#invited me over for dinner or something. like i can accept that people drink on special occasions. i do too. but when it's a regular ass

[strawberryblue-blog]

could you do birthday sex smut with Pedri

Like old times —Pedri González.

summary: Pedri invites you to meet his friends on his birthday and it ends like you never expected.

warnings: YES. +18. smut, friends to lovers, cute, soft.

words count: +2k.

#SEXYNOTE: Happy birthday to our Pedri (late) We love youuuu 🩷

Laughter spilled through the house as the voices talked about things. You were talking to a friend of Pedri's while he was talking about you, remembering things from the past. Today was your best friend's birthday and all his friends had come to celebrate. Your old childhood friend that even though you still saw each other from time to time, you had agreed to be close friends. But you hadn't been able to see each other lately because of his work and your studies. You were more than happy that he invited you to have dinner with them today for his birthday, with his teammates that you were excited to meet.

They were great, you barely talked to them but you already got along so well. Pedri kept talking about you. About your childhood. Old anecdotes brought back vivid memories of your times, everyone laughed and commented. You could tell that some were a little more over the top than others and the birthday boy was not far behind.

You felt melancholy. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the fleeting glances you and Pedri gave each other as you reminisced. His eyes looked at you with that same sparkle they had when you were young and you're sure yours sparkled like that too. All night long you had been giving each other complicit, honeyed and challenging glances. As if you owed something to each other. As if you were waiting for something from each other. Still, you tried to make the most of your time with his friends. It wasn't every day you were surrounded by people as nice as they were.

You dined, drank, talked, toasted and ate cake. Everything was perfect. The reunion had been successful and most of them were already starting to say goodbye to go home.

"It was nice to meet the famous Y/n!" said Ferran, hugging you fleetingly. You hugged him nicely too.

They all agreed, smiling.

"It's pleasure is all mine, guys" you thanked towards them.

"We have to do it more often" Gavi said before hugging you goodbye. "If Pedri accepts, I don't think he's that happy about it" he whispered when he reached your ear. His hug lasted a little longer than the others and your heart skipped a beat when you heard it.

Behind you was Pedri, looking at you somewhat seriously while still holding Gavi in a hug. You heard a chuckle from him and hid your laughter. He winked at you when you pulled away and you smiled at him.

"All right, bye" Pedri muttered, running to Gavi quickly and dragging him to the door. Everyone burst out laughing in amusement.

You shook your head ignoring him. You were her best friend, none of that would change by hanging out with the boys.

Pedri escorted them out, while you stayed behind to sort things out. You felt a little guilty about the mess and you weren't going to let Pedri set everything up alone in the morning.

"Y/n, leave it. Tomorrow I'll clean up" he said when he got back to the house.

"Please, let me do it" you asked with a look, Pedri snorted but had no choice when you kept putting things together.

You stayed a while longer, tidying up, washing and chatting. You didn't mind helping him at all, in fact you were enjoying it. He kept catching you up on his life and you took the opportunity to tell him about yours. It had been a long time since you had had a conversation as deep and lively as this one and finally you and Pedri were alone.

"Would you like one more drink?" he asked as you sat down to rest on the couch after you finished.

"I think I need to go home" you say with a grimace.

"Come on!" he squeals in amusement. "It's my birthday" he pouts. "Besides you could stay, there's an extra room if you want..."

His eyes pleaded for you to accept, it was obvious you were both excited to see each other again. You weren't going to deny it, you had been waiting all night for a moment alone with him, just like old times. You wanted to stay but were afraid to admit it.

"Okay, let's open another bottle" you nod smiling.

He goes to kitchen for another champagne from the fridge and two clean glasses. He returns, sits down on the sofa with a chuckle and pours the glasses carefully, still talking. You've never seen him as chatty as he is tonight, he was enjoying his alone time and you wanted to know all about him. Once again, you toast clinking your glasses and you bite your lip nervously. You take a hurried drink, trying to calm your anxieties. Your heart started pounding and you begin to hesitate as you smile thinly.

"Remember when we ran away from home to go to camp with Fer?" you asked with a laugh as you continued to reminisce.

He long a laugh as he remembered. It had been when you were six years old, Fer and his friends had gone camping at the beach and you curious little kids followed them to go too. You had run away from home, as your parents had not let you go, since you were small. But you wanted to see the waves and become teenagers like the others.

"I still remember that I didn't leave home for at least three months because of the punishment" Pedri river denying. "And when we fell out of the tree hammock?" he said and you burst out laughing.

That had been another experience. Your father had told you not to ride in the tree hammock together because he clearly wasn't going to put up with it but you didn't know what that meant and did it anyway. Said and done, the hammock didn't hold and the branch snapped, making you fall in a big crash that you still remember perfectly.

You sighed trying to stop laughing, your belly already hurt and you felt dizzy.

"Remember when we kissed for the first time?" you ask with a shy laugh, grimacing in embarrassment.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you remember their first kiss. Yes. Your first kiss had been with Pedri when you were thirteen. You watched everyone kiss, Fer and his girlfriend at the time, your parents, your friends, the movies, everyone. You wanted to have your kiss too and you were grown up, according to you.

"It was terrible" guffawed Pedri clutching his belly. "We didn't even know how to do it"

Another guffaw comes out of your mouth. Tears were starting to build up from the laughter, your belly ached and you had no desire left. It was definitely the best time.

"We didn't know what to do with our tongues, it was so gross" you remembered and again laughed out loud.

He catches it and laughs too. For some reason, his laughter makes you feel a knot in your stomach. It's so magical. It takes you back to those moments where you were soul mates, inexperienced and curious young people, trying to find yourselves in each other. Your friendship with Pedri was one of the most precious things you had.

The laughter begins to subside and you stare at each other. Her face is slightly flushed, probably from the alcohol, his gaze shining in the dim light of the room. His hair is tousled and looks so soft it makes you want to comb it. You swallow saliva as your gazes never leave each other's eyes. So deep that you feel spellbound. You smile a little shyly, your heart races with every second, your chest tightens and you want to keep talking to him. You love to hear his voice, his laughter. You want to keep remembering your moments with Pedri, because every time you listen to him he makes you feel a special spark inside you.

But you don't really feel like talking. You want to touch him, to pull him closer to you, to kiss him. To have him as close to you as possible.

The silence is overwhelming and uncomfortable. Your gazes are still glued like chewing gum on your shoe Your breaths are agitated and irregular. You want to kiss him so badly. You don't know when he moved but he's so close to you, you doubt if it was you who approached. You don't know, you're lost in his eyes.

"Just like old times" he murmurs taking your hand gently. "You and me"

You smile biting your lip. You nod without even being able to speak, your heart soars and your pulse rises. It's just him and you. It's just the two of you.

His gaze pleads for something you understand perfectly. But neither of you dare make a move. You're so scared you're afraid of misreading the situation. If you kiss him, there's no turning back and you don't know if he wants that.

Minutes pass and you're still there, looking at each other. With feelings afloat as they continue to bloom on your breasts.

You bite your lip, sighing slowly. And without thinking and you jump into his mouth, kissing him with some fear.

It's a soft touch, as if asking for permission. Pedri accepts it and quickly with your hands encircle his cheeks as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

He wanted to kiss you, you wanted to kiss him. It was the perfect moment to remember old times. You kiss for eternity, savoring each other, feeling each other, remembering each other. This time the kiss is nothing compared to that first kiss you had more than ten years ago.

It's hard, sure and hot. Although his lips taste exactly like they used to at that moment and your heart felt the same as it used to feel some time ago. Agitated, needy and in love with Pedri.

You want to kiss him. You want to touch him. You want to feel him.

His body traps yours and he lays you down on the couch, still kissing, his hands caressing every corner of your skin while your fingers hold the dark fibers of his hair. His touch burns into your skin, leaving warm traces that will be marked for life in your heart. His lips walk down your neck, it's rough but sweet at the same time, gasps escape from your mouths. You can't stop kissing you, over and over again. From seeing each other, from feeling each other, from remembering each other.

Your hands begin to undress your body, removing your shirt and skirt, your fingers caress every corner of your skin, touching it. Yours help him take off his shirt and then play in his soft hair, his body presses against yours as your legs embrace his bare back. You don't want to stop kissing him, you don't want him to stop. You need him.

"Are you okay?" he whispers as his forehead presses against yours Your confused look makes him hesitate but it's not because you want to stop. "Do you want to go on?"

"Yes, I do" you say holding his red cheeks. But you take the time to watch him. Above you, his lips red and swollen, his cheeks flushed from the heat beginning to rise in your bodies, his eyes shining like mirrors, his chest heaving.

It is beautiful. Through his gaze you can still see the boy only four years old who came to play with you on the playground, the only boy who didn't judge you and came to you, the boy who visited you every day after school, the boy who taught you how to kick and a thousand other things that live forever in your heart.

"Kissing you that day wasn't really gross, Peter" you murmur sincerely.

Yes, maybe it was in a sense. You didn't know how to do it, it was slobbery, short and it felt awful. But on the other hand it was innocent, tender and delicate. It was the beginning of everything. Your feelings were never the same as before after that.

"It was beautiful" you whisper as his fingers stroke your hair, he tucks a loose strand behind your ear and smiles. "It was magical" you admit excitedly.

"You are beautiful" he says looking so deep into your eyes. "It was the best first kiss I could have ever had."

You smile nostalgically as you continue to talk through your eyes.

“Let me show you how much I missed you” he asks in a whisper as his nose plays with yours. “Let me show you when I love you.”

A small tear escapes down your cheek falling. He catches it before it touched your skin. Your head is about to explode, the butterflies in your belly feel like dinosaurs.

“Only if you also let me do the same” you also whisper with a small smile.

His lips kiss yours again, this time firmer, more desperate. His mouth leaves no room on yours and he kisses you fiercely, as if he wants to devour you. And he does. His hands roam over your belly and chest, making small gentle touches to acknowledge your skin. Finally they reach for your bra pin and unclasp it, removing it from your body. His eyes slide over your round breasts, you let him see them, admire them, know them. Your stomach vibrates as he licks his lips and you smile with laughter.

Your fingers take his jeans and unbutton them, seeking to feel his body closer to yours. He lifts up a little to take it off, dragging it down with his underwear and you stare at him for a second. You'd seen other naked bodies but none of them resemble Pedri's. He is perfect.

He turns to you and takes the panties from your sides asking for permission with his eyes, which you quickly accept with a smile. As many say, a picture is worth a thousand words and the way Pedri just looked at you, he just made a testament.

You find yourselves completely naked, looking at each other, as your hearts beat in tandem. Your breaths meet again as you kiss again. Like a magnet their mouths attract each other again and again. As they begin to touch, to know each other, to meet again. Her hands encircle your breasts and squeeze them, making you gasp with pleasure. Yours hold his ass firm, pulling him closer to you. His kisses follow a trail down your neck, down your skin, his lips find your nipples and you kiss them softly. Gently. Moans come out of your mouth, his eyes have never left yours, it's as if they've been bonded for life. Your bodies hot, needy, waiting to join. He positions himself at your entrance and gently moves in, probing your wetness as he makes room between your walls. Your mouth opens and lets out a moan as you feel his cock fit perfectly into your cavity, it's slow and smooth, not even moving. His gaze never leaves yours as your hands hold his face so close to yours that they almost rub together.

You don't need to say anything. Your eyes, your feelings, your hearts have said enough. Skin to skin. Joining together, and I don't mean blissfully sexual. Something beyond a bodily union. But something deeper and more spiritual.

It is a magical moment. So unreal that you doubt if it is a dream but his movements make you believe that he is inside you. Inside your heart. Inside your soul. You hold tight to his neck as he begins to thrust faster, though his movements are delicate, smooth and deep. It feels so good. Him. You. Together tonight. United in soul and body.

Something you had dreamed of your whole life. From that innocent and premature kiss you had out of curiosity until today when you saw him talking about you and the complicit glances you gave each other. Tonight was special for him and it was special for you too.

“Happy birthday, love of my life” you whisper with a proud smile.

His body stops inside you and you feel an emptiness in your chest but his eyes make everything about you vibrate.

“You are the best gift, you are my dream” he murmurs sincerely and your chest burns.

He joins your lips again and you kiss so romantic, soft and polite. Without rushing taking your time because today nothing runs you, it's just him and you.

He admires you, you admire him. Your bodies yearn for each other, you are joined for life. The way he touches you, feels you, looks at you. He makes you feel special by his side, he always has. Pedri is the love of your life. And meeting again made you realize that you are meant for each other.

[rottingcompost]

i need to start respecting my own boundaries more and make them more clear to people, especially family members, and start to assert said boundaries more so people dont just walk all over them.

[gurugirl]

Desperate

Based on this request.

Note: Can be read as standalone

best friend's dad!harry x reader - forbidden relationship

Summary: You're invited to the Styles' house for a little get together but surely nothing will happen with a house full of people and Harry's wife nearby.

Word Count: 3,620

Warning: 18+ only, smut, cheating, lying, age gap

best friend's dad!harry masterlist

You had been trying to avoid going to the Styles’ home. Fae lived in her own apartment so it wasn’t like you needed to visit her family’s home very frequently. When you were younger and in college you would often go over for dinner with Fae or she’d go to your family’s house. But it wasn’t necessary anymore. Except that Mrs. Styles was throwing a small party for close friends and family to celebrate Harry being promoted to partner at his company. A big deal really. Fae told you that her mom and dad wanted you there.

And now that you and Mr. Styles had a secret little thing going on it was even more awkward to imagine what that would be like. And certainly, you wouldn’t do anything with him with all those people around, but still. You’d have to really be using your poker face. Which had been hard to do before you’d even gotten a taste of Mr. Styles. Now that you knew what he was like, how good he was, how hot and dirty he could be… you were in for a long night.

You decided on wearing a panty liner because, well, you figured for practical purposes. Getting your panties wet and having anything show through your clothes wasn’t going to be a good look. You didn’t expect that you’d really need it but you also knew how weak you got from just a mere glance. If he so much as hugged you too long or spoke to you with that deep sultry voice. If he grinned too wide with those dimples showcased… He pretty much just had you ruined. So yeah. Practical purposes. Just in case.

Fae picked you up as was planned. The ride to The Styles’ house was nearly a half hour.

“Are you okay?” Fae kept her eyes on the road. She was picking up on something with you. She just didn’t know what.

“Yeah. Of course. Why?”

“You’re quiet. Honestly, it feels like when you and I first met in junior high and how shy you were around me at first. Like you were so nervous,” Fae laughed as she glanced at you quickly.

You tried to calm yourself before she arrived. You meditated, drank chamomile tea, and then took a bite of dried ginger to calm your tummy. You did a little bit of relaxing yoga and listened to calming ambient music. And you felt like it helped.

But the moment your phone chimed with a text from Harry your heart rate increased and you began to sweat. All that hard work to calm yourself down the drain. He only asked you if you were still coming and then said he was looking forward to seeing you. That was it. There was nothing risqué or suggestive in his messages. And that was why wearing a panty liner felt necessary. He did that to you without even needing to try.

You laughed at your friend’s comment and shook your head, “No, I’m fine. Just tired. Was a long night last night at the restaurant. Barely made it home by midnight.” Not entirely a lie.

And that seemed to be an acceptable answer. At least Fae didn’t pry about your odd behavior again that evening.

Harry’s brother and his wife were there. Mrs. Styles’ parents and her cousin and her husband. A neighbor friend from down the street. You and Fae. That was it. Not many people.

There were drinks and a nice little dinner with dessert. Some music. Everyone sat outside and chatted and it was nice. It really was. But you were wound up and trying to will yourself to stop looking at the man of the hour. Every time your gaze found his it sent chills down your spine and you felt your face and neck grow warm.

Harry was friendly with you. Normal. He treated you like his daughter’s best friend. Which was good. But you hated it. You wanted to sit in his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders and laugh at his jokes with everyone around you. You wanted to hold his hand and sneak kisses. But that wasn’t going to happen. The man had a wife that was never far away. He was only yours in secret. In your apartment with the door locked and covered with lies. He was only yours when no one was watching. When no one could hear.

You were good at dinner. Barely glanced at him as you ate your food. Then after dinner you only let your eyes roam his features as he was talking to everyone and thanking them for coming. You indulged in the way his lips moved and how his green eyes sparkled. How his hands and ringed fingers gesticulated as he spoke. His grin.

He looked at you toward the end of his little thank-you speech and raised his glass upward. You raised yours upward with everyone else and then sipped together. Eyes locked. But it was only for a handful of seconds but it got you warm. Got your thighs smushing together tightly under your white linen dress.

And after dessert when everyone was casually chatting and walking around the space of the backyard, Harry put a hand on your bare shoulder and spoke quietly into your ear, “Don’t leave until you and I can have a chat.” When he spoke the word chat he squeezed at your skin and just as he began to walk away looked down at you and winked.

The panty liner was necessary.

You helped Fae restock some of the empty bottles and refresh the ice in the cooler. You tried to keep busy and not imagine what Harry wanted to “chat” about. Or if “chat” was code for something else. You weren’t sure if you hoped it was code for something more or not. Maybe a kiss. Maybe it was just a chat.

You did miss him desperately. It’d been a couple of weeks since he’d been in your bed. That’s where all of your trysts took place. At your apartment. Sometimes you could have him for the whole day. Sometimes just an hour. Once overnight.

But you had been busy and were scheduled to work and cover a few servers who couldn’t come in for whatever reason. And Harry had a business trip that had him gone for almost a week. Normally you and Harry got together about once a week. So two weeks and a half was too much.

The neighbor was a friendly guy. He seemed to be very outgoing and kind to everyone at the party. You could see why he was invited and why the Styles liked him as a close friend. He was a hoot really. In fact, talking to him and listening to his crazy story about when he was in college had you reminiscing about your own experience, and he made you laugh. He helped you forget for a moment about your little taboo affair. He got your mind off Harry for a few minutes.

But Harry wasn’t a big fan of the way you were laughing with Abe. The way Abe grasped your forearm and leaned in to tell you something quietly that had you grinning.

And so the few minutes of reprieve you had from obsessing and gushing over Harry in your brain was suddenly halted when the man was standing next to you and your new acquaintance.

“Y/n. I could use your help with something. Do you mind?” He raised a brow and pointed toward the house.

You gulped and nodded, “Oh. Sure, Mr. Styles.” You smiled politely at Abe and followed the broad-shouldered man into his home.  

He silently led you upstairs and to the large hallway bathroom that was never used. Ushering you inside he closed and locked the door.

You stood silently watching him as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his soft pink button-up shirt and then brought his eyes up to yours as he rolled the fabric up his forearms.

“Abe’s a nice guy isn’t he?” Harry finally spoke, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning into the large vanity counter with a wall-length mirror behind him.

You nodded, “Yeah. He’s nice. Funny.”

Harry pursed his lips and let his eyes move down your body slowly to take you in. He’d seen your outfit and took daring glances at you all night but nothing was satisfying to him because he couldn't let his gaze linger. Didn’t allow himself to take in the curve of your ass or the line of your neck that met your jaw. But now he could really get a good look at you like he’d been longing for all night.

“What were you two talking about?” Harry uncrossed his arms and planted his palms on the marble top of the vanity behind him, jutting his hips out and putting his gorgeous bulge on display for you. He knew what he was doing.

“Well… nothing really, sir. He was telling me about when he was in college. We were sharing college stories.”

“Yeah? Did you find that you two have a lot in common then?” He raised a brow.

You darted your eyes to his crotch and back to his face. It was involuntary. You didn’t mean to do it but he saw where your eyes went which made him grin.

“No. Not really.” You matched his cheeky smirk with one of your own and crossed your arms over your chest when you saw his grin was teasing. He was playing with you. You’d gotten to know him a little over the months and this little thing about him put you at ease immediately.

“Why are you concerned about Abe?” You quipped.

Harry cocked his head and his grin deepened, “M’not. Come here.”

You bit your lip and uncrossed your arms as you slowly took the few steps you needed to close the space between you two.

When you’d gotten within arm’s length of him he pulled you into him by your waist, causing your hips to align with his, “I’m just concerned that I haven’t been able to fuck you in… what? Going on three weeks?”

You nodded and quietly laughed, “Yeah. 18 days.”

Harry looked pleased that you knew the number of days, “Counting the days without my cock are you?”

“Yes,” you smiled brightly and breathed out a laugh as you put your arms over his shoulders. “Miss you.”

Harry looked down at your lips and then back to your eyes, “Yeah? Too bad the house is full of guests,” Harry’s voice dropped low and raspy as he spoke, one hand moving up to your face to thumb over your cheekbone, “Bet you’d like me to bend you over and fuck you right now in this bathroom wouldn’t you?”

You frantically nodded and parted your lips, “Yes.”

Harry tsk’d at you, “So dirty. So desperate. Aren’t you? Are you desperate for me, baby?” His thumb grazed along your bottom lip before you stuck your tongue out to taste it. You were desperate.

You moaned as you tried to wrap your lips around his thumb but he removed his hand from you before you had a chance.

Suddenly he was moving you so you were being lifted up onto the counter and he was in between your legs. His hands sneaking under your dress and grasping onto your outer thighs, “When was the last time you had an orgasm? Is it really that bad?”

“This morning.” Your words were breaths.

“Really? You don’t act like you’ve been satisfied. Did you use your fingers?”

“Yes, sir. And my clit sucker. Pretended it was you,” you smirked and moved your hands down his shirt-covered chest. His dick was growing hard in his pants and you knew he was getting turned on, despite how cool he was acting.

“And you’re still so desperate? Little pussy needs a lot of attention, doesn’t it? Bet you’re already wet too.”

His hands moved upward toward your panties and you gulped when you realized what he was about to find. Your soaked panty liner. Not really very sexy.

When his fingertips came into contact with the crotch of your panties he paused with a confused look on his face. It felt different. Not wet. Not warm and soft. Not normal.

Pushing your legs apart and lifting your dress he inspected your panties and then he realized what it was when his fingers grazed along the edge of the cotton of your panty liner, “Are you on your period, angel?”

You shook your head, “No. It was just for… to keep dry.”

Harry licked his lips and pushed his middle finger under the crotch of your panties and his brows shot up, another surprised look on his face when he realized what you meant. Your panties were dry but the liner was drenched. His fingers found your crease and he toyed with your folds gently as he kissed your lips.

The kiss was soft and sweet and so were his fingers. You moaned and ran your hands into his hair as he stroked your wet labia.

But then he parted from the kiss and removed his hands from your panties, “Like I said. Too bad we have a house full of people. Bet your wet pussy would feel so good right now. Gonna fuck my fist tonight thinking about how wet you got for me before I even touched you.”

You pouted and pulled at his hands, “Please, sir. Please. We can be quiet. I’ll be quiet. I need you.”

“Wow. Look at you. Frustrated. Unsatisfied. Needy. I don’t know baby. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” But you felt his hands on your thighs again. He squeezed at them and his eyes were growing dark and the bulge under his pants was pushing hard at his zipper.

“I am needy. For you. Please, Mr. Styles. Please fuck me. You’re the only one that can satisfy me.”

Harry let out a laugh through his nose and shook his head, “That may be so but it’s too risky.”

His words said one thing but his body language said another as he didn’t release your thighs from his firm grip and wet his lips with his pink tongue as he looked down to your cleavage.

You knew it was a challenge. He wanted you to beg. But you had another idea. You’d already asked him nicely. Said please too. And he still wanted to pretend like he wasn’t bothered by you.

“I need your cock. I don’t think a toy is gonna cut it tonight, Mr. Styles.”

“You’re gonna have to be patient little one.” He thought he had the upper hand. Thought he’d get to hear you beg him some more.

“I can’t wait any longer. It aches. Do you think Abe would turn me down if I ask him?” You raised a brow in challenge.

You watched as he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. He knew you were fucking with him. Slowly he opened his eyes back up as she shook his head, “Such a fucking brat sometimes.” His words sounded mean but they were lined with a smirk as he pulled your panties with its liner down your legs, tossing it onto the floor, and promptly undid his pants, pulling his cock out from the front of his briefs.

You cooed when you saw his warm, thick cock free from its confines. Reaching down to touch him you slid your hand over him as you scooted yourself to the edge and put your feet flat onto the vanity top so you were spread and easy for him to access. To fuck.

Harry’s eyes were already full of lust. His lids were heavy as he looked you over and grasped his cock into his palm, giving himself a few good pumps, holding his tip to your wet hole, “This what you wanted? Wanted to get fucked in the guest bathroom by a married man? Hmmm?” You nodded frantically as Harry’s deep voice spoke lowly into your ear, finally pushing past your tight muscle, “Wanted to me to fuck you with a house full of people wondering where I am? With my wife and daughter just down there?”

You gasped at the way his wide cock began to push through your soft, wet walls, “Yes… yes…” you whispered as quietly as you could and hung onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

Harry let out a shaky breath mixed with a groan as he watched his cock slowly submerge into your pussy. You were so incredibly wet already that when he pulled back an inch before plunging in further he could hear it. You could hear it.

“Fuck. Can’t resist you, Y/n. This pussy is too good. You’re too good. My sweet girl.” Harry was gone for you. He began to thrust and cant his hips, dipping into your cunt so deep his balls thudded into you when he bottomed out each time.

The sturdy vanity was built into the wall which you were thankful for. Glad that the only noises that could be heard were pants and gasps and the sound of pussy being fucked.

You held tight onto his shoulders and Harry leaned in to reach for your lips and fuck you as slowly as possible to minimize the sound of skin sticking and slapping.

Your head was spinning and your limbs were hot. Harry’s grip on your thighs to keep them spread was painful but delicious. When he began to lose rhythm as he fucked into you he released one of your thighs and moved his thumb to your clit just like you needed. He always knew exactly what you needed.

“Gonna come for me?” Harry's lips stayed over your mouth as he continued rocking his hips into you.

You moaned into his mouth and gripped his shoulders tighter as your tummy started to melt and your thighs began to shake.

“Such a desperate little thing needed to come so bad. Couldn’t wait just a couple more days,” Harry’s own words were tight and strained as he felt his balls tighten. You always made him speed to his end too fast. Just like a teenager again. He couldn’t help it with you. Your pretty coos and filthy wet pussy with those bedroom eyes and plump lips. He was just as desperate for you. He needed you.

“Desperate for you, Mr. Styles. Want you so bad. Every night…” You panted and felt the hot decadence of your insides begin to unfurl as Harry’s thumb expertly rubbed and circled your clit.

He felt you begin to clamp down on him and he smothered your mouth with his, knowing you were just about to come.

He continued fucking into you in heavy, deep strokes and kissing you hard as you saw stars and writhed into his thumb. Your spasming cunt around his cock and the slick noises of your gushing orgasm had him unable to hold back.

He panted against your mouth and rutted into you hard, stuffing himself so deep that his come could coat all of your insides properly. He slowly backed out and fucked himself back into you until his balls were drained, all of his come inside of you.

He removed his thumb from your sensitive clit and put both hands on your thighs, pulling your legs up over his hips as he leaned in to kiss you. His cock was still throbbing as he came down and you connected your ankles as he smushed his mouth against yours.

You laughed against his mouth at how desperate it felt. It made you smile to know he was in the same state you’d been in.

Finally parting from the kiss with a gasp, you dropped your legs as Harry pulled himself out, hissing lightly at how sensitive he felt. Even though he’d been milking himself every night with thoughts of you, it wasn’t the same. He needed your pussy to feel satisfied just like you needed his cock. And not just his cock. Him. You needed Mr. Styles. It was becoming an obsession.

Harry dragged his finger through where his come began to leak out of you and brought it up to your lips. You promptly sucked his warm sperm from his fingers and he grinned at your eagerness.

He gently rubbed his knuckles over your cheek, “You are my sweet girl, aren’t you? When’s your next day off?”

“Wednesday. Why?” You smiled at him knowingly.

“Keep your day free. I’m coming over,” he said nonchalantly as he handed you your panties and pulled his pants back up.

“What if I had plans already?” You smirked as you pulled your panties up your legs and hopped down from the counter.

“Cancel them.” He caged you in, palms flat on the vanity counter on either side of your hips.

How could you say no? You weren’t going to anyway, but you liked to tease a little. Just like he did, “Okay. Fine. Plans are canceled for you, sir. Since you’re so hopelessly lost without me.”

Harry laughed through his nose as he shook his head, “A mouthy brat.”

He kissed you one last time before looking at himself in the mirror to straighten himself out and then walked out of the bathroom as if he hadn’t just fucked his daughter’s best friend while his wife and other family were in his house.

You sighed and turned to look at yourself in the mirror with a smile. It was so wrong. But he felt so good. And despite the fact that he was married, you knew he belonged to you.

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[gucciwins]

Gala After Gala

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

Word count: 28,920 (no joke)

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

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

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

Another gala. Another check to write.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me, sir?”

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

“Yes?” Harry asked in a bored tone.

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

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

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

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

“Not my taste.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

“The food offered tonight had large portions.”

“For once,” he scoffs.

“Open bar?” She offers.

“Strange,” he rebuttals.

“But it works.”

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

“See you around, Mr. Styles.”

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

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

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

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

“Nowhere.”

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

“Well.”

“What are you drinking?”

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

“Want another of whatever?”

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

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

“Uh…got to know a few people.”

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

“Oh, Y/N.”

Y/N.

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

“Have you met her?” Miles asked him.

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

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

“How old did you say she was?”

“She’s 23.”

“Real young.”

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Styles, always a pleasure.”

“It’s always mine.”

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

“Quite something,” Harry inputs.

“Evening, Mr. Styles.”

He nods at her, “Y/N.”

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

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

“You’re an intern,” Harry states.

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

“Undergrad?”

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

“What’s your job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

“Just Harry, please.”

She shrugs him off.

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

“My friend is an apprentice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Bartolo.”

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

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

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

Harry cancels his date that night.

+

No invites have arrived at his house or office.

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

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

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

“Come in.”

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

“Yes, Diego.”

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

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

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

Formal Attire - Be ready to dance

Anthony Carmichael

+

Y/N was nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but–”

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

“I really shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Styles,” Y/N greeted

“Y/N.”

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

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

“Never.”

“Are you not good at it?”

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

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

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

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

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

A date.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

+

Rejections never came easy.

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

Was she disappointed he said no? Absolutely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Alba!”

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

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

“Danielle will be with you shortly.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell your dad to get the best trainer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Julieta!”

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

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

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

“Fine, what will I have to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four hands shot up. Harry’s included.

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

“Very well. Do I have $1,250?”

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

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

“$1,500?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YOU BOUGHT ME, HARRY!”

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

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

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

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

And like that, they’re alone again.

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

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

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

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

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

Girlfriend?

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

“No girlfriend, I can assure you.”

“You’re a liar,” Y/N spits out.

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

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

“Saw me?”

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

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

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

“Please,” Harry begs.

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

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

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

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

“Y/N,” his tone full of defeat

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

Harry nods.

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

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

+

Y/N has been dreading this day.

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

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

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

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hello, Y/N, you look wonderful.”

She nodded but made no move to invite him in.

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

“I’ll, umm, go put these in water.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haha, we’ll be going now.”

“Have fun, dears.”

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

“What are we allowed to do?”

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

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

“We’ll have to see, won’t we.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lead the way, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

“Oh, love.”

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

“That’s Tank,” he shares.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thoughts?” He asks.

She giggles, “it’s amazing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

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

“Knew it,” she celebrated.

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

“I want to hear what you think.”

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

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

“You’re a Spice Girls fan.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Paramore,” he states.

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

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

“Shut up!” Y/N yells.

“What?”

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

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

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

“Thank you for today, Harry.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

“Would–”

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

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

“Goodnight, Harry.”

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

She always came alone.

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

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

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

“This is–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s handsome,” Isaac states.

“And he knows it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With permission,” you remind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N shrugs him off, “I’m over it.”

“Sure, babes.”

Y/N scoffs, “I am.”

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

“But he’s been a dick.”

“I think he’s intimated.”

“Of?” Y/N questions.

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

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

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

“You paying?” Isaac teases.

“Yes, you little diva.”

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

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

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

“You okay?”

Y/N freezes. Of course, it’s him.

“All good,” she assures Harry.

“Good.”

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

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

“Y/N, wait.”

She looks at him expectantly.

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

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

He shakes his head, “not at all.”

“Hmm…”

“I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.”

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

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

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

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

“Good night, Mr. Styles.”

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

“Take care.”

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

He really had no chance now.

+

Y/N loved ice cream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that’s devastating.”

“It was.”

“I thought you liked him.”

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

“Maybe he didn’t see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N watches as her best friend laughs.

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

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

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

“He doesn’t know you.”

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

“--love to take you on a date.”

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

“Y/N,” he breathed out.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry?”

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

Harry frowns, feeling his skin itch.

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

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

“The very one.”  

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

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

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

+

Harry is an idiot.

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

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

“I’ve been busy,” Harry mutters.

“Hmm…”

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

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

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

“That’s a first.”

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

“Ask her out, simple as that.”

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

Mitch winces, “ouch. Bruised her ego.”

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

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

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

He shakes his head, “course not.”

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

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

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

“It’s all shit.”

“Backtrack. Why did you reject her?”

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

“Eighteen young?”

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

Mitch sits back on the couch, frowning.

“Spit it out.”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

+

Y/N hated being sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re kidding?” Sapra asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry?” She whispers, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Harry.”

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

“Are you going to make me eat alone?”

“Sorry?” He breathes out.

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

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

“Do you want a blanket?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s the bub doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“No–” she’s cut off by a yawn.

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

“Thank you for letting me in.”

“Thanks for the soup,” she counters.

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

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

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

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

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

“Friends it is, Styles.”

“Friends,” he confirms.

And maybe something more.

+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Progress. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She scoffs, “Surprised?”

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

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

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

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

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

Harry agrees, “thank you, Aubrey Hepburn.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugs, “I try.”

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

“You’re a poet now?’

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

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

“I like challenges,” he answers carelessly.

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

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

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

“No, Y/N, wait, please,” he begs.

She pauses, turning to look at him.

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

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

“But I-”

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

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

She gestures for him to go on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Y/N, you look beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to paint?” She exclaims.

He shrugs, “thought it’d be fun.”

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

Harry sighs in relief, good that’s good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“You’re cheeky, beauty.”

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

“Harry, this is too much.”

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

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

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

“All done,” he whispers.

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

“More wine, Beauty?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready, beauty?”

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

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

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

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

He points to himself, “that’s me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love jalapeños.”

“Is pepperoni and jalapeños alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this okay?” He breathes out.

“Mhm…”

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

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

“Beauty,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

“You can have another taste.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet dreams, beauty.”

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

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

+

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

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

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

“Does that mean we’re dating Beauty?”

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

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

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

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

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

Harry was happy to have her kisses.

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, wake up.”

Nothing. He tried again.

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

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

“Come on, it’s late, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were the boxers not okay?”

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

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

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

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

“To the guest room.”

“You don’t want to sleep with me?”

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

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

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Perfect.”

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

“Kiss, please?”

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

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

+

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

“Beauty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” she greets. “I’m Y/N.”

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

“You as well, Mr. Levington.”

He grimaces, “Malcolm is fine.”

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

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

“The hotels,” Y/N gasps.

He laughs, “the very one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry laughs, “Y/N’s my–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A pleasure, Ms. Y/N.”

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

“What do you mean?” She feigns innocence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I driving?” She waits expectantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, she’s one of a kind.”

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

“Seems you’re wanted, Styles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yummy,” she giggles.

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

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

“Another, baby?”

She shakes her head no.

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

“What do you want, beauty?”

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

“Harry,” she whines.

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, baby?”

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

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

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

“Kisses and cuddles?” She requests quietly.

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it our age difference?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

Everything was perfect.

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

This evening Y/N was working on her laptop while Harry read a report for the upcoming month. Y/N sighed, closing her laptop and leaning back into the chair. He lifted his head in concern to find her already looking at him, a frown on his face.

“Beauty, what’s wrong?”

Y/N throws her hands up, “you're giving me too much?”

“Sorry?

“I didn’t need a new bag.”

She’s talking about her backpack ripping, and Harry thought nothing of replacing it for her.

“Your old one ripped.”

“My shoes were perfectly fine,” she fires back.

“The laces were barely holding together,” he reminds her.  

“I didn’t need new underwear.”

Harry smirks, “now that was for my pleasure.”

Y/N huffs, “Honey, I’m serious. I don't need all these material items.”

Harry sighs and pats his lap for her to come to sit. She does so without a second thought. She gets comfortable straddling him as his hands rest on her hips.  

“I like providing for you,” Harry expressed.

“I can provide for myself, mister.”

He nods because he knows she can. “But it makes me happy.”

“Harry,” she deadpans.

“Gives me a love boner.”

Y/N scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Be serious.”

Harry’s hands cradle her face, his thumbs rubbing her cheeks affectionately. “Baby, you could run me dry, and it gets me going because it means I was able to take care of you.

She sighs. “God, you're so cute,” she mumbles.

Harry grins, knowing he’s won. “Will you be my good girl and let me spoil you?”

Y/N nods slowly. He leans in to kiss her, but she stops him. “If you ever give me a diamond, I'm out,” she reminds him.

“Got it, no diamonds…. What about pearls?” He jokes. At least, she thinks he is.

“Lovie,” she exhales.

Harry has decided he’s had enough of the conversation and kisses her. Y/N always tastes so sweet. He gets lost in exploring her mouth against his that he doesn’t realize she has started rocking against him. Since Harry had given Y/N two orgasms in his bath, they’ve been more physical, but Harry isn’t in any rush, and neither is Y/N. They’re taking it slow, learning every part of their bodies before taking that final step in their relationship. He pulls back the dimples on display, he runs his index finger over Y/N’s swollen lips.

“Popcorn and Survivor, beauty?”

“Oh, Styles, you sure do know the way to a woman’s heart, don’t you,” she teases.

Harry pecks her lips. “Only yours, beauty. Only yours.”

+

Y/N couldn’t believe Harry would do this to her.

Harry sent over a large red box with a bow holding it closed. The carrier bid her goodnight, and she hurried to her kitchen to open the package. Removing the lid, she found a gorgeous emerald green dress. She picked it up, admiring the silk, and quickly pulled her phone out of her sweat pocket to call Harry. He answered on the first ring.

“Hi, beauty,” he greets cheerfully.

“Harry, tell me you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” He feigns.

“You sent me a dress for tonight.”

“Ah,” he giggles. “That I did. Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Good. I'll be there at seven to pick you up.”

“You want to go together?” They knew they were both attending, but for some reason, she assumed they’d arrive separately.

“I didn’t get a matching tie for nothing.” He laughs. “See you soon, beauty.”

Y/N hurried to get ready, excited for what the night had in store for her and Harry.

Harry knocked on her door at seven on the dot. She rushed to the door, swinging it open and telling him to come in as she rushed back into her room. He laughed because he had never seen Y/N frazzled, and here she was, rushing, knowing she was running late. Harry put the blooming calla lilies in a vase he knew she kept under her sink.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Harry. My curler was being stupid, and then I couldn’t find my heels.” She huffs as she stands at her entrance, slipping on her heels.

Harry takes a minute to admire the dress on her. It’s an elegant satin spaghetti strap dress with a high slit up her left leg. Her hair is in an elegant updo, with a few strands framing her face. She’s gorgeous, and she’s all his to show off tonight.

“You sure you don’t want to stay home tonight?” He asks, reaching his hands out for her to take.

She shakes her head, knowing exactly what he is thinking. “Absolutely not. It’s a big night.”

And it was.

Y/N’s internship was hosting their gala of the year, where she played a prominent role in helping with the budget and the guest list. He would never keep her away from an event where she was an important guest.

Y/N grabs her clutch that holds her most essential items, such as her lipstick, ID, cash, and keys. She’s telling Harry she’s ready to go when she catches a yellow vase on her table filled with her favorite flowers.

“H,” she sighed. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He kisses her cheek. “Anything to see that pretty smile.”

As she focuses on Harry staring down at her, she realizes she didn’t kiss him hello. Y/N leans in close, pressing her glossed lips against his. Harry hums at the familiar feel. He wants to take it further but knows they need to get going.

“All set?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go then, my gorgeous date.”

Arriving at the venue, Harry offered his keys to the valet as Y/N was helped out the door. Harry met her by the first step and offered his arm. She happily accepted. Walking in, Y/N was awed at the displays of gold scattered around the room. The table decorations were pristine, the lights were perfect for photos, and the ballroom was full of people. As soon as they were inside, Y/N was whisked away by her director, Valentina. Y/N gave Harry an apologetic smile but promised to find him later. Harry had always been good at spending time alone, but for once, he wished Y/N could have paraded him around the room as they introduced each other to people they knew. He knew that time would come.

It’s a beautiful and busy evening; at one point, a waiter finds him a single drink on a tray and hands it over to him, saying that a woman in an emerald green dress sent it to him. It was an amaretto sour, his new favorite. Y/N smiled from across the room when she saw him raise it in her direction as thanks.

The event was winding down, the string quartet was playing their final songs, and Harry was ready to call it a night. After an entire evening away from him, Y/N managed to make her way across the room and stood before him.

Y/N perks up as she hears the opening notes to the song the quartet is playing, their song. Moon River. Harry doesn’t tell her he’s turned the song into her ringtone.

She holds her hand for him to take, and he takes it without a second thought until Harry realizes she’s leading him to the dance floor.

“We’re going to be the talk of the town,” he tells her looking at the lonely dance floor.

Y/N shrugs, “it doesn’t matter.”

As opposed to the first time they danced together, holding space between each other, they were much closer this time. Y/N wrapped her hands around his neck, and his hands found their place on the low of her back.

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that your opinion is the only one I care about,” Y/N promises him.

Harry’s dimples break through and she grins, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. She settles back in his arms as their song plays, lost in their own world.

“You know,” Y/N lifted her head, resting on his shoulder. “You once told me you didn’t dance, and yet this is the second time I have gotten you to dance, hmmm?”

Harry laughs because she’s right. “I was waiting for the right partner,” he affirms.

“And is that me?”

“Beauty,” he says softly, his emerald eyes locked on hers. “It could only ever be you,” Harry promises.

Y/N smiles in delight. They might not have had the easiest journey to getting to this moment, but Y/N knew she wouldn’t change anything for the world.

Dancing with Y/N on an empty dance floor to a song he knew had now become theirs, he knew meeting Y/N would be the thing to ever happen to him in life, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for them together.

thank you so much for reading! i love you endlessly, amores 💜

please come tell me what you loved or your favorite part on anything at all. always happy to receive a message. 

[spiriteddreams]

what leads me back to you

Or, the five times you look for Al-Haitham, and the one time he looks for you  Pairing: Al-Haitham x Reader Warnings: fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending Word Count: ~5.3k A/N: happy birthday to the feeble scholar himself, al-haitham! <3

I. Feels Like “Met you at the right time, this is what it feels like.” The Acting Grand Sage is a busy man. There are papers to be filed, positions to be filled, and an entire political government to be reconstructed. The reconstruction process is slow and tiresome and with each passing day, Al-Haitham looks forward to the day that they accept his resignation letter. The day that he returns to simply being the “Scribe,” and a “feeble scholar,” is a day he swears he looks forward to. In the meantime, he is stuck to a large desk in an office that is far too spacious for his liking. 

When he hears the rumble of the elevator coming up, an irritated groan escapes his lips. He runs through the words in his mind, ready to chew out whoever has decided to disturb him. His office hours are posted just outside of the elevator entrance, and everyone in the Akademiya knows that he’s far too busy to deal with menial things. Which means there are only a few reasons as to why someone might be coming to bother him: there is more paperwork to be filled out, some old scholar has come straight to him for complaints, or there’s an emergency. He counts the seconds in his head, waiting for the elevator to rise until he can see who’s decided to disturb him. 

“You are here!” your voice cuts through the silence of the room before he can even get a glance at who it is. You’re a rush of words and feet, marching up to his desk and near slamming a book on his table, whilst ignoring the glare on his features. You are one of the last people he expected to see. That isn’t to say he doesn’t mind your presence. You’ve proven to be a sensible person, unlike his ridiculous roommate, and he’s had the pleasure of spending more time than he would have ever anticipated with you. As a good friend of Kaveh’s (Al-Haitham thinks it’s a shame), you’re often invited over for dinner or found sharing drinks with Dehya, Cyno, and Tighnari. But ignore that for now, instead, he wants to know what could be so important that you’ve decided to ignore his office hours and disturb him while he’s knee deep in paperwork.

“Okay look, I know you’re probably not happy to see me but this is important! I have this new research project that I wanted to start, I even ran it through Cyno this morning!” you’re flipping through a notebook, not even looking up at him. Since approaching his desk, Al-Haitham hasn’t been able to see the entirety of your face, not that he’s actually searching, yet you’re far too caught up flipping through papers to see the way his eyes follow your every movement. He takes in the differences in your appearance since the last time he’s seen you, which he feels like has been forever with the way he’s been cooped up in his office. There’s a cut on your finger that’s in the process of healing, and a new padisarah charm hanging at your side, right next to the Vision that seems to glow brighter than usual, as if reflecting your upbeat mood. He’s only half listening to you ramble about this project, which by all means, was approved the moment you approached him. You’re a brilliant scholar, there’s no doubt about it, careful about everything you do and meticulous about the smallest of details, and frankly, someone who’s research seeks to better the Akademiya. So why would he deny your approval?

When you finish speaking, Al-Haitham clears his throat and his eyes shift from your papers to your face, surprised to see that you’re already looking at him. He can see the uneasiness in your eyes, and something in the back of his mind whispers that he doesn’t like that when you’re looking at him. Do you not feel comfortable around him? The thought is bitter to swallow but he pushes it down anyway and looks back down at the papers.

“I see no reason to reject this, do you?” he asks flatly. You stare at him incredulously, eyes narrowed and ready to snap back at him. “Besides, you ran this through the General Mahamatra earlier, no? If he thinks it’s fine, and from what I’ve heard, there’s no reason for you to be making such a fuss about this.” For a moment, he’s afraid he might have irritated you beyond belief with the way you glare at him. But almost instantly it’s washed away as you sigh and shake your head with a fond smile.

“Glad to know I have your approval,” you say it so warmly that Al-Haitham’s chest nearly lurches. He locks that expression in his memory, tracing over the smile on your face, the one that reaches your eyes and makes them glint a bit brighter than before as an amused huff leaves your lips. It’s a pretty expression he thinks to himself. And when you leave him to the silence of his office, only joined by a mountain-load of paperwork, he finds that he misses your presence immediately.

II. Pancakes for Dinner “I wanna eat pancakes for dinner, I wanna get stuck in your head.” “A little birdie told me that you haven’t come home to eat dinner.” 

“Is this little birdie’s name, Kaveh?” Al-Haitham doesn’t even look up from his spot, secluded near the back of the House of Daena. He had found this spot as a student, and since then, had claimed it as his own. Other Akademiya scholars knew better than to disturb him if they saw the light flickered on in the back corner of the library. It was an unsaid rule that started when he was a student, and continued on through his occupation as Scribe. Don’t bother Al-Haitham if he’s working in the back of the library. He’ll get mad at you. And yet here you were, pulling out the chair from across from him and leaning forward as if you were going to try to read his book upside down. 

“Perhaps,” you hum, “but regardless, spending the entire day working on paperwork isn’t healthy. I thought you would have left by now. What happened to making it clear that you wouldn’t be working outside of your working hours?” You have a point, Al-Haitham thinks. At his first meeting as Acting Grand Sage, he had made it clear that he would not engage in any Akademiya work outside of your working hours, and yet he was here, secluded in the back of the library. The only catch, he wasn’t actually working, simply reading a physics book for pleasure.

Al-Haitham slides his bookmark between the pages, “I’m not doing work. Just reading.”

“Reading a physics book?”

“Yes.”

“Archons above…”

Al-Haitham casts you a dry look. “You’ve seen me read these types of books before, what’s so different about this time?” 

“This time,” you reach over and slowly close the book, maintaining eye contact with the Scribe, “it’s late. So you need to tuck away your physics bedtime story and get some food.” Al-Haitham holds your gaze, multi-coloured eyes seeming like they were digging into your mind. He prides himself in the fact that you break eye-contact first, clearing your throat as you lean back. Your fingers accidentally brush against his and you murmur apologies but Al-Haitham can only focus on the way your touch on his ungloved fingers had sent tingles up his arm. 

“Are you planning to cook then?” Al-Haitham brings his focus back to the conversation at hand. His words are meant to be sarcastic and yet you take them in a completely different manner.

“Of course not, it’s late, you silly Scribe.” His heart jumps at the childish nickname. “Instead, you and I are going to get dinner at Puspa Cafe!” He raises his eyebrows, making no effort to move. Is that what you’ve come to bother him about?

“Hey now, don’t give me that look. I know you enjoy a good meal at Puspa Cafe, and I’m craving food there, so it’s a win-win situation,” you scold him. “Come on, pack up your things or I’ll drag you there myself.” He wants to remind you that there’s no way that you would ever be able to drag him anywhere but he still sweeps his book into his arms, tucking away his other papers before standing. He’s only doing this because you won’t stop pestering him if he declines, that’s the only reason, he tells himself. The thought of eating dinner with you is nothing special. It’s just as if he was eating dinner with Kaveh, except that you’re much more tolerable. He keeps reminding himself of such facts as you lead him out of the House of Daena, talking animatedly about the research project that you had been working on, the same one that he had approved. You’ve already made so much progress, from extensive notes and an in depth plan ready for execution. The next step, you excitedly ramble on about, is finally exploring the ruins in the desert. Yet Al-Haitham shoots you a concerned glance. The ruins you’ve mentioned are dangerous and he hadn’t realized you might be interested in actually exploring them. There was no doubt that you could protect yourself. You were skilled in elemental practice and weapon alike, so really, there was no reason for him to be worried. And yet the creeping desire to protect you from harm had planted a seed in his mind.

III. Glowing Review “You ask what I tell my friends, said ‘It’s a glowing review.’”

When Al-Haitham knocks on your door, his palms feel unnaturally clammy. He’s not nervous, no, why would he be. It’s just you. You had found him hard at work the other day with a small bag of pastries and two cups of coffee in your hands. One was for you and the other for him, you had said cheerfully, placing it on his desk. A housewarming gift, you joked, seeing as he had finally stepped down from Acting Grand Sage and was back in his office as the Scribe. He hadn’t even realized that you were staring at him when he took a bite of pastry, and perhaps his expression was enough for you to propose that the two of you go to the little shop hidden within Sumeru City to check out the other pastries. 

Which is how he finds himself here, counting the seconds as he waits for you to open the door. It’s just a hangout between friends, right? You hadn’t specified anything more, so, by Al-Haitham’s rationale, you simply wanted to try out more pastries with him. Why you didn’t ask someone like Kaveh, is beyond him. He’s sure that his roommate would immediately jump on the opportunity to try something as simple as a “pastry.” And yet he finds the thought of you going out to a bakery with Kaveh to be something he doesn’t ever want to imagine. His roommate, despite what he may argue, has no taste when it comes to romance, so there’s no possible way that the two of you would have a good time. Al-Haitham freezes as he replays the thought in his head. Romance? He shakes his head, how did a thought like that pop up in his head? The two of you were just getting pastries. Because you asked. And you’re friends. That’s all.

“I’m so sorry about the wait!” you throw open your door and the snarky remark on his lips dies instantly. You’ve traded your usual wear for something lighter and rather fitting for the nice weather. Your vision still hangs at your side, clinking against your padisarah keychain but you look different. In a good way of course. Al-Haitham thinks you look more relaxed like this, and for a moment, he feels silly that he’s dressed in his typically day-to-day wear and that maybe he should’ve chosen something more casual because what if you feel uncomfortable around him and what if you roll your eyes with a sigh and what if—

“You look good,” you tilt your head and Al-Haitham feels his cheeks flush when he catches the way your eyes drag from his feet up to his chest, and up to his eyes. “I mean, you always do, but you seem more relaxed today. You should try that expression on more often, it’ll scare people less.” Your teasing words comfort him instantly and he realizes there was really no reason to be so nervous about this. It’s just you and him. 

“The less people that try to stop to talk to me at work, the better,” he responds dryly, earning a bark of laughter from you as you lock your door. He watches your every movement carefully from the second you turn back around to set off, up to when he steps ahead to open the door for you. And when the warming smell of fresh baked pastries envelops the two of you, Al-Haitham finds himself looking over at where you stand. Your hands are clasped in front of you, eyes closed and soft smile painted across your lips. You look so peaceful, so calm and serene that the thought of what’s coming next at work makes him want to hide away. If you knew what papers lay on his desk, ready to be signed and put into effect immediately, you might hate him. If you knew about it, would you still want to get pastries with him? If you knew about it, would you be disappointed? Angry? Would you ignore him? If you knew about it, would you still like him the way that he can tell you like him now?

But instead of saying anything, he pushes the guilt down his throat and shifts closer to you. He’ll take what he can for now and deal with the consequences later.

“What are you thinking of getting? And I’ll pay. No arguing with me,” he glances over at the display of mouthwatering cakes and croissants. You still try to argue with him, batting his hand away when he goes to pay, much to the baker’s amusement. He still manages to toss them a bag of mora and you still push him gently, mumbling under your breath that “next time, I’m paying, you got that?”

Next time. Al-Haitham smiles to himself at the thought. Next time.

IV. An Ego Thing “I won’t go first, won’t apologize. Pretty sure it’s an ego thing, but I can’t stand a compromise.”

If the Akademiya scholars thought the General Mahamatra was terrifying, then this was a close second. You were furious, hands clenched and eyes laser focused on finding Al-Haitham. You stormed through the halls, glaring at any scholar that tried to meekly call out to you. You could deal with the repercussions later. Finding the infuriating, cocky, self-absorbed, emotionless Scribe came first.

What had gone from a good day, waking up early in the morning and ready to set out on the expedition that had been approved for research had quickly fallen flat. Cyno had been the one to break the news, knocking on your door in the morning with his mouth pressed into a thin line. The expression on his face was enough to spark concern as you offered to make him a cup of coffee and sit down to talk. But Cyno’s hesitance had your mind racing. 

“It has to do with the research expedition” his eyes searched your face. “It’s been called off, by the Scribe’s order.” It was those words that led to where you were now, storming through the Akademiya halls in search of the same man who had approved your project, and now had gone back on his word. Poor Cyno had been the one to watch your expression crumble, words near breathless as you asked for the reasoning behind such a sudden decision. And when he sheepishly said that Al-Haitham hadn’t said anything further than that, you felt the spark in your chest light. If he wanted to play dirty and hide behind words and walls alike then you would tear them down yourself. 

“Archons above you’re so infuriating!” you snap. “This is why no one wants to be around you! You knew how much this project meant to me and you even approved it! And the next thing I know you’re halting it halfway and you can’t even come up with a decent explanation as to why?!”

“Look, I get you’re upset—” 

“I’m more than upset!” you shake your head, mouth parted in disbelief. “Do you not trust me or something? What did I do wrong? Please, enlighten me!” He finds himself at a loss for words. Should he lie and protect his own dignity or lay out the bare truth? Neither were ideal and yet you stand in front of him, chest rising and falling in anger as you impatiently wait for an answer.

“You know it’s not like that. It’s just not safe,” he says bluntly. “And it really isn’t that big of a deal, you’re just being prideful.” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Because the sight of your face falling, a tired scoff falling from your lips as you nod slowly and take a step back is enough for Al-Haitham to know that he said the wrong thing.

“You’re calling me prideful?” The laughter that falls from your lips is dry and painful to hear. The words bubble up from your chest, laced with such anger and poison that it even shocks you when they fall from your lips. “Aren’t you one to talk? You, the great Scribe Al-Haitham, pride and joy of the sages, bowing to their every will then working behind their backs. So what you did was for the greater good, should I grovel at your feet then?”

“Archons above, you’re being unreasonable.”

“I’m being unreasonable?! That’s rich coming from you,” you run a hand across your face. “I’m humiliated. Is that what you want to hear? You approved my project and then rejected it just as I was getting to the most important part. I’ve told you about how excited I was about this and the next thing I know, you’re shutting it down! Was this some sort of act, some sort of game to you, to humiliate me like this?” Al-Haitham hesitates and that one second of hesitation is what marks his downfall. He reacts too slowly and you take it the wrong way. You shake your head in disappointment, lips pressed together. You refuse to meet his eyes, refuse to let him see the hurt that’s built up all day. If he wants to play dirty, then so can you.

“You’re a shitty person,” you don’t mean it, but you want to hurt him back. “Clearly, nothing that comes out of your mouth is sincere. Nothing about you is genuine. I can’t believe I’ve tried to be your friend, tried to get closer to you. This was clearly a mistake. Everything between us was a mistake.” He’s quiet at your words. Perhaps you’ve stepped over the line this time and when you look up, Al-Haitham just stares at you. There’s hurt in his eyes, something you didn’t think you would ever see, and it’s because of you. The apologies die on your lips, because how do you apologize to someone after tearing down their walls and striking where you know it hurts? You open your mouth to say anything but Al-Haitham turns away first. His back faces you and he asks you to leave, and as the door clicks shut behind him, you swear you hear a sharp sniffle followed by him clearing his throat. You don’t stay to hear anything more. 

V. Tough Act “Saying goodbye to a best friend is the bad part of the right thing to do.”

Guilt, in its most basic terms as defined by any Akademiya dictionary, is “a feeling of having done wrong or failed in an obligation.” And yet the feeling that brews inside of your chest can’t quite be encapsulated in just the word “guilt.” There is a heaviness that weighs down, burdening your every thought since you’ve left his office. The words that had spilled from your lips were cruel. They were sharpened knives ready to strike and the sight of Al-Haitham’s face falling, letting you see the hurt flashing across your features, was enough to know that a line had been overstepped.

Everyone knows that he’s a rather rational person. He doesn’t always express his emotions, and when he does, it’s usually because he has a plan rolling in his mind. So to catch him off guard like this, and see how hurtful your words really were, quickly plagued your thoughts. That didn’t mean his own words and actions hadn’t hurt either. By the time you left his office, you still hadn’t quite gotten an explanation as to why the research project had been cancelled. The first day after everything had unfolded you cursed Al-Haitham’s name, grumbling to Dehya over dinner.

“You know… I’ve noticed that you’ve spent a lot more time around Al-Haitham recently,” she tosses the statement on the table, forcing you to stop eating and stare up at her with a spoon of soup halfway to your mouth. 

“He’s just nice— well, I just find that I enjoy his company,” you let the words stumble out.

“Haven’t you gotten dinner with him nearly every day this week?” Dehya says it so nonchalantly that it surprises you. You had, in fact, had dinner with Al-Haitham five of the seven days of the week. Three of them were a result of both of you leaving work at the same time and two of the times you had been invited over by Kaveh for dinner. Al-Haitham had volunteered to walk you from the Akademiya to their home, then from their home back to yours, sending you off with a gentle smile and the promise to see each other the next day.

Admittedly, neither of you had clarified the relationship that had grown between the two of you. Unsaid promises, unsaid labels, unsaid confessions lingered in the air. It had become a dance of back and forth footwork, your hands gliding along his figure until you had stumbled, tripping over your feet, curses tearing from your lips as you pushed him away by accident. There was no doubt that he was actively making an effort to avoid you and while you weren’t seeking him at every moment, it still hurt to hear that he wasn’t anywhere that you could find him when you wanted. Which is exactly what leads to you seeking help from Kaveh, who had at first, rolled his eyes, claiming that you were better off without him. But upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he mumbles that the “feeble scholar himself” is in his room.

To your surprise, he lets you in and yet you stand as close to the door as possible. Al-Haitham doesn’t like the way you’re so tense and ready to run, as if the slightest movement might send you fleeing. But he can’t reach out to pull you in. The fraying rope is on its last thread, ready to snap unless the two of you can find some sort of compromise. 

“I’m sorry,” your head hangs low and you can’t look at him. “What I said to you, I didn’t mean it. You’re not a bad person.” You’re afraid of what you might see in his eyes. You can hear his breathing, counting the seconds between each breath as you wait for him to say something, anything. It’s clear that he’s trying to find the words to say and you’re preparing for the worst.

“But you think anything we had was a mistake?” Ah, that’s not what he wanted to say but he had blurted it out anyway. He knows that you don’t think so, but he just wants to hear it from your lips. But saying it this way, he isn’t sure he’s going to get an answer because his chest physically hurts when you flinch at his words and inhale sharply. You still refuse to look at him and it’s eating him up inside.

You exhale sharply, “No. I don’t. I just… I was upset because I was looking forward to going on the expedition and it was cancelled without even a day’s notice. And when I heard that the order had come from you, I didn’t even try to hear you out, I just… yelled at you instead. I’m sorry.”

  Your words are honest, and Al-Haitham knows that you didn’t mean the words you had said. You were upset, rightfully so, and had taken the anger out on him. But the words still stung, leaving him reeling from the sudden burst of anger and the subtle truth that had been woven in. You didn’t mean them, and he knows it. So why is forgiveness so hard to give out?

“I’m also sorry about what I said and did.” Al-Haitham ducks his head slightly in hopes that you might meet his eyes. You don’t and it frustrates him. It worries him that he can’t read the expression on your face. You, who wore your heart on your sleeve, was now covering it up and he hated it. “I cancelled the project because I was worried about your safety. I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself but I didn’t want to put you in any danger. And I ended up cancelling your expedition. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.”

But do you? What are you supposed to do now?

“Are we okay?” your voice is small and tight, as if Al-Haitham’s room is starting close in and suffocating you. The tension continues to build and there are no signs of it dissipating. 

Al-Haitham answers honestly, “I don’t know.” It’s three words, but not quite the words you’ve dreamed of hearing from him. It’s three words that tear into your chest and hit you full force because it tells you that Al-Haitham can’t forgive you.

“Right.” You clear your throat. “Right! I understand. I’ll leave you be then. And I’ll give you some space for a bit. Thank you… for hearing me out.” Your voice sounds a bit more high pitched, words choppy and sentences fitting together awkwardly. But the tension in the room has filled to the brim and it feels like it’s hard to breathe, so the next step is the run. And you leave immediately, pushing your way out of his room, down the hallway, past Kaveh who glances up at the sight of your tear-filled eyes and hasty steps. You leave out the front door with shaky breaths, unaware of the way Al-Haitham tries to go after you with his hand outstretched and your name silent on his lips. But the door clicks shut, and the rope snaps.

+ I. Invisible String “And isn’t it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

“Have you seen (y/n)?” Al-Haitham stops Dehya as she’s slipping through the streets of Sumeru City. The Flame Mane raises her brows at him, sending him a suspicious look. Her arms cross over her chest and she tilts her head as she studies the expression on his face. He looks more tired than usual, less composed and shaken. It’s quite a surprise to see him like this, but Dehya knows better than to poke fun at him. Now, she’s seen both ends of the Spectrum. She’s seen your disheveled look, puffy eyes and half-hearted attempts to do your work at home. And now she’s seen Al-Haitham, actively searching for you in the middle of the day, exactly when he should be caught up with menial tasks at the Akademiya. It’s been a couple weeks since the aftermath of an attempted reconciliation and while you’re attitude

“They’re not feeling well.” Dehya answers carefully. It’s not exactly the truth, but also not a lie. You had been under the weather just a week prior but had recovered quickly. Today was the first day you had returned to work without feeling congested, but Al-Haitham didn’t need to know that.

“They’re sick?” his back straightens and almost instantly he looks more alert. An interesting reaction, Dehya thinks to herself.

“Well, not anymore.” Dehya shrugs, “They went back to work today.” She watches the change in his expression and gives herself a little invisible high-five. This is just the push the two of you need. Then maybe she won’t have to hear the groans from your lips whenever someone brings up Al-Haitham’s name, and she won’t have to hear from Kaveh how his roommate has been “moping” around. As if on cue, Al-Haitham thanks her, bids her farewell, and walks down the street, not quite in the direction of the Akademiya but she assumes that he’s off to pick something up for you.

That something just so happens to be flowers from one of the local vendors. And when you tiredly open your door to get ready to get lunch you’re greeted by the sight of Al-Haitham about to knock on your door, mouth parted in surprise, one hand raised and poised to knock and the other holding a small but pretty bouquet of flowers.

“Grand Scribe?” Ouch, that hurt. “Is everything okay?”

“Um… are you free?” he tries to regain his composure and yet you stare at him like he’s grown a second head.

You clear your throat, “I’m about to get lunch. Did you need to… discuss something?” Your eyes flick between the flowers and his face. He wants to curse himself because he has no doubt that he looks like a ridiculous gaping fish. But you had thrown open the door when he hadn’t even finished planning what to say and now his plan was falling apart.

“Could we get lunch together? I just wanted to talk about us.”

You’re silent. Al-Haitham curses and you giggle quietly, trying to cover it up immediately. It’s almost as if the laughter melted any tension between the two of you because he feels his shoulders relax instantly and a fond smile crosses his features.

“Sure! Puspa Cafe?” you propose. There are things to be said, boundaries to be discussed and no doubt a relationship to be repaired, but if this is how easy it is for the two of you to move past such arguments and find comfort in one another, then, you think to yourself, things will be okay.

“Ah, would it be too soon to call it a ‘date?’” Al-Haitham blurts it out before he can stop himself. It’s like he loses his filter around you, the words that he wants to phrase better just falling out and laying bare his true feelings.

You raise your eyebrows and Al-Haitham wants to run. “Are you going to give me the flowers first?” He feels like an absolute fool with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s a teenager again and he wants to hide away. He swears that he’s more composed than this. But instead of replying, he offers the flowers to you with a sheepish smile. When your fingers brush against his he feels all too aware of the close proximity of the two of you. 

No doubt, there are things to talk about, but for now, the two of you can bask in the moment. You both find that despite all that has happened, when standing in front of one another, it’s difficult to stay mad. It’s as if there was an invisible red string wrapped around your pinkie fingers, leading you through life and tugging you towards one another, waiting for your pinkies to intertwine and a confession to be sealed. Just wait, let time be the guide, let your friends cheer on the sidelines and whisper to one another that of course you and Al-Haitham were meant to be. After all, only the two of you could keep up with one another and match one another in every way possible. Isn’t it so pretty to think?

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: if you know all the songs i used i love you

[annerbhp]

them apples.

Here's Ginny and Harry attending a big old party Tilly holds as a grand opening for her shop soon after their relationship hits the press.

A big bloke approaches them.

Ginny grabs his shoulder, forcing the giant down so she can give him a kiss on the cheek. He accepts this with patience and a vague sense of being bullied.

Ginny tugs him around to face Harry. “You know Harry?”

“I know of him,” he says, holding out a hand. “Tristram Bassenthwaite.”

Harry shakes his hand, remembering him well enough. “Hi.” He pauses, looking around. “Nice party.”

Bassenthwaite laughs. “Yeah. Amazing. Tilly and I really appreciate you coming though. It’ll definitely help with with the press and all.”

“We’re happy to do it,” Harry says, mostly because it seems the right thing to say. And he had agreed to it, as mental as it seems now.

Ginny’s the one who gives Bassenthwaite a narrow-eyed look. “And how’d Tilly rope you into coming?” she asks.

Bassenthwaite grimaces, pulling a face. “She said if we were going to be partners, it was all or nothing. She also threatened to invite my parents over for dinner if I didn’t.”

Ginny mock shudders. “That would do it.” She glances around the room, at least a dozen people turning away just as she looks at them. “How unbearable is everyone being?”

Harry wonders if he’s imagining the wide swath of space around Bassenthwaite. At first Harry thought everyone was staring at him. But maybe it’s something else entirely? These are all Bassenthwaite’s friends, aren’t they? And he is the owner of this shop.

Bassenthwaite waves a giant hand dismissively. “Oh, those who actually deign to speak with me are all full of pity, concern, and vapid excuses for not visiting me a single time in the last two years. The others are still just firmly pretending I died.”

Ginny’s face takes on the sort of icy determination that heralds both disaster and probably something Harry will find devastatingly attractive. She glances at Harry. “Will you be alright for a bit, Harry? Because I need to remind some assholes just whose bloody booze they are drinking.”

Harry nods, not completely certain he’s actually going to be okay in this blood thirsty crowd of peacocks, but he’s certainly not going to admit that to Ginny.

He thinks she sees a bit of it anyway, considering she lifts up and kisses him, right there in front of everyone before taking Bassenthwaite’s arm and dragging him off.

Harry can vaguely hear him asking if they really have to do this and Ginny saying that yes they bloody well have to before they step out onto the dance floor together. Harry takes a moment to admire the way Ginny’s dress shimmers in the light as she moves.

Around Harry, people are definitely talking about what Ginny’s doing, but after a while, Harry feels more and more eyes on him. Like he’s supposed to care that Ginny is dancing with Bassenthwaite?

Only then he realizes it’s something else entirely.

“Potter.”

Harry turns, and looks up at Sean Thompson, the git having the gall to have a few inches on him. “Thompson,” he says, voice even.

Harry bites back a rather sarcastic reposte about who exactly is having fantasies now, but everyone is clearly watching, waiting for something exciting to happen, and Ginny isn’t something to be fought over. She makes her own decisions.

“How’s the broom business?” Harry tries, wondering how much longer this stupid song Ginny’s dancing to can last.  

Thompson gives him a look like he’s completely mental. “Did you wonder if it was true?”

“What?” Harry asks, startled by his tone as much as the blunt question.

“What the papers said.”

About Thompson and Ginny, Harry realizes. Their supposed torrid affair right under Harry's nose.

“No,” Harry says. “Not even for a second.”

It’s cruel to say maybe, but it’s also the truth.

Only Thompson doesn’t bristle. Instead, he just nods. “Good. Because if you had, you don’t deserve her.”

Harry blinks, aware of Ginny joining them then, slipping in next to Harry, her hand tucking into his elbow.

They all talk for a while, about brooms. Or whatever. It’s all very calm and polite and drags on long enough for most people to grow bored waiting for a scene that clearly isn’t going to happen. Harry can see Ginny’s done this on purpose too and he’s exhausted just thinking about all the things she’s doing at once to manage this party that feels more and more like a battle.

Once Thompson finally fucks off, Ginny smiles up at Harry. “Are we having fun yet?”

Harry can’t help but laugh. “Yeah,” he says, turning his face to press into the top of her head. “Loads.”

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Nanami x Reader who is like Tiana (from Disney's Princess and the Frog)? I love JJK/Disney and the ship is NanamixTiana has been living in my brain rent-free.

A/n: NGL I LOVEEEEE EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT SHIP BRO!! TIANA IS SUCH A QUEEN!! AND WITH NANAMI!??? power couple... POWER COUPLE!! I ALSO LOVE THE MOVIE SO MUCH AND I USED THE ENDING AS A REFERENCE TO TIANA! but I got you boookie <3

NANAMI x READER

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

It was Satoru's idea to invite him out to dinner since one of his best friends finally got the restaurant of their dreams.

"Come on Nanami. It'll be fun."

Kento, of course, is hesitant to go with him since Satoru's idea of 'fun' was different than his. Reluctantly, he entered the restaurant with his coworker's arm around his shoulder, leading him inside. There was live performance on stage while they were getting settled in their reserved seats. A beautiful person walks onto the stage, singing and dancing to the rhythm.

"That's them, right there."

Gojo tilts his glass towards the person on stage. They were absolutely stunning and had an amazing voice. Their stage performance was phenomenal.

"They're single."

Gojo whispers in his ear before leaning away and getting a stern look from Kento.

"Just saying." Gojo continues to sip on his drink, enjoying the show.

Soon the performance ended, and the lights come on. The band goes back to their normal hype jazz routine, and everyone resumes their conversations.

"Hey Satoru." He stands from his seat immediately, accepting the hug from the person.

"Hello Y/n, thank you for the invite."

Their e/c eyes shift to Kento, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"Good afternoon, Y/n. I would also like to tell you how much I appreciated the invite. I-I'm Nanami Kento."

Y/n walks over and gives him a hug as well.

"It's so nice to meet you, I hope you both enjoyed the performance, and your meal is on me. I did invite you to come here after all."

"I have money to spend Y/n, please, let us pay for our meals."

They laugh, lightly patting Satoru's shoulder and shaking their head.

"You have such a way with words, Satoru." A waiter approaches, apologizes for interrupting and whispers in Y/n's ear.

"Anyways, sit down and enjoy yourselves. I have something to deal with in the kitchen."

A sly wink is sent toward the two men over their shoulder as they walk into the kitchen area.

"I've never heard you stutter before Kento. You must really like them."

He simply just looks over at his friend and sips his water.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The dinner was perfect, everything was delicious, and it was becoming late. People were starting to pay their bills and leave the venue.

"Hello again, I brought you the best beignets in all of New Orleans."

Y/n sets down a plate piled with pillow-like pastries covered in the right amount of powdered sugar.

"It still surprises me that no one has wifed you up yet. I still remember what you told me when we first met at your job."

They smile at that and goes to clear the plates in front of them.

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

As they walk away with the dishware, Gojo turns to look at Nanami.

"Shoot your shot Nanami... My six-eyes can sense that you're making goo-goo eyes at her."

Nanami looked around the room. Everyone has left and they were the only ones in the room. For once in his life, Gojo was right! He shouldn't be nervous; he should go for it. They walk over to the table again with smaller plates and a smile still on their face.

"I brought you some smaller plates for the beignets. Is there anything else I could bring out to you or help you with?"

They looked between the two men; they really were the most stunning person he's ever seen.

"Could I talk to you?"

They smiled and nodded, leading him up the stairs and through the glass double doors on the right.

"So, what did you want to talk about, sugar?" They leans against the railing comfortably.

His heart did a small flip at the nickname as he approached them.

"I wanted to talk about you. I wanted to get to know you more."

He leans on the other side of the railing, right next to them.

"Gojo was telling me all about you during the flight, the drive, hell, even over dinner, he was telling me about you."

They laugh, throwing their head back and then looking at him.

"That's Satoru. He was telling me about you too, maybe he was trying to set us up with each other. He asked me if he could bring another person."

They turn their attention to the night sky and Nanami does the same.

"I want to get to know you more as well. I'd think it'd be fun to see where this goes. Especially since Gojo decided to talk each other up to the other person."

Nanami turns back to Y/n.

"Would you want to get a coffee, tomorrow?"

"I'd love to."

The two doors open, and they turn their attention to Gojo who had the plate of beignets in one hand and a half-eaten beignet in the other.

"These beignets are delicious Y/n." He licks his fingers after finishing the beignet.

"Thank you, Satoru. Leave some for Nanami now."

"No need to call me Nanami, Kento's fine."

A smug smirk appears on Gojo's face at that. Then, it widens when he looks down at the railing.

"I see you two have been getting 'close'."

He gestures to the part of the railing where Nanami's hand was on top of yours, brushing your knuckles softly. Neither of you move though.

"Well, we have a coffee date in the morning. Go back and get some sleep. Gojo will give you, my number."

Y/n leads them to the main area and Gojo pays for the meal.

"See you tomorrow Kento."

"See you tomorrow, Y/n."

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

[shalomniscient]

HI SEV! i’m the anon who cooked up that whole milf reader rahu idea thing AND IM SO GLAD U LIKED IT HAHSGAATA i was honestly shocked you chose to write a whole MEAL for that tho (appreciate and love you 🫶🏻)

but now it got me thinking…….how would reader’s son react to his mother dating his teacher? 🤔 i feel like he’d flip tf out cus i imagined him and rahu having a somewhat close relationship kinda like a friendship

(also i plan to req a lot more if thats okay! so can i be 🕯️anon? :3)

hiiiii !! ofc u can be 🕯️anon, glad to have u here !!

me personally, i view it through the lens of what would be funniest, and for me it manifests as reader's son is a little bit of a brat in university. he's a conventionally attractive young adult (he gets his looks from his mom) who by extension is popular, which is a quite a feat given his niche course. also a party animal, so people know his name around campus. hell, he might even be part of a frat LMAO all that combines into a young man with maybe too much of an inflated ego, who thinks he can get away with slacking in class. rahu doesn't stand for that shit, so the next time he turns in half-assed work she smacks it with a flat D, even after he submitted an appeal saying he was sick (he was hungover, rahu saw him passed out on a bench outside a frat house while she walked back from campus to your apartment).

so now he's beefing with the TA. which isn't ideal, because everyone else loves the TA (they think she's super fucking hot). he calls his mom, reader, to complain about her but she just laughs and tells him it's about time someone made him work a little. he's annoyed, but his mom sounds... happier? so he lets it slide, because despite his outward persona he loves his mom more than anything. which is also why, when she invites him over for dinner, he drops all party plans and heads right back home.

he helps reader in the kitchen as she preps for dinner, all the while talking shit about the new TA. there's an amused, knowing smile on his mom's face, and he feels a twinge of suspicion but ignores it. but when he turns around after washing his hands, who does he come face to face with?

the fucking TA.

rahu does her best to school her features into a poker face as she watches her most annoying student cycle through the five stages of grief at light speed. reader laughs from the dinner table, then calls them both to eat. it takes a while before he recovers from the initial shock, and for the rest of dinner he can't look rahu in the eyes.

of course, reader talks to him about it later, on the apartment balcony. it's a lot to take in, but in the end, he just asks his mom if rahu makes her happy, and when she answers yes, with a smile on her face he hasn't seen in years, there's not much he can do but accept it, really. despite it all, he wants her to be happy—and if that annoying TA is the one who gives that to her, then so be it.

but that's my take. yours is also very fun, methinks. it's a lot more dramatic i think, and rahu would be more careful around him even when they go out for drinks and such. she'd watch her words a lot, and make sure not to mention you too much or he might realize something's up.

i think in this scenario, the news would break by accident. maybe he decides to visit reader spontaneously one evening, and he lets himself in (because he has the keys) and who does he see cuddling his mom on the couch? rahu. like you said, he flips out initially, feeling a little betrayed and a little confused because his friend ?? has something going on with his mom ?? what the fuck ???? though i think it ends the same way, with reader talking to him privately and him relenting in the end because rahu makes her happy, and that's all he wants for his mom.

in both cases though, things get a little awkward between rahu and reader's son. but they work through it, both for reader's sake, because at the end of the day they both love her.

[randomsillyfangirl]

Actress - Pablo Gavi x Reader

If alot of people like this- I'll write a part two with the exs reaction <3

Background: You, Y/N L/N, had broken up with your controlling and manipulative boyfriend, (ex boyfriend) who was one of the most successful male singers of Spain. While you were the youngest most successful actress of Spain. You were never seen in public without your boyfriend before you two split up. Why? He didn't like people seeing you, he accepted it in film buy couldn't when the paparazzi was involved.

------------------------------------------------------------

When you broke up with (ex boyfriend), you decided to go out with your friends. Multiple different friends, each time multiple photos were taken of you. It actually wasn't bad, even when there was s crowed around you- you always felt as if you missed this experience of being famous plus you liked the attention.

Y/N L/N CAUGHT IN PUBLIC WITHOUT (ex boyfriend) DOES THIS MEAN SHE'S SINGLE AGAIN!?

Images were posted all over social media, on every news company, every tiktok and Instagram post from Spain seemed to be about you. Multiple of your friends reposted the pictures with you onto their accounts. ( sorry if you don't like the celebrities I'm using, you can use your imagination lol. And ik all these celebrities aren't Spanish or in Spain, but it's a fan fiction so 🤷‍♀️ ignore the like numbers, I literally just smashed my keyboard lol)

And a certain football player, you had a secret crush on saw all the posts, and smiled when he heard you might be single. Who's that football player? Pablo Gavi of Barça <3

" y/n l/n!! What's your relationship status? " one reporter asked while you were out with (your favorite celebrity). You smiled and faced the reporter, " single. Me and (ex boyfriend) broke up last week, now I'm just hanging out with friends." you said and then walked away with your friends, smiling and giggling.

Meanwhile, the Barça players were finishing training and Pablo heard the interview and smiled. Pedri noticed and said, " is it about y/n? We all know you have a crush on her. " and the rest of Barça laughed. Gavi scoffed, " she's single. What do you think I should do? " . His teammates all explained how he should shoot his shot- the worse that'll happen id simple rejection. But how..?

You kept on going out. Breakfast with (celeb), lunch with (celeb), dinner with (celeb), drinks with (celeb). You were finally having fun with friends. One of your friends, (celeb), told you about the young famous people of Spain party and you obviously wanted to go.

Pablo, also got invited to this party and was getting ready for the party. And you were also getting dressed. This wasn't a fancy party, a club type party. You were wearing a red dress with some accessories and Pablo was wearing a white shirt with black cover and pants (see pictures below).

You came in with one of your friends and you immediately saw Pablo. Secretly, he'd always been your celebrity crush- even when you were with (ex boyfriend). You went up to him and sat next to him by the bar. He was stunned to see you, and honestly you were stunned with your actions.

" So, what's it like being a footballer? " you asked him. Pablo coughed, clearing his throat, " tiring sometimes, but overall fun." he said chuckling. You smiled and nodded, " you here alone? " you asked him and he noded, " lost my friend." he answered and you smiled, " I don't know where (your friend) is.. " you said laughing abit.

The two of you chatted, completely forgetting about your ex. You and Pablo even exchanged numbers. " wanna go get something to eat? This party is boring." Pablo suggested and you nodded. The pair of you went to the door and went to find a restaurant. The two of you were talking, about anything. Football , acting, aliens, music; anything.

The two of you ended up in some random pizza restaurant and shared a pizza together. Pablo and you were really getting along and Pablo tried to hold your hand, you let him smiling. You were brushing, for being such a confident actor, you were really shy naturally.

Pablo noticed and smiling, " this ok? "He asked and you nodded smiling. " it's ok, yeah." you responded, making him smile more.

[disastrouscanasta]

Happy Happy Happy exchange day to my new pal @guarnerepdf, whom I very unfortunately accidentally revealed my identity to, but the point of the exchange is to interact, and we did plenty of that :)

As such, here is part one of your gift, aka the fic portion!

(part 2, aka the completely unrelated web weave)

***

No One Can Deny by Disastrous_Canasta on Ao3

***

Rating: T / Pairing: Luztoye & Bill/Fran / Bill Guarnere CENTRIC. Man this was just about him, I'll be honest / 3769 words

Joe was a long suffering bastard, though. The sonofabitch wouldn’t bring it up first in any universe. It was Bill’s job to pry it out of him, not as his senior NCO, but as his friend.

“You’d tell me if something was the matter, wouldn’t ya?” He asked, sincere and as patient as he could manage.

OR

Bill has known Joe Toye for years, through thick and thin, from Georgia all the way to Belgium and back to the States. It's not lost on him that his friend is acting differently.

***

He’d gotten so used to looking out for the other guys on the front lines, Bill didn’t even realise he was doing it, not anymore.

Bill scoured every letter that passed through his hands, every phone call, every mention, every little visit from the other guys, just to be sure. They weren’t in danger now, not from shellings, bullets or the like. But civilian life posed its own challenges, Bill knew that more than anyone else.

Somehow, it still surprised him when Joe Toye of all people started acting strange. Strange was an odd word, especially when it came to Joe. He wasn’t jumping at the walls or anymore determined than he usually was– And Bill would know, he’d spent months on end sitting in a hospital bed next to the fucker– he was just… Strange.

“You’re not making any sense.” Fran told him over coffee, the morning he tried to explain it. “Are you sure the doctor’s didn’t forget to put a piece of metal in your brain?”

“Oh, har-har.” He said, skewering a piece of scrambled eggs with his fork. They were perfect, lightly salted, fluffy, warm, nothing like the Army rations had been. Shacking up with Fran had been good for a lot of things, true love, for one, good cooking for another. “You’ll fit right in with the guys, with that attitude.”

“I plan to.” Fran sipped from her cuppa, still piping hot, the way she liked it, one spoonful of sugar, no milk. “What’re you on about?”

“Joe Toye. He’s acting all weird!”

“He seemed fine last I saw him.” Fran said. Bill had invited Joe over for dinner and beer last Thursday, just like he always did. And Joe accepted, just like he always did. Still waiting on their army pensions, there wasn’t much else for them to do. “Just as grouchy.”

“See! That’s the thing, he’s grouchy, sure. But there’s something else to it.”

“What else?”

“Hell, I dunno!”

Fran shot him a look from behind her cup as she took another drink. How that thing didn’t burn all the way down, Bill had no idea. He stirred his own coffee, equal parts milk and sugar.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Fran conceded.

“I’ll have him over.” Bill said. “When can we have him over?”

Fran didn’t even bother to look up at the quaint little calendar that was hung up on the kitchen wall. “Thursday.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

**

“Have I got something on my face?” Joe asked, after a long, drawn out moment between them. They were sitting at the kitchen table, Bill’s favourite place for conversations like this, it seemed. They’d had a roast beef for dinner, all three of them, but Fran had wandered away at some point to leave Bill alone with Joe. They hadn’t coordinated it, but it was well executed. Sometimes Bill genuinely wondered if Fran should have employed her skills for the good of the Nation– she could have been a spy, a WAC, hell, she could have jumped into Normandy with the best of them.

“No,” Bill said. He thought long and hard, scanning Joe’s face for any signs of obvious discomfort, resignation, or anything that could give him away.

“You’re just gonna keep looking at me like that?”

When Bill didn’t answer, Joe just sighed, dropping his gaze down to the bottle of beer that Bill had given him. A few years at war with a fellow got you awfully relaxed, even around any weird tendencies. He’d shared a foxhole with Joe once or twice, showered next to him. Things that wouldn’t fly with other folks barely made soldiers bat an eye.

Maybe it was something superficial, in that case, it was part of Bill’s responsibility as Joe’s T. Sergeant– Well, not anymore. But something about it still lingered. If Joe was hurting, if there was something wrong, some shrapnel left under his skin, something wrong with his amputation– Well, Bill couldn’t let that go unaddressed.

Joe was a long suffering bastard, though. The sonofabitch wouldn’t bring it up first in any universe. It was Bill’s job to pry it out of him, not as his senior NCO, but as his friend.

“You’d tell me if something was the matter, wouldn’t ya?” He asked, sincere and as patient as he could manage.

“Sure.” Joe shrugged noncommittally, still staring down the neck of his bottle.

“Joe, you’d tell me, right?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Joe.”

“Goddamnit, yes, fine.” Joe huffed, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “You’d be the first to know.”

“That’s good to hear, buddy.” Bill said proudly. He was Joe’s best friend, no matter the circumstances. “Ever need anything, just let me know. I’ll get it sorted for ya.”

“Thanks.” Joe said it quietly, a little gruffer than you’d expect from anyone else, but this was Joe Toye. Gruff and quiet was his way of being sincere. What a weirdo.

A thought struck Bill, then. “Have you got anyone else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He could already hear the edge in Joe’s voice.

“No– All I’m saying is–” He sighed, taking a moment to collect himself. “You talk to any of the other guys?”

Bill had plenty. He kept up regular letters with everyone– He had to, at the moment. It was his responsibility to keep these damn things coordinated, otherwise their upcoming reunion would fall apart at the seams.

But even aside from that, he wrote to his friends, war buddies, if you will. Babe lived a couple blocks away, they met up sporadically, he got regular letters from Don Malarkey, one every month from Lipton, and every once in a while he’d get something from Buck, Luz, Garcia, Roe– unexpectedly, indeed, Talbert, Grant– now that he was doing better, Shifty, etc. He kept up with as many as he could.

Joe, on the other hand, wasn’t quite the social butterfly.

“Yeah.” Joe said dismissively. “A few. What about it?”

“Nothing.” Bill shrugged, light and airy as he could. He’d done damage control with Joe before, when both of them were torn up, hanging onto sanity by a string in those sterile hospital rooms, back in those early days, reeling from the changes which had been thrust upon them in the blink of an eye. He was better at it, now.

“It’s hard when you’re breathing down my neck.” Joe said, loosening up a bit, slipping into a more casual tone. “I don’t think I could shake you if I tried.”

“Oh, don’t think you’re getting away from me anytime soon.” Bill said, reassured for the moment.

**

“You don’t think he’s gonna flake on me, do you?” He asked Fran a few days later. He was helping her fix up their little garden. A new house was what he’d saved most of his army wages to buy, and it helped that her family had chipped in as a wedding present, even if they’d been unsure at first.

It was an adjustment, that’s for sure, living with one leg. Maybe that was Joe’s issue, maybe he had his sights set on some girl, maybe it was a problem with the leg! That was something Bill could understand, he could help him navigate it, he’d done it himself!

But, no. If Joe was interested in someone, there was no way that Bill wouldn’t know about it. They were birds of a feather, peas in a pod– either Joe would tell him, or Bill would know it, intuitively. That’s how close they were.

And anyway, the only folks Joe talked to nowadays were his 80-year-old neighbour, a widowed Mrs. Greenwall, and a few fellas from Easy. No bombshell blondes in that equation for Joe to set his sights on.

“Flake? Why would he flake?” Fran asked. She was elbow deep in soil from their brand new planter. It was a housewarming gift from Buck, especially late, considering they’d moved in 5 months earlier, but excused because he only just got into town.

“Well, you know how he can be.” Bill shrugged. He’d offered Fran some help, a few times, but she seemed determined to do it herself. It saved Bill the hassle of washing muck out of the creases of his hands, at least. He swore he’d just finally gotten dirt from France out from under his fingernails.

“He’s quiet, but he’s honest.” Fran grunted, filling the planter and adjusting the soil, evening it out. Bill didn’t envy her, if he was being frank. “He’s not the flaking type.”

“You’re right. I love the guy to bits, but goddamnit if he doesn’t make it hard to read him sometimes.”

“Have you asked him outright?”

“Yeah, just about. As well as I could.”

“Are you sure?”

“You try asking Joe Toye what’s wrong with him, see how far that gets you.”

“Fine, maybe I will.” Fran sat up to look at Bill properly, something challenging in her eyes. She wiped her forehead with her hand, smearing dirt on her temple, just below the red band she wore, tied around her hair. She was a looker, that was sure, even with all the muck. “Joe likes me better, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bill laughed. He stood up, perching himself on his crutches to lean forward and press a peck to her lips. “I like you better, too.”

“You have to, that was in the vows.”

“Oh, was it, now?”

Her hands were on his shoulders, wrapping around him to bring them together. Fran was getting his collar, his shirt and his hair all ruined, but for now, with the comfort of their porch in the late Pennsylvanian summer, things weren’t so bad.

**

How Fran had talked Joe Toye into showing up so early to the venue, Bill wasn’t sure he’d ever understand.

Joe was a helpful guy, sure, but he wasn’t fit as a fiddle as of current. How he was expected to carry boxes and get everything ready, Bill wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even doing that work himself, he’d fooled the poor idiots who came to meet him in his home a few days before the reunion. Don and Buck would have a great time catching up, so long as they could talk and set up a banquet-hall’s worth of chairs at the same time.

If there was one person Bill was sure could do so, it was George Luz, who showed up not long after the rest of them.

“Joe said you needed help with stuff. I’ve been roped in, unfortunately.” He said after a joyful greeting. It was Luz, what else would you expect?

“Joe’s been talking to you, huh?” Bill said. He wasn’t close with George, but they weren’t distant, neither. They just kind of were.

“Yeah, since he got taken off the line.” George blinked. “Same as you.”

“Right.” They had exchanged a few letters– keyword: few. Bill was chattier with the other guys, and George was surprisingly hard to talk to through writing. He was an in-person guy, Bill had gathered the moment he received his first short, awkward letter at the hospital.

“Is he here?” George asked.

“He’s busy, Fran’s got him working on seating arrangements.” It wasn’t a job for Joe Toye, but it did give Fran plenty of time to ask him all she wanted. “In the meantime, why don’t you get at it, help the Lieutenant over there move that table.”

Buck looked up, having been mentioned, waved at George and shouted something. George shouted back a greeting, smiled at Bill and took up his slack. If army boys had one thing going for them, it was a penchant for getting a job done when they were asked.

Bill had a chance in charge, for once. Getting to boss around his former officer, and he was not letting it go to waste.

** “You’ve been writing to Luz?” Bill asked Joe, later that day. They’d gotten everything sorted, more people had shown up, and the two of them had popped back to Bill’s for some last minute pickups and adjustments.

Fran hadn’t gotten through to Joe, unfortunately. Though neither of them were truly surprised, Joe Toye was a tough cookie.

“Yeah, every once in a while.” Joe said. “He writes to all of us.”

“You talked to him yesterday, though?” Bill remembered what George had said, the reason he’d shown up early in the first place, because Joe had told him they needed help with things. Well, that was a bit suspicious, if you asked him.

Joe hummed an affirmative.

“When?” Bill asked, because he couldn’t let a subject like that drop for the life of him, especially not now.

“He came over. We had a couple drinks.” Joe shrugged. “Why does it matter?”

For one thing, Luz had never come over to Bill’s, even though Bill’s reunion was the only reason Luz was in Philly in the first place. And second of all, Bill hadn’t thought Luz was that close with Toye.

“Is this a new thing?”

“New thing? It’s not any type of thing. He just wanted to talk. It’s Luz, what else could you expect?”

Wasn’t that the truth. Luz was a chatterbox if ever there was one.

“How’s he doing?”

“As well as any of us, I’m sure.” Joe adjusted his pant leg, pulling it down properly over his prosthetic. He was debuting his new leg for the first real time in public, especially in front of all of Easy Company– the ones who’d RSVP’d of course– and he didn’t seem quite as confident as he could have.

“Stop fiddling with it, it’s gonna be fine.” Bill promised. They were waiting for Fran to loop around in their car to come get them and the boxes of stuff they’d remembered to bring. It gave Toye plenty of time to agonise over his leg.

“I think it’s sitting weird.” Joe winced. They both knew that it wasn’t really painful, just uncomfortable. There were a few reasons why Bill was foregoing it, in exchange for his trusted pair of wooden crutches. They were strong, sturdy and didn’t chafe.

Joe, on the other hand, was a little bit more under-the-radar. He wanted to draw less attention to the missing limb. He wasn’t ashamed of it, exactly. But Bill knew where he was coming from. Sometimes it got tiring, answering questions, feeling people’s eyes on you. Bill was used to it, he didn’t mind the attention so much, But Joe had never been quite so open.

“You look great.” Bill said, once Joe had successfully readjusted the socket. “I’m serious, you’re… all dressed up.”

“I’m not dressed up. No more than everyone else will be.” Joe was wearing a loose suit, something new, that’s for sure. Looked like he could wear it to a job interview, maybe even a fancy dinner. Something better than meeting up with old buddies who’d seen him stripped down to his worst. He’d styled his hair, too, polished his shoes. Bill’s jacket wasn’t quite so high quality, and had been a staple of his wardrobe since before the war– he was lucky he still fit into it.

“Y’don’t have to be so worried about seeing everyone again.” Bill patted him once on the shoulder, solid and companionable. “They’re just happy to see you on your feet.”

“I’m happy to see any of them.”

Bill paused, looking for something substantial enough to say, but in the end he settled on honesty. “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

**

The reunion, for all intents and purposes, was a success. Bill celebrated the sentiment with champagne– gifted to him by Captain Nixon, who hadn’t shown up, but had sent his regards with a bottle of something expensive. Bill and Fran were both appreciative, they drank it over dinner.

At a certain point, the table arrangements that Fran had made up (with the help of Joe, supposedly. Though Bill still believed that he’d done nothing of the sort, and had sat there diligently and listened to Fran’s questions.) had been abandoned, and it was a free for all. Bill had started the night with Babe, Joe and Malarkey sitting at his little table with Fran, then at some point, Malarkey had gone off to sit with Perconte, Talbert and Luz, then those three, and subsequently many members of E Company had come to thank Bill for his hard work. It felt well-earned.

“People don’t realise how much effort goes into these things.” Bill said, who’d started understanding it for himself a few weeks prior.

“I’m sure.” Buck Compton said. “It’s tough to manage the military in the military, let alone pack them all into one building for fun.”

“Exactly!” Bill smiled. He was a bit tipsy, though a lot of the feeling came from the warmth of reunion. The chance to see his friends again. It was one thing to know they’d survived and come back unscathed, it was another to see them before him, eating and talking and laughing like nothing had ever happened.

There were things he didn’t bother mentioning to Compton, for example the hassle it had been to get a venue he could get into easily. Guys like him and Joe needed a little help now and then, and it was received better by both of them if it was Bill doing the helping, by avoiding the obstacles all together.

Fran had her hand in the crook of Bill’s elbow, a warm, reassuring weight through the whole night. At a certain point, Buck got up to mill about, Babe had gone off to chat up one of the medics, and all of the others had flocked away from the table. This included Joe.

Joe sat off on a table against the wall all by himself. He nursed a glass of beer as he looked out on the crowd.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” Bill decided. He moved to stand, but Fran gripped his arm.

“He’ll be fine, Bill.” She said.

“Well.” Bill muttered. “I guess he will. I still don’t like it, though.”

“Maybe he needs some time to himself, who knows?”

“Or he feels like shit.” Bill pointed out, but he turned to face her anyway. “I don’t know what happened to me. Wild Bill, huh?”

“You matured.” She told him. Fran wore a soft smile, Bill reciprocated it when she kissed his cheek. “You’re plenty wild. I’ve heard the stories from Babe.”

“Don’t listen to anything Babe Heffron tells you.”

She laughed, loud and bright. “I’ll take it with a grain of salt.”

Bill kept his eyes trained on her, taking in the moment. He was high off of the feeling of accomplishment and warm from the glee of it all. Easy Company gathered together once more, who woulda thunk it?

Where would they go from here, he wondered? What else was there, after the war, after the reunion. For him it was a beautiful wife and a lovely house, for others, it was work. How could someone go back to another job after they’d parachuted into France?

Joe was thinking of moving out of Philly, to settle back where he grew up, in a small town a hundred miles away. He was going to look for a job working around mines, even though he couldn’t very well be knee deep in coal anymore, working away with a pickaxe like he used to (when Bill imagined it, he couldn’t help but think of a comic strip from the newspaper, people still worked in mines? Even when they could be out and about, embracing the new age?) 

“You’re thinking about Joe again, aren’t you.” Fran said, though she didn’t look disappointed. Just sort of amused and unsurprised.

“Yeah, I am.”

“You’re worried about him.”

“No one knows him better than me, I guarantee you that.” Bill pointed out. He was Joe Toye’s… best friend, as childish as it was. Hell, they’d fought tooth and nail together to survive, they were allowed to be a little juvenile when it came to stuff like that. Brothers of war, and all that.

“I’m sure.”

“Why’re you doing that with your face, then?”

“What?”

“Raising the eyebrow, like you don’t believe me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you definitely are.” Bill squinted at her. “You really don’t think I know him?”

“I think you do. I just think you have competition for knowing him the most.”

She pointed to the table off in the corner, where Joe had been sitting by himself not moments before. Now, unexpectedly, George Luz was tucked up in the chair opposite him, speaking low and gesturing as he talked. Joe looked completely and entirely focused. Even from where he was sitting, Bill could see the softness in his eyes.

“He looks like you, right now.” Fran said.

“What?”

“The look in his eyes, it’s the way you look at me.”

Bill blinked. What.

“Nah, it can’t be.” Bill squinted at them.

“What can’t be?”

“I’m just–” Bill shook his head, turning back to Fran. “It’s not important.”

She eyed him again, “You’d better not mess that up.”

“I won’t.” Bill said defensively. “I’m not sure what it is… But you know me.”

“I do. You’d better not say a word to them.”

“I won’t.”

Bill cast a sideways look off at Joe, he couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but he heard the soft tones of George’s voice. It made sense, really. Bill hadn’t seen it coming, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Joe was his friend. If Bill was to dwell on it, he'd find himself focusing on the fact that he'd missed so many indications. That didn't make him feel too great.

“You’re so damn observant.” Bill said to Fran, looking to drop the subject like a hot coal. Que sera, sera, and all that. Wasn't up to him any longer what Luz and Toye got up to. All he knew was that he'd be inviting Joe over for beers just the same that Thursday night. They were paratroopers, for god's sake, that meant more than... well, he wasn't sure. He was Joe's friend, though. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t know how you don’t. He mentioned George to me about five times.”

“That cheeky fucker.” Bill said, and then he startled. “I’m still used to the army. Sorry.”

“I’ll survive.” Fran said, leaning in close. “It’s not like any of these fellows have the cleanest words.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re used to it, because I’m planning to have another one next year.”

Fran rolled her eyes, but she gave him a peck on the lips, which Bill counted as a success.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :)

[rosewaterandivy]

Cathedrals

Summary: In the cathedrals of New York and Rome / There is a feeling that you should just go home

Pairing: past s.h. x f!oc

W.C.: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, rich people being, you guessed it, rich, sad boy steve, actor!steve, rockstar!reader

hit me like a hook of the right m.list

“Hey,” He says, stepping next to you in the Sackler wing as you eye the Temple of Dendur.

It’s a rare moment to yourself in an otherwise packed event. You sigh and take a sip from your champagne, thinking that maybe if you stay silent long enough you can simply will this moment away.

He looks good, but it’s not hard for a man to do at the Met Gala— show up in a tailored suit with an appropriate accessory and call it a day. His hair is longer, starting to curl at the nape of his neck in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it.

“Hi,” You allow, keeping your gaze forward on the blocks of stone.

And there’s a million things you could say to him right now, but the most pressing and the one you will absolutely not bring yourself to ask is this: why did you let me go?

You’d rather not have to deal with tears after all the hard work Lisa an her team did on your face. Instead, you keep your eyes forward and take a steadying breath.

“You look good.”

You hum, as if in thought; not accepting the compliment but not out right denying it either. Because yeah, you know you look good— great, even after the past few months without him. And it’s not as drastic as changing your hair and dropping weight, but you’re healthy; you’re good.

The dull accompaniment of people meandering around the wing has fallen to a hush. Sure strides sound out against the pristine floors as a familiar hand falls to the small of your back. Part of you wants to lean into it, into him, all broad chest and the familiar scent of bergamot and spice.

Steve stiffens and takes another sip from his drink, ice clinking in the crystal glass.

The hand winds its way around your hip to settle against your stomach, warm and inviting. The scrape of his stubble against your hairline as he dips down to whisper in your ear sends a shiver through you.

“Ready to go?”

His lips, pink and full, graze the shell of your ear as you nod and turn in his grasp. He drops a kiss to your forehead and holds your glass as you crumple the fabric of your train in your grasp.

“Oh,” You say, taking a step toward the mezzanine. “This is my friend, Steve Harrington.”

He stops at your side, offering you an arm for balance that you gladly take, and goes to shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you man,” He says, pumping Steve’s hand in a firm shake. “I’m Sebastian.”

“I, uh,” Steve eloquently replies, eyes flitting between you and your escort. “Yeah, nice to meet you too.”

Greetings aside, Sebastian smiles at you and tosses over his shoulder, “See you in there!” His free hand wrapped around your waist as the pair of you navigate yourselves to the table for dinner.

A refreshed drink awaits you, thankfully, as you settle the skirt and train around your chair. Polite greetings and acknowledgements are made at the table as the first course arrives, but you can’t bring yourself to eat.

His hand is warm through the layers of tulle, organza, and silk against your thigh, a subtle squeeze every so often that says I’m here, I’ve got you.

Blue eyes, like storm at sea, meet yours as he takes a sip from his drink. And it must be clear from the expression on your face that something isn’t quite right. His fingers twine with yours and rest against his thigh, his thumb rubbing in circles on your hand.

There’s several courses to go, plus the schmoozing present at every industry event. You have a phone hand-off to do with the Loewe girls, and then there’s the after parties. Thank god you’re not performing this year— small miracles.

Picking up your fork, you make an effort to push some food across your plate as Alessandro speaks in rapid fire Italian to your right. You responses are polite and infrequent, you hear him mutter something like, “Cara mia,” before someone approaches your table.

“Sorry to interrupt,” He says, as your blood runs cold. “But could I just borrow her for a minute?”

Alessandro looks at you, dramatic eyebrow raise and everything, while Sebastian sits, seemingly unaffected.

“Well,” Your date replies, “I suppose that’s up to her.”

As if this night could get any worse.

Polishing off your drink, you quickly stand— the sooner you get this dealt with, the better. You give Alessandro an eye roll as you turn to go, pausing to kiss Seb on the lips.

“Be back in five,” You say, thumb grazing against his jawline. “Get me another drink?”

He nods, assured, and drops your hand only when forced, the distance growing between you.

Steve leads you back towards the Rockefeller wing, not stopping his stride until you’re in the Greco-Roman corner, stood in front of the marble statue of Aphrodite.

Your feet ache, your heels this evening weren’t exactly chosen with comfort in mind, and suck in breaths like nobody’s business— the bodice of your gown suddenly feeling tight.

“What do you want Steve?”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, and stares at the statue before him. Like he can’t even look you in the eye.

And then, he laughs.

“Are you shitting me?”

His tone is cutting, incredulous, and cruel.

You cross your arms and don’t dignify his question with a response. As if he has any right to ask that of you.

“I mean, he’s not— You’re not—” He keeps cutting himself off, fearing the words may be true if he comes out and just says it.

“Together?”

Steve drops his hand from his hair and turns. Fuck. That was not a good idea.

You look amazing, you always do, and you’re definitely going to end up on a Best Dressed list of some kind for the evening. He’s heard enough rumblings to know you’re wearing something archival and looking damn good doing it.

You don’t take a step closer, nor do you look at him.

And, okay, he can admits that stings a little.

“That’s none of your business.”

Your voice is soft, but echoes in the cavernous wing nonetheless.

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I guess not.”

He just can’t wrap his head around it– you’re, well you, a Grammy-award winning artists who tours the globe and headlines things like Coachella. How can you be with someone like that? I mean, does this guy even know what Coachella is?

“What?” Your voice breaks the uncomfortable silence, “Your face is doing that thing Steve; what could you possibly want to say to me about my presumed relationship?”

“He’s just so…” Steve trails off, there really is no eloquent way to say this. “Old.”

Your scoff is loud and the expression on your face is— well, one he hasn’t exactly seen before. And he can’t say he likes being on the receiving end of it.

“Wow,” You say, stepping back and hitching your skirt in hand. “Sorry I’m not out there fucking every twenty-something that moves, Harrington.”

And yeah, he deserves that.

“But then again,” You toss over your shoulder as you turn to leave, “Babysitting was always more your forte.”

The red bottoms of your heels click as you walk away, back to the party and your date.

Steve feels like an idiot.

The plan was to play it cool and friendly, ask how you’d been and hopefully lead up to some sort of conversation. Instead, he got jealous. Saw the way someone who is not him wrapped his arm around you and how you sank back into him, comfortable, safe.

Saw the way he looked at you, bemused and adoring, the way he anticipated your movements and held your drink. And then, at dinner, how you smiled fondly at something he’d said or done, hands intertwined on his thigh.

And it was as if Steve’s chest was caving in. He couldn’t stop himself from walking over there under some false pretense, for just another moment of your time. How unaffected this man was, not even threatened by his current lover’s former lover, how he deferred to you and your decision.

Part of Steve wondered what that must be like, to be so secure in yourself and your relationship. Was that something that came with age, experience, or both? It did nothing to assuage the anger in his gut, even as you followed him out of the mezzanine and to the far corner of the main floor of the Met.

He wanted to say so many things, to ask if this man even knew where or what your favorite piece was in here. It was all he could think about during the red carpet and press line earlier this evening, how the two of you had somehow managed to go incognito one day last summer, before everything fell to shit.

How you’d spent hours at the Met, walking from one exhibit to the next. Talking about artists and color in hushed tones. You had never been much for religion, but you treated museums with more reverence than most penitents in a cathedral. How casually you’d asked his opinion on things he knew nothing about, reassured him that art wasn’t about critiquing schools or technique, but rather how it made you feel.

You’d drug him to the European paintings on that day, fingers slotted against his, tugging him along. Spoke softly about Buoninsegna’s Madonna and Child and it stuck him how small it was in comparison to the larger works, like Degas and Rembrandt. There were scorch marks from candles along the bottom of the frame, and you’d said it was because this was a piece in someone’s home– a personal altar.

People would pass it each and every day going about their lives, lighting candles in commemoration of the Virgin Mother and her Christ child. He remembers how you looked, awestruck underneath your ballcap, as if you were seeing it for the first time.

“Art should be for the people,” You’d said then, “The public. Things like this,” You’d gestured around the room, “Aren’t meant to be bought at Sotheby’s and displayed in millionaires homes alongside a Chagall or Kandinsky.”

And he’d agreed with you, he still does now.

So when he finds himself in front of the very same painting, Steve’s not all that surprised. As he studies the child’s hand, how how to seems to brush aside his mother’s veil, he wonders:

Does he know your favorite piece? How you like to loudly discuss that the artifacts from Greece, Egypt, Africa, and Asia should be returned to their ancestral homes, that it’s nothing more than theft that fills the coffers of museums? Does he, wrongly, assume that you prefer the ballerinas of Degas or a girl with a pearl earring?

Does he know you as well as Steve does did?

He knows he won’t get answers, and that he’s torturing himself by even thinking of them, of you. Steve sighs and leaves the empty exhibit room, wondering what he’d do if this feeling was to ever abate.

Afterall, how can he be homesick for a home that he has no right to call his own?

[ronance-romance]

Based on: Secret by Peach PRC

Same time, same place.

Nancy had Robin pinned, the graffiti most likely rubbing off onto Robin’s shirt from behind. Did she ever stop to breathe? To think?

“Nance…mmm…the bell,” Robin gasped. “You’ll…be late…” That usually seemed to snap her out of the spell.

“One more,” Nancy pleaded before giving her another desperate kiss. Robin’s head was spinning.

“‘Kay bye!”

And then she was gone. Robin was left to catch her breath and sneak back out of the school the way she had come in. By the time she was in uniform at the Family Video, she was presentable again.

Steve was blabbing about his latest date, Heather or Amy or someone. Robin was supposed to be listening. Supposed to be. But all she could think about was the question she wanted to ask Nancy: When are we going to stop hiding?

Steve supported her already, he’d be happy for them. What was Nancy so afraid of? Her family? Fuck them, honestly. At least her parents. Mike and Holly seemed alright, though she didn’t know them well. Surely they curated their friends well enough that acceptance wasn’t an issue. Robin herself was considering being more open to everyone. Especially Dustin, who seemed to think she and Steve were an item. Silly kid.

“Helloooo? Robin?” Steve waved his hand in front of her face. Robin blinked.

“I never see you this quiet,” he said suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“Other than you giving me a massive headache?” Robin quipped. “Nothing of interest to you, dingus.”

Steve rolled his eyes and the conversation resumed, two way this time. He didn’t suspect a thing. And that was part of the problem, maybe.

Later…

Robin locked up the store, saying her usual goodbyes to Steve. And like a mirage, Nancy was suddenly there. Perfect. She had to talk to her. She couldn’t let her gorgeous lips distract her. She—

They were in Nancy’s car this time. Robin’s hands were in Nancy’s hair and they were dangerously close to the next stage. But Nancy never let it get that far. She felt hot all over, but she didn’t mind. She wanted more. She felt like she was medically dependent on her touch now, and she couldn’t think about anything else while she was with her like this. But this time, she forced herself to think more coherently and pulled away for air.

“Robin…” Nancy mumbled, her voice coming halfway out like a whine. Perhaps she was addicted too.

“Robin, what’s wrong?” Nancy said when she didn’t get a response, sitting up.

“How long is it gonna be like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and me, hiding in your car and bathroom stalls. I wanna tell people, Nance.”

“Ro, I…” Nancy looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I’m ready. Please just give me more time. Okay?”

“Tell me what I can do to help you feel ready,” Robin whispered. “It’s been two months and I can’t take this anymore.”

“Are you dumping me?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Okay, okay.” Nancy mumbled, wringing her hands. “Friday?”

“Friday,” Robin confirmed. “We invite everyone to dinner. Okay? It’s gonna be okay. I promise. Your parents…they don’t have to know. But our friends. Please, Nancy. That’s all I ask.”

“Okay,” Nancy sighed. And she seemed relieved, but still nervous.

“The makeout sesh can still be our secret though. I know you can’t get enough of this.”

Nancy burst into laughter.

“Shut up!”

Friday, 6:30. Everyone got invited: Will, Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Max, Eleven, Jonathan, Eddie, Steve, and Chrissy. It was a big crowd, they needed three tables. Robin plopped herself down next to Nancy, who had picked the head of the table. She was proud of her, really. This wasn’t easy. She knew that. It’s why Robin promised to do the talking, if Nancy couldn’t. After all, it was her special talent.

“So what’s this all about?” Mike asked after everyone had ordered their drinks.

“Well…erm…” Nancy was fumbling already. Robin felt the urge to swoop in and rescue her, but she decided to see how she did on her own for a moment.

“Is something wrong?” Will asked.

“No, but-”

“Are you pregnant?” Dustin blurted.

“What? NO.”

Holy shit it was up to Robin, wasn’t it?

“Guys! Calm down and let us talk!” Robin cut in. Oh whoops.

“Us??” Steve said in confusion.

“Nancy and I are dating and have been for nine weeks two days and six hours!” Robin continued.

“You counted?” Nancy’s cheeks flushed a brilliant red.

“Well I…”

Nancy kissed her, in front of everyone. The world didn’t end, everyone celebrated. There was an immediate chaos amongst the kids. Apparently there had been a running bet behind their backs.

Steve won, of course.

But all Robin cared about was they weren’t a secret anymore.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Timing | Jeno Fic #2

Title: Timing

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of divorce

Word Count: ~4k

Author's Note: The original idea for this story sort of just sprang on me. It's basically a best friends to lovers story gone wrong. I personally really enjoy sad stories, but I apologize if this story frustrates any of you. Hope you guys like it and thank you for reading ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Jeno remembered the first day he met you quite vividly. You had moved into the neighborhood just two weeks before seventh grade started. However, he had only gotten a glimpse of you once when you accompanied your mother to give rice cakes to his mom. The next time he encountered you was at school, where the two of you found yourselves in the same homeroom. But being the introverted individuals you were, Jeno stuck to his close-knit circle of friends, and you didn’t so much as give a glance in his direction. 

The first time he officially talked to you happened at the convenience store. He had just gotten out of school and wanted to buy a snack before he had to go to hagwon. As he was walking toward the refrigerated section, you entered the store with the same idea in mind. The prospect of enjoying your favorite kimbap after a long day of school seemed like the perfect way to lift your spirits.

However, as you approached the aisle, you noticed Jeno reaching for the last triangle kimbap on the shelf. Almost immediately, you let out a defeated sigh that came out louder than intended. Jeno’s eyes met yours in a split second and awkwardness quickly filled the air.

Even though he was shy around new people, Jeno managed a sheepish smile. “Uh, hi.”

“Hello,” you mumbled in reply, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Your gaze involuntarily returned to the kimbap in his hand, feeling torn between your craving and your natural reserve. Jeno must’ve been able to pick up on the inner conflict in your demeanor. Before you could step back, he held the snack out to you.

“You can take it if you want,” he offered.

You looked at him with wide eyes and promptly shook your head. “Oh—no, you don’t have to do that! I can just pick something else, it’s no big deal.”

Despite your protest, the boy moved forward and placed the kimbap in your hand, catching you off guard.

“It’s fine,” he reassured with a warm smile. “I didn’t really want it anyway.”

He walked away, leaving you feeling terribly guilty, even though he had willingly given it to you. Reluctantly, as you went to check out, you couldn’t stop thinking about that encounter. So when you spotted him outside after purchasing, you impulsively tapped on his shoulder. He turned around in surprise when you held out a carton of banana milk. 

“Please, take this,” you said, ignoring the internal struggle between your heart and your mind. “I feel bad about earlier.”

The boy smiled as he accepted the drink. “Thanks…Kim (Y/n),” he said, glancing at the name tag on your uniform.

You smiled back shyly, and he then asked if you were going to hagwon too. When you found out you attended the same one, Jeno suggested walking together. 

And just like that, you and Jeno soon became best friends. Throughout middle school, the two of you were inseparable. He got you to join his friend group at lunch, and you started inviting him over for dinner at your house. Some days you guys ditched the hagwon and went to play arcade games instead. Those three years were filled with so many fond memories.

However, your once entirely platonic friendship took a subtle shift when high school began. It was a natural thing for kids your age to start crushing on one another and getting into relationships that lasted a month at most. You just happened to fall for your best friend, which was something you never saw coming until it did.

Little did you know that Jeno had been crushing on you long before you had. From that first day at the convenience store, the shy kindness you showed him made him certain there was something special about you. It wasn’t until the end of ninth grade that he realized why his heart fluttered whenever you laughed at something he said, or why he couldn’t stop smiling after you hugged him.

Maybe there was a part of you both that sensed this unspoken connection between you. Or maybe you didn’t. Regardless, there were never any outright confessions. 

Jeno was the most secure presence in your life. He was there when you fell to the ground after he tried teaching you how to ride a bike. When your parents got divorced, he was right by your side and took you out almost every day because he knew you didn’t want to be at home. For such a long time, he’s been there for both the significant and insignificant events in your life. He was someone you couldn’t bear to lose, and you weren’t willing to jeopardize your friendship because of potentially unwanted feelings.

Unbeknownst to you, Jeno felt the same way. The stability and comfort you both shared were already so great to him. He believed that revealing his feelings might burden you, and he didn’t want that to happen. If remaining your friend meant staying close to you, Jeno was okay with that.

At least, he thought he was.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The two of you couldn’t be happier when you both got accepted into NCIT. Jeno saw going to college with you as a potential opportunity to finally express his feelings (although the other part of him fought against it). You, on the other hand, entered freshman year with the hopes of leaving your crush on Jeno in the past. He’d probably never feel the same, you thought, and your friends had advised you numerous times to move on from him.

Although a part of you was hesitant about pulling away from Jeno who was practically your first love, you knew deep down that they were right. You thought that as long as you and he stayed friends, everything would be fine. You weren’t a teenager anymore, and it was time for you to live as an adult.

At the beginning of freshman year, you and Jeno mostly stuck together as you always had. But eventually, the two of you integrated into your own friend groups and the demands of classes took precedence. Despite this shift, you remained close as ever, frequently meeting up at the library to do homework and hanging out on the weekends.

With all the time you spent together, it was only natural that you became acquainted with his friends. They were all nice to you and often begged you to come out for drinks together. Somehow, Jeno didn’t expect one of his closest friends and roommate to take notice of you.

“Hey Jeno, can I ask you something?” Jaemin asked one day in the locker room of the campus gym. It had become a weekly routine for them to work out together in the evening.

Jeno nodded, not giving it much thought. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“You don’t happen to have feelings for (Y/n), do you?” the male then asked, causing Jeno to pause when he bent over to tie his shoes.

Recovering quickly, Jeno played off his surprise with a chuckle. “What? No, we’re just friends. I don’t really see her that way.”

Jeno didn’t know why he was lying. Perhaps it was because the other guys constantly teased him about being so obvious about his feelings for you, and it secretly aggravated him.

Jaemin let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. I didn’t want to make any moves if you were interested.”

“You like her?” Jeno gave the male a questioning gaze, pretending to occupy himself by bringing out his duffel bag. Other than you, Jaemin was the second person he spent the most time with. He wondered how he hadn’t caught on to Jaemin liking you before.

A dreamy smile appeared on his friend’s face. “I just think she’s pretty cute, you know? Kinda quiet and reserved. She’s a little bit of a mystery, which I like in a girl.”

Jeno unconsciously found himself gripping the strap of his bag tighter than usual. He didn’t like hearing other guys talk about what they found attractive about you. But Jaemin was his friend, and he couldn’t talk back to him.

“So are you going to ask her out?” he asked, though he secretly didn’t want to hear the answer.

Jaemin gave him a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know yet. I’ve just been thinking about her lately.”

“Oh, okay,” he mumbled quietly. Jaemin patted him on the shoulder as they headed out of the gym building. 

Though he kept trying to suppress his feelings and insist that things were fine, deep down, Jeno knew they were not.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

In the days that followed, Jeno observed the gradual change happening between his two best friends. At first, you were unsure of what to think when Jaemin started sitting by you at lunch and offering to walk to class together. You knew you shared some classes, and that he was a good friend of Jeno’s. However, you found his increased presence to be unfathomable. 

Na Jaemin was one of those guys who were so devastatingly attractive, that girls couldn’t help but stop to look at him. He seemed like the type you’d see hanging out with the popular kids. Unlike you—a boring creative writing major who usually kept to herself.

One day, curiosity got the better of you and you worked up the courage to ask him why he kept wanting to spend time with you. When you asked, he simply smiled.

“Because you’re a nice person to be around,” he told you. “There’s never a look of judgment when I talk to you, and you can be funny when you want to.”

After he said that, you realized that Jaemin was genuinely a good guy with not a single trace of bad intentions. So when he officially confessed his feelings a few days later, you decided to give him a chance.

The day after that happened, Jeno and you went back to your hometown for the weekend. You were sitting in your old bedroom, eyes fixating on the lilac-colored wall. When you first moved in, all the rooms in your house were a somber gray color. But you didn’t change the color of your room until a year or two later.

Jeno was the one who chose this light shade of purple for your room. When you asked why that one specifically, he said it just reminded him of you. He even came over to help your father paint. You remembered laughing uncontrollably when he accidentally stepped his foot into the paint bucket.

You shifted your focus to him, who was sitting at the other end of the bed using a light green ball of yarn to crochet. You couldn’t help but smile in amusement, thinking back to when you suggested the two of you pick up crocheting as a hobby not too long ago. Jeno was initially reluctant about it, and yet he ended up becoming more invested than you. Although he made you swear never to tell the guys, or else he’d never hear the end of it.

“Jaemin asked me out on a date,” you sort of blurted out, breaking the comfortable silence between you. Until now, you hadn’t told anyone about it.

Jeno peered up from what he was doing, a little shocked by this news. He didn’t know why, especially when Jaemin literally told him he was interested in you.

Suppressing the sting in his chest, Jeno forced a smile. “Oh, really? That’s cool.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” you asked, warily. His tone sounded a little too casual to you.

“Of course, I am,” Jeno said, returning to crocheting. “What could be better than my two best friends getting together?”

Maybe you were just overthinking his reaction, you thought to yourself. There was no reason he’d lie to you, right?

You smiled, laying back on your pillow. “Well, it’s just one date. I’m not sure if I’m really into him yet.”

Jeno hummed in reply, trying to stuff down the inner turmoil that stirred within him. He tried not to dwell on it too much. Like you said, it was just one date. 

Nothing too serious could happen so soon, right?

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Yet, Jeno was wrong again. Although he pretended to be happy for you, he was not thrilled when he learned that you did, in fact, have a great time with Jaemin a week later. Before he could even process what was happening, a single date turned into three and it wasn’t long before you and Jaemin became official.

In the beginning, Jeno kept trying to tell himself it was okay. It wasn’t fair of him to be upset when he had told Jaemin it was okay to ask you out. Though he would do almost anything to be in his friend’s place, he had to remind himself that he was only your best friend. 

But it was hard to ignore the sick feeling he got when your group of friends would all hang out together. Jeno had to witness all the loving glances you and Jaemin exchanged, the little giggle from you whenever he whispered something in your ear. It didn’t help that Donghyuck frequently teased the couple for being obnoxiously cute.

The more your relationship with Jaemin blossomed, the more Jeno grappled with his own conflicting emotions. In doing so, he unintentionally started to distance himself. As his best friend, you picked up on this change pretty quickly. He took up such a big portion of your life, that it was impossible not to notice his absence. But you thought if something was bothering Jeno, he’d tell you eventually. That’s how things usually were between you two. 

As time passed, you couldn’t shake the growing sense of insecurity stemming from Jeno’s diminishing presence. Jaemin could tell it was bothering you and even tried to talk to Jeno to see what was up. However, Jeno brushed him off, insisting everything was fine and he had just been busy with school work.

But you knew it couldn’t be just that. Jeno always made time for you, no matter how busy his schedule was. Whenever you tried to text him, he replied with one-word answers and made excuses when you asked to meet up. It felt like Jeno was slowly disappearing from your life, and you had no idea why. 

Fed up, you turned to asking his friend Mark for help. Aware of the strong bond the two of you had, Mark readily agreed. He arranged to meet Jeno somewhere, but instead of him showing up, it was you. That was how you found Jeno sitting on a bench at a park, playing a game as he waited for Mark to arrive. He was quite baffled when he saw walk up to him with a stern gaze.

“Lee Jeno, we need to talk,” you said in a voice he’s never heard you speak in. Your arms were crossed, and your brows were furrowed in anger.

Jeno coughed, slipping his phone to his pocket. “Why, what’s up?”

“‘What’s up?’” You reiterated his words in ridicule. “You blew me off for an entire month and that’s all you have to say?!”

Seeing the hurt look in your eyes caused guilt to strike him, and he let out a small sigh and stood up from the bench. “Look, (Y/n), I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to ignore you like that and I’m sorry.”

His apology made you scoff in disbelief. You were still fuming at the fact that you had to ask his friend, just to meet up with him. 

“You know, I couldn’t stop worrying if something happened or if I upset you somehow,” you said. “So can you please explain why you’ve been ignoring me?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jeno clarified. “It’s just…”

Even though you knew you should be mad at him right now, watching him hesitate made your anger dissipate. This was Jeno you were talking to, after all, you knew he never meant any harm.

“Just what?” you asked in a gentler tone, placing your hand on his. “You can be honest with me, Jeno.”

He had to collect himself before continuing. This was certainly not the way he imagined telling you his feelings. 

“It’s just…seeing you be all happy with Jaemin was making me upset,” he finally admitted. 

You sighed, “Jeno, it’s okay. You’ll find someone—”

“No, you don’t get it,” Jeno cut you off, frustrated. “The problem is that I like you.”

Your hand on his slowly retracted when he said that. Confusion quickly filled your expression.

“You what?”

Jeno forced himself to meet your gaze. “I like you, (Y/n), more than a friend. I’ve liked you since the day I gave up my kimbap to you. Over the years, I…I’ve just always loved what a genuine person you are. You have such a kind heart, even with all the things you’ve been through.”

You blinked at the male in surprise, trying to grasp his unexpected confession. A part of you didn’t want to believe what you were hearing.

“Jeno…” your voice trailed off. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I was planning to confess this year, But I was so worried about our friendship being ruined,” he said, his words hitting you like a truck. “Then when you and Jaemin started dating, I realized I was too late.”

The weight of unspoken emotions pressed in the air, leaving a heavy silence to hang between the two of you. Your heart wavered, torn by the realization that your previous feelings for Jeno had not been one-sided.

“I had no idea you felt that way,” you said, lowering your gaze. “Funny because I had feelings for you too. But I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

The boy looked up at you in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, I did,” you exhaled, taking a second to let everything sink in. “But…I’m with Jaemin now, and he’s someone I really care about.”

“I know,” Jeno nodded, though the truth in his eyes revealed underlying disappointment. 

Biting your lip, you turned to ask, “So, what happens now?”

Jeno took a moment, his gaze searching the distance. The air was charged with emotions neither of you could easily express. You almost wanted to laugh, thinking of what a messed up situation this was. Everything was so anticlimactic.

“I think we need some time apart,” he suggested the words carrying a weight of resignation. 

He knew this decision was selfish of him, but it was what needed to be done. Jeno loved you, but he feared that being around you knowing your heart belonged to someone else would only make him resentful. 

Although his words were unsettling to hear, you eventually nodded in agreement. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

Tightly gripping the strap of your purse, you locked eyes with him one last time. The two of you said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

On your way back to the dorms, you tried your best to hold yourself together. But once you opened the door and found Jaemin sitting on your bed because he had been waiting for your return, you couldn’t help but fall apart.

Attempting to stifle back the sobs proved futile, and this overwhelming sense of loss felt like it was crushing you. You didn’t know why you were so emotional because of this.

Instantly picking up the heaviness when you entered, Jaemin approached you gently. “Hey, what happened?” he asked.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you broke into fresh tears, and Jaemin instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

Through tears, you told him about Jeno’s confession and how the both of you decided not to see each other for the time being. You could tell Jaemin was alarmed by the news, but he was thankful you were honest with him. 

“I just…I just feel like I’ve lost my best friend,” you cried, a fresh wave of sadness washing over you.

Jaemin hugged you tighter and pressed kisses onto your head. He whispered that everything was going to be okay and that you were going to get through this together.

You cried a lot that night, grieving over everything that could’ve happened and didn’t happen. But amid the storm, you found peace in Jaemin’s arms and knew that you would be okay eventually. 

And you hoped Jeno would be too.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Jeno slowly entered the wedding hall, quickly greeted by Mark and Jisung. The gentle hum of conversation and the soft rustle of dresses and suits created an atmosphere of both anticipation and excitement. He took a deep breath before stepping into the room where the bride was taking pictures with guests before the ceremony.

Then he saw you in a simple yet elegant white gown, nervously fidgeting with the bouquet in your hands. Your eyes lit up when you saw Jeno come in, and a small smile played on your lips. “You came.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he smiled back, admiration evident in his eyes. “You look pretty. Na Jaemin is a lucky man.”

Lowering your eyes, you blushed. “Thank you.”

Jeno could tell by the sincerity in your voice, that you were thanking him for more than just the compliment. Memories of his youth with you flooded his mind.

“You know, before we met I was just the quiet kid in school. I didn’t have a lot of friends and just focused on school,” he sighed, “But then you came along and brought some light into my life. In a sense, I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it weren’t for you.”

The glint in his eyes stirred a mixture of emotions within you. “Thank you for being a part of my life, Kim (Y/n),” he said sincerely.

“Now that I think about it, even in my hardest moments when I was ready to give up on myself, I came out stronger because you were by my side,” you expressed, meeting his gaze.

Exhaling, you blinked back the tears that started to form. “So thank you, for always being there for me, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno’s gaze softened with warmth as he took in your heartfelt words. He gently placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, offering his congratulations once more before excusing himself to join the gathering of guests.

As he observed you walking down the aisle later, a bittersweet emotion swept over him. There was a time in his teenage years when he’d imagine being at the end of the aisle waiting for you. He had it all perfectly planned out in his head.

In that plan, he could see your strong friendship blossom into a great love. He would’ve taken to you all these different places for dates. He thought of all the hugs and kisses that could’ve been shared. He would have proposed to you after getting through college, and he would have spun you around when you said yes. Then he had the rest of his life to look forward to, because you were in it.

But the harsh reality of Jaemin standing beside you instead of him, hit hard. Things just didn’t turn out the way he had hoped.

Nonetheless, seeing the sparkling smile on your face as you took his hand made Jeno realize you were genuinely happy. It had taken a long time for the both of you to reach this point.

Standing there, watching you, Jeno knew that you could’ve found happiness with him. But the timing simply wasn’t right. Now each of you were on your separate paths, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

As he watched you embark on this new chapter, Jeno silently wished you a lifetime of joy and fulfillment, his heart carrying the echoes of what might have been.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

[taiyaki-translations]

Autumn Cafeteria - Fall for All 4

Season: Autumn

Characters: Yuta, Koga, Tsukasa

Translator: taiyaki-translations

Proofreader: raspberrytls

<A few hours later, in front of Café Cinnamon>

Tsukasa: It’s getting late, so this should be the last one for today. Well, let's do our best ♪

Yuta: Y-Yeah...

Koga: Ugh…

Tsukasa: ? What’s the matter, you two?

Yuta: I’ve been ordering on the assumption that we’re café-hopping (1), but this is already the fifth one…

Koga: Yuta and I usually only get somethin' to drink…

How are ya orderin’ sweets every time? Is this what they mean when they say people have a separate stomach for dessert?

Tsukasa: T-That's...! I just thought that it would be best to try their ‘special products’ as part of our inspection.

You won’t know what it looks or tastes like unless you order it, after all…

...Uu. Did I eat too much? I'm sorry to have shown you this disgraceful side of me.

Koga: What are ya apologizin’ for? We ain’t angry, we’re actually impressed. Yuta and I ain’t big fans of sweets, ya see.

Yuta: Right, right. Actually, it’s been very helpful. We wouldn’t be able to judge how good the sweets taste.

Being able to eat lots of sweets is also a talent, isn’t it?

Tsukasa: Oogami-senpai, Yuta-kun… I am honored by your compliments.

Leave it to me. I, Tsukasa Suou, will eat on your behalf!

Koga: No, you don't need to get so worked up. You won’t be able to eat dinner at this rate.

Tsukasa: T-That's true. Then, in moderation…

Are there any seats available…? How about in that corner over there?

Yuta: Sure. The corner is cozy~

Koga: Here’s the menu... Hm, there are new sweets, huh?

Tsukasa: New Sweets... ♪

Yuta: Ahaha, your eyes are sparkling~ You really like sweets, dontcha?

Oogami-senpai, can I look at the menu with you?

Koga: This is called “White Rabbit Mont Blanc,” a soft rice cake cracker shaped like a rabbit’s ears. It says “In collaboration with Shino Hajime” here. So he’s working with ‘em?

Tsukasa: It's the winning entry in the Idea Contest. This café occasionally accepts suggestions from the public. These sweets are offered for a limited time only.

Yuta: Ooh, you know a lot, huh?

Tsukasa: Actually, I’ve been trying to submit something for a while now. But I always end up coming up with an Idea only to shelve it.

Koga: Hmm~... But you’ve got an idea, even if it's just a vague one.

How about we try servin' it at the café?

Tsukasa: Eh? You mean the Sweets I came up with?

Koga: Yeah. We’ve seen other places offer limited-time menu items— they make ya curious to know what they’re like so people are more likely to check them out, right?

If we have somethin’ like that, regulars and new customers will wanna try it, won’t they?

Tsukasa: I see… It’s a good idea to stimulate interest with limited time offers.

Will my idea match expectations, though? It’s just something I came up with on a whim…

Koga: It’s only at the idea stage and you’re already gripin’?

Once it gets approved and we brush it up, your sweets idea is gonna get released into the world, ya know? Think positive.

Yuta: If you're not sure, why don’t we try making it ourselves before discussing it with the owner?

Actually, there's a dessert I'd like to try making, too~

Koga: I thought you weren’t a fan of sweets?

Yuta: That’s actually the reason why. Aren’t we surrounded by people with sweet tooths?

As nice as it is to see them eat so happily, doesn’t it get a little boring that we can’t join in?

I’d like to make some desserts that aren’t too sweet, so that people who don't like too much sugar can also enjoy them...♪

<After school the next day, Garden Terrace kitchen>

Tsukasa: —Here, this is my concept of what the finished Sweet will look like ♪

Yuta: Ah~ It’s a parfait. Kinda reminds me of last year~ (2)

Tsukasa & Koga: Last year?

Tsukasa: …Ha!?

I-It's nothing. Yuta-kun, please don't say it.

Yuta: There's nothing to hide anymore, though? We all know you like sweets.

Mitsuru-kun invited the two of us to a coffee shop in the downtown area. The menu had a lot of options.

He couldn’t choose between the parfaits and didn’t want to regret not trying the ones he didn’t end up getting, so he said, “I’ll have one of each, from the top to the bottom of this page, please.”

Tsukasa: Ugh, this is embarrassing…

Koga: Hm. So there are people other than Adonis who can do something like that.

That guy also likes sweets. He already conquered all the sweets on the menu at a coffee shop downtown.

Yuta: Mitsuru-kun said that Otogari-senpai recommended the shop to him, so maybe it's the same one? It would be an amazing sight if Tsukasa-kun and Otogari-senpai went together.

Sweets on the table as far as the eye can see, their aroma filling up the entire restaurant~…

Koga: Ugh, I'm gettin' heartburn just thinkin' about it.

Yuta: Me too. Even though I said it myself, I feel a bit sick…

Koga: We're gettin' off track. Let's get back to makin' that "Red-headed Young Master's Parfait (name subject to change)".

Tsukasa: What kind of name is that... While the two of you were talking, I finished prepping the ingredients.

Yuta: All that’s left to do is arrange it like the finished concept. You’re very handy~

Tsukasa: Fufun. Making “Sweets” is a speciality of "Knights"…♪

Translation Notes: 1. Yuta says 梯子する which literally means “to do ladder”. It comes from hashigo-zake (はしご酒), ladder alcohol, which is the Japanese term for bar-hopping. Nowadays,  梯子する can be used for any kind of restaurant. You can read more about it here. 2. Referring to the story Fruits Parlor.

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[koihanwrites]

Switch Amusement Park Headcanons!

Natsume x reader | Tsumugi x reader | Sora x reader

Gender-neutral reader 𓆩♡𓆪

Fluff + amusement park dates + gifts

Requested? no 𓆩♡𓆪

Words: 1148

Warnings? : None !

Yo yo yo! Koi here. I apologize for making you all wait so long, our exams just finished 4 days ago and I took a break after that. A sudden inspiration took over me when I was at the amusement park. Instead of enjoying myself, I found myself writing this, so I hope you all enjoy this. ♡

Natsume Sakasaki

He was the one who invited you to go to an amusement park.

Natsume is the type to put an arm around your shoulder or the type to hold your hand while walking around.

He isn't the type to take pictures every second unlike some people, however Natsume will slowly agree if you gave him a good reason. But in his mind he just wants to see your cute pouty expression.

Natsume will tease how cute you look when you begged for him to take a picture.

Natsume will maintain eye contact with you as a small smirk creep on his lips.

As the magician he is, he can win every single game inside the carnival like magic.

Shooting a ball in just 3 attempts? Natsume will shoot them all perfectly.

Popping balloons with darts? He will shoot every single one of the balloons.

Every prize he won, he will give it to you. Even a bigass teady bear that is bigger than the size of your body? he will gift it to you.

Of course he will help you carry the prizes as the kind and loving boyfriend he is.

In rides, Natsume is the type to invite you to take the craziest rides for fun. If you don't like those rides then he will settle down for a ride on the ferris wheel.

When you two are at the top of the Ferris wheel, he will kiss you on the cheek or on the lips as a surprise and will tease you when you blush.

"oH? Is my loveLY kitTEN flusTERED? how cuTE~" (Natsume will move closer to you after saying that-)

He is the romantic type of boyfriend so he will do anything just to make you feel butterflies on your stomach and making you blush.

Once you two are finished at the amusement park, he will take you to a dinner date on your favorite restaurant.

Natsume loves to spoil his s/o, he believes that it's fate that brought you two together, he also believes that you deserve the world because you're such a sweetheart for him.

(I love Natsume sm im sobbing)

Tsumugi Aoba

Knowing that Tsumugi is an over worker himself, you did all of his remaining tasks and invited him to go to an amusement park.

At first he was surprised that he doesn't have any remaining tasks, but when you told him that you did his remaining tasks you swore that you can see him in the verge of tears.

He then thanked you later on and accepted your invitation.

Once you and him arrived inside the carnival you can see Tsumugi's eyes sparkle.

Tsumugi is someone who rarely goes to fun places due to his busy schedule.

Tsumugi is the type to hold your hand while he's looking around the amusement park with a smile on his face.

He would ask you how was your day while you two are walking around the amusement park, he cares about you deeply.

I can imagine Tsumugi losing when playing a game inside the amusement park however, he can win a few games if good luck is on his side.

If he did lose, he promised that he will buy you something and will treat you in the cafeteria tomorrow.

If you managed to win a game and give it to Tsumugi as a gift, he will treasure it like his child. It's a gift from his s/o afterall.

If it's a plushie, he will put it beside his bed and he will hug it close to his chest while sleeping thinking that it's you.

I can imagine some people staring at how cute and sweet you and Tsumugi are.

He will buy you (drink of your choice) as a "thank you for inviting me here"

Tsumugi prefers calm rides like the spinning tea cup, the ferris wheel, the Carousel and etc..

He might find it childish when you invited him on riding the Carousel but after riding it, he felt more relaxed and he seemed to enjoy it.

Most amusement parks has fireworks when it's night time so imagine you and Tsumugi watching the fireworks.

He will let out a quiet "wow.." while watching the fireworks.

Tsumugi is the type to lay his head on your shoulder but he's also the type to ask permission before doing it.

As you and Tsumugi are watching the firework show, he will whisper "I love you so much.." in the most quiet tone he can so you won't hear it.

Sora Harukawa

Sora was the one who invited you to go to an amusement however, I can imagine you and Sora inviting each other at the same time.

He already planned what rides you two are going to take, you can obviously tell that he's really excited about this.

Once you two are inside the amusement park, Sora will pull your arm and will run towards a ride that caught his attention.

Sora is the type to run off somewhere when he founds something interesting so please keep an eye on him and hold his hand so he won't run off.

If he did run of somewhere and you're finding him, he will surprise you by hugging you behind.

He absolutely loves the surprised expression on your face right now.

Sora likes to cling on your arm while walking around the amusement park.

While you two are walking, Sora will hop every second because of how excited he is.

When he tries out the games, he will win many of them. He is a pro gamer afterall.

When he founds a plushie that looks like you, he will do his best to get it and gift it you.

Sora loves how your color gives off such a positive and sweet vibe when he gave you the plushie.

Sora is the same as Natsume, he likes the craziest rides but sometimes you can sense he's quite scared at some of them.

Sora is the type to wave his arms and keeps shouting how happy he is when you two are inside the rollercoaster.

After riding the rollercoaster he won't stop until you and him ride all of the rides inside the amusement park.

The big and genuine smile on his face will never fade throughout the rides.

After the rides, he will buy cotton candy for you and him, he will also buy a few desserts and sweets with it.

You can sense Sora's color brighten when he took a bite of the cotton candy.

Sora enjoys every single second he spends time with you, he is brimming with delight every time he founds you smiling. Sora is absolutely grateful and happy to be with you. He loves and adore you so much that his colorful heart cannot take it.

...

The end..... ✩

[fakefuckbxy]

❝ Please let me do this, ❞ Keith mumbled as he let himself lean against the shoulder of a guy he was more than a little familiar with. It was really unlike him considering how much he shrinked away at physical contact normally. As he let himself settle against Connor’s shoulder, the redhead continued to plead, ❝ I know you probably still don’t like me but I just need to talk. ❞ Besides, it seemed like Connor would be the only one who’d actually kind of get these sorts of feelings he was going to talk about. ❝ I… really hate everything. I hate how I’m so frustrated at everyone doing better than me all the time. I hate how I’ve been… so envious of my sister being so loved and cared for—even Reanne. ❞ His voice was crumbling, weakening as a very clear shaky quality revealed his vulnerability. ❝ They somehow… get people to like them, and I’m just… ❞ Ah, he could feel the urge to cry. His throat felt like it was on fire right now. No, he couldn’t be so pathetic and cry over something like this. Nope, not in front of someone who likely still hated him.

@abrasife / unprompted.

Connor had been sitting on a bench outside a nearby convenience store. He hadn’t quite brought himself to trek all the way home, but had pulled himself from the depths of his depression to go get something premade for dinner. He heard Keith’s voice before even seeing him, or rather feeling his head rest on Connor’s shoulder. He didn’t move or bother to talk, waiting to see what Keith needed to talk about. He doubts that it is directly related to him, but as someone that could appreciate someone to talk to here and there; he might as well be there for the other. 

Connor looked down at his premade dinner while Keith started talking, surprised by how similar the two felt. It was almost like Keith was reading his mind and taking the thoughts that he had on a daily basis and putting them into words. Maybe they were more similar than he thought. He cleared his throat, “And talking about it is almost impossible.” Connor added on, letting Keith know that he was in the darkness with him, “Because even when someone does bother hearing you out often they think it’s all in your head or tell you it’s not as bad as you think.” 

He pulled a water out of his bag, having gotten a few of them to put in his fridge in an attempt to take care of himself. “Here, drink. When was the last time you ate?” He asked the other, keeping his voice low. He’d take Keith back into the convenience store to find something to eat if the other hadn’t recently done so, debating on offering to walk him back home or asking if he needed to stay over to get out of his own depression space. Connor tried to think of how messy his apartment was. Honestly, for his state of mind he didn’t think it was horrible.

"I'm going to head home soon, Keith, and I know how hard this invitation is going to be to accept, but I think you should come with me." He didn't look at the other, not wanting to put the extra pressure on him, "Either that, or we can sit out here talking all night and it's getting a little chilly out."