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gurugirl · 1 year ago

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Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away.

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

. . .

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.”

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

. . .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

. . .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual. So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

. . .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

. . .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

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foxconfessorandthewolf · 10 months ago

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Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

#snarry #i need them to hatefuck it out #i need snape to be cracked open and see all the tender parts fall out

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yanderejustforyou · 2 months ago

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Whumpcember Day Three: Shared Secrets

The walls of Malfoy Manor loomed around Harry, suffocating and oppressive. Each lavish tapestry along the walls whispered tales of grandeur and wealth, each ornate candelabra flickered with an unsettling light that danced in the eerie silence. The cold, polished marble floors echoed his footsteps, a reminder of how far he had fallen from the boy who once fought for a brighter future. The grandeur of the manor was a stark contrast to the disarray of his own mind—a space adorned with history yet filled with secrets and shadows. Here, amidst the extravagant yet haunting decor, Harry was acutely aware that he was no longer just a hero burdened by destiny; he was a broken man, forever changed by the war that had ravaged not only the world around him but had carved deep, irrevocable changes within himself.

Draco Malfoy stood at the heart of it all, a figure of both elegance and menace. Despite his attempts to escape the shackles of their past, it was evident to Harry that he too grappled with his own demons. They were both marred by the chaos of a world that had once been their playground, transformed now into a battleground. Each of them bore scars inked into their souls—bruises of betrayal, guilt, and pain that were unseen yet profoundly felt. Their lives had collided in unexpected ways, drawing them into the murkiest depths of their being, where light had faded into darkness, and all that remained were the lingering echoes of what they once believed they could become.

"You’re late," Draco’s voice sliced through the silence, quiet yet dangerous, with a sharp edge of impatience.

Harry hesitated for a moment, the residual sting of their last confrontation echoing in his body. Bruises blossomed beneath his clothes, a physical testament to the tumult of emotions within him—a confusing, intoxicating blend of rage and longing that left him disoriented every time he faced Draco. The way his heart raced when in Draco's presence had become a familiar yet unsettling dance; it set off a chain reaction of conflicting sensations, where anger could morph into desire with the slightest shift of Draco’s cold, penetrating gaze.

Draco leaned casually against the grand fireplace, a picture of confidence amidst the looming shadows of the manor. His posture exuded an effortless allure, yet there was an underlying tension in his demeanor, something dark smoldering in his usually guarded eyes. The way his robes draped loosely over his form gave him an air of nonchalance, but Harry found it difficult to ignore the sharpness lurking just beneath the surface—as if he was hunting something, or perhaps someone.

Harry stepped further into the dimly lit room, his expression deliberately unreadable, masking the swirling emotions within. One hand instinctively rested against the encroaching wound beneath his shirt—a token of the dark magic that began to consume him. The memories of battles fought and lost weighed heavy on him; he had always been heralded as the Boy Who Lived, but now... he found himself embracing the shadows that had once terrified him.

“You know why I’m here,” Harry finally spoke, his voice steady yet tinged with bitterness. “You called me. You wanted this.”

Draco's lips curled into a knowing smirk, a blend of amusement and something more sinister playing across his features. “I did,” he admitted, moving closer, each step deliberate and predatory. “But you didn’t have to come, Harry. You could’ve turned back, walked away like you’ve done so many times before. But you didn’t.”

The words struck Harry in the chest like a physical blow, igniting an unwelcome mix of shame and exhilaration. Draco had always seen him—truly seen him—in ways that left Harry feeling both exposed and vulnerable. There was an undeniable gravity drawing him in, a tether that bound him to Draco in a way he could neither understand nor resist.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want me here,” Harry shot back, stepping closer until they were practically entangled in each other’s space. Every breath felt ragged, every heartbeat louder, echoing in the silence of the room. “Don’t act like you’re the only one with dark secrets.”

Draco’s smirk deepened, and he reached out, his fingers resting possessively on Harry’s shoulder, but there was something about his touch—rough and demanding—that spoke of a deeper craving. It was as if claiming Harry’s presence was no longer sufficient; Draco desired a connection that went beyond mere physicality, an understanding that meshed their souls in the darkness they both harbored.

“I never pretended anything,” Draco said, his voice low and soft, yet laced with a hint of malice. “I know you, Harry. I know exactly what you’ve become. And I know precisely what it is you crave.”

Harry’s pulse quickened, drawn inexorably into Draco’s orbit, feeling the weight of his words resonate within him. The dark magic coursing through his veins mingled with the proximity to Draco's pulsing presence, igniting a fiery desire to succumb to everything he thought he had fought against. The memory of the bruise on his side—a remnant from their last encounter—throbbed in time with his racing heart, yet instead of drawing him back, it fueled the insatiable hunger for more.

“What have you done to me?” Harry murmured, more to himself than a question, as Draco’s lips brushed tantalizingly close to his ear. “Why do you make me want this? Want you?”

Draco’s lips pressed against the tender curve of Harry's neck, igniting an electric spark that shot through him. Harry gasped, his breath hitching as he felt Draco’s whispered words vibrate against his skin.

“Because you’re mine, Harry,” Draco murmured, his voice a seductive promise that sent shivers cascading down Harry’s spine. “You always were. You only needed to stop pretending.”

Harry's heart raced as he heard the raw truth in Draco’s declaration. The weight of those words sank into him, melding with the darkness that frayed the edges of his sanity. In that moment, he felt his defenses shatter, surrendering to the undeniable pull between them. The war might have left him scarred and weary, but Draco had carved a different mark on him—a branding of desire that intertwined their fates and forged a connection he could never quite escape.

“You’re right,” Harry breathed, vulnerability dropping from his lips with a mix of surrender and trepidation. “But what if it’s too late? What if I’ve already crossed a line I can’t return from?”

Draco’s gaze locked onto Harry’s, scrutinizing his face with an intensity that sought out any flicker of doubt, any hesitation. But something shifted; there was no flicker of uncertainty, no retreat, only a resolute fire that burned within Harry’s heart. The dark magic coursing through him became a part of his very being, and he recognized that Draco had been the architect of this descent into darkness—the one who had expertly guided him to crave not just the power but the very essence of what it meant to be consumed.

“Then you’ll never look back,” Draco whispered, his hands tightening possessively around Harry’s waist, anchoring him where he belonged. “We’re beyond that now.”

With his eyes closed, Harry surrendered fully to the gravity of Draco’s words. He felt the burden of his old identity recede , the expectations of being a savior dissipating like fog under the morning sun. Here, in this moment, he felt free—not as the hero, but as a man entangled in his own desires, in the shadows of a twisted bond that felt oddly liberating.

As if drawn by an invisible force, their lips collided. The kiss was fierce and consuming, a collision of desperation and passion that threatened to unravel all that remained of their guarded exteriors. There was no tenderness; it was a raw mingling of need and longing.

The taste of

Draco

was both poison and salvation,

and Harry couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Notes:

Please leave a comment—whether you loved it, hated it, or just want to share your thoughts, I’d love to hear from you! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, feel free to leave a comment or share your thoughts. I’m always open to taking requests for any ship or prompt, so don’t hesitate to reach out with your ideas. I love creating more dark, twisted, and romantic tales for you all!

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mcnored · 1 month ago

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━━ ˊ 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵.

general :

full name: draco lucius malfoy. nicknames: draco. age: forty-nine. date of birth: june 05. pronouns: he / him. blood status: pureblood. house: slytherin. alignment: the order of the stag ( undercover ). code name: dragon. occupation: auror for the ministry of magic.

physicality :

faceclaim: joel kinnaman. hair color + eye color: blonde & silver. height: 5’9. other notable features: hallowed looking cheekbones, dark circles surrounding his eyes, pale complexion, & hidden/faded death eater tattoo on his left forearm.

magic :

daemon (patronus) : dragon. mirror of erised : there is peace within the wizarding world with his son finding the happiness he deserves. draco just gets to watch him grow & lead a life he never could or deserved. wand type : hawthorn, 10” inches, unicorn hair. boggart : when he was younger, it was disgracing his father / today, it’s his son hating him or losing him to death. amortentia : to be determined.

family tree :

mother : narcissa malfoy ( resurrected ). father : lucius malfoy ( resurrected ). partner : astoria malfoy (née greengrass) resurrected. children : scorpius malfoy ( adopted ).

head canons to add : infertility, trauma, death, dismembering mentions, & grief tw

when the second war came to a close, the malfoy name remained tarnished due to his father's unyielding faith in the dark lord. even with the pardon's that came following his mother's help toward harry, draco knew that there would be a cast over his name for the remainder of his life. at least, that's what he'd firmly believed with his father still alive. due to the family wealth, he did not have to hold a profession. for a great deal of his early twenties, he spent it without a job -- living off the family means. social gatherings came as a means for draco to mingle but with the lingering betrayal of the dark lord, most pureblood families turned their noses to him. lonely was the heir of malfoy manor.

astoria greengrass came into his life unexpectedly. having been daphne's friend in school, he never looked at the younger of the greengrass sisters. she'd been a year his junior and his interests had always lied elsewhere. she was inviting. warm. her wit was as sharp as her tongue and he admired that she didn't dote over him. at least, not at first. she was different from most pureblood women. she had a kindness that seemed to be unrelenting, unlike her sister. it took about a year but in time, draco malfoy found himself in acceptance. he loved astoria more than he believed he was ever capable of love.

they wedded at the manor one spring evening. despite both his parents being unsure of the marriage to the youngest greengrass, in time acceptance was met by them as well. he loved her fiercely. defended her honor even for the smallest of things. it was summer into their first year of marriage when she told him that she wanted a child. it was the summer that followed when they discovered that she was barren.

it took them time to process that they were never to have their own biological child. astoria took it hardest, knowing that she wasn't able to provide draco an heir. he didn't take it as hard. he believed the malfoy bloodline should end with him. that was until the idea of adoption came into astoria's mind. she pleaded with draco to consider and it took him no time to oblige his wife, knowing that she wanted more than anything to be a mother. while he never saw himself fit to be a father, he couldn't ever argue when it came to her.

for never believing in being a father, draco seemed to eat his words when scorpius came into their lives. a bright eyed, gentle baby boy that had a curious resemblance to draco despite not sharing genes. he was intelligent and persistent. stubborn yet timid. he was everything that draco wasn't and yet all he hoped to be. the malfoy parents fell in love with their boy. and oh, did draco love him. he was convinced he would never love anyone so much as he loved his son. he vowed from that day on that he would never be anything like lucius was when he was a boy. he would be patient, even when he had none. he'd be understanding, even when he disagreed. he would be gentle, even though his hands were stained with war. astoria would convince him that they would raise him to have no pureblood ideologies. that he would be accepting and honorable to all wizards and non-magical folk alike. never did he think it would be possible but -- draco malfoy agreed.

there were many times after the second war that draco considered removing the tattoo that felt like a weight along his arm. though he knew that it was nearly impossible with the blood oath that he took when the dark lord graced him with the burning ink on his arm. he chose it, like the dark lord chose him. he often even considered dismembering it in the effort of turning away from all that his bloodline — that his father — got him into. when his son was born, he debated heavily on it. never wanting the curse of his family’s name to harm him any more than it already would. it wasn’t until scorpius was older that draco showed it to him in an effort to show him that he must always stand up for what was good. a lesson learned. a generational curse broken for a better life for his son.

narcissa passed in the autumn before scorpius would begin school. her death came quickly. in few short months, he was grasping at the idea of letting go of his mother until it hit. draco never had been less prepared. she was buried in the malfoy cemetery, his father beyond himself in grief to the point where he was inconsolable. draco tried to extend the consolation to his father but in the end, their feud was years past the point of reconciliation. even if narcissa wanted it for them. he would grieve narcissa for a year after she took her leave from this world.

parenthood fit draco well, even if it took him a while to get his footing. he invested in every interest scorpius had. every talent, he wanted to help mold into brilliance. astoria and draco would soon find themselves awaiting every moment that he was in school at hogwarts to hear from him by owl. they would never miss a response to his letters.

it was the spring of scorpius' rest from school in his third year when draco would come home from an outting at hogsmeade. astoria had explained her plans of gardening with their son while he was home, knowing that he'd enjoy sitting with a book while she tended to the garden as she always liked to. long forgotten was the headaches that were so persistent when their son returned from school. as he apparated back into the manor, the stillness was eery. the quiet outside the trees that swayed in the sunlight found itself to be dreadful when he called out again and again for his wife. for his son. no answer. just quiet. entering the garden was a memory that would replay in his mind for years and years to come. the blood that pooled out of his wife's ears, sticking to her ebony locks. life was gone from her eyes as their son sat still in front of her in a case of shock. ' what happened? scorpius, what happened?! ' his son wouldn't have the words to tell him until a week after they buried astoria in the malfoy graveyard. he would grieve his wife until his final breath.

lonely were the halls of malfoy manor. with just him inside, draco found that grief was all consuming when half of a person's heart was in the ground. sleep never came and when it did, it never fully took him. memories became taunting and the bed that was once shared in union seemed to grow cold. he would make his bed in his study. unable to share the same bed that once served as refuge for both him and his love. for a while, he felt like the ghost of malfoy manor -- roaming the halls until he found solace in numbing the pain with a tonic or two. he waited for scorpius' letters. he would reply hurriedly and would lay in waiting for the next to come. time never healed but with scorpius' aid, draco soon began to stand on his two feet once more.

despite many efforts to rid himself of his past, he was met with quite a few challenges at first in the ministry. though draco had all the familial wealth to never work, he intended to become an auror to shed himself of the death eater name. with every challenge came the acceptance that he wasn’t doing this for anything or anyone else but for his family. he eventually moved up in ranks and when he finally was able to be trusted by the ministry, he was shockingly met with a dinner at malfoy manner made by his son. the pride that swept through him was enough to make him realize that even if his parents old, closed minded ways never changed — his true family would always be with the youngest malfoy.

#ns: intro #i have so many additions to come after plotting takes place so !#this could get altered #but i really really wanted to get this out !

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9800sblog · 1 year ago

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Can you do Harry styles future spouse please

harry styles tarot reading

future spouse characteristics

do I have his energy permission to do and share this reading? queen of cups

personality

10 of pentacles - this is a power couple, for sure, this is someone with accumulated wealth, success, fame and access to anything they want. this person may come from nepotism and/or want a big family, otherwise they're used to being seen with big celebrities. they dream of a legacy and growing old with someone.

king of swords - power again, protectiveness, calmness, someone who knows how to delegate, they don't act without thinking. they know how to defend themselves and those close to them, may be an activist of some kind and probably hasn't been in many relationships (counting with harry, maximum 4 I'd say), although they have many options. makes good choices, selective and grounded.

the hermit reversed - probably a big introvert who doesn't have much time to themselves. the public may have a very different idea of who this person actually is and I'm being pulled to the direction of a job, actors, models, comedians, basically any performers. they're probably always on display and their appearance may be huge part of their success (judging by his type and dating history I'm confident in this interpretation haha).

death (confirmed by the devil reversed) - shedding skins like a reptile, they're not afraid to change and take on new meanings for their life. again referencing models and actors. someone very very intense, powerful, rooted in themselves, very grounded, something about them is different than the majority surrounding them but they are incredibly confident. alluring, intense, heavy but lighthearted at the same time, innocent, peaceful, definitely not afraid to be vulnerable and (again, judging by his type) sexy. religion, a sense of renewal, spirituality, the cycle of life, could all be very important to this person, they may be a christian.

appearance

high priestess reversed - literally looks like a dream, someone most could only dream of breathing next to. their looks may not be very balanced, something may stand out or look different than most. they may look sick and/or tired often, like zayn during the era of this album! the high priestess is about following your gut/intuition, since it's reversed this could mean someone who looks like they have weight or drug issues, may be someone who looks under/overweight. also someone who shows off a lot of skin, he does have that type. shorter hair and darker colors (deep winter).

8 of swords - they look often worried and/or weak. they probably don't take care of their own image/appearance, having many stylists and designers working on them. they may often wear difficult clothing (tight, revealing, sheer, etc) and often have their hair tied or short (this card is reminding me of a ballerina style). the style we usually see them may not reflect who they really are. this almost looks like someone who is being punished, but this interpretation is making me think more of a concept, maybe a music video he'll make in the future.

9 of wands reversed - a more vintage style, really high heels, height difference, an easy and unaccessible beauty. they look like they have many options, the type that is so beautiful, no one really tries to get with them because they assume they'll be rejected

#celebrity tarot reading #celebrity readings #harry styles #one direction

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psychooomind · 30 days ago

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Mixed Signals - 7

Severus Snape x reader

Summary: Set between 1989 and 1998, Severus Snape and Katya Borislova attend the European Potioneers' Assemblies, where they meet and begin a pen pal friendship that confuses them both.

This is a prequel to another of my Harry Potter fanfics, The New Founders.

A multi-entry, slow-burn, colleagues to lovers, smut

Chapter 1. Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6. You can also read it at AO3 here.

Severus reread Lucius’s invitation with a sense of reluctance. He loathed those tedious galas, always overflowing with ostentation and pretence, where the magical elite gathered to flaunt their power and wealth. Such events suffocated him, not only because of the excessive luxury but also because he was invariably surrounded by the ghosts of his school years—figures from his past he would rather forget. He knew full well that Lucius hosted these gatherings to bolster his status, but Severus never shared that enthusiasm. In fact, he would have preferred anything else to attending, but Dumbledore had pressed him to go, suggesting that observing the old Death Eaters might prove useful. As always, the Headmaster’s word was as good as an order to him.

With a resigned sigh, he began rummaging through his wardrobe, searching for a formal robe suitable for the occasion. As he did so, his eyes lingered, for a fleeting moment, on a small wooden box. Letters from Katya spilled out of it—letters he had reread so many times that the edges had begun to fray. For a second, he froze, feeling his heart quicken. Then, with a brusque movement, he shut the wardrobe doors. Not now, he thought, pushing those memories to the back of his mind.

The gala was exactly what he had expected: an extravagant display of luxury. Lucius Malfoy glided gracefully among the guests, surrounded by the elite of the Ministry and the pure-blood families of England and France. Everyone looked dazzling, as if they had stepped straight out of a fashion parade. Severus, however, remained on the outskirts, leaning against a wall, mentally counting down the minutes until he could leave. Every golden chandelier, every false laugh reminded him of just how much he despised being there. He felt like an outsider, as though he were part of a play he had no wish to perform in.

As he tried to lose himself in thought, Narcissa Malfoy approached him with her usual poised smile, breaking his temporary isolation.

“Severus,” she greeted him, with that natural elegance she always exuded, “Lucius is looking for you. He wants you to meet someone.”

Severus sighed internally. He already knew what this was about. Another attempt by Lucius to introduce him to some young woman from a respectable family, as though pairing him off was part of his list of social obligations. Perhaps he ought to tell them that he was cursed by Katya, that their connection had ensnared him irreversibly, and they might finally stop parading women before him who failed to pique his interest. But, as always, he chose silence and followed Narcissa, hoping it would all be over quickly.

As they wove their way through the guests, his gaze suddenly settled on a female figure with her back turned to him. She wore an elegant black dress with thin straps, adorned with delicate silver appliqués shaped like runes that gleamed under the candlelight. Her dark hair was styled into a high comb fashioned like silver leaves, leaving the graceful curve of her neck exposed. Severus felt a pang in his stomach, as though something within him had jolted awake. There was something familiar about her posture, about the way her body moved subtly as she conversed with someone.

“Ah, here you are!” Lucius exclaimed, drawing his attention as they approached. “Allow me to introduce you to Katya Borislova, of the Borislovs of Russia. She’ll be working with us for a while.”

Katya turned slowly, and when their eyes met, time seemed to freeze. Severus felt a wave of repressed emotions hit him with the force of a hurricane. There she was, as immaculate and ethereal as the last time he had seen her. For a second, they both stood frozen, trapped in a tension neither seemed to know how to break. She quickly averted her gaze, visibly uncomfortable, but not before he caught the flicker of surprise in her grey eyes.

“Severus is one of the finest potion masters at Hogwarts,” Lucius continued, completely oblivious to the tension that had descended between them. “I’ve always told him he’s overqualified for that place. Katya will be managing our finances, both in the magical and Muggle markets.”

Katya forced a small smile and extended her hand to Severus.

“Severus, hello,” she said softly, her fingers adorned with fine, gleaming rings.

Severus took her hand cautiously, his gaze fixed on hers, searching for some clue, some indication of what was really happening. There was something in Katya’s expression that disturbed him deeply, a gleam in her eyes he couldn’t decipher. What is she doing here, among the Malfoys? he thought, feeling distrust begin to take root in his mind. Why now, just as the Dark Mark has begun to burn again on my skin?

As he held her hand, Severus tried to recall every one of their past encounters. He mentally retraced all their conversations, the letters they had exchanged over the years, trying to find any sign he might have overlooked. Katya had always been transparent about her origins. She came from an influential, wealthy family in Russia, something she had never hidden. She had even warned him on more than one occasion that her father was a dangerous man with many contacts in the magical community. But never—not once—had she hinted at knowing powerful families in England, let alone the Malfoys.

The unease within him grew like a dark shadow. He knew Katya had spent much of her time working and studying among Muggles, a position she had always defended firmly. She despised the restrictive laws of her country, which forbade marrying Muggles, and had expressed her disapproval more than once. So why was she here? Katya’s presence in this social circle, so aligned with blood purity ideals, made no sense to him. And that filled him with growing suspicion.

As he observed her, he felt a pang of betrayal. What if all this time she had been manipulating me? What if Katya, with her charm, had deceived me from the very beginning? Severus knew there had always been something dark in their relationship, something he never fully understood, but now, confronted with her presence at Lucius’s gala, those fears began to take shape.

He tried to maintain his composure, but his mind was flooded with erratic thoughts, circling the same idea. Had I been a fool? Everything they had shared, everything she had confided in him—had it all been a lie? He felt as though the ground beneath his feet was beginning to shift. While the conversation continued around him, Severus could barely concentrate on what was being said. His thoughts dragged him back to those moments they shared in Vienna, to that intimacy that had felt so genuine at the time.

Had it all been a farce? The idea of having been used, of having been just another pawn in a game he didn’t understand, filled him with rage. And yet, despite everything, he couldn’t ignore the fact that, despite his suspicions, he remained trapped in his obsession with her. Katya still held that inexplicable power over him, that magnetism that drew him in and repelled him at the same time.

Severus tried to focus on what Lucius was saying, but his gaze kept drifting back to Katya. He didn’t know whether he was angrier at himself for still wanting her, or at her for not being what he had thought. But deep down, he knew one thing for certain: he needed answers. And Katya was the only one who could give them to him.

She had never given any indication of sharing the regressive ideals of supremacy that Lucius and his followers espoused. Had she been hiding her true nature all this time? The thought crossed Severus’s mind, and his brow furrowed almost immediately. Did she secretly despise Muggles, pretending to be tolerant while aligning herself with blood purity ideals? The very idea of it made him feel as though the ground beneath his feet was crumbling.

As doubt consumed him, Albus Dumbledore’s words began to echo in his mind, cold and sharp: “Do not lament, Severus. You do not know if you can truly trust her, and you must not tell her the truth.” That warning, which had once seemed unnecessary, now struck him with the weight of a dire omen. What if Dumbledore had been right all along? What if I was a fool to lower my guard?

Paranoia was taking hold of him, its claws sinking deeper into his thoughts. Had Katya been part of a larger plan to manipulate me? Perhaps she had been moulded to perfection, every detail of her personality crafted to attract him, to seduce him, making him believe she shared his views when it had all been an illusion. Perhaps they had believed that a woman would be the key to tethering him irrevocably to the Death Eaters. She was too perfect. Too ideal. Did I truly know the real Katya? Or had everything I loved about her been a carefully constructed façade to lead me straight into a trap?

A growing sense of betrayal began to rise within him, though he had no concrete evidence. It was as though the pieces of the puzzle simply didn’t fit. She can’t be the Katya I knew. The woman who had shared intimate moments with him, who had written with such fervour about her ideals and convictions, who passionately defended equality between wizards and Muggles... that woman had nothing in common with Lucius Malfoy’s followers. No, she couldn’t be one of them. But then, what was she doing here?

Seeing her in that environment—smiling, conversing, acting as though she belonged—only deepened his confusion. Lucius’s circle was not a place for just anyone. Only those who shared his darkest ideals, those who saw blood purity as a privilege, were welcomed at those gatherings. Severus knew that better than anyone. And yet, there was Katya, perfectly integrated, as though she had always belonged to that world.

“Do you know each other?” Narcissa asked, perceiving the palpable tension between them but smiling with a studied politeness.

“We crossed paths at a Potioneers’ Assembly some time ago,” Severus replied quickly, taking Katya’s hand gently, trying to maintain his composure. “A pleasure to see you again, Katya.”

Katya’s eyes briefly met Severus’s, but her expression was unreadable. Narcissa and Lucius exchanged a knowing glance, and Lucius, with his usual casual tone, bid them farewell.

“Oh, my dear. I think we’re intruding here,” he said with a sly smile. “Excuse us.”

As soon as they moved away, Severus could contain himself no longer. His mind buzzed with questions, suspicions, and a confusion that threatened to overwhelm him. He stared at her, trying to decipher every one of her gestures, attempting to see beyond the surface. For a moment, the temptation to use Legilimency was too strong. He could read her mind, find out what on earth was happening, unravel her secrets. But he quickly dismissed the idea. He knew that Katya was an exceptional Occlumens, perhaps even better than him in some respects. There was no way to access her thoughts without her knowing.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, his voice more desperate than he would have liked to reveal. He couldn’t hide the anxiety he felt at seeing her in that place.

Katya took a glass of champagne from a passing house-elf and sipped it slowly before responding, as though buying herself time.

“I work for the Malfoys now” she said calmly, avoiding his gaze. “My father has had connections with them for years, and I decided to accept a new offer.”

Severus noticed how her eyes shifted to the guests surrounding them, as though she couldn’t face him directly. Something in her explanation didn’t add up. Katya had always despised everything the Malfoys stood for. Why, then, was she working for them?

“Why England?” Severus pressed, his distrust seeping into every word. “You had incredible offers in New York.” He moved closer. “I sent you letters,” he lamented.

Katya stared at him for a moment, her grey eyes scrutinising him. Then she let out a derisive huff, stepping slightly away from him.

“It’s none of your business, Severus,” she replied coldly, avoiding a real answer. “And yes, I received your letters.”

“Why didn’t you reply?” he asked, his voice betraying the irritation he felt. He knew he sounded far too vulnerable, but he couldn’t help it.

“Do you want me to give you a list of reasons?” she mocked, her tone sharp.

Katya’s words hit him like a splash of cold water. What had happened? There was something about her attitude, the way she avoided giving him a direct answer, that deeply unsettled him. It was as though every word was carefully calculated, designed to keep him in the dark. Was she hiding something? As he looked at her, a growing sense of distrust settled in his mind.

Perhaps she was playing him, getting revenge for what had happened in Vienna. What if all this time she had been manipulating him? Doubt gnawed at him. He knew he couldn’t fully trust her, yet he couldn’t stop himself from feeling that uncontrollable desire to uncover the truth. His obsession with Katya grew darker with every second he spent in her presence.

Who was Katya Borislova, really? That question haunted him, and the more he looked at her, the more he realised that he didn’t know the answer. But there was one thing he couldn’t ignore: he needed to know, even if the truth destroyed him.

Katya maintained her composure, her posture straight and confident as she dealt with the inquisitive glances surrounding her. Yet she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting back to her father’s warnings. No one outside the Malfoys’ select circle could know the real reasons why she was in England. That had been the first and most important instruction. Katya had understood it from the beginning; she had learned to navigate that environment with subtlety, controlling every word, every gesture, to ensure nothing betrayed the operation underway. She had worked hard to earn her father’s trust, to prove she was worthy of this mission, and she couldn’t afford a mistake.

But now, confronted with Severus, Katya felt all that control, all that careful training, beginning to slowly unravel. He was there, staring at her as though he could read her every thought, as though he were about to shout at her or kiss her—whichever came first. That damned magnetism, she thought, as a whirlwind of emotions overwhelmed her. It was as though, with just one look, Severus had dismantled the façade she had worked so hard to maintain.

The silence between them stretched, tense and laden with unspoken things, as Severus tried to unravel what she was hiding. Katya, for her part, fought to keep her mind closed, aware that an untimely revelation could jeopardise the entire operation and, worse still, make her lose her father’s trust. She knew that any sign of weakness would be interpreted as failure, and if that happened, the past year of effort would have been for nothing. I can’t fail, she repeated to herself, but the only reason she might fail was standing right there in front of her.

Her only problem was Severus. Why did he have to be here? She had thought she wouldn’t see him again, that the wound would heal with time. But now, having him so close, her mind was flooded with memories. And what was even worse: she realised that, despite everything, she was still in love with him. How could she still love someone who had abandoned her? That thought tormented her but also made her vulnerable, a vulnerability she couldn’t afford at that moment—not while she was surrounded by people who could use it against her.

Katya took a deep breath, forcing herself to project a calm she didn’t feel.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she finally said, her voice sharp, not hiding the trace of hardness she used as a shield. “Not after how you humiliated me in Vienna, Severus.”

The pain of what had happened in Vienna was still raw, and it was easier to throw that accusation at him than confess what she really felt. She had hoped that seeing him after so long would have cooled everything, but nothing could be further from the truth.

“No, you’re right,” he responded, his tone calmer than she had expected. “Frankly, I’m surprised. I didn’t think we would see each other again.”

“Yes, you’re probably used to that,” Katya accused, her voice turning cutting, though inside, an irrational fear gripped her—the fear that Severus, of all people, had forgotten her.

Severus frowned, his reaction immediate. How could she say that to him? After all the times they had spoken about it, about what it meant to feel like a pariah. He knew what it was to be rejected, as much as she did, but Katya had hit a weak spot, one he wasn’t willing to admit so easily.

“No, Katya, not at all.”

The silence between them stretched again, heavy and full of unanswered questions. Katya looked at him, but Severus felt that there was something more behind her words, something she wasn’t willing to share. As he tried to process what was happening, everything he had wanted to say to her over the past year swirled in his mind, but, as always, the words caught in his throat, unable to come out. He was trapped between confusion and desire, between the anger of being left adrift and the need to know what had really happened.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Katya said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence, “I think I’ve had enough for one night.”

She handed him her empty glass, a cold gesture that unsettled him. She hadn’t always been like this, Severus thought, as he watched her excuse herself and walk away. The way she slid through the guests, the slight shimmer of her black dress as she disappeared through one of the Great Hall’s doors, left him with a bitter sense of loss. Something in her eyes, in that brief but intense look she had given him, stirred unease in him. She had changed. During that year, the girl he had known at the Assembly no longer seemed the same. Her eyes, which had once shown insecurity and vulnerability, now seemed sharper, more demanding, as though she had found an inner strength she had previously lacked.

As Severus remained motionless, still holding Katya’s glass, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He drank what remained of her drink, trying to calm the nerves their encounter had caused. But nothing could shake that feeling. He knew this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths. Something else was at play, something neither of them had yet admitted.

For her part, Katya left the hall with her heart racing. The encounter with Severus had left her more shaken than she cared to admit—not just because she feared he might uncover what she was doing there, but because, despite everything, despite the mission, she still felt the same for him. Her only crack in her fortress was that man she had tried to remove from her life but who, with just one look, had managed to turn her entire world upside down once again.

#harry potter #severus snape #wizarding world #hogwarts #fanfiction #hp fanart #hp fandom #professor snape #pro snape #snape fandom #snape #snape headcanons #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #smut #snape smut

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reidslovely · 2 years ago

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So!!!! Is CEO Parker like a bit of mob Peter? Like surely he has the same amount of power and wealth as mob!Peter but what are some other things about ceo Parker?

For the sake of this we are going to pretend that Peter's body is not being occupied by Otto in this timeline. Different from the actual Parker Ind. timeline in the comics. This is not about the superior comic run.

In my head CEO Peter has always been Mob!Peter. So on his own yeah CEO!Peter has so much wealth and power but I think he's a bit more reclusive and built off than my interpretation of Mob!Peter was. Mob! always surrounded himself by his peers and built himself up through them and what they thought of him. He also fed off the control he had to keep him going after the trauma of losing everything he did. He was social by nature because it was the way to keep himself from sinking.

CEO!Pete on the other hand allows himself to sink. Especially after Gwen's death (who in this timeline for the sake of having Harry there because I love him and he deserved better was killed by the Norman Goblin). He throws himself into school and his studies, he takes summer classes to graduate earlier. He latches onto Otto and all the work they do together that basically becomes his relationship he comes up with prototype for the robotics that took off the company (im not a mogul so im not sure what it is: probably going to be robotics or ai implications like in the ps4 game so basically helping and aiding people with missing limbs or neurodegenerative disorders.) And that's not to say he's not having relationships with actual people he is..they just never go past one night. Parker and Osborn Industries is literally built from the ground up, Otto steps down from his position and leaves what is left of Octavius Industries projects to Peter who by this point is graduated and fresh out of college. So with the help of Harry (who he's helped with the Retroviral Hypodysplasia by coming up with a antidote from his own blood finally perfecting it after years of them trying) they break ground Parker and Osborn. Fast forward a few years the two go their separate ways, still friends just focusing on different ends of the scientific market. Peter now nearing 30, is a young CEO of this high-tech company he and his best friend made on the death bed of his former boss. How could he not feel isolated? He's gone this long without someone, why even bother at this point?

He does long for a family though, someone to share all this with. He had Harry and that made him feel less alone but Harry's married now, he and M.J. expecting their first born son soon and Peter's still grieving the loss of his high school girlfriend. He's backed himself into such a corner though that, he's not sure he could walk himself out of it at this point.

Sorry anon you probably wanted some CEO!Peter/Reader but I gave you my half assed, word vomit lore instead🫣😭

#ceo!peter #bambi talks #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #tasm peter x reader #andrew garfield

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swallowedbyfandom · 5 months ago

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While she is making her gift baskets for her two most adorable and troublesome defenders she finds herself most reflective. In a strange way she feels like she should send Colin a gift basket. If not for his constant inconsistency she may have held fast to her childhood fantasies. She likely would have grown old waiting on the day he finally opened his eyes to her. Dear Lord, she would have ended up having to clean up after Eloise forevermore. She shudders in horror at the thought. Eloise had finally shown her true colors and Penelope is happy to be rid of her.

She would have missed out on the steady reassurance of Lord Debling's courtship. While she didn't want to marry him in the end, Alfred taught her so much about self acceptance. She will always cherish how honest he was with her. Really Debling was a credit to his unfortunate gender. Sadly, like most men of wealth and privilege he was all too quick to chastise once he felt slighted. She would not spend her life placating a grown man.

She would have missed out on the parade of suitors that flooded her home and bought her mama such shocked glee. She would have missed out on watching Prudence's face sour with jealousy for every gentleman whom crossed their foyer to pay call on her. The petty satisfaction she received from watching Prudence's pride wither away with every bouquet and high end sweet she received made her day, everyday. She shall forever cherish the look of envy on Prudence's face when she compared the ring Alfred gave her to her own. Truly the ring Alfred gave her made Pru's ring look like something purchased off a street market. Something her Mama shamelessly pointed out to Prudence and Harry.

Most importantly, she would have missed out on her broader understanding of the male species as a whole had she not dealt with so many different types of callers this season. This season has taught her that all man must battle certain demons before they are fit to be called husband. Those demons can take a plethora of different shapes and sizes. Samual is a man, capital M. He has already faced his demons and came out better for it.

Lord Samadani knows what he wants in a wife and is willing to put in the work, to built a strong foundation so his marriage can flourish. He is charming of course, most men of his status are taught charm out of the cradle. He is confident. She finds that confidence so very appealing. It is not the baseless arrogance she is use to seeing among her peers. No, he is skilled and accomplished. He does not court her to fill some unnamed void he finds within himself as Colin had. He does not seek her hand to manage his estate as Alfred had. He courts her simply because he wants to take her to wife.

She lets out a dreamy sigh. He courts her earnestly. He is relentless in his pursuit of her. He doesn't sabotage his competition he simply overshadows them. He takes her for promenades during the day and whisks her away to the opera in the evening. He had taken her to the ballet after she mentioned in passing how beautiful she found the dancers at the Queen’s ball. It was a magical night.

He sweeps her across ballrooms and doesn't dance with any of the other ladies. All told he pampers her like she is already his wife. It is so terribly endearing. She does not need him for material gain but she can admit it is a nice perk. He is not subtle with his regards for her. It is wonderful to be courted with such care and devotion.

Samual doesn't just tell her about the world like Colin did, he shares it with her. Whether that is through having his cooks prepare her lavish dishes from his favorite cities or taking her to dinner to introduce her to his peers. He is so very proud to be seen with her.

He asks her about her interests and genuinely listens to her responses. He even seems to find amusement in her mama’s charming brand of absurdity. He finds her sisters utterly ridiculous but he still treats them with respect. He is gentle with Albion and Harry's dignity. He never puts them down or derides their ideas he just guides them in a better direction. He is courting her entire family.

She is going to marry that man.

#bridgerton s3 #unhinged penelope featherington #violet bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #portia featherington

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rosiewitchescottage · 14 days ago

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I've a prime British example of a real villain who kept the wool pulled over everyone 's eyes for years.

The fact that he was rich and influential helped him. But the strongest smokescreen he used was charity work.

Jimmy Saville started off as a radio DJ. Then he came to BBC TV with a long running Saturday tea time show called 'Jim 'L' Fix It'.

People wrote in with things they'd always wanted to do, and the show made a selection of these wishes come true.

Each person/group also got a 'Jim Fixed It For Me' badge.

He always had a slightly 'creepy' vibe to him. But it was dressed up in a somewhat eccentric persona.

JS wore tracksuits, scruffy blond hair and a Groucho Marx-esque cigar.

His biggest accolade was the fortune he raised for the Stoke Mandeville Hospital. He got a knighthood from Queen Elizabeth II for this work.

After his death, stories began to surface about Sir Jim committing assault on what turned out to have been 63 people.

Worse still, there was evidence that many people knew what was going on. But no one tried to stop it.

Similarity with Gaston. He's good looking and wealthy. Many girls would be happy to marry him and get security for life, along with a handsome man to be on the arm of.

Most of all he's a very efficient hunter. He keeps the community well fed and protected from danger.

I don't doubt that plenty of town's people know what an asshole Gaston is.

But because of what he does for the community, and no doubt being wealthy has got him plenty of influence, everyone holds their tongues about his less than gentlemanly behaviour.

This isn't only something that happens with men and men characters.

I haven't watched the TV series Bridgerton. But I am a big fan of the original Julia Quinn books.

Lady Danby isn't a villain, but she does get away with being incredibly rude and sometimes unfairly insulting, precisely because of her age, wealth and influence.

There are plenty of women in real life for whom having the 'right' political opinions gives them carte blanche to say things that other people would be hung out to dry for.

And it's absolutely nothing new. People have always done this.

Whether a person has been 'venerable' due to age, wealthy and powerful, of especial benefit to Society at large, or because they belong to a 'marginalised group', it's always been the case that these people have had excuses made for bad behaviour that others would never be allowed to get away with.

(Yes. I'm 100% in favour of our British Monarchy. But it doesn't blind me to the fact that Prince Andrew got a lot of protection for his terrible behaviour during his rape investigations, simply by being Royal.

Look at Prince Harry. He says he wants independence, but still wants to hold onto Royal Privileges. He says he wants privacy, yet he airs eyewateringly intimate details for all the world to see and hear.

He knows that it's the very fact that he was born and raised in the British Royal Family that cushions him against he consequences that anyone not protected by Royal or Political influences would face.)

It's one of our unfortunate human tendencies, and it's shared across our species.

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thewul · 11 months ago

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Ace full of Kings

Welcome to suburbia land and the wealth of suburban lifestyle, although on the surface it may have looked like nothing, boring even, there was good poker players and poker nights, Sunday baseball games were always fun even if it's just kids, and every Wednesday at the local bar karaoke nights entertained the best and worst singers the neighborhood had, there was different stuff once you started digging in it, once you got acquainted with the place and its people most of all, and you know anywhere is worth it if you find good poker players

Tonight we are having a poker night in a dimly lit small backroom at Harris, smoke filled with the cigars that Barnes procured from an army buddy selling them on the low from Puerto Rico where he was posted, the room had every kind of Seahawks team memorabilia you could think of, signed jerseys and footballs, players cards, framed press articles, and a heap of photographs with the players and staff plastered the walls almost entirely, a lifetime collection that spilled to a few large boxes stacked one on top of the other, as a cop Harris had his entries, originally from Seattle before he bailed after getting in serious trouble with organized crime, it even had trophy replicas on a shelve, complete with Seahawks branded coffee mugs and coffee machine

Seahawks was "the coolest name for a football team" and the retired street cop was a huge fan, and of course it had the crackling police radio noise in the background because that's what you would expect from a retired street cop, to stay put even if, a couple of years ago we had invested in a proper poker table, our pride and joy, professional green mat and cup holders, the bar well it wasn't much, but Harris kept it filled with his rake although he didn't like to hear that word

Meet the players, or the demonstration that maybe prosperity isn't what it used to be, that the neighborhood isn't what it used to be, life in general, but that poker can heal all wounds, imagine that a poker night at your neighbor's poker room, a bottle of the finest whiskey money could buy for under 100 Dollars, put together around the fine looking table more than a hundred years of life experience, retirees, O’Brian retired fireman, Harris still on police radio, Brown a retail store manager, a black man who fought his way in life arguing to too many customers that he was the store's manager, and Barnes a Vietnam vet with two rounds of duty under his belt and the scars to prove it

Billy Perkins wasn't half their age but they made a place for him because he was good at poker, above all they wanted to know why he wasn't not good at money other than the chips that he racked often, and above all if he realized that a man his age of his character can be anything he wanted in life, he was on to something big that's what they all thought of him

I'll have that widow hand, No Billy Perkins you can't have that Why not? You're not even married, Well look at me it's my winning hand, What do you know it's your winning hand? See it's two pairs already, say I score a full and a pair, I don't say nobody says that replied Barnes, Or 4 of a kind, ace high Come on now, Why come on, you're not even looking at your hand, don't like what you see? I have a better hand! What you're raising now, Of course am raising, am raising your better hand, Watch out the kid is on a roll

That fishing contest Billy how did it go? asked Harris, We won it, uncle Joe is the best, sold the fish for ten grands I made half of it, That's good money what are you going to do with, repaint the house I guess its been due for a while, Get a new lawnmower too your front yard looks like a jungle he added while fetching a couple of new cards, I was thinking of fixing it, That's what you said last week and the week before that

O’Brien took a long look at Perkins before deciding to share what he had in mind, tell me Perkins that O'Connor guy he's a big shot at the company where you work right? A big shot he's The big shot, used to be president and chairman of the board, Something is fishy about the whole thing, Such as? I've been told that propane tank was installed by a top notch utility business, checked it regularly, last time they did they replaced every joint gave the installation a clean bill of health, 3 months later the whole place blows up like a gas station on fire, wasn't supposed to happen like that

Retired Lt Harris who had listened on while staring at his hand paused his drink, see what you just described is murder for hire, come on now are we saying that rich folk homes don't blow up Brown interjected Brown, listen to the man Harris replied he said wasn't supposed to happen, But still it was a gas leak that did it am I correct, atleast that's what I read on the newspaper, Well there's guys that are into that stuff and they're paid big bucks to make murders for hires look like an accident

I didn't say a word more and kept focused on building my hand, thinking about what just been said, how O'Connor, Sullivan and Richardson had died within weeks, and so who benefited the most, Dillinger and again Dillinger who had an opening for president and chairman of the board, meanwhile he could push back indefinitely his retirement on the grounds that his succession had been hampered

Maybe if they fixed it wrong Brown went on, a botched job, you guys are always trying to make the stuff that happens in this city into a police movie, what do you know about gas Clayton replied O’Brien, what do I know about gas I used to run a retail store, it smells Clayton gas smells, see said Harris, the botched job might be O'Connor instead, did cops drop by at the company? They did answered Perkins coolly, keeping to himself that it wasn't about O'Connor that they showed up and that the murder count at Allstate was already 2 or 3 now by the looks of it, See no wonder, you have two guys who spent too many time doing this and they're saying that somebody punched that propane tank, Not the tank no that can leave traces remarked O'Brien, the joints are more likely

Because they would burn in the fire? Right it's not your everyday plastics but with that kind of temperature they will, If they don't catch who's behind this it's going to be another perfect murder, Perfect murder? That stuff exists? replied Brown, Oh yes it does and it's nothing that we advertise to people, Because you guys can't catch the murderer? No it's worse than that Clayton, we can't prove that it was a murder

Hey Barnes pour me a drink What's the occasion kid, Am doubling the raise, What for? For everyone's been throwing cards like they're yesterday's newspapers, But not the cards you want now Perkins, True haven't seen those, madam widow here is going to hand them right next, Ugly little weasel, Now now what's wrong with having a little drink

What on earth was he up to, a bigger pay no he was already well off, they all were, there had to be something else far more potent and sinister to justify his deadly power play, most of all the risks he took, Allstate was no small fish, 3rd largest insurance company amongst those who operated solely in the U.S, worth tens of billions

Am going all in gentlemen, Are you kidding us! It's several rounds we've been doubling that raise! Sergeant It's time to suck in the pain, What is it with suck in the pain, My favorite part, the single most telling line about war and about life, it's in the movie, What movie again? Barnes movie war movie, tell us about the alligators Barnes, There was no alligators in Vietnam, You sure look like you've been bitten by one, How come you're not a rich guy already since you're so cocky asked Barnes? Am hood rich, every week I come here and rack those chips Not always no, True sometimes I sit next to the bottle, Ouch

So? Am folding, Same here, Same, Barnes you're in? Let's see what you have, what I have is all in want to go all in? Not this time but I'll get you next time ugly weasel, I guess that's it, was nice playing you gentlemen partners, always a pleasure, Not so fast partner Perkins you have to pay the house, There you go Harris make my day, It's every other week that you always keep forgetting, But you don't

Let's see that hand you have, Does anybody look into a grave before getting in, That's it he had nothing but those two pairs, who let you sit next to the dealer anyways, The dealer sat next to me what should I do tell him to bounce, You think you're so clever, Look at you, you sat next to the bottle, Bluffers come with big mouths, Well you should have known Harris, He's been robbing us like that when he has nothing going he bluffs, Then I might have something going, Keep bluffing Perkins

How much did you make? Let's see there's a couple of upcoming games and I have to fork the beer cases at Barnes, Clayton asked me to take his car to the car wash stick me with bill plus extra for the leather chairs, O’Brien well what do you know he's got groceries he wants me to pick up any given Sunday, and Harris just raked me, Don't say that word, Why it's true, Keep things going for the club, Oh it's a club now? What do you think look at all the decoration

Was he after all of it why… Pretty much anyone else could arrive to the same conclusion as I did, police included especially the police, making him the prime suspect, or maybe in the back of his mind he thought he was so cunning that he could pull his moves without so much as a citation, so far he had succeeded that's the thing… The papers said the blast was an accident, and Richardson and Sullivan seemingly killed each others

That hand Perkins? It's there on the table, Can we? Go ahead what's the poker night for, What does he have? Aces full of kings!, Ugly little weasel, Keep going Perkins you'll get places, So he wasn't bluffing after all? Yeah it's the same to me Clayton, He's got something this young fellow, We agree on that, we said it over and over again, but he doesn't seem to know what it is himself, He's a good kid Harris he will find out when it's time, He doesn't look in a hurry and what do you know about time, it flies

Look at the hand that he has continued O'Brien, didn't even show it what does tell us about him Harris, Keeping his cards close to his chest, knows best in life than to show his cards and when you know that his age in life you already know a great deal, I think paused Clayton, no I am convinced that he can be anything he wants in life, Well he's got us posted about what it's going to be replied Harris

#HUGO BOSS #sunset creek

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www-webwarriors · 2 years ago

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Harry Osborn was the heir to the Osborn family fortune, and the CEO of OsCorp. He had everything a man could want: wealth, power, and good looks. But despite his success, there was one thing that eluded him: love.

Karen Starr was a brilliant scientist and the CEO of Starr Labs. She was known for her innovative research in the field of energy, and for her stunning beauty. Harry had been enamored with her ever since they had met at a charity event, and he had been trying to find a way to ask her out ever since.

One day, Harry mustered up the courage to invite Karen to dinner. To his delight, she accepted. They dined at a fancy restaurant, talking and laughing over fine food and wine. As the night wore on, Harry found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with Karen.

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Karen's relationship blossomed. They went on romantic dates, attended events together, and shared their passions for science and technology. Karen was intelligent, kind, and beautiful, everything Harry had ever wanted in a partner.

But their happiness was not to last. Harry's father, Norman Osborn, was arrested for his crimes as the Green Goblin. Harry was forced to take over the family business, and he found himself struggling to balance his responsibilities with his relationship with Karen.

As the pressure mounted, Harry began to withdraw from Karen. He cancelled dates, skipped meetings, and was always too busy to see her. Karen tried to be understanding, but she couldn't help feeling hurt and frustrated. One day, Karen confronted Harry in his office. "What's going on, Harry?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Harry sighed heavily and looked at her with pained eyes. "Karen, I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in my responsibilities as CEO that I've been neglecting you. But I promise, I'm going to make it up to you. I love you, Karen Starr, and I don't want to lose you."

Karen's heart skipped a beat as she heard the words she had longed to hear. She forgave Harry, and they worked together to find a balance between his work and their relationship. Over time, their love grew stronger, and they became inseparable.

One day, Harry surprised Karen with a romantic trip to Paris. They strolled along the Seine, visited the Louvre, and shared croissants at a sidewalk café. As the sun began to set over the Eiffel Tower, Harry took Karen's hand and led her to a quiet park. "Karen, I know I've said it before, but I need to say it again. I love you more than anything in this world. You are my light, my inspiration, and my heart. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Tears filled Karen's eyes as she realized what Harry was asking. "Yes, Harry," she whispered. "I will marry you." They sealed their love with a kiss, as the city of Paris sparkled around them. For Harry Osborn and Karen Starr, their love was the greatest adventure of all, and they knew that they would always be there for each other, through thick and thin.

#alternate universe #harry osborn #karen starr #crossover fanfiction #crack pairings

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pleasingforharry · 3 years ago

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Coming Back Around

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N were childhood lovers, living in the same small neighborhood, sharing the same poor, simple life. Harry grew up to become a world famous singer and hadn’t talked to Y/N in years, but the death of her father brings him back to the old neighborhood, where the two childhood lovers reconnect and rekindle the love they’ve always had for each other.

WORD COUNT: 3k

WARNINGS: Loss of family member, angst

I stood in the middle of my room, too emotionally drained to conversate with more people dripping with pity. It was too overwhelming, and I was only a second away from crying at the top of my lungs.

“Knock, knock,” my mother sadly sang, mimicking the same tune as my father. It sent shivers down my spine. I looked over my shoulder and sighed at my mother as she stalked over. She didn’t appear any more composed than I was. Dark, heavy bags and hollow cheeks with her hair pined straight because she stressed all the curls out.

“Hey,” I said, rubbing my naked arms to comfort myself. “How’s it going down there?” I motioned to the sad piano melody playing downstairs, mixed with low reminiscing conversations about the man my father used to be.

My mother shrugged and smiled the best she could. Her hand reached for my cheek, “It’s less pitiful up here. I don’t know how many more ‘thank you, we’ll be alright’ I have in me.”

“You did better than me. Every one of Dad’s colleagues had to tell me how much I’ve grown and how proud Dad was of me. I just couldn’t do it any more.”

“You don’t have to, baby. Stay up here as long as you need. I would cut the party short, but more people keep coming in with pans of food,” my mother complained as I sunk into her long chest. “Our poor refrigerator.” I laughed with thick mucus boiling in my throat. My mother wrapped her arms protectively around me and kissed the top of my head.

I had a nagging question all day that hadn't yet been answered. At neither the burial nor the reception. And as pathetic as it sounded, I was beginning to lose hope. My thoughts were not only on my father, but also on the guy I wished would come to see me now that my father was gone.

My mother pulled away to look down at me, but suddenly frowned as she could sense what I wanted to ask. “No sight of him yet, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Why are you sorry? It was his decision not to show up. He’s probably taking a long bath in his wealth, right now. No time in his rich and talented schedule to come back to this town,” I scoffed with a pang of hurt. “He could’ve at least called. He knew Dad just as much as everyone else here did.”

My mother nodded in agreement, brushing my hair back like she always did to calm me down. “I’m gonna ask Anne again if she’s heard anything from him, okay?”

“Don’t bother,” I hummed, sitting down on my bed and unpinning my hair to let it fall melancholily on my shoulders. “I should only be thinking about Dad. He’s more important than him.”

“I’ll still try. I love you, babe.” With that, my mother descended downstairs to the waiting people that wanted to shove more apologies down her throat. I gave her credit for being strong enough to let them tackle her like that. I couldn’t even last thirty minutes.

My hand rested on my forehead, predicting an incoming headache. It could’ve been from the tears, the stress, the grief, or even the yearn for him to show up at my doorframe with that damn reassuring smile. Every time I saw it, I knew everything was going to be alright.

It had been a long time since I’ve seen it. Ever since he joined his world-famous band and traveled places we had only dreamed of visiting together, he never blinked an eye in my direction again. I wanted to beg him to call me, to text me, to notice me, to remember me. Anne insisted that he was always thinking about me, but I knew she was lying. He wouldn’t have abandoned me like that.

I’ve watched him throughout the years. I’ve cheered on his success, his passion, his dream. He was becoming what he always wanted to be. As kids, he was certain it would happen, and it did. I was so fucking proud, and all I wanted to do was let him know that.

My father was aware of how I felt about him. He knew from the beginning and would always fight me because I lacked the confidence to do something about my feelings. He was constantly nudging my side when I was around him and kicking me under the table with a wide smirk.

When I finally talked myself into asking him out, my father couldn’t have been more proud of me. He knew that I found a way to motivate myself through a fear. All he wanted was for me to know that I could do anything. He wanted me to do anything I put my mind to.

God I missed him.

I didn’t realize tears were falling down my cheeks until they dripped on my dress. I sniffled and quickly wiped them away. A hard blow escaped my lips, before I stood up and decided to finally join my mother downstairs.

I snuck my way into the kitchen to find her talking to an old neighbor, laughing about the grass wars he had with my father. During the spring season, they'd always compete to see who had the best-looking yard.

“Hey, kiddo. Haven’t seen you in a minute, huh?” He exclaimed as soon as he saw me. I smiled sincerely and nodded. My mother wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pulled me into her side. "Your mother was just telling me how your father used to go around the neighborhood convincing everyone that his grass was better cut than mine."

I looked over at her with raised eyebrows. She smiled. “And he always said—quoted—I put my blood, sweat, and tears into my lawn when old man Jenkins across the street actually had his son doing it for him.”

“Can you believe that, kiddo?”

I tilted my head back to laugh. “That’s Dad, alright. He was always doing stuff like that.” My mother snorted in agreement, rubbing my arm in praise. I had went mute earlier when other spoke to me about my father, but I was finally back at it again.

While my mother was picking up a new conversation, I let my mind wander. My gaze darted around the open house, noticing that everyone from our small town was there. My father was the face of the L/N family and everyone knew about him. It was a shock to the whole town that he was suddenly just gone. It happens.

With my floaty thoughts and mindlessly strolling my eyes around the room, I didn’t realize who came into frame as they entered the room. He instantly grabbed everyone’s attention. A soft gasp left my lips.

He was there. He came. He actually showed up.

Everyone knew what he had become, but never got the chance to congratulate him because he didn’t come around. It was the first time in years he acknowledged his roots, his supportive neighborhood, his bloodless family. Me.

I suddenly panicked, slithering away from my mother’s grasp to the bathroom on the other side of the house. Fortunately, it wasn’t already occupied, so I slipped inside and slammed the door shut. My breathing began to pick up as I gripped the sink. I didn’t dare to look at myself through the mirror because the young, in love Y/N would show.

I didn't have a plan, and I didn't think he'd actually show up. I wasn’t ready to face him after all. My mind was racing. I was fucking scared.

A soft knock hit the door and without needing a voice, I knew exactly who it was. “I saw you run from me, love. I know you’re mad and scared to talk, but... it’s still me. It’s just Harry.”

“Not the ‘I’m too wealthy and famous to acknowledge my ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend from birth’ you? It’s just you, huh?”

He sighed on the other side of the door and knocked again. “Let me in. Please, Y/N.”

“Why should I? So you can apologize about my dad dying and then leave to do whatever the fuck you do and forget about me once again? Hell no,” I growled at the door, pointing at him even though he couldn’t see me.

“I’m sorry. I am, love. I can’t excuse my absence because I had so many opportunities to reach out and I didn’t. I.. just.. let me see you.”

“You don’t deserve to see me.”

He chuckled slightly, which made my eyebrows furrow. “You are absolutely right. I don’t deserve for you to hear me out either, but I’m asking you with the most sincere sorry I can muster for you to let us talk this out.”

I didn’t want to, I shouldn’t have. But I felt something. Someone. My father. He was telling me to, he was scolding me to hear him out. Even when he didn’t deserve my ear, I gave it to him.

I opened the door ajar and was immediately met with his charming green eyes. They were slightly widened that the door opened at all, but squinted as he smiled. “Hey, pretty. I’ve missed you.”

“Sure you did,” I rolled my eyes as I grabbed his arm and threw him the bathroom with me. He shut the door behind him before leaning against it. We were quiet for a few moments, just taking in each other. Years apart and lots of changes had to be caught up through examining glances.

“I know this is a weird setting to say this but you look beautiful, Y/N,” He spoke first. I shrugged, continuing to give him a hard time as he deserved. “I’m sorry about your dad, I know how close you guys were.”

“You make it seem like you heard how close we were. Like you weren’t there for almost everything,” I shook my head disappointingly at him. “If you’re up for claiming the life you had before your little boyband, you were actually here. You saw us and we spent time together, the three of us. Are you okay with having those memories? Do you claim those times?” I tested him with a lift of my brow. He sighed frustratingly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, Y/N, I claim everything that happened. I was here, I knew your father, I knew you. Do you think I’m embarrassed of you guys or something?”

I rolled my eyes, “You tell me, I wasn’t the one who completely blocked you out of my life when I became all big and popular.” I just wanted him to tell me what happened. What did I do wrong? Why did he leave me behind with no glance back?

“I’m sorry, Y/N—“

“Yeah, you keep saying that, I get it. Now tell me why you fucking did it. You were my boyfriend, my best friend, my other half. I couldn’t imagine a life without you and never wanted to. You were—“

“Don’t make it seem like I didn’t think you were my everything too because you were. We were only kids and I already knew that you were the one for me. I never forgot how you made me feel,” He spoke over me with an offended tone. I was slight taken back, but made sure he couldn’t see it in my face.

I wanted to choke the answer I needed out him. He was avoiding the question and it was so fucking frustrating. “You left me behind like I was an old toy. Not a text nor call that I was still loved. I felt disgusting, I felt used. You moved on from me so quick! Why?”

His hands reached for his hair before he tugged roughly on the roots, something I had seen many times. It was an inevitable habit, and I tried not to smile at the hint of the old him shining through.

“Y/N, stop avoiding my name. Just say it,” he suddenly whined with a hard frown.

I tilted my head, unsure if I heard him right. “What? I was literally—“

“You haven’t said my name yet. I’ve said yours several times but have yet to hear mine."

“I—I can’t,” I waved him off, “Why should I? I’m saving it for my Harry. The one who didn’t leave me here without a care. I could’ve been dead, for all you know.”

“I checked up on you, Y/N. I didn’t forget you, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“So, why?!” I finally screamed, pushing at his chest weakly. I felt tears threaten to leave my eyes, but I didn’t want him to see it. “I loved you. I fucking loved you so much. Do you know how hard it was to admit that to you, back then. I was so afraid to tell you because I didn’t want to lose you,” I confessed, staring at his gold dress shirt that I continuously hit.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to lose what we had because you meant so much to me, but my father was basically begging me to tell you. I decided to finally fight that fear and I still lost you anyway. I lost you.” The words left my mouth like vomit, emitting a tangy taste down my throat. It suddenly went dry when I realized all that I said. “Fuck.”

He didn’t reply at first and I was glad he didn’t. I needed those few seconds of silence to compose myself. To breathe.

I turned to the mirror and wiped my eyes clean. I brushed my hair behind my ears and smiled softly. Without giving him another look, I bumped passed him to reach for the door, but his hand slammed against it.

“Look at me, Y/N.”

“No, I need to go. You need to go too,” I snarled, trying to shift to the side and squeeze past him, but his hand didn’t move from the door. I groaned under my breath and glanced an eye at him, knowing I wasn’t winning that fight. “What?”

I gave him a good look, unabashedly inspecting him from head to toe. He looked like he'd just left a celebrity party, bodied in Gucci. His hair was still matted with curls that loosely fell down his temples.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. I went to scoff, but I realized that it wasn’t towards me. His eyes were looking up. “I wanted to reach out to you, Y/N. I wanted you by my side the entire time. My life with One Direction was fucking terrifying and I needed you, but—”

“Say it, please. Tell me what happened,” I pleaded, holding his hips to keep him in front of me. He dropped his head to look at me with a sad frown.

“Your father.”

“What? Dad? What does he have to do with anything?”

It looked like he was in pain as he spoke. “He didn’t want you involved with my very public life. He knew how rough and ruthless our fans were. The internet was a warzone, and your father didn’t want you twisted in my mess. Any girl I interacted with was getting attacked and harassed. They were tracked down, stalked... just treated horribly just because they were seen around me. Your father was trying to protect you. I wanted to protect you because I loved you too, Y/N.”

My eyes fell to the floor before being covered by my hand. “You stopped talking to me because my father told you to? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve tried to understand and then we could’ve worked something out.”

“Y/N, I trusted your father a lot, and I respected him a lot more because he made out to raise an amazing daughter. If he said it was the best for you, as the person who cared for you more than anything, and, god, was fucking obsessed with the ground you walked on, I’d do whatever it took to keep you safe. I wanted you to live without the harassment, the stalking, the threatening, all of that. It was my sacrifice.”

“So, what made you come back now? Because my father is gone?”

"He recently contacted me, I believe a few days before he passed. He told me to track you down and fight for our relationship again. He said he knew how much you still cared about me and felt horrible for keeping us apart for so long,” He explained. “I brought up how much I hated ending all communication between us. I told him that I just wanted him to trust me with not letting anything happen to you. Your father said he did, but I was just becoming too big in the world. He was simply being a father. A good father, for that matter.”

I suddenly wanted to break down and cry. I was angry at the both of them, but also thankful. I wasn't left behind because he didn't think I was good enough for him. He kept his distance from me because I was too good for that kind of life. And as enraged as I wanted to be at my father, I just missed him even more.

"Harry—" I began, which roused him, "I... I'm sorry for thinking you stopped caring about me. I just... thank you for looking out for me and wanting to keep me safe, but please don't leave me like that ever again. I'm an adult now, and I can handle whatever comes my way. I can’t lose you anymore.”

His hands swiftly grabbed my cheeks and pushed his body against mine. “You won’t, Y/N. I’m all yours now. I came here to bring you home to me.”

“I really thought you didn’t want me anymore, Harry. I was so fucking scared that I wasn’t enough.”

“Hey, love, don’t worry. I would’ve thought the same thing. But I thank you for letting me explain. And I thank your father for letting me get another chance with you,” He smiled sincerely, before holding my hips and lifting me to sit on the sink so we were eye level. His hands held the counter on each side of me and leaned closer to my face. “I love you, Y/N, and I’m dedicating the rest of my life to fix the hurt I’ve caused you.”

“Thank you for coming back around,” I smiled as he held my jaw.

“I’m going to treat you right, baby.” And he sealed his promise with a long but soft kiss. I slithered my arms around his neck to keep him close. I wasn’t letting him run from me again so easily.

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