ill-gotten wealth to cover legal expenses.

However, when it came to Bucky, a twinge of regret and sadness lingered in her heart. The connection they had forged amidst the intricate dance of revenge carried a weight of impossibility. The revelation that he was the son of the loan shark, Nicholas Barnes, cast a shadow over what could have been.

Y/N, despite the passage of time, Y/N found herself haunted by a lingering fear that Bucky might seek revenge. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she wished she could overcome the apprehension that one day, the consequences of her calculated actions might come knocking at her door.

As Y/N returned to her small home, an unsettling feeling crept over her. The once familiar space now emanated an unusual coldness. A sense of foreboding settled in, causing her to hesitate before stepping further into the house.

When she decided to leave, her hand reaching for the doorknob, she discovered a chilling truth – the door was locked outside. Panic set in as the realization dawned that she was trapped within her own home.

Fear gripped Y/N's heart as she grappled with the possibility that her past actions might be catching up to her. 

A chill ran down her spine as Y/N stood trapped in her own house when the front door creaked open. The atmosphere shifted as an unwelcome presence entered, and the smile that once held warmth now appeared cold and calculated.

Bucky, who had stepped into her sanctuary, greeted her with an unsettling calmness, "Hello, sweetie. You have some explaining to do.”

Author Note:

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[honeipie]

little rant on the mha boys and relationships.

authors note: this was spontaneous word vomit that i needed to get off my chest. shoto's turned into a whole fic and i struggled writing for him the most omg..

boys included: izuku midoryia, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki

izuku midoryia

ouuu my baby.. first off, his love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service. we all know this boy goes leaps and bounds for people he barely knows. that’s what makes him such a great hero. after watching i just get the feeling that it would take the longest for him to get into a relationship. i’m thinking late twenty’s or early thirties. he watches as his colleagues and friends start to grow their families. getting married and having babies, while he sits back silently wishing that was him. he had so much going on in his life from after the war to becoming the number one hero that he simply lost track of time. it wasn’t his own doing that pushed him to start dating but his friends (mostly kirishima and mina). they tested the theory out first of course. inviting everybody over their house for a get together. the two made sure they got the chance to subtly corner the green haired man.

—

“hey izuku! would you mind holding rumi for a second? thanks!” mina placed the baby in the man’s hands making him a bit startled.

“oh! sure” they both stepped a few paces back into another group to analyze his behavior. it took a few moments but then they saw it. a genuine smile and sparkle in his eye that they hadn’t seen in a while. izuku was tickling the baby’s stomach emitting giggles that made him feel somewhat accomplished. kirishima came back up to him slapping his hand on the back of his shoulder.

“man you’re a natural! why aren’t you dating around? finding your person? clearly you wanna be a dad. do you want to adopt on your own maybe?” kirishima took the baby from a sheepish izuku.

“no, i definitely would want to get married first. but you know how hard it is to date when you’re a hero. you guys are lucky you have each other though. i just don’t want to put that person in danger, or have them just like me because i’m famous of have money. plus, they’d need to be ready to have a family right away.. not that i’d force them or anything! it’s just we’re getting older and-“

mina placed a hand on his shoulder “we get it! i think i know someone that i can set you up with”

—

now let’s say you and izuku hit it off, get into a relationship. this man needs someone who can pour back into him. someone who reminds him that it’s okay to feel overwhelmed from the kind of job he has. someone who tells him it’s okay to cry when it’s just the two of you. someone who’ll let him be izuku midoryia instead of the amazing, unbreakable deku.

he spends all day helping and doing things for others. when he gets home he’s absolutely exhausted. sorry for you independent working ladies but i think he needs someone who’s willing to take care of the house when he’s not around. someone who lets him come home to the warm meals and fresh sheets on the bed.

not that he’s lazy in the relationship or anything! this man will literally do anything to make you happy. on days he’s off or if you had a hard day at work (if you wanna), he’ll help with the cooking and other chores. it’s just for the most part he wears himself thin because of his job. so yeah, he wouldn’t mind someone who already has his dinner on the table when he gets home and gives his shoulder kisses as you two bathe and tell him how resilient he is.

as for kids? yeah get ready, this man wants at least four. plus like he said at this point you’re both getting older so he doesn’t care how yall become parents. whether you’re willing to have some kids, or if you’d rather foster/adopt! all he knows is that he wants to be a dad for sure.

izuku midoryia’s biggest red flag is just not telling you when he’s not feeling himself so you have to deeply analyze him to understand whenever he’s feeling upset. you have to start most of the communication, but when he gets into the groove he lets you know everything that’s going wrong.

katsuki bakugo

this motherfucker.

jk i love him! he just needs somebody that can match his energy in some moments, and be the calm in the storm in another. in short he needs someone with balance.

he would get into a relationship maybe early or mid-twenty’s i would say. i honestly think his love languages are everything but words of affirmation. just the non-verbal stuff. he would be the type to fall in love with someone in a work related context (more specifically his personal assistant). he always thought you were pretty, but if you think this man is going to tell you that you’re fucking delusional. in fact, he goes out of his way to be the sassiest man alive to you until you finally get tired of it. he had said some shit about you getting to his office faster because you were only one floor down.

—

“do you ever get tired of hearing your mouth? because i do” you placed papers down on his desk before turning around “you have a meeting in twenty minutes. the car will be here in five. wouldn’t want you to be late cause i know how busy the elevator gets” the slam of his office door got the gears in his head turning.

ooh, he likes youuu.

the next day, you took the elevator up to his floor but noticed some construction down the hall. you almost jumped when he appeared next to you.

“‘ts your new office. so you won’t have to take the shitty elevator anymore” you gave him a silent nod which acted as your thank you.

—

when you two started dating it’s pretty nice. y’all’s favorite pastime would have to be people watching. you sit outside of a coffee shop with baseball caps and sunglasses on talking about anything or anyone that’s interesting enough to bring up. when the press finally figures you two out all you do is find another shop and do the same thing.

now it's more of the opposite with katsuki than izuku. he loves that you keep yourself occupied with a job and will do anything to support you on any career goals you have. though if you do want to stay home he'll support that too. katsuki is going to need somebody who sticks with him through his good, his bad, and his mf ugly. someone who is able to know when to give him the space he needs. the love that he likely needs to receive the most is physical touch and words of affirmation, and it's really good if you do both at the same time. i think the most effective on him would strangely be the little doses. like a small squeeze to his hand and just saying "i'm so proud of you" or "you're my number one hero" would make him feral.

time for katsuki's red flag. he would absolutely put his job before you! just because he's in a serious relationship doesn't mean that he still doesn't want to be number one. and if you want kids that's going to be tricky. now here's the thing.. katsuki wouldn't mind having one or two kids, really, but you see right through him. he already cancels on a lot of your dates, and makes up for them eventually, so you get over it. but if you had kids you don't really know how it would affect them. you knew that he would support you at first, taking time off for maternity leave, but after that then what? kids wouldn't understand why he was choosing the world over his own flesh and blood. so you mightt just have to wait until he matures a bit more to have that conversation.

shoto todoroki

i had to work myself up to write him cause wheeewww. where do i start? to get into a relationship with this man you gotta be in it for the LONG RUN. not because of his job or anything, just because he's him. yeah, he's maturing beautifully as he goes through life but baby he still don't know what a real relationship consists of. his love languages gift giving and quality time. i think really heavy on the quality time because he never really got to spend time with the people he loved when he was younger so he makes sure to cherish those moments now. i couldn't tell you when specifically, because it'll just happen on one random day.

honestly, my best guess is that he would fall for someone he sees everyday while doing one part of his routine. for instance, he has his own personal gym, but he’s grown to like running in the park better than his treadmill. that's where he sees you for the first time walking your dog. you'll both smile politely as you pass one another every day. this goes on for about a month until you start to not show up for about a week.

—

after one of the hero meetings shoto decides to bring it up with izuku "there's this girl i see when i run, and i haven't seen her in a whole week. it's strange, but i'm kind of upset when i don't get to see her"

izuku smiled hearing shoto finally talk about someone he’s interested in "you've got a hallway crush!"

shoto scrunched his face in confusion "izuku, i run at the park near my house"

"no, that's not what i meant! it's just another saying for a crush on someone that you just see but don't really talk to" izuku tilted his head one finger on his chin "do you want to talk to her?"

shoto thought about it for a moment "yes, i think i do"

"i can help if you want!-"

"hah!?" katsuki's voice boomed throughout the room. as always, he had been listening into their conversation "you wouldn't know how to talk to a woman even if someone gave you cue cards!"

"kacchan, once again, nobody was talking to you"

"that's what i would say to you about women" he got up with a tsk "text me when y'all are going out for a run. i want to see this trainwreck live and in color"

so that's what they did. the next morning they all joined shoto for his morning jog. he kept an eye out until he saw you. he stopped right in his tracks causing katsuki to run right into his back.

"watch where you're going you icy hot bastard!" he yelled but shoto paid him no mind.

"there she is" he mumbled, watching as you unclipped your dogs leash.

"okay first off don't fucking stare at her you weirdo" katsuki grabbed his shoulder turning him away with izuku nodding in agreement.

"maybe you can compliment her dog!" izuku suggested but katsuki shook his head.

"nah, go for the shoes. chicks love shoes"

right as they started bickering shoto felt something jump up on his leg. he turned to see your dog had run up to him in an excited manor.

"bruiser!" you yelled out chasing after him. once you got ahold of him you smiled up at the pro hero "i am so so sorry about that. i thought he was finally ready to be let off the leash but i was wrong" you tried to stop your racing heartbeat. not only from the running, but maybe from the fact that the top three heroes were standing right in front of you.

"i like your dogs shoes" shoto blurted making both katsuki and izuku curse under their breath “and im glad you’re fine. i haven’t seen you for a week so i was starting to get worried”

"you noticed? i was on vacation. and i like yours.. too?" you said going to latch the leash back onto your dog's harness.

"thank you, but i don't have a dog" shoto stated rather bluntly making you chuckle.

"right, my mistake"

the two of you got into conversation rather easily forcing the other two to talk on the side. the only reason they were still there was to make sure shoto didn't fumble the bag "i like your dog's name"

"ah, thank you! i named him after the dog from legally blonde. have you ever seen that movie?"

"no, but it must be good if you named your dog after a character"

"yeah it is! i think they're actually playing it at this drive-in movie theater tomorrow. i was thinking about going"

the two men had subtly made their way behind you. as soon as you said that they both perked up making exaggerated motions.

'go with her!'

‘ask her out dumbass!'

shoto squinted his eyes trying to decipher what it is they were saying. when he finally got it he nodded looking back at you "i would like to take you there tomorrow on an official date"

your mouth slowly opened at his boldness before pointing to yourself "me? are you sure?"

"yes, i think you are very pretty and i like seeing your face every day when i run"

'o-okay then. i'll see you tomorrow"

right before you could leave izuku and katsuki dramatically held up their phones.

"oh right. can i take your phone?"

"are we going to have to go on this fucking date with him?" katsuki mumbled turning to izuku.

"might be a possibility"

—

i feel like once this man finally starts to get the grasp of what a relationship is truly about he gives in that he is head over heels in LOVEEEE. he doesn't care what you do, honestly. working? cool he's showing up there once or twice just to make sure you’re okay. wanna stay at home? the best part of his day is coming home to his true love and seeing what they made for dinner.

for the topic of kids he's so insecure about it at first. not wanting to end up like his father of course. but if you give him enough reassurance and time then after you have your first kid he knows he wants more.

shoto's red flag could easily be that he's emotionally unavailable but hear me out. at the end of the day he still grew up in the todoroki household and might've picked up some traits that aren't the best. we all know this man is blunt so he has no problem dropping snarky comments like "you gained weight" or "i don't really like your hair like that" and i don't even think he means to be rude most of the time?? homeboy just says what he thinks. though if it's really getting to you and you bring it up to him he will 100% start to think before he speaks.

[kaitsawamura]

-> somebody come get her (she's dancing like a stripper)

-> SUMMARY

You have bills to pay. That's the only thing on your mind when you go in for your shift at the strip club. The only thing on your mind until you see Daichi.

Daichi doesn't expect to find you, the girl of his dreams, at the strip club. In fact, he's 99% certain he shouldn't be here. But now he can't stop thinking of all the things he'd let you do to him.

Will your mutual attraction pay off for the both of you?

-> STATS

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Stripper!Reader (get that bread!)

Rating: M for Mature, MDNI

Warnings: My take on a corruption kink except Daichi's the one getting corrupted

Tags: Corruption, strangers to lovers, smut I tell you, filthy filthy smut with my husband, strip club au, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, a bit of choking (like a tiny bit), hair pulling, nasty nasty f*cking with my husband, sex in public (sorta, it's in a public restroom), a little dominant confident Reader (if I missed anything y'all can let me know in the DM's)

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: I knew the moment I saw Mint's post . : HERE : . that I had to write something about it. They obligingly gave me the go ahead to be inspired so off I went a-writing. Obviously, this might be considered mild corruption by some but to me? This was like I went into a blackout and woke up not knowing what year it was. So, here you go, enjoy some nasty filthy smut with my love!

-> LINKS

Main Masterlist

HQ Masterlist

Playlist

Moodboard

“Rent’s due on Monday,” your roommate reminds you, concern masked with sympathy clear on her face. She’s not trying to be mean or overbearing but damn it, the stress of the situation makes you want to snark back. But you don’t.

“Do you have your half?” She nods. You nod back decisively. “I’m working tonight. Fridays are good days to work. It’s my first one without shadowing anyone. I’ll have the rest of my half in tips, don’t worry.” Her face brightens as she pours herself a glass of orange juice, sunlight streaming in the kitchen window of the tiny two-bedroom apartment you share with her.

“Thank god. The landlord’s being an ass again. We’ve been late one time. I have half a mind to give him a list of all the things wrong in this shithole instead of the check.” You roll your eyes conspiratorially but in reality, you don’t know if you’ll make your half in tips or not. Maybe your boss will give you an advance. You’ll talk to him tonight. He was surprisingly reasonable so the odds were at least in your favor.

Either way, you’ll get the money. You just hope you’ll be able to put the nervous energy thrumming through your veins to good use.

Daichi Sawamura should not have come here tonight. The guys in the office had convinced him, said there was a new pretty girl who was exactly his type. But this place was not the sort he was used to coming to. It wasn’t that this establishment was a bad one or that he had any problem with it; people had to make money how they could. Empowerment and autonomy and all that. It was more that he felt a little inadequate if he was being completely honest with himself. He wouldn’t know what to do with someone from here. He was used to good girls, the ones who had a routine and didn’t like anything too kinky. Which was also fine. But there were things he wanted to try, had a suspicion he would like that he just couldn’t ask of anyone he’d been with. He scrubbed a hand over his face, realizing the conversation he was having completely in his head was stressing him out.

“Dai, bro, just relax. She’s pretty. You better tip her good but you don’t have to talk to anyone but me and the bartender if you don’t want to. Just enjoy the show.” Kuroo smirks at his friend; it has been a long week. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve to wind down. Part of him just wishes he was doing it in the comfort of his home, with his favorite ramen from around the corner and a good movie. But who knows, maybe he’s getting complacent.

So he sits in the seat Kuroo has pulled out for him, a front-row spot directly in the middle of the runway. Right in front of the center pole. The seats are comfortable and he’s got a whiskey neat in his hands. He can feel a little of the stress release from the muscles in his traps, can feel his jaw unclench just in the slightest as the first warm sip of whiskey flows down his throat.

This is fine, he reassures himself, pushing work from his brain. Kuroo takes a sip from his own drink, a fruity one that he insists is the most delicious ever but is just a little too sweet for Daichi. The place is in a lull right now, preparing for the next act. But soon there’s a growing murmur from the back. Someone whistles, and a few others catcall. Daichi bristles just a bit, but he can’t even see anything until you hit the steps and it’s then that Kuroo elbows him.

“That’s her,” he says, raising his voice so Daichi can hear over the now thrumming bass. He feels it in his toes, in his chest, in his head. But your steps, the bounce of your tits in a skimpy bright blue bikini top, he feels in his dick. It barely covers anything, just like the matching bottoms. Cute little bows keep them on your hips and your heels are a deep black. As you get closer, your walk slow and sensuous, he can see the peep toe and your fresh French manicure poking through. He tries to adjust his navy suit pants with little success. He’s in so much fucking trouble.

You strut up the steps, the blinking LED strips embedded into the floor blinking in rhythm with the bass and the rhythm of your hips. You put a little bit of extra attitude into the sway tonight, praying to any higher power that will listen that tonight will be a good one for tips, even though it’s your first show without any supporting performers. Part of you gets it; you’re new. The owner has to make sure you know how to use those doe eyes and amazing tits properly. The other part of you, the one that knows you’re hot and knows exactly what you’re doing, wanted to smirk a little when your boss had said you wouldn’t get a Friday on your own until you’d completed two weeks of bartending and shadowing.

Your hard work has paid off though, and when you take your place at the center of the runway, you know you have your audience hooked even before dancing. There’s one guy in particular, right below you. He got arguably the best seat in the house along with his friend. You’ve seen the friend before, all confidence, slicked-back black hair, and a steamy attractive smile. Your coworkers say he’s pretty regular and always tips well. Thank god. The one next to him though, you don’t know anything about him except for the fact that the five stages of something flow across his face as you make eye contact with him. The low lighting does nothing to hide the blush flushing from the open neck of his crisp white button up to his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. He’s got a wad of cash already set casually on the bar top in front of him.

You smile, bright and unguarded, knowing. You’ll have the rest of Monday’s rent if he’s an indication of the rest of the customers that will be coming in tonight. He turns away, uncomfortable. Aw, how sweet. So unlike some of the slimy patrons you’re used to. Something you don’t like trips low in your belly. The biggest rule was no sex with any of the customers. It was in place for a reason and a majority of the time was a good one. You remind yourself of it as the song for your first dance starts playing over the speakers.

Buss it, buss it, buss it, buss it

Is you fuckin’? Two shots, fuck it

You take a deep breath, hands on the shiny silver pole, and wrap one leg around it. The metal is cold to the touch but something else has goosebumps crawling up your bare skin. When you spin, turning in the new guy’s direction, your suspicions are confirmed that the feeling is not the rest of the eyes on you but his. And his are suddenly, somehow, the only eyes you want to perform for. So you do.

Daichi can feel Kuroo snap to attention next to him; he can’t blame him. You’re stunning and you know it. You look like maybe you shouldn’t know how to do this so well, but none of that matters as all coherent thoughts leave Daichi’s head when you spin and drop, rolling your hips so your ass faces him. You turn and look at him as you rise slowly, a deliciously naughty smile still all over that pretty little mouth. He rushes to take a sip of his drink, drums his fingers on the bartop, runs them through his hair, anything to occupy his hands. Because he knows the only place they really should be is all over you. Oh, the things he would let you do to him. He’d do anything for you. He takes another gulp of whiskey, disappointed when he drains the heavy glass.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He knew you were making eye contact with him but when you get on all fours and crawl to him like some lethal jungle cat, the end of the song nearing, he knows he’s in for it. And he’s okay with that. Any doubts he had, about being here at least, have vanished completely. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but he leans forward to meet you where you are at the edge of the stage. The crowd is roaring around him, the cheers only growing louder at the chemistry shooting like electricity through the air between the two of you. They’re jealous cheers he thinks, although he’s sure as hell not looking away long enough to check anyone’s expressions to confirm.

“Got anything good for me, pretty boy?” Your voice is pitched low as you blink big eyes at him, a smirk playing on your lips. Because, goddammit, he is pretty. Prettier than any other patrons you’d ever catered to. You would not mind if he came to be one of your regulars, regardless of any funds that might be exchanged. You would not mind if he came regularly—in your cunt, on your ass, on your tongue… A girl could take her pick with a man like him. Thick dark hair, glittering brown eyes, full lips. A barrel chest and wide shoulders to boot. No sex with the customers, no sex with the customers, no sex with the customers…

You watch, heat pooling low in your belly, as he unbinds the cash you had noticed earlier. You can’t quite figure him out. Because he’s making eye contact with you as he spreads the folded bills, licks his thumb, and pulls out two crisp Benjamins but there is a nervous tremor in his large hands as he passes the bills to you. Your eyes widen, the act dropping momentarily before you catch yourself and push out your bottom lip in a pout.

“Hm, a girl should get a little more than that for such a good performance, don’t you think?” You are completely used to this, the schpeel. You’ve done it thousands of times at the last place you worked and hundreds more at this club. It’s part of the persona within these walls. Mystery man is apparently not used to acting this way. You can see the war within him as you take the bills and he leans back, trying to be casual but every line of him is taught like a rubber band about to break.

“You here all night?” Don’t give anyone your schedule. If they like you enough, they’ll figure it out on their own by being a regular paying customer. You nod, liking this new game. Toeing around something you would normally consider dangerous, if only for all the variables far out of your control. But that makes it all the more fun, especially when he clicks his tongue behind his teeth and replies “Good, then so am I. I have more where that came from. Do you?”

Kuroo is watching the interaction with a gaping mouth. Daichi doesn’t have a clue where this new side of him is coming from. Except. Except he does. And it feels damn good. Despite being sure it is glaringly obvious that he is leaping so far out of his comfort zone, you seem to be very receptive. He shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of staying all night. He could use some sleep. But he could also use that mouth around his cock. You probably have rules, rules that should be followed, for your safety. Daichi knows he’s safe, but you don’t. He most definitely should not ask for your number or give you his or ask what time you’re off. You shouldn’t answer him.

But you do, nodding earnestly when he asks if you’ll be here all night. He has no choice. There’s something about you that he can’t shake off. The extra cash is of no consequence to him, and maybe, just maybe… No, he won’t let that thought go further. He won’t imagine how you’d look on your knees, or bouncing on his cock. He won’t imagine you writhing beneath him or securing him to his headboard with those cuffs he’d bought but never gotten to use. He won’t imagine you breathily calling him pretty boy again even though, fuck, he wishes you would so, so bad.

“What’s your name,” you ask before you can stop yourself, before you rise to your feet. The rules here are good ones, meant to keep both the patrons and performers safe.  You’d worked at other establishments before that didn’t care so much about safety so much as they cared about money.  Your radar has never been off in the past and maybe that shouldn’t be enough for you but everything about Mystery Man makes you want to break every rule ever set before you.  There’s something about him that makes you want to risk it all.  You want to hear him whimper and you’d place bets that you could get him to do it in record time.  Even now, his breathing is shallow and he seems unable to answer you.  His friend leans over, elbowing him into action.

“His name’s Daichi.  And mine’s Kuroo.  Ya know, in case you wanted to know.”  His smile is genuine, not creepy at all.  You return the grin as you stand before turning back to Daichi.  He straightens a little, snapped back to reality by his friend.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say to Kuroo.  He is attractive, just not who you have your eyes set on.  But it’s good information to pass along to your coworkers.  Judging by his tailored suit that fits just as good as Daichi’s, you’d wager his job pays like his friend’s.  The music swells again, the DJ cueing to your next song.  “Kuroo, make sure your friend doesn’t go anywhere.  Tonight’s for him.”  Kuroo scoffs in friendly disbelief at Daichi’s luck.

“I’m hauling you to the club more often,” he says to Daichi, who flashes a quick small smile.  Oh god, that smile could bring anyone you know to their knees.  It could certainly do it to you.  That smile alone could get you to do anything Daichi would ask.  You point at Kuroo as you take your place at the center pole again.

“I’m holding you to that, Kuroo.”  You brace your hands one over the other on the pole, and shake your ass for all it’s worth.

Body crazy, curvy, wavy, big titties, little waist.

Daichi’s going to have a stroke, he just knows it.  He can feel the veins in his forehead and neck bulging.  The blood has flowed elsewhere too.  His cock is so hard it feels painful.  There are several different ways he could get relief, most of which he should not be considering seeking in a public area.  But it’s unbearable and there’s no way he’s going to let himself come in front of all these other people.  He waits for the end of your current number and then he’s standing so fast his chair screeches out behind him; a couple of people look his way but for the most part, you’ve got everyone’s attention.  Kuroo glances sideways at his friend; he doesn’t say anything, just smirks as Daichi tosses another hundred on the bar top, telling Kuroo to give it to you before rushing to the bathroom.

He makes his way down the hall and notices there are several doors marked RESTROOM in bold capital letters.  Thank god there are single-person stalls.  He stumbles into one, shutting the door and locking it with shaking hands.  The music is still audible, even here; it seems to have dropped to a low steady hum.  Intermission.  Perfect.  Daichi turns to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, one last attempt to snap himself out of this fucking trance.  Because that’s what this has to be.  He’s getting all hot and bothered over someone who he doesn’t even know.  And god, he wants to think that you like him but he knows he’s tipping good and he’s not one of those creeps that can’t recognize it’s your fucking job.

The image in the mirror is one that almost shocks him; his eyes are glazed, and his hair’s a mess.  Just once, he just needs to come once and then he can stay here until the end of the night like he said he would.  He’ll tip you like a good customer would.  Then he’ll leave and he’ll never come back.  Because this?  This is Daichi out of control and he’s not sure that’s a good thing.  Maybe he should go back to making love to nice girls in his king-sized bed.  Yes, that’s what he’ll do.  He’ll leave here and he won’t come back and he’ll never think of you again.

Daichi unbuckles his belt, the metal of the buckle clanking as he yanks his zipper down.  He lets out a pained breath, his cock straining against his underwear.  He slips his hand into the elastic band, taking it into his hand and bringing it out into the air.  He backs up to the wall, the cool air offering little comfort for the engorged head, and closes his fist around himself.  A breath comes fast and heavy out of his mouth as he starts jacking himself off slowly, trying to make the moment last.

You watch as Daichi stands abruptly, so quickly and sharply that he almost topples his chair over.  You watch as he tosses another bill on the bar top, leaning in to say something to Kuroo.  You watch as he throws one last glance your way before beelining to the bathrooms.  Idiot.  Absolute idiot is what you are because you’re making your way off the runway, ignoring the audience as a low boo goes through the crowd.  Your boss catches your eye from the end of the bar and waves you over.

“What the hell is going on?”  It’s not said unkindly but more with an air of annoyance.  This is your first Friday night on your own and you might be blowing it.  But you don’t care.  You put on a fake wince and point at your head, trying to look as contrite and imploring as possible.

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s my first Friday and I’m so grateful.  But I’ve really gotta pee and I’ve got this horrible headache starting.  Can I take ten?  Just ten minutes, enough time for an ibuprofen to set in while I go to the bathroom, and then I’ll be back out.  Please.”  You put those big eyes back to use, blinking slow and tilting your head slightly like you’re trying to relieve the pain of your fake headache.  Your boss squints his eyes but doesn’t protest as he pulls a bottle of Advil from behind the bar.  He hands you a couple with a glass of water.

“Ten minutes.  Go to the bathroom.  Take a breather.  Then get your ass back out there.  I’ve seen the business you’re encouraging after two sets.  You’ll be back up there as one of my main performers if you keep up the good work.”  You smile as you throw the pills back with the water and hurry in the direction of the restroom, pulling on one of the extra robes from the bar.  Now to find Daichi.

A couple is making out in the hallway; you brush past them and knock quietly on the first door.  A voice answers quickly that the stall is occupied but it’s not Daichi’s voice.  You knock on two more doors before getting to the last one.  You suppose he could have gone into the multi-stall restroom but you’d seen the look on his face when he’d stood and you’d bet all the cash he’d given you so far that he wasn’t coming back here to take a piss.  You rap your knuckles on the last single-person stall.  You’re rewarded with his voice coming from the other side.

“There’s someone-ha-there’s someone in here!”  He can barely get the words out; you know what’s going on in that stall and you want to help.  You rub your thighs together, realizing you’re already getting wet.

“Daichi, it’s me.”  This is stupid.  Maybe he doesn’t even like you that much.  Maybe you’re just some stripper at a strip club.  There’s a heavy silence now, almost solid enough that you could cut it with a knife.  Another pause and you’re getting ready to leave, cursing your confidence for all that it’s getting you, but then you hear the click of the door unlocking.  He opens it but only just so.  Still, it’s an invitation and one you are eager to accept.  You open the door just wide enough to slip through to shield yourself from any potential wandering eyes in the hall.  The scene inside the stall nearly wrecks you.

Daichi has backed up against the wall, as far away from you as humanly possible.  It’s so obvious that he’s been jacking himself off. His hair is messy, his eyes wild like he was already on the brink. He’s desperately trying to cover his cock with his hands and even though they’re large, they can’t cover it completely. You meet his gaze, which he tries to avoid, his eyes fluttering left then right with shame, before finally settling on you. Something trips across your skin.

“Babe, let me help you with that,” you whisper as you direct your line of sight to his cock. It twitches as you move closer, slowly, as if you’re approaching a cornered animal. Daichi groans a little when you reach him, one hand steadying on his shoulder and the other reaching up to touch his face.

“This is—this is not what it looks like, I swear. I promise I’m not some creep, I just—” You put a single finger softly to his lips, making sure he’s got his eyes on you. They widen just a bit. In the brighter light of the bathroom, you can see how rich the color of his irises are, golden brown like sunlight streaming through an autumn wood, or espresso, or something corny like that. Fuck the rules.

“Daichi, can I kiss you?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. His mouth drops open but his eyes rove from yours down to your lips, then your covered chest, and back up. Finally, he nods so you guide his face down to yours and kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and pliable. He makes a little sound in the back of his throat, so unlike the image he’d put out walking in this place with his fine, tailored suit and stack of cash. Your hand slips from his shoulder and moves down the ridge of his pectoral, then lower still to the hard planes of his stomach. You trail your fingers over the now wrinkled fabric, close to his undone belt and open pants. His cock jumps against your abdomen past his hands and he gasps. “Is this okay?” You ask the question, certain that Daichi just needs the chance to give in. He nods again so you smooth your hand lower until it wraps around his cock.

Daichi’s head thunks against the wall of the bathroom as another sharp breath explodes from his open mouth. “Oh, fuck,” he growls quietly. You move your hand experimentally, softly, swiping your thumb across the head, gathering the bit of precome at the tip and smearing it about. You can’t decide what you want to look at more: the red bleeding over Daichi’s skin from the neck up, his heaving chest, or how his cock looks in your hands. He’s so… responsive. Each turn of your wrist has him shuddering beneath you. More. You need more. You want to see him beg. And part of you also realizes that he needs this too. You drop to your knees and his eyes snap back open as he watches you. “What’re you doing?”

“Only what you want me to do, Daichi. Unless you don’t want me to?” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s shaking his head. He wraps his hand around yours, enveloping it, and moves it once, twice, over himself. A thought occurs to you, one you’re denying even as you ask him “Daichi, have you ever come down anyone’s throat?” The answer is obvious but you still feel incredulous as he tells you no. The veins in his hands are bulging and he’s still, like the calm before the storm. You lean in, maintaining eye contact, as you blow a breath over his cock. “Do you want to?”

It’s like you flipped a switch. Daichi, slowly now so you have time to pull away if you want to, curls his fingers in your hair, stroking them along your scalp. “Yes, please.” He whispers it, certain this is a dream. This has to be a fucking dream. He’s had a blow job before but never has he ever asked to come in someone’s mouth. He’s a clean guy but he’s not clueless; he just assumed most people thought it was gross and never had a problem with the fact that no one wanted to do that. At least not anyone he had been with. But, oh, he’d thought about it, lots of times. Most of those times in one night.

His pupils are blown wide as you lick your lips and take just the tip, swirling your tongue over the head. His skin is smooth, molten hot. The way your eyes never leave his is something else entirely and when you hollow out your cheeks and relax your throat to take all of him, he thinks he might die. He’s trying to maintain some semblance of control but it is already dwindling to nothing. There’s a coil building in his abdomen. Not yet he thinks viciously. Not yet. You take a few more pulls before releasing him with a pop. Frantic, he feels frantic. Maybe you decided you didn’t want to do this and he’d have to be okay with that, he couldn’t blame you but god damn—

“Daichi, eyes on me.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobs as he locks in on you again. “Let go, babe. Show me how you want it. Pull my hair. Set the pace. And when you’re gonna come, you come down my throat. Nowhere else, you got it? I’ve got five more minutes. Think we can get you there, pretty boy?” He nearly blacks out when you say those words he needed to hear again. Oh, yes, yes he’s sure you can. His eyes search yours once more before fisting his hand in your hair, tightening experimentally. You smile around his cock, deep-throating him once more, but waiting expectantly. He’s not going to come back from this. You’ve ruined anyone else for him. And he’s accepted his fate.

The moment he lets go, the moment he breaks down whatever wall is holding him in place, you can sense it. You place your hands on his thighs as he pulls you nearly all the way off before shoving you back down. Your eyes water just a bit but you feel the slick gather between your thighs. Yes, the girl inside of you that wants to see him to the end hisses. He sets the pace, a strong and quick one, but somehow still gentle. If you said you needed to stop now, you somehow know he’d do so immediately. He twists a little more, angling your head just how he wants it. You set your teeth down ever so lightly just to see….

Daichi whimpers and gasps, the sound nearly a sob on his lips. You swirl your tongue again and suck. “Ha—shit. Just. Just like that,” he grits out as he grips tighter. It hurts a little, your hair and your knees, but the pain swirls with the pleasure in a delicious slide of skin against skin. Your nails dig into his thighs again before he takes one of your hands and closes it around the base of his cock. You grip, working your wrist along with your mouth. He bucks against you, a jerky movement. “I’m close, fuckfuckfuck I’m close. I’m gonna come.” His voice lies somewhere between a bark and a whine. He can’t decide if he wants you closer, or farther, to stop or keep going. His brain is short-circuiting. He tries to pull back just a little bit, but you won’t let him in the best way possible.

You quirk your wrist and tilt your head in just a certain way… Daichi cries out, long and broken, as he curls in over you, his orgasm washing over him in waves so intense his vision goes black. His entire body shudders with his release, his form towering over you as he spurts ropes of come all the way down your throat. You milk him for all he’s worth. Not a single drop is getting away from you, no way in hell. Next time, you want him to come in your pussy. Next time? God, you want there to be a next time. He’s still leaning over you when his breathing slows and steadies; his hands are bracing themselves on your back rubbing soothing circles there with his thumbs. He helps you to your legs and steadies you for a moment.

The silence stretches on as you look at each other, both a little shocked at what just conspired. Daichi slowly puts himself back into his pants and you help him buckle his belt. You’re both on the verge of saying something either extremely brave or extremely stupid with each moment that passes. You’re about to make the first move again when he reaches up and takes your jaw in his hand, running a thumb along the corner of your mouth to gently push the last of his spend into your mouth. You lean into the touch and welcome his finger, sucking it clean just like his dick. He thinks he might be in love with you.

A breathless giggle comes out of you as you back away just a fraction, trying to give yourself space from the startling sensation fluttering in your stomach like butterflies. Your boss is gonna kick your ass if you don’t get back out on the floor. “I would invite you to my place to continue this after I’m off but it’s a little crowded and the walls are thin,” you say, hoping against hope that he wants more just as much as you do. There’s no room for doubt when he leans in and kisses you, deep and slow, tasting himself in your mouth.

“That’s no problem, princess. If you’re still feeling this when you’re off, I’ve got a penthouse all to myself.” Oh, there it is—the swagger you expected him to have. Your eyes glitter as you smooth out your hair, knowing it still looks good enough to perform. If anything, the smell of sex and the appearance of your swollen lips will get you better money, as long as your boss doesn’t catch on. You don’t think he will. “I’ll find you at the end of the night.” You nod, suddenly the bashful one.

Somehow, everything that just transpired did so all in your ten-minute break. In fact, you have one minute to spare as you strut back to the runway, giving your boss a wink and blowing a kiss to the stupefied audience.

“Harder, Daichi, harder.” You can barely get the words out as he thrusts inside of your aching cunt. Your face is pushed into the pillows on Daichi’s king-sized bed, your ass in the air. The sound of skin slapping on skin in the quiet of his room is pornographic but you can’t waste any thoughts on being even remotely embarrassed. Tears stream down your face as he continually hits that spot inside of you that you’ve only been able to hit with a dildo and even then it never came close to this. Daichi’s a machine, the way he keeps going. After you sucked him off and he came so quickly earlier in the night, he was determined to make this one last longer. One of his hands is gripping tightly into the plush of where your hip meets your ass cheek, the other is splayed over your back, even now caressing the skin, alighting it with goosebumps. “Oh, fuuuuuck,” you whine as that same hand snakes around to your neck to pull you up.

His fingers and palm ghost over the skin as he thrusts up into you and it’s all you can do to hold to his thighs for dear life, your nails digging in so hard you’ll know they’ll leave a mark. “Are you close, princess?” He whispers it labored into your ear, his breath hot, his mouth even hotter as he leans in to nip at your pulse point from behind. You nod frantically, almost unable to answer. “Can I come inside, baby? Will you let me? Will you let me be a good boy for you?” His hand moves from your throat to your clit, stroking one slow circle over the oversensitive nub. Thank god for birth control.

“Yes, Daichi, yes, come in my pussy. Oh, god, yes be a good boy for me.” You squeal as he thrusts hard, once, twice, swiping his fingers over your clit again in a more concentrated pattern and you feel your first orgasm of the night sweep over you as Daichi finds his own release with a mangled, animalistic groan.  You think he’s done, especially when he pulls out leaving you feeling way too empty.  But you’re wrong, so, so wrong.  He proceeds to flip you over and push back in, a ring of white forming around where he’s begun thrusting inside of you again.  

“I thought about this all fucking night.”  He surges up over you, grabbing your wrists and pulling them above you.  “I thought about that pretty little cunt around my cock.  I thought about how pretty you’d look laying in my bed.”  One thrust, slow and teasing.  You roll your hips up to meet him, even though your thighs are weak and shaking.  “I’ve never–I’ve never fucked anyone like this before, it’s,” he leans in to suck on your pulse again, runs his tongue over the salty skin there, “magical.”  You whimper beneath him when you feel the familiar coil tightening once more in your belly.  

“Do you think I can make you come again, Daichi?  Can you come for me one more time?”  He groans, sealing his lips over yours as he releases your hands so that can pull him closer into you.  You scrape your nails from the nape of his neck into his hair, and grip, breathless, as his rhythm becomes choppy again.  God, you don’t know how he’s still going.  The two of you are so frenzied, the blood in your veins hotter than a blue flame.  “Look at me when you come, baby, look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hands to his cheeks.  His eyes are glazed, his face strained but still beautiful.  “I’m going to touch myself now, okay?”  His mouth pops open again as he nods, before watching as you wrap one arm around his shoulder and bring your other hand to your clit.  You swipe around his cock, collecting some of the mess you’ve both made there.  You know how to pleasure yourself and with Daichi’s expert stroke, it doesn’t take long before it snaps over you, the walls of your pussy squeezing around him forcing spend from him one more time.  It’s not as explosive as the first time but still enough that you can feel the wet leaking out onto his sheets.  “So good for me, Daichi, look how good you are for me,” you chant as you wring the last of the pleasure from each other.

When it’s over, he stills, pulling out of you and collapsing onto the bed beside you.  There’s a sheen of sweat covering you both.  The cool early morning air coming in Daichi’s open window creates the perfect juxtaposition of sensations.  He reaches over to trace patterns into your palm.  “Can I hold you?”  The question is so sweet, it makes you huff out a laugh.  The man just blew your back out and he asks if he can hold you.  But you are more than willing to oblige him so you roll into his open arm and lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.  You wait a moment before looking up at him, relishing the feeling of his fingers now tracing patterns into your arm and shoulder.

“Didn’t you mention something about handcuffs earlier?”  He looks down at you jerkily, a sheepish grin on his face.  You smile mischievously.  You’re going to ruin him.  He’s going to let you.  And he’s going to love it.

“Let me make you breakfast first, yeah?”  You nod and breathe in the smell of him, all sex and musk and expensive cologne.  Neither one of you knows where this is going to go but right now, it doesn’t matter.  You yawn and snuggle closer.

“Just so you know,” you intone sleepily, “I like French toast.”  He laughs softly, his own body relaxing into a lazy slumber.

“Hm, French toast?  I pinned you as a pancake kinda girl.  Good thing I also like French toast and always keep the supplies in to make it.”  His breathing is slow and shallow, matching the rhythm of yours.  The sun peeks over the cityscape around you as the two of you go under, cradled in each other’s arms.

This work and its digital elements (photo credit to photographer) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2024. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

[send4venus]

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫!𝐄.𝐖

a/n : so just wanna say this is my first time writing in a while so i hope its somewhat decent, i’ve noticed the tlou community on tumblr has thinned out quite a bit so im kinda just grasping at straws here but for those who do decide to read thank you and i hope you like it even though its very short and poorly written 🤍

warnings: none i think? not proofread

𖦹 you’d worked at the bar for almost half a year now, being a sophomore in college who lives out of state you needed the extra money and your friend had started working at ‘ cherry bomb ‘ a few months before you did

𖦹 you made decent money hourly, but with usually working Fridays as its the only day that works the best paired with shirts that show just enough cleavage to make amazing tips as well as the vibes of the small little local dive bar made it more enjoyable than most would expect

𖦹 you didn’t notice her at first as it was a particularly busy night. it was just you and your coworker Clint working the bar so your mind was filled to the brim with drink orders and strange pickup lines from old dudes.

𖦹 she noticed you almost immediately however

𖦹 it was her first time at this specific bar or a real bar in general, dina and jesse had dragged her along saying she needed to get laid and be a normal human being for once but of course they coupled up and went straight to the dance floor

𖦹 she rolled her eyes, instinctively knowing she wasn’t going to have a fun night she went up to the bar to sip on a glass of whiskey until dina and jesse wore themselves out, somehow finding an empty stool, she saw you pacing back and forth, pouring and mixing different concoctions and putting them in front of their designated orderers, all while smiling and providing great customer service, being sure to push out your chest for the rich old douchebags who think they might get lucky by tipping well and writing their number on a napkin after making lewd comments about every women in their line of sight.

𖦹 finally, after being so distracted with all of the drink orders and tabs being opened and closed, Clint taps you on your shoulder as you close out a customer “hey, can you take this chicks order, shes sitting on my side of the bar but like 6 people just walked in”. you sigh before begrudgingly saying yes and go over to his side of the bar to see, a drop dead gorgeous auburn haired woman right around your age who is setting off gaydar.

𖦹 when you approach her and introduce yourself her throat goes dry and immediately forgets how to act like a human being. she cant even hear the words coming out of your mouth, yet she loves the way they sound and she especially loves the view your shirt gives her. you have to ask if shes alright to get her out of her haze and when she snaps her head up and stumbles over her words trying to save this extremely awkward social predicament, you cant help but let out a light chuckle which causes her to mutter out a small ‘sorry..’ as her face turns red

“its okay honey, just tell me what you need and ill have it over here as quick as possible”

“uhm.. can you just make a uh whiskey? or well i guess you guys dont really make the whiskey huh hahah..”

𖦹 she stopped trying to make small talk after that despite wanting to hear more of your sweet voice but decided watching you from afar gave off a better vibe.

𖦹 eventually, people started to dissipate and more stools became empty and soon enough dina and jesse were tapping her on the shoulder telling her they were ready to leave and just ordered the uber. she let them know she still had to pay and close out and with the uber still a decent 10 minutes away they opted to wait outside while she did so. she called you over to ask if she can close out her tab and pay, even though she barely drank half of her whiskey.

𖦹 you smiled at her before walking away and coming back with her receipt and her credit card, as she signed it and left a tip that was more than her drink, she handed it back to you to which you saw the tip and thanked her dearly for leaving you so much money before retreating to the back room where you but before she could leave she noticed a napkin in front of her, a napkin that had a phone number written on it with a note reading ‘ don’t be shy, call me ❤️’ .

turns out rich guys do get lucky.

[tht0nesimp]

indulgent Drabble…

Idea: so have any of you guys seen those AU things where it’s like being a Yandere is a normal thing, so if you’ve seen season four you know about the wrong timeline things so like what if they ended up in one of those or this was one or something, this is probably not very well written…

tw: spoilers but not like specific instances just like information,Yandere bcs…it’s my blog, kidnapping, non consensual…everything?, normalized stuff idefk , Five is inspired by a Yandere five fic I read once I won’t even lie

thinking of them all having their little darlings and how they treat them >.<

Luther’s darling is getting it probably some of the best, he pays, and he really wants them to love him! Really! He just…don’t get mad when he breaks all your stuff, he knows that you had an ex and that the object was important, but you can’t be mad! People see you two and are probably a little off put because likely you are dwarfed by him unless your a body builder or something, he doesn’t mind, just please don’t make him do anything….:(

Diego and a little spitfire, they’re likely someone Hellbent on fighting it, clawing and biting. Hair frazzled, likely to have a hole or tear in they're clothes—he doesn’t really mind, even when he has to drag you into the mansion, the others having some level of understanding of what he’s going through because…they’ve all done it, to varying degrees of lengths and extremities. He never felt healthy love before and it’s damn sure his dad don’t love ‘em so he truly doesn’t understand why you can’t just accept love?

Allison who makes sure her precious little mannequin is well known as hers, people envy you, an amazing actor with enough money to last a lifetime?! You might be able to run off and find a closet to huddle up in at home, but she won’t be patient with misbehavior in front of the media, you will find yourself on the wrong side of a chain if you try anything. Probably not a big fan of introducing you to people personally, she loves the flashy couples stuff; at least 2 dozen roses might make up for it? Right?

Klaus is barely making it, his other siblings likely pay for and/or babysit for him. He doesn’t snap very often like his siblings, he sees you as an angel! But, not a person. Truly, I think not only would the being forced to be around a very active addict but he won’t let you do anything outside of a hobby or two! He rarely leaves you alone, and to be honest he probably uses a chain or restraints all the time because even if he can come back, he’s not physically the strongest guy—but past that, he’s always eager to help you with bathing or eating or baking or drawing or writing or drinking or meditating or relaxing or sleeping or making the bed or cleaning up or driving or going outside(ofc with him, can’t have his little martyr running around! What if someone recognizes you as his and and and the debt collectors collect you!?) or any possible task, he’ll learn to cook or bake so you don’t have to! Just ignore the small white grains on his credit card….please! He won’t get angry commonly, if ever, but in the very rare chance he gets angry it’s best to just shut up and try not to make the voice begging him to tie you back up any louder.

Five and the little doll he carries around, always looking lost and glazed over, or maybe a girl who is eerily like him, either way, he’s dressing them up in whatever he wants. He likely drugs them pretty consistently, it makes him feel good to have someone who will thank him when he takes care of them, even if they don’t know what’s going on whatsoever. His siblings are surprised at the ice cream dates and picnics he sets up, people smile at him when he goes to get you a milkshake, the guy behind the bar laughing when five pours a little packet of powder into your drink and stirs it—happily accepting the man’s offer to top up your whipped cream, so you don’t get distressed about it—all in all, atleast his darling will never have to do anything for themselves…ever again

Viktor happily plays instruments for you, learning your favorites so he can serenade and impress you. He tries to be as accommodating as possible, so patient and okay with your panic that he succeeds in comforting you. He’ll even let you help him at the bar once you get settled in, people find it adorable when you and him work together you don’t really do anything

They probably don’t have playdates very often, but the most to least well behaved would probably go

Viktors darling—Viktors humanity pays off, and his darling likely comes to terms pretty quickly, asking him nicely for things and even letting him touch them willingly!

Luther’s darling—All in all, they probably don’t have all too much to complain about. They’re awkward, but the darling isn’t clawing at him or anything

Allison’s darling—no cameras? Her darling is probably playing a Nintendo switch on a couch somewhere in the mansion, avoiding the wackos

fives darling—He’s trying, and so are they, but they’re a little out of it most of the time. I won’t give them credit for behaving because they don’t even know they’re doing something good by clinging to torso they wake up on every morning or by not biting the hand that feeds them dinner every night

Klaus Darling—Trying to run like all hell, but klaus just pulls them into whatever room has been set up for the meetup and wraps a friendly arm around them for the rest of the event

Diego’s darling—Biting at him, breaking things, all hell will break loose and he will be chuckling at his siblings as his darling tries to stab him with a fork

—

Maybe I should write more in depth personal series about it??? Who would yall wanna see first??? All of them?? SEASON 4 IS STUPID AND I HATE IT >:(

[tallymonster]

Careless Whisper ❤️ AO3 link ❤️‍🔥

Summary: Zesstra is a stripper and she just got off work. She turns on her computer and watches a very steamy streamer.

THIS IS PURE SMUT TRASH, IT IS NOT SERIOUS. If you come to my asks being an asshole, your ass will get BLOCKED.

A/N: there's a lot of emojis and out of character speak going on here. Do not take anything written here seriously, this was done for fun. Consider this a love letter to my friends on the Astarion Brainrot discord and to the ones who let me use their Tavs in this wild idea I had one day when I got too stoned and started to write on Google docs. Might be a one off, might be a thing, who knows?? Either way, enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day 😘💕

@cursedhaglette who let me use Halia (goldengalhal)

@tragedybunny who let me use Sera (SeraQueen)

@micropoe10 who let me use Colette (EcoGirl)

@just-a-refrigerator who let me use Elora (slutty_songstress)

And @bhaalbaaby who let me use Penelope

Thanks guys, I love love love you all 💕

Zesstra flops onto her bed with her laptop and a giant glass of wine in her hand. Another shitty day at work, but what's new? Being a dancer at the Fae Cabaret wasn't the ideal thing, but fuck, if the money wasn't worth getting her ass slapped for 10$ extra dollars in her tip pile.

Today though, was the last straw. The creepy rich dude who comes by every once in a while came by tonight, and did his same bullshit. She could practically recite his opening line “Hey gorgeous, why the sour face?” followed by a stupid smarmy laugh.

Zesstra smiled, put on the fake giggle, and slapped his shoulder. Next, he buys her the cheapest mixed drink, and of course, he gets himself an expensive glass of whiskey he never finishes.

She tries her hardest not to roll her eyes after he makes some degrading comment about her coworker, grimacing while he rants about some meeting with important people she doesn't give two fucks about.

Whatever, that's all in the past now. Tonight was about Zesstra, of course. It's her blessed time off and she was going to spend it the only way she could truly enjoy it.

Zesstra turned on her computer and went through her socials. The public one for family and close friends, some messages from the girls at work, nothing too exciting.

Then she flips to the slutty socials, the ones where she can post pictures from work. She answers some messages on her pay per post site, adds more lewd photos from her various shopping sprees, and scrolls for a few minutes. Messages pour in offering her the world for a few seconds of her attention, but there's really only one place she wishes to be.

Zesstra thinks back on the one bright spot in her nights. A regular she only knows as “The Lawyer”. He's a good looking elf, perfect silver hair, gorgeous face, dazzling red eyes that lock onto her as she walks the floor of the club.

He usually doesn't say much, but when he does Zesstra swears she’s heard that silky voice somewhere before. She put that thought to the back of her mind. Tonight was about seeking her own pleasure.

Clicking through the streaming sites she visits on nights when the images of him won't leave, she finds that her favorite creator, an asmr streamer called ProfaneDelight, just began his stream. Zesstra clicks on his name and pops her headphones on. She drinks more of the wine, and closes her eyes as his voice begins to fill her ears.

“Good evening, darlings.” She watches as he enters the frame of the video, his tight red shirt and black pants hug his body. The camera is at the most unfortunate angle, since it won't allow her to see his whole face which she assumes matches the delicious sound of his voice.

“Have you been waiting all day for me?” He huffs softly, a small laugh follows, “What a good audience you are…” His breathy tone sends shivers down her spine.

Zesstra kept her eyes on the screen as his hands come up to the desk he stands behind. She notices the black leather gloves with red piping along the edges that cover his hands.

“You know I can't stand to be away from you.”, his voice drips, seductively. “I bet you think of me while you do the most boring things.”

Zesstra can't help keeping her eyes locked on his hands, she tries not to, but her mind starts to imagine The Lawyer’s hands there instead.

“Do you get excited when you see time passing by as I get closer to coming back to you?”

His right hand comes up to the top of his shirt, slowly undoing a couple of buttons. A breathy sigh followed his hand as it lowered itself down his torso. Zesstra bites her lip in anticipation, taking another slow sip from her wine.

Her eyes follow his hand as it comes to a stop at the waistline of his pants. The heat rises to her cheeks when she sees the outline of his cock as the gloved hand cups it.

A strained groan escapes his lips, she can already feel the effects of his seduction working on her body. Her cheeks are heating up just by watching these slow teases.

Zesstra swallows more wine, watching as he opens his shirt more. The pale skin of his core seemed to shine in what appears to be candlelight. The soft yellows of the light bathe his body, the shadows cast highlight the muscles that are slowly exposed.

“Ah ah aaahh” he teases, “if you want more…you know what to do, darlings.”

Zesstra smirks mischievously, the money she earned tonight would be put to great use right now. She types a quick message and before she could type it she hears the ping of a donation from someone called goldengalhal.

goldengalhal sent 20$ “Starting off right, love. There's more where that came from 😘”

Zesstra rolls her eyes and sends her 25$ donation, 5 more than whomever that is. Back on the screen she sees her name and message pop up.

TestyZesty sent 25$ “couldn't wait to come home, looks like I got here just in time…”

He laughs and begins to slide one of the gloves off near the microphone. The soft scratching sound of the fabric rubbing against his pale hand sent more shivers through Zesstra’s skin.

As the glove comes completely off his hand, he taps on the mic, Zesstra sighs contentedly and licks the wine off her lip. She notices his fingers, and does a double take. They look familiar? She pours the last bit of this bottle into her glass and leans back to watch more before jumping to conclusions.

“Looks like we have someone who came by at the right time…little TestyZesty…my dear, what are you so testy about? Anything I can help with?” His lips curl into a little smirk, “I hear I give wonderful stress relief…”

Zesstra shoots up on her bed, her wine swivels in the glass and almost spills due to her abrupt reaction. “No fuckin’ way.” her jaw drops and she begins to type her response. Suddenly, another donation pings, this time from a SeraQueen.

SeraQueen sent 50$ “I had a bad day at work, can I get a little love too 🥺”

“Of course, dear. Hope your day can improve now that you're here, my Queen.” he responds with all the sweet words they all love.

Zesstra scoffs, “Biiiiitttttch, please.” she giggles and sends her message. As soon as it pops up on screen, she hears his melodic voice begin to read it.

“Work, irl shit. Life sucks, then you die. You make it better though.” she sees a small smirk on his lips, Gods, she would kill to suck on those lips. “Oh, don't be so nice to me, Zesty…you make me want to be nice back..” He draws out the last bit of that sentence, making the hairs on her arms stand on end.

The second hand comes up and begins the same languid dance of slipping the matching glove off. Bit by bit he takes the glove off each finger, a soft moan flows out of those pretty pink lips when he finally releases his hand from the offending accessory.

He strokes the microphone with his fingers as more soft, breathy moans leave his lips. “You're all so eager to get me exposed aren't you? All these adorable messages just for me?”

“You have no idea…” Zesstra grabs the second bottle of wine that sat on her nightstand, she unscrews the top and drinks straight from the bottle. More images of her Lawyer pop into her head, but her mind decides to think of the way he ran his hands all over her when she took him into the private rooms at the back of the club a couple of nights ago.

No matter how many times she's been told not to let people touch her, she can't help letting him do it every time they're alone. He was paying for the whole experience, of course, but sometimes she wonders what they would get away with if she were the one paying him.

She snaps out of it the moment she hears another donation ping from an EcoGirl.

EcoGirl sent 150$ “do you like to garden? Because I have a hedge that needs tending 😏”

“Oh no, little love. I can't mess up these immaculate hands…then how would I be able to make these streams?” He giggles a bit and stands to remove his belt. It's like a little game of back and forth comments and donations from different people.

Among the many she notices a comment from a slutty_songstress “how do I get you to sing for me? bet you make wonderful sounds 👀”. He apparently noticed that one as well, he reads it out and huffs into the microphone.

“I don't usually do private performances…most of the time I’m the one getting the dance done for me…” A skewed smirk grows on his face, as if he's trying to play coy.

Zesstra’s mind begins to fire off with unhinged horny thoughts. She would do anything to give this man a dance he would never forget. People do love her aloof drow attitude, who’s to say he wouldn't?

Before she could stop herself, she drops another donation.

TestyZesty sent 100$ “what kind of dancing? Are you going to the ballet or stopping by the Cabaret? maybe I'll see you there? 😘”

Another cheeky comment, sure to get his attention. He laughs again, and bites his lip. “Well, I do enjoy both, but I do hold a special place in my heart for the girls at the Fae…have a few in mind actually.”

Within seconds the chat is flooded with questions on who the girls could be. Zesstra sees a few of her coworker’s names flash up on the screen, most notably, Penelope, the pink tiefling with a huge fan base, and Nym the other drow girl who worked part time at the strip club.

Some even mentioned Nym’s brother Sorm, but he had given up the cabaret after finding himself a job as a model after one of his regulars hit it big during Faerun Fashion Week.

Penelope and Nym are Zesstra’s friends and friendly competition. Most nights where the three of them work, they'll place bets on which one of them will get hit on first (Penelope), which one will get a four figure tip (Nym), and who can get the client the most drunk within 30 minutes (Zesstra).

She giggles as the comments keep flying, eventually, one commenter names her!

“Have you seen Zesstra?? She's kind of a bitch but total dommy mommy energy 🥵”

Zesstra cackles like a banshee, “That's right, babes, fear me!” She takes a long drink from the bottle, amused that someone out there thought of her.

Back on stream, the delightful treat in front of her sucks his lip and releases it with a pop, “Darlings, I will never kiss and tell, but I do know one of my little friends is here right now.”

Zesstra sputters into her wine glass, she cannot believe what she just heard! Is he trying to imply that he's a possible client of the Fae??? There's no way, he's probably talking about the ballet that her cousin Octavia is a part of. But then again, how many of those girls sit in their room after a performance and flick their bean to this shit?

She chuckles the thought out of her head, and focuses her attention on the screen. She starts to type a message when a donation pops up.

goldengalhal sent 200$ “I do ballet, maybe you’ve seen one of our performances? I'm the prima ballerina at the Gate’s Performance Hall.”

“Good for you, goldengal. I do appreciate the arts, and I do love dressing up for the occasion, but….there's just something about the girls at the Fae that gets me going…”

Zesstra’s brain short-circuits. “OH MY FUCKING GODS.” Could he be one of her regulars????

Another donation. EcoGirl sent 50$ “CAN WE GET BACK TO THE MATTERS AT HAND?? our boyfriend is still wearing a shirt. 👀”

Zesstra laughs and sends her donation, TestyZesty sent 69$ “i agree with EcoGirl, can we get back to these pressing matters? In particular, the rest of those buttons 😏” An amused chuckle comes out of his lips, he stands and Zesstra could see him lean in closer to the microphone.

His hand slides down his chest, following along the line of buttons at the front of his shirt. The almost hushed sounds flowed from his lips. A strained groan here and a breathy moan there. Zesstra’s skin prickles under his teases.

His hands linger on the buttons that hold his shirt closed, one by one he begins to slide his fingers over the closures, his pale skin becoming more visible by the second. More soft whines and moans fill Zesstra’s ears, the vibrations pooling down in her core.

He leans over and speaks directly into the camera “I hope you all are pleased with yourselves, I don't usually let you all have this much power over me, but I figured with it being Lover’s Night, I would give my little pets a treat.”

He blows a kiss to the camera and begins running his hand down his neck, slowly trailing his hand down his now exposed chest. A low groan, almost a growly noise flutters out of his throat as he pulls the rest of his shirt open. The red silky looking fabric hung off his shoulders as his hand lingered on his waistband.

“Shall I keep going, lovelies? What do you think?”

The messages fly on the left hand side of Zesstra’s laptop screen. One after the other they compete for his attention until another high donation drops.

Slutty_songstress sent 200$ “off with the shirt, please (respectfully)”

“Well, my songstress, since you asked so politely…” The last word is drawn out, he lets his shirt drop from his shoulders, his hand throws it off and palms his cock again. He sucks his lip into his mouth, Zesstra could see what looked like a fang pop out the right side.

More breathy moans fill her ears as she begins to remember earlier in her night, when her bright spot waltzed into the club. She watched as the Lawyer walked up to the bar, he leaned on the counter and began to text furiously. Zesstra didn't usually feel so flustered because of a client, but the way he looked at her was not usual of the other patrons.

When she walked up to him he looked straight at her eyes and smiled. “Hello, beautiful.” She smiles back and leans over the bar, letting her shoulders drop, pressing her upper arms together to puff out her chest. The little game of playing it cool failed under his gaze.

They talk for a while before she hears her name being called, at the same time he checks his watch and notices the time. “I’m late to a very important meeting. Looks like we have to part ways, gorgeous. Maybe next time, we can have some time together? Perhaps away from these prying eyes?”

Zesstra could never properly hear him, no thanks to the loud ass music Alfira played behind the DJ booth, but she was pretty good at reading lips by now.

He slips her a note and winks as she bends down seductively to shove the little scrap of paper inside her platform boot. The moment ruined by Nym, who comes to pull her up on stage. Soon after she finishes her set, she pulls the little note out and reads it.

Zesstra’s jaw drops and sees that it's a business card for one of the most elite law firms in Faerun. It was a plain white card with his name, Astarion, and number written on it. On the back there was a note that read “I helped you once before, don't hesitate to ask again.”

She had given him her landlord’s number when they were trying to pull some shady shit and not fix her leaky shower. One call from “her lawyer” and it was done.

Seems like this was her chance, and given the amount of alcohol she's drunk so far, Zesstra decides to text the number.

“Hey, Astarion. It's Zesstra. Pretty bold of you to give me a business card.” She hits send and throws her phone on the nightstand. She'll check it later, he was probably busy at that meeting he mentioned.

Back in her room, she snaps back to reality yet again when she hears the sound of hundreds of messages scrolling past. Apparently in the time that she was in her daydream, her streamer had already undone his pants! She scoffs and types out a message.

TestyZesty sent 123$ “Holy shit, I looked away for five seconds and you sluts got his pants open??”

Zesstra hears the sultry voice reading her message out loud with a little wince at the end, “I guess if you were paying attention, you wouldn't be surprised.”

Her throat feels dry, she clenches and swallows. “You're all so sweet, letting me ramble like this…I wish I could see your face when you let me do whatever I want to you.”

Zesstra was already extremely turned on from seeing her crush earlier and the way she could feel his eyes studying her reactions.

“Touch yourself. I know you want to.”

As if she was being compelled to, her hand begins to trail down her center, slipping into her tiny shorts. She feels her wetness coating her fingers, her body opening up under his commands.

“Be good for me, I could be really good for you…” he slips his pants down, and she hears them hit the ground. His hand moves up to his waist, pulling at the fabric of his skin tight boxers, his cock very clearly hardened by this point.

“Oh fuck…” she slips her shorts completely off, spreading her legs on both sides of the laptop sitting on her bed. Her left hand goes back to work herself open while the right is tugging her bra up to play with her nipple.

“Give me what I want and I'll give you what you want, darlings.”

Another flood of donations and messages ring out, Zesstra wishes they would all just shut up and enjoy the show, but it's all part of the game.

EcoGirl sent 100$ “pleeease, I need to see this man cuuuuummmmmmm 🥵”

“As you wish, dear. Any particular way? Or is it the dealer's choice?” his voice drops as a sharp exhale escapes with a pout, his muscles tense and release as he runs his hand over his cock.

“Tell me how you want me to.” a sigh, and a moan, “I really wanna come for you all, you've been so good to me tonight..”

Two donations come in at the same time, each opposes the other.

SeraQueen sent 350$ “love the teasing, keep going, we love anything you give us”

goldengalhal sent 420$ “fuck your hand. Let us see your cock leak.”

“Ooh, the war begins…So direct, goldengal, and sooo generous…thank you, love. I do like what SeraQueen adds though, maybe I can give both of my generous beauties a compromise?’

He runs his left hand down the front of his boxers more, his breath hitches and stutters. His fingers teasing the length of his cock. He pulls the camera and the microphone down a bit and flops into the chair behind him.

TestyZesty sent 422$ “you look comfy, just how I imagined when I think of riding you when I touch myself.”

Zesstra had to take her hand off her tit to type that, but she could tell it had an effect on him. As a stripper, she could pretty much tell when any of the patrons got too excited by the dance. This guy clearly loved the attention he got doing these streams in more ways than one.

He begins to pull his boxers down, teasing them all with how slowly he was inching the fabric off. As soon as his cock is freed, it bounces back, bobbing with a twitch. “Is this what you think about, Zesty?”

TestyZesty sent 100$ “ fuck yes. I want to milk you, you drive me crazy.”

A pleased hum that turns into a moan follows as he runs his hands up his thighs, digging his nails into his skin. Zesstra can see the red scratch marks grow bright against his pale skin. Gods, she would love to bite down and see how pretty he would look bruised with little love bites all over.

He wraps one hand around his cock, the other continues to work his way up his toned chest, tweaking a nipple as he begins to lazily stroke his cock.

TestyZesty sent 100$ “get yourself nice and hard, I wanna have a good image of you underneath me.”

“Let me give you a better image then, darling Zesty…”

Zesstra is rewarded with a louder moan, he strokes himself a little more, grabbing a bottle off camera with his other hand. He flips the top and drizzles what looks like lube all over his cock.

EcoGirl sent 50$ “yesyesyesyes get it nice and slick, daddy. I would suck you all day if you let me.”

SeraQueen sent 240$ “you have the prettiest cock, so thick too”

“Oh EcoGirl, you like it when daddy fucks his hand? Would you like it to be your cunt instead? Maybe you and Sera can share?”

Zesstra clenches around nothing, she can't take it anymore and reaches down to fully indulge in herself. She begins to circle her clit, stroking slowly, trying to imitate the movements of his hand on screen.

His hand now coated in a combination of lube and precum slides up and down his hardened length, the muscles on his thighs flex and he lets out more breathy moans. “Let's see who can get me to come all over their beautiful tits, I do love it when they're covered with my come, bouncing in my face.”

Zesstra strokes down her pussy, her slick entrance is so desperate to be filled by him, to be the only one bringing him pleasure. She lets herself wander to the place in her mind where Astarion is the one making her mewl underneath him.

goldengalhal sent 300$ “faster, I love it when you can tell how desperate you are to come.”

He huffs and does as he's told, his hands find their places on his cock and on his balls, both working in tandem to ruin him for the audience. With one hand he strokes himself more, building up speed. His other cups his balls as his fingers spread, moving down towards his frenulum. He arches his back, thrusting into his hand more desperately.

Zesstra wants him to cry out for her like this, she wants to be the one to make him feel as good as he does for her, all she can bare to think of is his cock sliding inside her, splitting her open and taking what he wanted.

Waves of pleasure crash into Zesstra as she watches him stroking his cock faster, she can see how everyone's words affect him. The way his chest stutters as he's getting closer to his own high. His hips thrust up into his soaked hand, seeking release, his breaths growing more ragged and strained.

Zesstra's fingering herself in time with his thrusts, she lets the images of Astarion flood back into her head, his hands all over her as she grinds herself onto him during her dances. She rubs the heel of her palm into her clit faster as she feels herself getting closer, the moans and breaths in her ears pushing her closer to the edge.

“That's right, come for me…let me fill you with my come, get you nice and full for me. Have my seed drip down your legs as you go about your day…” a stutter followed by a strained groan “fuck yourself faster, I want to feel you come for me.”

Zesstra feels herself winding up more, the tension ready to snap at any moment, when she hears his moans grow louder and more primal. He's desperate to come and she would do anything to get that to happen. She keeps her eyes locked into his hands.

With her free hand she sends the last donation she thinks she can type before the lust fully takes her.

TestyZesty sent 69$ “come for me, gorgeous. Let me see you come and coat your beautiful skin.”

“Yes darling… gods, I'm so close… are you gonna come too, Zesty? Come with me, sweet girl.”

As if on command, Zesstra can feel herself crossing over the precipice, her body writhes and clenches as her cunt squeezes down on her fingers. She rides her orgasm out as she hears him panting and whining.

“Yes yes fuck you're so tight and wet, I can't take it anymore, fuuuuck…” he twists his hand on the rise of his hand, giving the head a bit of a squeeze. He thrusts into his hand with little shallow movements, his fingers from his other hand grip on his balls as he fucks his hand.

His body is clenching, tensing up more and more as he pushes himself over the edge, his cock twitches as he comes. The thick liquid coats his hand as it drips down. His body shudders as he keeps fucking his hand through his climax.

His moans stutter and his hips tremble. His waist and stomach are coated with his come, an obscene display for such a composed subject.

“Looks like I gotta clean up here, darlings.” he pants with a small laugh, his breath shallow and chest heaving. “For my little messenger, I hope you liked it. Expect a response from me soon, pet. Good night, loves.”

The stream ends, Zesstra thinks that little sign off was strange, but everyone has their thing. As she's coming down from one of the best orgasms she's had, she hears her phone ring and notices that Astarion has actually texted back! His meeting must've just ended, perfect timing.

When she opens the message, she nearly dropped her phone from the whiplash from throwing her head back. As plain as her own red eyes could see, was a short text. “You were pretty bold tonight, yourself, testyzesty…” Zesstra gasps, her eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “OH MY FUCKING GODS?!?!”

She immediately feels her hands trembling wildly. All she could think about was him, and it turns out that it was. Zesstra’s brain immediately blanks out when her phone rings again. “Did you mean what you said? Do you really want me like that?”

She quickly types a response and sent it back “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Come now, dear. Don't play coy.” his response reads, “Pretty easy to figure out it was you, not many girls mention seeing me at the Cabaret. Thought you were trying to drop a hint? Figured you recognized my voice from earlier?

Zesstra didn't even think about it, the club is so fucking loud, her mind races at the fact that now she knows that he definitely got off to her watching him. “Did you always know?”

“No.” he replies.

“So then…you meant to give me your phone number tonight?”

“Yes. Let's just say, you intrigued me. Besides, you're not the only one who has a public and private life. I was hoping to let you in on my little secret eventually, but it seems life had other plans for us.”

Zesstra cannot believe what's going on right now, her mind is racing through the hundreds of times he's come through the club. The sudden departures and strange late night meetings, it all makes sense now. There were never any meetings…well, not with other lawyers at least.

“So….what happens now? I know who you are, you know who I am…do we keep going down this path or do we split ways?”

“I think you're a rather curious little kitten, why don't we see how far down the rabbit hole we can go? I'll send you my address. Let me know what you decide on.”

Zesstra bolts out of bed, she puts on the skimpy dress that hangs on the bathroom door. She slips it on and gathers some things before running to the door. As she makes her way down the stairwell of her building, she gets his address. She bites her lip and replies “I’m on my way, see you soon.”

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 1

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: none -- oh you get thrown into a vat of radioactive liquid, but it doesn't hurt too bad.

a/n: when you think of another fic idea in the middle of writing your other WIP :D

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 716

part 2 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Here’s a riddle:

“What do you get when you push an unemployed woman into a vat of radioactive liquid?”

Apparently, an unemployed enemy of the state. 

You were never the kind of girl who grew up ripping the heads off of your Barbies, or a woman who falls in love with a guy at the insane asylum. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

As soon as your head ducked under the burning liquid, you thought you were dead. So you let go and stopped struggling. But really, is there anyone in history who hasn’t survived being pushed into a vat of something?

For example, there's Electro with the eels, and Sandman with the, uh, sand, so you really shouldn’t have been surprised when you woke up with more energy than you’ve ever felt before, though your back was killing you.

Opening your eyes, you noticed you were splayed over a sidewalk, clothes barely covering you as most of the fabric disintegrated in the power plant. Then you saw fire. Lots of fucking fire.

With a quick turn of your head, your eyes followed the trail of destruction all the way back to the exploded building where the accident happened. And before you knew it, you were in cuffs, being questioned by the police.

It’s easy to break out of jail, especially when you can burn right through the iron bars. And it’s easy to lose the cops too when you can scale buildings.

Despite your increased strength, agility, and sensitized hearing, there are several setbacks to being a random woman full of radioactive energy. Your hair, for one, is completely orange. Who knew radioactive juices acted like cheap boxed bleach?

You constantly have to re-dye it back to your original shade and use tons of hair oil to keep it from frizzing up but it only really lasts for a day or two. Talk about having awkward one-night stands…

Unfortunately, your hair is the most recognizable feature of yours so civilians started to call you “Blaze” like some sort of Fantastic Four character. You hate it. 

You also can’t get a job because you’re the most wanted woman in Nueva York. So you resort to “borrowing” some money from rich people who definitely wouldn’t notice or care. And then you got caught.

“So it’s been you this whole time?” The low voice makes you jump. You weren’t expecting anyone to be home. “So you’re the one stealing hundreds of dollars from innocent civilians?”  The Spider-man slowly walks out from the shadowed corner of the office, making the moment as dramatic as possible. 

You quickly close whoever’s laptop you were trying to get into before holding your hands up in a dumb attempt to act innocent. He looks unimpressed by your ‘sneaky outfit’, eyes pouring over the black turtleneck and faded black jeans. Look, it’s not like you had a closet full of options.

You frown, “They’re hardly innocent.”

“Hm,” He slides the laptop toward himself, opening it up to see how far in you got. You didn’t. You were about to give up and leave before he interrupted you. “How so?”

You scoff without thinking about it, “You think a person can make billions of dollars without taking advantage of people?” Apparently, your words amuse him, and a small smirk quirks on his lips. The light of the computer reflects against his cherry red irises. He’s… pretty.

“All I know,” He shuts the laptop and finally looks up at you, dropping any hint of his previous smile. “Is that you blew up a power plant, escaped prison, and now live off of the money that you’re taking from others.”

“C’mon Spider-Man, it’s only a couple of bucks. I don’t have a job–”

“No kidding.” He shakes his head and takes a second to think about something before offering you a hand over the desk, almost like a peace offering. “Here’s my proposition: you come with me and we can get some dinner before getting you back to where you belong.” You quirk a brow upwards, suspicious of his change in tone. “Come on, it’s late. I’d rather avoid the fighting part.” 

“Back to…where?”

“Prison, honey.” 

That was the start of your cat-and-mouse relationship with the one and only, Spider-Man.

[modelbus]

I've been in the worst writing slump... so I've defaulted to Kaz Brekker (oops). This didn't get as far as I wanted it to, but it's about 2k words!

Be warned: This contains death (murder), kidnapping, violence, skin trading, mentioned sex work, human trafficking (called "the skin trade" in here), weaponry, and I think that's it!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Gn!Reader

Tricked Target

Time is as good as the kruge in your pockets in the Barrel. You know this well, considering you have little of both; money and time. Or perhaps you have too much time. It simply depends on how one sees it, you suppose.

Someone might take you pouring over papers on a desk as a waste of time. See the mahogany wood, stained dark, and curl their lips as the sheer money it must've taken to buy.

Someone else might realize this isn't your office, isn't your desk, and keep their mouth shut.

Tonight, that happens to be an unfortunate man named Zade Oren. Tied in his leather chair, black ropes expertly woven, a gag stuffed in his mouth, and both Achilles slashed for good measure, he learned his lesson.

Don't piss you off.

And although he isn't technically keeping his mouth shut of his own free will, it still technically counts. You give him the slightest of glances, just enough to monitor the tears dripping down his face from wide eyes, before returning to the papers you're rifling through.

"This would be easier if you had just cooperated." You muse aloud, flicking through a ledger before abandoning it. "But you guys never do."

He makes a pathetic sort of whimpering that makes you grin.

You aren't a bad person. After all, you only enjoy the blood on your hands when it's from the right person. The type of person you have at your mercy right now, for example. If anything, you're as close to good as it gets in the barrel. A type of vigilante, rather than one of the profit-seeking groups.

Dime Lions, Black Tips, Razorgulls, The Liddies, Harley's Pointers. Now those are some bad organizations. You're still on the fence about The Dregs; you've seen them do as much good as they have bad. Mostly due to the smaller organization within them. Or maybe the Crows aren't part of the Dregs anymore; you don't care. They're not of interest to you.

"Ah. Here we go." You hum, finding a record of a transaction. Zade gives a feeble cry. Useless, these men who beg for their lives. As if you'll ever give them back.

The transaction seems harmless enough. Four pearls for a sum of money. A sum far too large to be worth even some really fucking nice pearls. And, most importantly, names of the buyer and seller. Your eyes ghost over Zade's name as the buyer, focusing on the seller's name instead.

Then, you crumple up the paper and stuffs it in your pocket.

Pearls. What a stupid code name. The sellers determine it, and they're never very creative with code names. Always something valuable, never something believable.

All it takes is one person (you, in this case) to see what it really means.

Kids.

"I should be going, I think." You finally say, straightening. "Don't worry, don't worry. No more people need to get hurt anymore."

Zade slumps in relief, and you let a wicked grin stretch over your face.

"Oh, no, you've misunderstood. No people will be harmed by me tonight. But you're not really a person, are you?" Your head tilts, watching the panic wash over his features.

Like a cat toying with a mouse, you are. It's just so amusing though, to witness the fear. To let them experience what they've instilled in so many others. That despair? It's precious.

Your knife is sinking into his chest before he can protest any more. Pushing past the hard bone, sinking into his heart with a sick squelch. By the time you pull it out, he's already dead.

"Fool." You sigh, leaving him there and striding over to the window. Let his guards find him later, you don't care.

And when you hoist yourself out the window, scaling onto the roof, the office is almost as you found it. Only his dead body and a note to proclaim the kill as justified.

It reads the same as always: Hurt a kid and I'll hurt you next.

The Avenger is the name people like to call you. Or the rumors of you. Most of Ketterdam has the wrong ideas about you, but you aren't fixing to correct them. False assumptions only make your job far easier.

Honestly, you'd rather be called a protector. But avenger works just as fine. It gets the point across.

A shiver runs up your spine when you're standing on the rooftop, but a cursory glance around shows nobody. You didn't expect it to, but still. The feeling of eyes following you has only gotten stronger recently, but seeing as nobody has attempted to kill you yet you assume it's fine.

Some people are just too curious for their own good and like being spies. As long as they aren't fucking up your plans, you really don't care. Honestly. The feeling of eyes is perfectly fine with you.

"You could say hi. I don't bite." You murmur into the still air, but to no avail.

The feeling doesn't leave as you head back to your home, a dingy apartment near a lot of the gambling dens. It's rented from a landlord who couldn't give less of a shit—she's never met the guy—which was perfect for you. And the place was cheap, which was a big bonus. Not that you were hurting for money, because you had no problems about stealing from those you killed, but you preferred to use it for better things.

Like buying new knives.

Dropping back down to the alleys, your feet hit the cobbles without a single sound. Subtlety was an art form, one everyone had to perfect in the barrel. Unless they were rich enough to get away without it, but you were not. Sadly.

There's footsteps behind her, and you turn to glare at the stranger. Give them a silent warning to mind their own fucking business.

Luck is not on your side today though, because they lunge at you with outstretched hands and a knife. You dodge, slamming your body into a wall to avoid the attack, hands scrambling for your own daggers.

The attacker is big, an ugly snarl stretched out across his mug, a beard covering half his face. Professional, if you had to guess, and definitely after you. Oh, joy.

This time, you don't give him the opening he wants. You dart forward, metal gleaming, knowing that the only way to walk away is to remove the obstacle in your path. In other words: kill him.

You both scramble, your knife digging into his forearm due to a nicely executed move on his part, but you abandon it in his arm to stab at him with another. A hand on your arm, metal meeting metal, it's a raw fight. Evenly matched.

But you must be off, must be mentally occupied, because you don't hear the footsteps behind you until it's too late. It's not until something slams into your head, sending you staggering with black spots, do you realize someone else is here.

"And that's meant to be the Avenger?" The person behind you scoffs.

"They put up a pretty good fight before you came in." Burly guy answers, stepping toward you.

His shoes are the last thing you see before your eyes roll back.

-

There's a hood over your head.

When you blinks your eyes open, you're met with complete and utter darkness. Although you want to panic—desperately—you don't. You can feel the ropes tying you to some type of chair, your wrists pulled together behind the back of it and your ankles tied to the legs of the chair.

Panicking now wouldn't do anything for you, so you just sit in silence.

But you're frustrated. So frustrated that you let your guard drop, that you've gotten yourself into this situation. You refuse to be another Mar, refuses to be the second Avenger that befalls the fate they tried to prevent.

"Makes sense now why he's wanting 'em." Someone is saying, and you try to subtly tilt your head to listen in. "He's always collecting 'em dangerous skinny ones."

"Putting together his own little menagerie." A second voice joins in, laughing.

The words have you tensing, against all instincts. Are they selling you to the menagerie?

Everyone knows what the menagerie is. Girls, tricked into sex work—and sometimes men—and people all too willing to take advantage of them. One of the things you worked against, and, subsequently, one of your worst nightmares.

"Serves this one right. Sardonic, isn't it?"

"You mean ironic?"

"What the difference?"

Oh, saints. You haven't just been kidnapped, but you've been kidnapped by idiots.

"Both of you stop. He'll be here soon." And that's a third voice. Only two people grabbed you, and you're willing to bet this third is the boss.

You don't recognize the voice, but you haven't exactly heard the voices of many people that are high in the chain in the Barrel. Not unless it's them begging for life, and you never hear from them again after.

But now you know for certain that they won't be sending you to the actual menagerie at least. The double confirmation is nice, even if the unknown is a whole other worry.

A door opens somewhere, and there's an abrupt rush of footsteps.

"You're early!" Probably boss guy shouts way too loudly. "The Avenger is all ready for you, but still knocked out."

"How long ago did you grab them?" Oh, that's a new voice. Faintly familiar, although you can't tell from where.

It's been a long time since you've felt so helpless. Like things were out of your carefully measured control. Not since you came home to an empty apartment, a person missing from it.

"A few hours." Probably boss answers. You don't need your eyes to know he's leering at you.

"...and how hard did you hit? Saints."

"They're alive, ain't they? Pay up."

"How much did we agree on again?" A cool voice asks, and your head jerks up. You know that voice, you've stalked the owner of that voice.

Kaz Brekker.

"Oh, look at that. It lives." Probably boss laughs cruelly, and you attempt a glare at him through the hood. "And you know how much we agreed on. Hand it over, Brekker."

And there's your confirmation. Your didn't just imagine it; Kaz Brekker is buying you. Why? You've never interfered with his dealings. In fact, after confirming he isn't into the skin deal, you actively stayed out of his business. You definitely didn't need more enemies than you already have.

The sound of Kruge being exchanged, followed by gleeful exclamations, makes you grit your teeth. If Brekker wants a shot at you, he'll have to do a lot more than pay some money.

"Get out." Brekker says after a moment, cutting the guys who kidnapped you off.

"This is our-"

"Get. Out."

Nobody makes him repeat it a third time, as is evidenced by the sound of footsteps fading away.

He's bossy, but he has the power to be. The cool indifference in his tone, the brilliant business plays he's made. Scrappy, like you, but far more powerful. There's a raw hunger in him you don't have; that nobody but him has.

It's scary as hell.

"Untie them."

There's movement around you, and then the hood is yanked off. You squint, blinking a few times, before focusing on the irritatingly put-together man in front of you. Although looking roughly the same age as you, the Barrel makes anyone be adults far too fast.

Brekker stares down at you, gloved hands clasped onto his cane. Behind him, a Suli girl hovers. Inej, his wraith. A spy, as far as anyone knows. Not an assassin. So that means whoever is working on untying you is Jesper.

"You're in quite the situation." He notes dully, but there's a wicked gleam in his eyes.

It only makes you glare harder. "Thanks, I'm aware."

The rope around your wrists falls away and you bring your hands to your lap, but don't move to untie your ankles. There's a sharpshooter behind you and a girl with knives in front of you; You aren't completely stupid. And that's not to mention the damage you know Brekker can do too.

"I have a deal for you." Brekker says after a moment, taking a step forward. He switches his crow-headed cane to his left hand, holding out his right for a handshake.

You don't take it. "What's the deal?"

"I don't think you're in a position to be asking questions."

"What's. The. Deal?"

"Perhaps I didn't make it clear. Take the deal right now, or we'll dump your body in the harbor to drown."

Well. That's not a lot of options. Everyone knows to negotiate all terms of a deal before accepting, but what choice do you have? He's brilliant for this move, and you hate him for it. Saving your life, buying you, just to force you into a deal to live.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, reason why this is such a horrible idea, you're shaking his hand. 

"Screw you." You spit out, life-saving be damned. Your grip tightens, just to spite him. Although his lips tug down, he doesn't pull away.

His reply is passive.

"Welcome to the crows."

[e-dubbc11]

Summer Sleepover request 😊

How about a tiny reader drabble based on

'Can I kill him now?'

with Brock and Frank, whatever way around takes your fancy!

Thank you! 😘

Stef!! Thank you so so much for sending in this ask and participating in my summer sleepover! I hope you like what I ended up doing. It was fun to write! ♥️

Can I Buy You a Drink?

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader with Bartender! Frank Castle

Warnings: Couple of sexual references, maybe a swear word or two, SHIELD agent being a creep, fluff, drinking.

Word Count: 1.9K-ish

Summary: Reader works in a bar with Frank that he owns and manages. A very handsome SHIELD agent and the rest of his team come in for a drink after a long training session at Anvil.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The strong scent of citrus floated past your nose as you removed all of the glasses from the dishwasher. Frank was on the other side of you cutting up fresh limes, prepping for the Friday after work crowd that usually poured into the bar around three o’clock.

The beer glasses went into the freezer and the remaining glassware was placed on the shelves although most of your clientele stuck to beer. The Watering Hole wasn’t exactly an upscale place with its old neon signs, dim lighting, and dated décor but it was a fun place to work.

It was small and didn’t require a lot of staff or actual bartending skills which was good for you because you didn’t have any, you just needed a job. And even though it was a small place, it brought in a decent amount of money.

The tips you made, Frank let you keep all of them. He was a great boss, owned the bar, and he looked out for you. The bar was your second job and with the money you brought home, you were able to live comfortably and get back on your feet after a bad breakup with an ex who left you with nothing. You promised yourself you wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Bill said he was sending some people over after their training today. He said they were just looking for a place to grab a couple beers. They’re in town from D.C.” Said Frank.

A look of disgust washed over your face.

“Ugh, they’re not politicians, are they Frank? Because I don’t know that I wanna deal with that tonight.” You replied.

Draping a dish towel over his shoulder, Frank chuckled as he continued to cut up limes and said, “Nah, they’re not politicians, sweetheart. Bill said they’re from a group called SHIELD.”

“Ooooh, well that sounds very clandestine, doesn’t it?” You asked, biting back a smile. “Did Billy say around what time they would be in?”

A few of your regulars were already there but as soon as the words escaped your lips, the door opened and in walked a bunch of men and a few women with their suit jackets off, ties undone, and looking pretty worn out from their training day at Anvil with Billy.

Frank glanced at you with raised eyebrows, moved closer to you, and said, “This must be them, go get ‘em kid. Bat those pretty eyes at ‘em and bring us some money, yeah? I’d do it but I don’t have pretty eyes.”

That made you laugh and when you did, you caught the eye of one of the men in the pack with dark brown hair and amber colored eyes. His dress shirt was unbuttoned and his tie was balled up in his hand. He was very handsome but had a scowl on his face, lips pressed together in a straight line and a furrowed brow.

You were a little shy when it came to larger crowds of people but you sucked it up and walked over, ready to make some money.

“Afternoon everyone! Thank you for coming in today, I’m y/n. What can I get for you?” You paused for a minute and then asked, “Oh, I’m assuming Billy told you what the deal is here? Yeah? Beer and liquor only. Cash tips, you got it?!”

“Yes ma’am.” Said the handsome man. He also had a raspy voice which was incredibly sexy.

Dammit.

You walked back to the bar after taking their order. While prepping their drinks, you glanced over again at your crush and you heard one of them say to him, “She’s hot, huh Rumlow?! I’ll give her a good tip.” He said as he hi-fived one of the other guys in the group.

“You’re such a pig, Rollins.” Said one of the women.

Frank was helping you when he said, “He’s got his eye on you, doesn’t he.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“Well, all of them actually but the older guy with the dark hair. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he walked in here, ya know.” Said Frank.

“He can’t be that old, Frank. Have you seen him? He’s in really good shape. And I ain’t no spring chicken either.” You said.

“Watchful eye, sweetheart. Watchful eye. You know I’m ready if you need backup.” Frank said with a smirk.

It did get a little rowdy at times but you could handle it for the most part. Frank was great backup though. He had a reputation around town. They called him “The Punisher” because of what he would do to out of control patrons and he made sure they never caused trouble in his bar again. Frank didn’t need to hire any bouncers; he was his own.

Watching from behind the bar, you noticed that this group could drink. It was round after round of beer and shots with the exception of the one they called Rumlow.

He was drinking but not nearly as much as the others and none of them were drinking more than the one named Rollins.

You and Frank were talking and cleaning when Rumlow started walking toward the bar.

“Lemme know if you need the bat, yeah?” Said Frank with a sly grin.

Shaking your head, you glared at him. He knew you could handle yourself. You couldn’t work for an ex-marine and NOT know a thing or two on how to take care of business.

Your heart started to beat faster as Rumlow approached the bar. Warmth spread across your cheeks and you glanced down at the floor so he wouldn’t see you blushing. He hadn’t even spoken to you yet and he had your stomach in knots.

Rollins was making a lot of drunken noises so Rumlow had to speak loudly for you to hear him.

“Hey, sorry about Jack. We all had a long day. I’m Brock, by the way.” He said, extending his hand for you to shake.

Slowly reaching forward, you took his hand to shake it. His thick fingers wrapped around your hand and you could feel the calluses on his palm as you couldn’t help but gaze into his golden colored eyes.

The warmth from his hand traveled quickly up your arm and spread across your chest and you felt yourself struggling to figure out how to respond.

You were finally able to arrange the words you wanted to say in your head before they fell out of your mouth.

“It’s ok, we all need to blow off steam after a long day. It’s nice to meet you, Brock.” You said with a shy smile. “Can I get you another beer?”

“Thank you, sweetheart. That would be great.” He replied.

You were sure he wasn’t aware of the face he was making, but Frank’s eyes were narrowed and he had pressed his lips together in a straight line as his eyes were fixated on Brock, not knowing exactly what his intentions were.

Frank knew how hard you worked every day to be able to provide for yourself. The last thing he wanted was some guy showing up and taking advantage of how sweet and kind you were, giving men more chances than they deserved like the last guy that broke your heart.

He just wanted to see you with someone nice for a change which is why he was carefully checking out Brock.

After pouring a beer for Brock, you told Frank you needed a bathroom break and you’d be back in a minute. You encountered Rollins in the hallway after emerging from the bathroom.

“H-hey! Th-there she is! I-I was j-just coming to tell youuuuu that I could use another beeeeeer.” He said sloppily.

“You might have reached your limit there, big guy.” You tried to say with a smile.

Rollins had stepped in front of you, not letting you pass by him.

“Excuse me, Jack. I have to get back to work.” You said with a trembling voice.

With the strong scent of beer and liquor on his breath, he had pinned you against the wall with his lower body and growled into your ear, “I don’t have any cash, pretty girl but you can take your tip from my tip if ya know what I mean.”

Jack was tall and heavy so it was difficult to try and push him off of you. His words chilled you to the bone, you were frozen in place, and couldn’t reach the knife in your back pocket.

“Let me go, Jack.” You said, coldly.

Jack continued to press into you with his crotch while you frantically kept looking down the hallway for someone to help. He was just too strong for you.

Just as you started to panic slightly, you heard a deep booming voice coming from the other end of the hallway.

“HEY!! Take your hands off of her, Rollins!” Shouted Frank.

Frank distracted Jack just long enough for you to push him away and retrieve your knife from your back pocket all in one swift motion.

Holding the knife down by his crotch, you whispered with a devilish grin on your face, “Don’t make any sudden movements, Jack. You wouldn’t want me to cut it off now, would ya?”

Brock appeared at the end of the hallway and stood next to Frank. They looked at each other, thoroughly impressed with your knife wielding skills and they both gave you a nod of approval before Frank walked toward you, grabbed Jack by the collar, and asked “Can I kill him now?”

Brock answered with bitterness in his tone before you could.

“Let me do it. It should be me.” Brock then turned to you and calmly asked, “You alright, doll? Did he hurt ya?”

Frank, still holding Jack’s shirt collar, repeated Brock’s question, “Yeah, did he hurt ya?”

“I’m fine, guys. I’m fine…really, I am.” You stumbled to get the words out.

Frank turned toward Brock and while looking at you, said, “I’ll let your team take care of him but lemme just say, if you break her heart, I’ll break your neck, got it?”

“Frank!” You interrupted and couldn’t help but smile.

Brock chuckled, “I got it…I promise, Castle.”

“Good…because they don’t call me the Punisher for nothin’.” Said Frank.

Slightly embarrassed, you rolled your eyes and replied, “Oh my god, ok, ok can you guys just get him outta my sight? My stomach is starting to turn.”

Frank tossed Jack to the rest of the SHIELD team and walked back behind the bar. Brock slowly inched closer to you, his eyes locked on yours before he leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

His lips were warm and soft against your skin and you felt a slight tingle in your core as you closed your eyes and pictured his lips being somewhere else.

Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself.

Before your mind could wander any further, he asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Frank had a strict rule about no drinking on the job. So with sad puppy dog eyes, you looked over at him, and silently begged for him to let you break the rules this one time.

Folding your hands together, you mouthed the word “Please?!!”

He rolled his eyes and began to pour two beers.

“Alright, kid. I’ll let you break the rules just this once, yeah?” He said, holding up one finger.

Biting back a sweet smile, you replied, “Yes! Thank you, Frank! You won’t regret it.”

Already seeing how smitten Brock was with you and the smile stretched across your lips, Frank gave Brock a nod and replied, “Just…this…once.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @k-marzolf @nekoannie-chan @nutmeg17

Others that might enjoy: @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @randomlittleimp

If I tagged you and you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again. As always, thank you again for reading!

[a66-1]

Whiskey. Neat, please.

Simon x Bartender!Afab!Reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 |

⚠️tw⚠️ cursing, weird guys. (warming up on this one ::)))

a/n: first time in a while writing something longer. (I, me, my, pronouns.) Bear with me please :) (d'ya get what the title hints at? No? okay.)

Fucking busy night. Christ, should've let Christy take this shift..

I wiped down the bar from whatever other nasty people have been putting their unwashed hands on it before more eventually ruin my efforts. It was barely 11pm and the bar was already fucking packed with men and women determined to forget the rest of their weekend in this dingey place. My boss made me take a shift for someone, and Christy politely offered to take it, and I stupidly declined.

I needed the money, for christs sake.

The speaker surrounding the top of the main drink bar in the middle of the bar started playing too sweet by hoizer, and I hummed softly in approval. I slung the towel over my shoulder, walking back behind the bar to start wiping down some glasses that have been way overdue.

My co-worker, Shelby, bumped my hip with hers. I glance over to her, a what the hell? look on my face. She giggled, and oogled her eyes over to a group of people presumably, but I didnt follow her gaze.

"I fuckin love that we get those.. Military men from time to time.. God, makes me take the night shifts just to feed my eyes," she gave another laugh, before going to pour a glass, noticing my uninterested response.

"Oh come on, girl, you're such a loner, you need to get yourself out there! Don't tell me that old dickwad is still trying to get in your pants again-"

I cut her off, scoffing, "Jesus, Shelby, shut up. I'm not interested in your weird taste in men." *I moved away from her, heading to another full sink. I slid the clean cups to the guys pouring drinks, huffing softly. Jesus, they need to actually staff this place..

I hear a seat slide back, and then shift forward. I tilted my head up, and I'm met with a weirdo, his chin resting on his palm, almost impatiently. I shift my stance taller, giving him a once over. I'm used to picking theses guys out from a crowed, incase he fucks with any girls here.

"Ya need a drink?" I offered, tapping the cup against the counter. He gave a slow, sideways smile under his mask.

"O' course. Made my mouth all dry with that bitter gaze you got on you." The guy snickered, before waving his hand once he noticed my unamused expression. "Kidding. Take a joke, darling."

I scoffed under my breath, and I learned my throat. "Whaddya want, sir?"

"I mean, honestly? You baby.. But drink wise... Maybe a whiskey, on the rocks." He gave me a weird smile. I poured the whiskey, and droped some ice in there, sliding it to him. He drank from it as I cleaned out more glasses, his eyes keen on me.

I tried to shift once more to another side of the bar, but the guy fuckin grabbed me. I pulled back, cursing at him..

And this big ass motherfucker comes out from God knows we're, and sits the guy down. He's got a Skull mask on, and clad with military gear.

"Sit." Was the only word that left his mouth. The guy huffed and pushed him off, cursing things at him. The skull masked guy turned to me, bowing his head slightly. I rolled my eyes hesitantly.

"Okay, Mr. Big ego who need to save poor women. I can handle myself-" The guy huffs to silence me.

"Was jus' helpin' lovie." He sat in the guys old seat, nodding his head towards me. "'M Ghost. Mind gettin' me a drink?"

I let my eyes examine this new guy, before nodding. "Uh.. I.. Yeah. I'll.. Grab you a.. Uh..?" I motioned for him to tell me. He smirked, and shrugged.

"Nothin' wild. I want y'to remember my order." He drummed his fingers for a moment before snapping, like he got some bright idea. "Whiskey. Neat, please."

(not proof read) thank you for reading! I'm working in the other parts, and this one might be longer maybe idk I'm tired.

-a661