#special lights to salmon

[succulent-mud]

I am so sorry but this is so stupid to draw and I can't resist

The little comic???? Appeared in my mind while buying snacks

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various images from the past year or so... posting my evil little photo diary collections once again..

[dionysianivy]

𝐌𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐧

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙣 𝙀𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙭 🌾🍎🕯

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What is Mabon?

Mabon, celebrated around September 21 to September 29, marks the autumnal equinox and the second harvest of the year. It’s a time of balance, as the hours of light and dark stand equal, symbolizing the transition between summer and winter. It's a time when witches and practitioners honor the changing seasons, express gratitude for the Earth's abundance, and connect with the energies of balance and transition. The term "Mabon" for this celebration is named after Mabon ap Modron, a character from Welsh mythology. It is often associated with the mythological theme of the abducted and imprisoned child who later becomes a hero, which parallels the changing seasons.

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Who is Mabon Ap Modron?

Mabon ap Modron, also known as Maponus, is a character from Welsh mythology. In some versions of the myth, Mabon is portrayed as a divine hero or a child who was abducted from his mother, Modron, and imprisoned. He is rescued after 3 years and plays a significant role in Welsh mythological tales. The name "Mabon" itself means "son" or "young man" in Welsh, and it is connected to the theme of rebirth and the return of the light.

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Hades × Persephone and the Autumn Equinox

Legend has it that on the last day of summer, Hades, the god of the Underworld, saw Persephone picking flowers in a field. He immediately fell in love with her and abducted her, wanting to keep her by his side as the queen of the dead. Upon discovering the disappearance of her daughter, Demeter, the goddess of harvest, set out to find her. Unable to locate Persephone, Demeter’s sorrow and despair were so overwhelming that the flowers, trees, and all vegetation withered, bringing all growth on Earth to a halt. The gods of Olympus, who were powerless to ignore the prayers of humans, reached a compromise with Hades regarding Persephone’s return. She would spend only six months each year with Hades in the Underworld. To avenge herself, Demeter decreed that during those six months, nature would mourn, and nothing would grow on Earth until Persephone ascended again from the Underworld.

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Magical Correspondences

Planets: Sun, Mercury

Season: Autumn 

Element: Water 

Time of Day: Dusk

Tarot: The Hermit 

Colors: Brown, Maroon, Red, Orange, Purple, Yellow, Gold

Herbs: Rosemary, Sage, Thyme, Chamomile, Cedarwood, Juniper, Mugwort, Dried Apple

Fruits: Grapes, Apples, Pears, Plums, Blackberry, Pomegranates

Vegetables: Carrots, Corn, Onions, Pumpkin, Squash

Runes: Dagaz, Inguz, Eihwaz, Jera

Crystals: Amethyst, Agate, Citrine, Tiger's Eye, Amber, Yellow Topaz

Trees: Apple, Oak, Aspen, Cedar

Goddesses: Pomona, Demeter, Epona, Inanna, Ishtar, Kore, Modron, the Morrigan, Persephone, Banbha, Autumnus, Hestia

Gods: Dionysus, Mabon ap Modron, Hades, Dumuzi, the Green Man, Hermes, Thoth, Cernunnos, Osiris, Freyr

Flowers: Marigold, Chrysanthemum, Aster

Animals: Deer, Dog, Wolf, Blackbird, Squirrel, Salmon, Swan

Magical uses: Abundance, Accomplishment, Agriculture, Balance, Goals, Gratitude, Grounding, Harvest, New Beginnings, Reflection

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Activities to do:

🍎 create your own Cornucopia

🍎 make a special Mabon jar

🍎 bake an autumn recipe

🍎 eat apple pie

🍎 harvest your garden

🍎 light a bonfire and dance or tell stories with your loved ones around it

🍎 do a guided meditation to welcome the new season

🍎 clean your garden

🍎 listen to Mabon music on Youtube or Spotify(there are plenty of playlist you can find!)

🍎 spend time with your deity/deities

🍎 grab some autumn flowers and bring them into your home

🍎 rest and relax♡

🍎 read about Mabon

🍎 clean your house to prepare for the season

🍎 take a walk outside to connect with nature and be grateful for the summer that has passed and warmly welcome the beauty of autumn

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Food and Drinks:

apple pie, apple cider, wine, grapes, root vegetables, apples, cornbread, baked good made from wheat or grains, cakes with cinnamon or nutmeg, roasted meat, pork chops, mashed potatoes, peach jams, fruit tarts, apples in all forms, pumpkin pie

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useful sources: Magie Blanche by Eric Pier Sperandio

gifs credit: Pinterest

Tip jar🍎🌾

[chosok-amo]

heyy can you write something about megumi x fem reader who’s struggling with social anxiety and he’s the only who understands her and tries to help her even if he’s really introverted, something really fluff and a bit romantic. thank u so muchhh

ᨳ A SAFE HARBOR : MEG. FUSHIGURO!

megumi fushiguro . . . after the Goodwill Event, Satoru Gojo takes his students to a festival near Shibuya. Overwhelmed by social anxiety amidst the bustling crowd, lucky for you Megumi was there to help.

The vibrant lights of the festival cast a warm glow over the bustling streets, and the sounds of laughter, chatter, and music filled the air. Colorful stalls lined the paths, offering an array of delicious foods, games, and trinkets. Among the crowd were students from Jujutsu High, led by their ever-enthusiastic teacher, Satoru Gojo.

As you arrived at the festival with your classmates, your heart began to beat faster. The sheer number of people, the overwhelming noise, and the constant motion were almost too much to handle. You felt a lump form in your throat as you took in the scene, your anxiety rising with every step.

Gojo, noticing your hesitation, gave you a reassuring smile. “Alright, everyone! Let's stick together and have some fun!” he announced, his voice carrying over the noise. His enthusiasm was infectious, but it did little to quell the storm brewing inside you. “But remember, if anyone needs a break, just let me know.”

You clutched the strap of your bag tightly, trying to ground yourself. The vibrant colors and enticing aromas that should have been exciting only added to your sensory overload. Your breathing became shallow, and you fought to keep your composure.

Gojo's tall figure led the group through the crowd, his white hair and blindfold making him easy to spot. Around you, your classmates seemed to be enjoying themselves, their laughter and chatter blending into the chaotic symphony of the festival. You tried to stay close to them, hoping their presence would offer some comfort, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your anxiety at bay.

As you all made your way to the long path of stalls, the lively bickering among your friends provided a welcome distraction from your anxiety. Maki, Panda, Toge, Nobara, and Yuji were engaged in a spirited debate about the festival attractions. Maki, always direct, started. “All right, let’s be real. The games here are rigged. You'd have better luck getting a date with Gojo than winning one of those giant stuffed animals.”

Panda chuckled, “Come on, Maki. They're not all rigged. You just have to know the tricks. Right, Toge?” Its fluffy arm nudges the much shorter boy besides, almost knocking the boy over. Toge, always the man of few words, simply nodded and said, “Salmon.”

Yuji, ever the optimist, wasn't convinced. “I don't know, Maki. I think with enough tries, anyone can win. I’m definitely getting one of those giant bears tonight.” Nobara snorted hearing the optimism lingering in Yuji's voice. “Yuji, you couldn’t win a goldfish in a barrel. Let alone a giant stuffed bear. You’re just gonna waste all your money,” she laughed while rolling her eyes, clearly dismissing the Sukuna's vessel nonchalantly.

Yuji pouted. “That’s not fair! Besides, I'm not the only one who wants to try the games. Right, Toge?” Toge grinned and gave a thumbs-up, “Tuna mayo.” The poor boy is only doing something his friends want to hear, and can't be bothered by his friends' nonsense. Maki crossed her arms. “Fine, but when you all lose, don’t come crying to me. I’ll be over at the food stalls, getting something actually worth my time.”

Panda’s eyes lit up, “Speaking of food, did you guys hear about the teriyaki stall? They have a special filling tonight. We have to check it out.” Nobara perked up on the other hand. “Taiyaki?” She asked, sounding interested, “Now that sounds worth it. We can hit the food stalls and then laugh at Yuji trying to win something.” Yuji grumbled, his brown irises rolling in annoyed, “Hey, I’m standing right here, you know.” Maki glanced at the pink-haired boy, a smirk visible on his lips, “We know, Yuji. That’s what makes it so fun.”

Megumi listened to his classmates' spirited conversation about the rigged games and the allure of food. He remained silent, watching the back-and-forth banter between Yuji and Maki, Toge and Panda, and Nobara with mild amusement as the conversation turned to the festival attractions, he remained silent, taking in their different opinions and ideas.

But his mind wasn’t solely focused on their words. He was keenly aware of you standing nearby, the tension in your body language not going unnoticed by him. He noted your evident anxiety, your grip on your bag, and your shallow breathing. Despite his usual nonchalant demeanor, he couldn’t help but worry about you.

He continued to observe you from the corner of his eye as the group continued down the long path of stalls, not quite ready to speak up just yet. Megumi knew that you were likely struggling to keep it together. He felt a pang of concern and wanted to ask if you were alright, but he also knew that drawing attention to your anxiety might only make it worse.

Maki raised an eyebrow, her competitive spirit ignited by the challenge. “Oh, you think you've got me figured out, huh? Well, alright, I'm game. What's the wager, my dear friend?” Panda chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about this, Maki? If you manage to win one of those giant stuffed animals, we'll treat you to a whole day of pampering. Massages, facials, the works!”

Nobara chuckled, adding her own twist to the wager. “But, if you fail to conquer the games, you'll have to wear a ridiculous costume of our choosing for the rest of the festival. And trust me, Maki, we've got some seriously outrageous ideas up our sleeves, right, y/n?” You flinched slightly at the unexpected weight of Nobara's arm around yours, but you managed to keep your reaction minimal.

“Um... I guess so,” you mumbled, not really feeling up to the idea of making a wager yourself. As Nobara's arm looped around yours, you could feel your heart racing. You tried to maintain your composure, forcing a shaky smile in response to her question.

Megumi noticed your lack of enthusiasm and the way you shrank slightly under Nobara's arm. He remained quiet, still observing you with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Maki's competitive grin widened. “You're on, my friends! Prepare to witness greatness as I conquer those rigged games with style. And just remember, when I emerge victorious, your wallets will feel the sting of treating me like the queen that I am!”

Yuji, ever the peacemaker, interjected with a laugh. “Hold on, guys! How about we make it more interesting? If Maki wins, we'll also have to carry all her winnings for the rest of the festival. And if she loses, she'll treat us to a feast at the fanciest restaurant in town!” Toge, breaking his silence, gave a sly nod of agreement. “Octopus dumplings.”

Maki's eyes sparkled with determination. “Deal! Get ready to witness the triumph of the century. I'll show you all what it means to have luck and skill on your side!” And with that, the group set off towards the games, anticipation hanging in the air as they prepared for a friendly battle of wits, luck, and plenty of laughter along the way.

As the group made their way through the crowd towards the game stalls, the conversation continued. Yuji was excitedly discussing food, while Maki bragged about her gaming skills. Megumi remained largely silent, listening more than he spoke, his focus partly on you. He observed the way your shoulders tensed as the noise continued to grow louder. He noticed the way your eyes darted around the crowd, taking in the sights, sounds, and people all around you.

As the group made their way towards the games, you couldn't help but feel even more anxious. The thought of participating in the friendly competition did not appeal to you at all. You tried to maintain your composure, but the sight of the various game stalls and the increasing noise of the crowd were making it difficult to keep your anxiety at bay.

Megumi walked silently beside you, occasionally glancing at you, his expression still calm and neutral. He could sense your discomfort and unease, which was only heightened by the boisterous banter and challenges among your classmates.

“Fushiguro, lend me a hand in bringing Maki down! I can't let her waste my hard-earned cash on this ridiculous game!” Yuji called out to his spike-haired comrade. Megumi, however, politely declined. “I'll pass, I need to grab something from Gojo-sensei,” he said, turning his attention towards you. “Y/n, would you like to come with me? I don't think I can handle it on my own,” he asked, his expression calm and reassuring.

You tilted your head, a mix of confusion and concern evident on your face as you looked up at Megumi. His tranquil blue eyes conveyed a sense of reassurance, making you believe that everything would be alright. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, nodding in agreement. Without waiting for a response from his friends, Megumi took your hand in his and held it tightly, gently leading you away from the bustling crowd.

Megumi's grip on your hand was firm yet gentle as he led you through the maze of the festival. It was a subtle gesture of comfort and reassurance, something you desperately needed in the midst of the overwhelming noises and sights. He guided you away from the boisterous group, his presence seemed to create a small bubble of calm around you.

As you walked, your gaze remained fixed on the ground, consciously avoiding eye contact and occasionally bumping into people. Struggling to keep up with Megumi's pace, you desperately tried to match his stride. You walked, Megumi's eyes glanced repeatedly at you, noting your downcast gaze and the way you kept your distance from him. It was obvious to anyone that you were struggling to cope with the overstimulation around you. As you stumbled slightly, clearly straining to keep up with his pace, Megumi made a decision to pull you closer to himself.

“Come here,” Megumi murmured softly, his arm slipping around your waist and pulling you closer until your chest lightly brushed against his side. He looked down at you with a gentle gaze . . soft even, he could sense the anxiety welling up within you. concerned about your well-being. “Is this alright for you?” he asked, concern lacing his words.

You swallowed hard, attempting to contain your anxiety and nervousness, as they threatened to escape their confines. With a quiet nod, you whispered, “Yeah,” and mustered the courage to look up at him. “I'll stay close, okay?” Once again, you nodded, your hand clutching a handful of his uniform as he resumed his walk, enveloping you under his protective arm.

Megumi's protective arm and strong frame brought a sense of security to you. The contact felt unfamiliar yet simultaneously soothing, especially considering he was not one for physical displays of affection. He could see your anxiety and unease written all over your face, but he remained calm and composed.

As he walked, he instinctively adjusted his pace and gait, syncing them with yours to match your strides. He observed you from the corner of his eyes, making sure you weren't overwhelmed by the environment around you. Megumi observed you closely, noticing the way your eyes darted back and forth, avoiding direct contact. Your body seemed tense, almost as if it was prepared to flee at any moment. He could feel the tightness in your muscles through the sleeve of his uniform.

He walked slowly, making sure to match your pace and occasionally checking on you from the corner of his eyes. The further you moved away from the lively commotion, the more relaxed you seemed to feel, and the vice-like grip you had on his uniform softened slightly. “Are you... okay?” he asked again, his voice a low murmur meant for your ears only. His hand gently squeezed your waist, a subtle gesture of reassurance.

As Megumi's voice cut through the low hum of the festival, you looked up at him, your eyes slightly wider than usual. The subtle squeeze of your waist startled you, and you took a moment to let your mind register his question. You couldn't help but feel a pang of vulnerability. Your heart fluttered for a moment, but you quickly composed yourself and nodded. “Y-yeah,” you whispered, still holding onto his uniform.

Once you both escaped the clamor of the bustling festival, Megumi guided you to a bench nestled beside a majestic tree, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. His gentle gaze remained fixed on you as he asked, “Will you wait for me?” He made it clear that he wouldn't leave unless you wanted him to. However, you nodded in reassurance, prompting him to nod as well before he slowly departed, leaving you to enjoy a moment of solitude.

You released a sigh of relief, your eyes soaking in the sight of the cityscape, where soft flickering lights danced in the distance. The gentle breeze caressed your face and swayed your hair, creating a serene atmosphere. As you relished in the momentary solitude, your heart rate gradually eased, and the tightness in your chest slightly lifted. Before long, Megumi returned, clutching a bottle of water in one hand and a handful of candies in the other, your eyes darted to the sight of him. He settled next to you, his presence bringing a sense of comfort. “Here, have this,” he said, settling down beside you and offering the water first.

You accepted the water bottle, still trying to regain your composure. As you took a sip, the refreshing liquid helped to soothe your parched throat and clear your head. You glanced at Megumi, noticing the candy in his other hand. “What are the candies for?” you asked, your voice a bit raspy from the anxiety-induced dryness in your mouth.

Megumi's expression faltered, his face reflecting a mix of confusion and uncertainty. “I... I don't know,“ he murmured, shaking his head with a small chuckle as you joined in. “But here,” he continued, offering you the candy, “I think this might make you feel better.”

You couldn't help a small smile as you noticed the slight confusion on his face. It was out of character for him to do something without a clear reason, and the fact that he admitted he didn't know why he bought the candies struck you as endearing.

Taking the candy from his hand, you examined it for a moment before popping it into your mouth. The sweetness of the candy combined with the gesture of his thoughtfulness made you feel more relaxed than before. “Thanks, Megumi,” you said quietly, grateful for his thoughtfulness. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

Megumi's stoic facade softened at your words. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and a slight tinge of pink dusted his cheeks. “You don't need to thank me,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I just... I want you to feel better. It doesn't sit right with me when you're...” He hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “When you're not okay.”

“Beside..” he mumbled, a hint of teasing in his voice. “I can't have you being anxious the entire night. It wouldn't be much of a festival then, would it?” You chuckled softly, feeling some of the tension ease out of your body. His attempt at humor, subtle as it was, was appreciated. “You're right,” you said, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. “I suppose I wouldn't be the best company if I was constantly on edge the entire night.” His hand instinctively reached for yours, his fingers intertwining with yours unconsciously.

You looked at his hand intertwined with yours, the physical contact feeling comforting and reassuring. a small smile forming on your lips. “I promise I'll try not to let my anxiety ruin the night.” Megumi's voice softened as he gently protested, his hand reaching out to pull you closer by your shoulder until there was no distance left between you two. “Hey, don't say that,” he murmured, his touch warm and comforting. “You know it's not your fault. It's not something you can control.”

His large hands moved up and down your arm in a soothing gesture, offering reassurance and support. In his embrace, you could feel his genuine care and understanding, a sense of safety enveloping you. Megumi's presence was a comforting balm, reminding you that you were not alone in your struggles.

Your heart skipped a beat as he pulled you closer, bringing you flush against his side. The sudden closeness caught you off guard, but his soothing touch on your arm made you feel more at ease. His words, spoken with a firm yet soothing tone, assured you that he didn't blame you for your anxiety. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, and you swallowed, trying to find your voice. “I know,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know I can't help it, but I still can't help feeling frustrated, you know?“ His large hands continued to gently move up and down your arm, each stroke a silent reassurance.

You leaned closer into him, feeling his strength and warmth emanating through the contact. The gentle rhythm of his hand moving up and down on your arm was grounding, helping to ease your racing thoughts and quell the butterflies in your stomach.

Megumi's expression softened as he listened to your words. His hand gently moved from your arm to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. He gave you a small, encouraging squeeze, his gaze never leaving your face. “I know it's frustrating,” he said, his voice soothing and comforting. “But you don't have to carry the burden of feeling guilty. It's not your fault, and the fact that you're trying is more than enough.” His hand continued to move in slow, gentle circles on your waist, the contact providing a sense of grounding comfort.

As Megumi's words sank in, a wave of relief washed over you. His reassurance and understanding were like a soothing balm to your anxiety-stricken mind. You couldn't help but lean a little bit closer to him, seeking more of the comfort he was offering. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice softer than before. “For understanding. For being so . . accepting.” His hand on your waist resumed its gentle rubbing, a silent reassurance that he was there, present and supportive.

Megumi's grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly at your words, his gaze softening even further. The small action spoke volumes, conveying a silent message of reassurance and support. “You don't have to thank me for that,” he muttered, his voice gentle yet firm. “It's the least I can do.”

He shifted, bringing himself closer to you, closing any remaining distance between your bodies. The familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body against yours were grounding, pulling you further from your anxious thoughts.

A peaceful silence settled between the two of you as you both admired the sprawling cityscape before you. Your eyes momentarily drifted down to your hands, intertwined and resting gently on Megumi's thigh. You could feel the comforting sensation of his thumb caressing your hand, creating a tender connection between you.

A playful smile danced across your lips as you glanced up at Megumi, teasingly remarking, “You seem awfully touchy tonight.” Your gaze met his, curiosity sparkling in your eyes, eager to hear his response.

Megumi's hand stilled on yours, paused mid-motion. For a brief moment, he was taken aback by your comment. His facial expression betrayed a hint of surprise, but it was quickly masked with a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Megumi's head tilted slightly to the head. His hand, still intertwined with yours, still on his thigh, gave a playful squeeze.

“Touchy, huh?” he retorted, his voice laced with a teasing tone. He shifted his position slightly, angling himself to face you more directly. “Is that a complaint?” His thumb continued to caress the back of your hand, the gentle touch simultaneously comforting and electrifying. You tilted your head, a sly grin forming on your lips. “A complaint? Hardly. If I wanted to complain, you'd know. Consider this a friendly reminder to keep up the good work.”

You gently squeezed his hand back, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “But hey, if you need reassurance, I can always provide some pointers.”

Megumi's smirk widened into a genuine smile at your playful response. The banter between you felt natural and comfortable, the ease of conversation a testament to the years of friendship and familiarity that lay between you. “Oh, is that so?” he replied, his voice laced with a hint of challenge. “And here I thought I was doing just fine on my own.” He shifted again, his grip on your hand tightening ever so lightly, his thumb still caressing your skin in slow, soothing circles. “But... I suppose I could always use some pointers from an expert like yourself.”

You arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. “An expert, huh? Well, it's good to see you finally recognizing talent when you see it.” You leaned in slightly, your voice taking on a playful tone. “But don't worry, Megumi. With my guidance, you'll be a pro in no time.” You gave his hand a playful squeeze. “Just try to keep up, alright?”

Megumi chuckled, his expression a mix of amusement and challenge. “Oh, I'll keep up, alright,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of determination. He matched your lean, bringing his face slightly closer to yours. His gaze dropped to your intertwined hands for a moment before returning to your eyes, a spark of playful rivalry lighting his gaze. “You better be prepared to put your money where your mouth is,” he teased, his grip on your hand tightening almost imperceptibly.

[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. 

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you don’t want to give up on jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

> idol!jungkook x reader, angst, fluff / word count: 7k

> warnings: tears overflowing </3 mentions of cheating (but again no one did it ok !!), heh judgemental family members amirite, is giving lipstick marks a warning ?

> in which masterlist!

note: anniversary reveal! and more of oc’s pov :( in the aftermath of in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much left to give !! it’s up to u which one to read first if u haven’t. the in which series is a puzzle 😭 i’d love to hear your thoughts after reading <3 hugs and kisses <3

—

“i feel like this shouldn’t be taking this long.” jungkook jokingly remarks as he pushes the shopping cart with folded arms, tiptoeing and tracing your steps as your eyes wander around the entire shelf of feline necessities.

“leave me alone. there’s too many options.” a huff escapes your mouth as your index finger underlines the flavors of cat treats, aiding you in reading the small words.

he pulls back the cart before it could collide with your hip, resting his chin on top of his arms as he impatiently waits for you to pick out a small gift for your friend’s cat, who you will be catsitting tomorrow.

“just pick the one with the happiest looking cat. that should make it easy, right?”

“jungkook!”

entertained by his own humor, his bright giggles harmonize with yours. eventually, you’re forced to sit on your toes so you can scan the other products shoved in the lowermost shelf.

“surprisingly, many of them don’t look that happy.” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself.

“baby?”

“yes?”

“i’m getting bored.” jungkook pouts sulkily, bouncing his leg. in the midst of spacing out, he spits out the first question that pops in his mind. “what crime would you get arrested for?”

“arson,” you answer with a shrug, perhaps a little too quickly. the most adorable packaging you’ve seen so far steals your attention, and it’s almost as if you’re being beckoned by the colorful jars of cat cookies.

tuna? salmon? or chicken?

“oh?” he perks up in intrigue, mouth gaping in surprise. “why didn’t i expect that? why arson?“

“i mean, nothing special. it just sounds efficient? it takes little work but creates colossal damage.”

his face lights up when you stand back on your feet, relieved that grocery shopping is almost over. you place the jar of your chosen flavor, tuna, in an unoccupied space in the shopping cart.

“but realistically? i’d probably burn down my building with my forgetfulness and then get framed for it. i imagine that sometimes when i cook.”

“who would frame you?! tell me, baby.“ he angrily yells in a whisper, a cheeky smile growing on his face. “i’ll investigate and take care of them. that’s what i will get arrested for.”

“damn, how romantic.” you reply teasingly, granting his lips a loving peck. afterwards, you whisper to him as if you’re trading a well-kept secret, hushed voice and squinted eyes. “later. i’ll show you which of my neighbors i suspect.”

—

“baby?” jungkook chirps the pet name one more time, seizing your hand and putting it under his so that he’s pushing the cart while holding hands with you.

you hum in acknowledgement, sparing him a short glance as you look around, just incase you find something else you need while you’re on your way to the counter.

“have you thought of anything you want for our second anniversary?” he asks with sparkling eyes, his excitement uncontainable as more days get crossed out from the calendar. “a gift? and where you want to go?”

and that’s when your calmness completely shifts into chaos. his questions are giant buckets filled with ice, callously dunked over your head without any sign or warning. your walking pace gradually slows down as his words sink in, and you drown in the tornado swirling violently in your chest.

“our… anniversary?” you choke out.

your evident confusion is met by jungkook’s disappointment, halting on his tracks as to not leave you behind. “yes, february 25. that’s in three months… have you forgotten?”

“excuse me-”

a middle-aged woman rudely pushes your back, and you apologize in panic as you face your boyfriend to provide her the space to pass through. your heart drops to your stomach when you notice his stoic expression, hurt and distant, before you allow yourself to be whisked away from the center of the aisles.

“babe, please don’t be mad. i swear, i didn’t forget!” you cling to his muscular arm, hugging it to your chest as you stand behind a long line of overflowing shopping carts. “i literally have all the 25th marked in my calendar. how could i forget?”

“ugh, you tell me.” he frowns at you, lightly bumping his head against yours.

“i just didn’t realize it’s that near already.” the half-lie, half-truth tastes bitter on your tongue. “have you ever thought that time moves too fast when you’re happy and having fun? that’s exactly how i feel when i’m with you.”

yes, jungkook have thought of it a million times.

“fuck, alright, i’m not mad. you’re pretty good at this, huh?”

your sweet smile is pleasantly contagious. a flushed-face jungkook unconsciously copies you. he becomes pliant as you raise his arm to wrap it around you, stealing his body warmth this chilly november afternoon.

“i want to see a waterfalls with you. can we go there?”

he presses a kiss to your temple, unmoving for seconds, before he pulls away with a distinct smooching sound that fills your stomach with butterflies. “mhmm, niagara?”

you fail to hold back an amused snort, covering your mouth to prevent unwanted attention from strangers. “be serious. think local! we barely even go out of town!”

“but i’m serious.” he blinks at you. “we can just take pictures, have a dinner date, then go home!”

“you do know that it’s at the other side of the pacific, right?”

—

the cold breeze engulfs you in a big embrace as soon as you step out of the grocery store, carefree and unaware of its thorns prickling your skin. hand in hand, you and jungkook walk to his car parked two blocks away, carrying a plastic bag while he took the heavier two.

after putting out the small fire, your tumultuous emotions clamber to the surface, and it becomes increasingly difficult to hold them down the longer he’s around. the clouds are dark gray, as if they’re writing in pencil beforehand, my tears are about to fall. you feel stupidly envious of their ability to weep anytime they need to, in the face of the casualties. how nice would it be if you allowed yourself to be the same?

“this wasn’t here before. when did they open? let’s go inside for a bit.”

distracted by your stream of thoughts, you are guided inside an establishment with you only noticing belatedly. jungkook lets go of your hand to marvel at the collection of sunglasses displayed in extended rows. you stay idle by his side, watching him check himself out in the mirror as he tries them on one by one.

“that one looks good on you.” the praise automatically slips from your mouth when he wears a rectangle-shaped brown frame, more on the bigger side. as expected from your extremely handsome boyfriend, he makes it appear more stylish than it originally looked on the shelf.

“really? should i buy it?” he wears a radiant beam, repeatedly lifting it up and down as he inspects your face with and without the filtered lens.

“hm, i think so.” you skip over the grocery bags on the floor, squeezing in yourself in the small mirror. “here, look here again.”

jungkook rests his head on yours as he smiles at your reflections, tight-lipped, bringing out the most endearing set of dimples you’ve ever seen.

“why are you acting cute today?”

“i was just born this way.” he grins proudly. “and i guess i missed you.”

the ever-present sincerity in his voice adds weight to the heaviness chained to your heart, and you reward a kiss on his cheek to conceal your uneasiness, leaving a conspicuous lipstick mark in your wake.

“yah!” he lightheartedly scolds you with a chuckle, pushing up the sunglasses over his hair to examine his face.

you reflexively seize his wrist with an offended gasp. “hello? are you about to wipe off my kiss?”

“you can give me a thousand more in the car.“

“but that defeats the purpose.” you defeatedly answer as you let him go, witnessing your lipstick turn into a faint blush that compliments his honey skin. “oh, fine! i guess i’ll go window shopping over there.”

“where’s ‘over there’?”

he whips his head around to discover that you’ve disappeared.

—

you don’t flinch when you feel someone hold your waist. maybe you know it’s jungkook. maybe you know jungkook will die before he lets anyone else touch you in his presence.

“are you sure you won’t get anything?”

“i won’t. i just saw the hot air balloon two months ago.” you timidly shake your head as you return the sixth eyeglasses you tried on. “are we going home?”

your boyfriend responds by intertwining your fingers together.

“let me take this again then.” you reclaim the grocery bag you were with earlier, taking it upon yourself to hold the paper bag of his new sunnies as well, just to lighten his load. how the hell did he manage to carry everything in one hand?

your eyelids briefly flutter shut when he kisses your cheek. “thank you.”

when jungkook pushes the door open do you only hear the raindrops crashing on the pavement, splashes of cold water staining your denim pants as you stand under the canopy roof.

“shit, it’s so cold.” he shivers with a laugh as you simultaneously pull your hoods over your heads. “carry the bags on your other side.”

“why?” you ask innocently, but you do as he says anyway, not seeing any reason not to.

“just because.” he transfers to your right, capturing your free hand to put it inside the front pocket of his hoodie along with his. “let’s go!”

and you know the probability of you buying cold medicine for two in twenty-four hours is high, but this moment feels like it could last forever — running under the rain with him and feeling overwhelmingly alive, heart and soul; realizing halfway that he switched positions so he’d be the one closer to the busy and slippery road. they have wild similarities: nature and jungkook. a breath of fresh air. stars. the candied scent of flowers. dulcet sounds. warmth. home. resourcefulness. whimsical. unstoppable force. they devastate you catastrophically without meaning to. sometimes you overthink that they do. sometimes you know them and sometimes you don’t. you’re part of the problem but it’s hard to admit.

jungkook drives ten times more carefully. the rain is pouring harder as the seconds fly by, giving the radio speakers of his car a run for their money. the twenty-five minute drive to your apartment is nothing short of torturous, tinted windows too blurry and too reminiscent of memories you’ve been trying to push into the recesses of your mind. but they’re out of control, ceaselessly replaying in your head, and you can still see his tear-stained face even when you close your eyes. the windshield wipers are working hard but the sky is remorseless.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

“i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

he’s wrong. you so strongly wish that he’s wrong.

you swallow the lump in your throat, chewing your bottom lip harshly, but the thread you’ve been hanging on has been snipped. you begin to cry silently, curled up on the passenger seat and face hidden by the hood you haven’t taken off. you pretend to be asleep as jungkook softly hums the tune of the songs playing in the radio. you feel so fucking suffocated. you hate this car. you hate the rain. you hate that you’re being this way. you feel guilty that your boyfriend is excited for your second anniversary while you’re stuck up in the past. you feel ashamed of feeling, almost.

you don’t know how to tell him that you’re sad because you love him. and even sadder when he thoughtfully wraps you in a blanket in the middle of a red light, stroking your back as he whispers. “my baby must be so tired.”

—

the rain has become a clement drizzle by the time you arrive at your destination. standing before your apartment unit, jungkook sets down the grocery bags on the floor to take off the wax cord necklace hidden underneath his clothing. he uses the pendant, his copy of your house key, to unlock the front door.

you slip off the loose sneakers on your feet by the floor mat before heading straight to the bedroom. you hang your boyfriend’s backpack on your study chair and place his paper bag on top of your desk. he enters the room when you’re already pulling the thick hoodie over your head, leaving you in a navy blue body-hugging top.

“love, are you okay?” he asks as he brings out fresh clothes from his backpack, looking over your sprawled out figure on the bed, eyes shut and breathing heavy.

“i’m alright.” you force yourself to sit up, sliding off the bed to stand on your feet. your head is pounding and you want to puke your guts out. is it normal to experience such heartache that you feel physically sick? “i’ll put away the groceries.”

“okay. i’ll be there to start cooking dinner!”

you merely nod, brushing past him.

—

you begin with restocking the fridge. meat, eggs, yogurt, almond milk, fruits, and the like. jungkook arrives when you’re already unpacking the second bag, and his first instinct is to affectionately hug you from behind. after too many days physically apart, he’ll be damned if he’ll allow even an inch of distance between your bodies.

your actions are put on halt when his palm presses on your neck, and then the back of it. “why do you feel so warm? don’t you feel sick?”

it was the final blow. to be honest, it’s been long overdue. you’re frozen in place, defeated as one by one, the tears finally drip from your damp eyelashes. they roll down your cheeks, some crashing on the table and seeping into the wood to form tiny circles of a darker shade of brown. the rest of them rolls down to the hand that is checking your temperature. you sniffle before he can question the new sensation on his skin.

“hey- hey, what’s wrong? are you crying?“ he moves to your side for a better view of your face, but you shake your head in denial. “what happened? baby?”

“nothing.” you mutter, brushing him off.

you gather the bottles of soy sauce and vinegar, wiggling out his hold to place them in the shelf above the stove. you return to the table to pick up the stuff that goes in the cabinets, but jungkook catches your wrist, removing the pack of sliced bread from your hand.

“i thought we’re not supposed to shut each other out.” he whispers, pulling you closer and guiding your arms around his waist. “it breaks my heart when you cry, baby.”

his doe eyes are pleading as he tilts up your chin to meet his gaze, thumb softly drawing circles on the apple of your cheek. you feel so utterly lost, overwhelmed by his gestures of kindness and affection. and yet you cry, because if he loved you that much, how did breaking up became an option he was willing to choose?

“our anniversary…” you trail off, ripping apart at the seams. “it still counts.”

neither of you knows if it’s a statement or a question.

“it still counts.” he nods slowly, repeating your words. “sh-should it not?”

his heart races in his chest as fear creeps up on him, dreading your answer. did he fuck up again? but your response only leaves him with more questions floating above his head.

“if we only had a pause- does that mean you… didn’t try looking for someone else? right? you didn’t sleep with anyone? while we were…”

for a moment, jungkook forgets how to speak as silence reigns over. his forehead creases in confusion, a sharp pang digging in his heart like a dagger as you wait with bated breath.

“no. why would you ev- no. no, i didn’t. where is this coming from?” his round, agitated eyes search for a clue in your expression but you don’t allow him that privilege, impassive as you withdraw from the close proximity between you.

“it doesn’t matter, that’s all i needed. thank you for answering.” you sigh heavily, turning on your heel to head to the bathroom. “i’m going to wash up.“

“____, come on. don’t walk away from me.” he almost begs out of desperation as his fingers curl around your arm, itching to embrace you because serrated trepidation is gnawing at his insides. he’s not losing you. he’s not losing you. he’s not losing you. he won’t let you slip away.

you sigh. “let go, jungkook.”

“how can i let you walk away after learning that you think i cheated on you?” he frustratedly blurts out, the words revolting on his tongue. this was never supposed to happen. he was supposed to be a partner who never gave you any reason to question his faithfulness. “that doesn’t matter?”

“it doesn’t.” you assert firmly.

jungkook is scared. he doesn’t understand how you can look at him like this, pretend you’re not wounded and bleeding. he doesn’t know if you’re giving him a pass or if you’re punishing him.

“either way, you broke up with me, jungkook… i would hate it, but it wouldn’t have been cheating.”

“it is to me.” his hauntingly angelic voice shatters, along with your fragile hearts as he says- “i didn’t love you any less and you know that.”

sorrow seeps into the silence, permeating the cold air, thick with heartache and tension. you walk away from him wordlessly, and jungkook is taken aback, vision blurred and unfocused as his hand drops to his side, devastatingly dejected.

“____!” your name fades into a muffled noise.

the doorknob clicks when you lock it. numb as your feet carry you to the sink, numb as you twist the faucet until you can’t anymore. the strong pressure of the water hitting the porcelain echoes throughout the dimly-lit bathroom. you tightly grip the edge of the sink as you fall apart disastrously, like a wave blazing past the shore and destroying everything in its path with ferociousness — because it’s the only thing left it knows how to do. your endless tears turn the cold tap water into saltwater. it inevitably overflows, spilling over the edges and soaking your trembling hands.

when he broke up with you, it opened the door to many other possibilities that hurts you to think about. you thought you knew, too. but the seed of doubt was planted in your mind when you were forsaken, and it kept growing as a wildflower even when he came back and laid beside you after not reaching out for weeks.

the last time you cried like this, you begged him to allow you to keep loving him.

your weak knees give in to the pull of gravity, heedless of nasty bruises as you cover your mouth to restrain your afflicted sobbing, nails scratching the porcelain as your lone hand insists on holding you up. sometimes love is not a warm comforting embrace. sometimes love is teeth. sometimes love is biting and perversely holding on. were you not worth fighting for? this time around, can he sacrifice something else instead of you? does that make you sound selfish? what if you don’t care that it does? and you wonder if it’s alright for two people to be in a relationship despite having different ideas of what loving means. you wonder if you’ve truly changed his mind.

outside, jungkook anxiously paces back and forth. the piercing sob that tears itself from your throat and crawls through the small cracks of the door is a direct, forceful punch to his gut. he swallows thickly, wiping away the tears brimming his eyes. he can’t cry, not right now. four months have passed, but it isn’t time’s job to heal all wounds. it’s his.

—

“what are you making?”

jungkook’s bubble pops when he hears your voice. he didn’t even realize when the shower stopped running, too absorbed in the kitchen so that he won’t intrude into your boundaries despite his restlessness. he takes you in, clad in your silk pajamas, before looking back at the bowl of dark brown batter he’s been tirelessly stirring and folding to incorporate the ingredients together.

“brownies.”

“all of a sudden? thought you were going to make dinner.” you leave no space between the two of you as you dip in the tip of your pinky finger for a taste.

that was the original plan, but he knows that you like to consume sweets when you’re feeling down.

“i’m about to. are you hungry?“ he speaks in a subdued voice, gingerly rubbing your lower back. “i’m putting this in the oven now.“

“can i help?”

jungkook dies a little inside when your eyes meet and he notices that yours are swollen, yet still gleaming with affection.

“you can, uhm, peel the potatoes?”

you curiously look back to see the ingredients for gamjatang, pork bone soup, laid out on the dining table. “okay.”

as you begin to diligently do the task you were assigned, he transfers the batter to the pan covered with parchment paper before pushing it inside the pre-heated oven. the faint pitter-patter of the rain fills the apartment as the clouds squall once more. he occupies the seat next to you, entire body facing you as his arm rests on top of the backrest of your chair.

“don’t you want to talk about it?”

you frown, briefly pausing as you ponder so you won’t cut yourself. “no, i want to… i just needed time to think.”

he grows quiet, biting at his nails as he watches your hands smoothly peel off the skin of a potato using a paring knife.

“it matters to me.” he’s been dying to say. “____, you know that i love you, right?”

you thought you had no tears left in you, but your face is feeling hot yet again.

“i know.”

“i did a shitty job at showing it because i was stupid, but it never stopped being true.” he says, steady and sure, doe eyes longing to read your mind. “i love you so much, hm…? i love you.”

“i know. that’s why i’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

a small bitter smile appears on your face as you pick up another potato to peel.

“the other day, your aunt told me you went on dates… she even showed me old pictures of you and the girl together then apologized to me-” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “for setting you up, because she thought i got what i wanted from you and finally backed off. but none of your friends ever mentioned this person to me… or you… that’s why i couldn’t- i couldn’t… it was embarrassing.”

it’s hilarious, really, how you were scared shitless of jungkook’s parents not approving of you, but you failed to consider his relatives. you can’t shake off the subtle looks indicating that you were dirt on her shoe, the honeyed condescending tone that made you feel small and hollow as you sat with her at the bus stop, completely clueless as she rambled. you wanted to laugh, cry, and curse up a storm. and you would’ve chased after her when she went to ride the bus without giving you the opportunity to stand up for yourself, but you had to remind yourself that your actions might taint people’s perception of jungkook, and you couldn’t risk that.

“baby- baby, look at me. please.”

he carefully pries away the potato and the knife from your hands, cupping your face in his big palms. you gaze at him wide-eyed as you ground yourself by clutching onto his wrist. your loud heartbeat pounds in your ears because it’s not always that you can look at each other like this, meeting halfway, seeing more than feeling.

his eyebrows are closely knitted, nose scrunching and barely blinking as he sets the record straight.

“it was one time. she’s been trying to set us up since forever, then… then she planned a date during the time we weren’t talking without even confirming with me… it was a place outside the company, so i just went to say it was a misunderstanding and i’m taken! i felt embarrassed because it’s a family friend. nothing more…” he caresses you tenderly, feeling a pinch in his chest as he tries to put himself in your shoes. “i promise, love, i left after like two minutes. why would i go on dates when i was losing my mind, hm? i was missing you like crazy.”

you melt into him when he crosses the short distance between you, pressing his soft lips on yours for a kiss that makes the whole world quiet. your noses brush each other before he withdraws.

“she left out that part, didn’t she?” he rhetorically asks with venom stirred in his otherwise dulcet voice.

you purse your lips into a thin line.

“seriously, this- this is ridiculous… this is bullshit. she really did it this time. ah, i’m angry! does this even make sense? what’s the point of all that?” jungkook huffs with a sarcastic chuckle as he runs his fingers through his hair, squeezing and tugging to release his growing frustration somehow.

this is why his lover has been doubtful of his devotion? he has known his aunt since he learned how to recognize faces, and he knows that it takes a whole lot for you to reach this breaking point. he can only imagine the interaction that took place, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

you’ve seen the good and the bad, and you focus on the good, and you stay with him despite despite despite.

he takes a deep breath to compose himself, and then his tongue prods the inside of his cheek as his determined eyes search for his phone. he quickly snatches it from the table and stands up, the screen coming to life as he unlocks it with his thumb’s fingerprint. “i’ll be right back, baby.”

“jungkook,” you call out his name as a warning, grasping his wrist before he can go too far. “don’t act rashly.”

“i’m not! i’d go to busan but i’ll put that off because i’d rather spend my day-off with you.”

you don’t know what you were expecting his reaction would be, but it’s not a great leap to say that he is furious, pending to explode.

“i’ve been nothing but polite even though she was fucking badgering me non-stop, but i won’t let her think that it’s okay to treat you like that… she doesn’t have the right to meddle with my life, and she can’t disrespect the most important person to me. i-i-” he pauses to breathe, chest heaving with the weight of his emotions. “i won’t allow it.”

you are his calmness and he is the storm.

his voice wavers by the end of his sentence, doe eyes turning glassy as he sincerely confesses, which is probably why this isn’t the right time for you to smile like a lovesick highschooler with a crush. this is exactly what you tried to avoid, making a mess and a series of uncomfortable holidays, so why does it have to feel good to hear him say that?

you nod with understanding as you free his wrist. “okay. don’t take too long.”

jungkook heads to the front door before his anger can be erased by his adoration for you, so endearing as you peel small potatoes like you had all the time in the world.

as he steps outside, the raucous rain rings in your ears and its distinct smell mixed with the soil enters the apartment.

you cluelessly blink at the ingredients surrounding you as you mutter to yourself. “how many of these am i supposed to peel again?”

—

jungkook returns after a phone call that went longer than planned, but not before wiping the wet floor from both sides of your front door to avoid accidents. he discovers you squatting infront of the unlocked kitchen oven.

“what are you doing?” he asks with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“it’s baked…” you raise the toothpick you poked the brownie with, tilting your head to the side. “right?“

“oh, it is! let’s take it out.”

he rushes to the counter to wear oven mitts, and you stand aside so he can carry out the pan from the oven. you follow him as he places it on top of the wooden table mat on the table, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt to gain his attention.

“what happened?” you interrogate him worriedly as he pulls off the oven mitts from his hands.

“huh?” you’re coaxed to move closer when he caresses your nape, sliding down to the smooth expanse of your back. “my mom will call you soon.”

“what? why?!”

“she wants to cook for you. to apologize for what her son and her sister did.” he scrunches his nose with a guilty chuckle, scratching his head. “let’s go home for dinner one of these days, okay? we’ll cook your favorites.”

“but i thought…” you chew on your bottom lip, hand balling in a fist and crumpling the fabric of your boyfriend’s t-shirt. “did you call your mom too? i don’t want to cause trouble.”

“what do you mean? you’re doing nothing of the sort.” he gives you a disapproving look, gently squeezing your tense hand to quell your worries. “and it just turns out she was listening the whole time i was talking. they’re hanging out together. uh, besides, she would’ve found out one way or the other.”

“but they can’t be fighting, right?”

“aigoo, don’t worry about it anymore. stop hurting your brain. it’s mean.” he strokes your head lovingly with a small smile that suggests an answer to your question. “your mother-in-law loves you. everything’s okay. it’s cold so let’s just eat our dinner then cuddle in bed, hm, baby?”

oh. your mother-in-law?

“you’re so annoying.” you mutter half-heartedly, burying your face in your hands as the tears surge in once more.

god, you feel so relieved.

you crash against jungkook’s body when he tugs you closer to envelope you in his arms. maybe, just maybe, if he does it long enough, you will be pieced back together. even though he, himself, breaks when you weakly pound at his chest with clenched fists.

“i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.” you chant like a broken record in between sobs, glitching in cracks and pauses and stutters. the more you say the same three words, the more they lose their meaning.

he squeezes his eyes shut, enduring the heart-splitting pain and embracing you tighter. “i know- i know.” he repeats your words from earlier.

he hates himself, too. he needs to get his shit together. he understands — he has to grow up if he wants to keep you.

“but i love you, and i’m scared you’ll leave again and i won’t beg you anymore.” you ramble without thinking, brain on auto-pilot mode. “i’m not that kind of person, jungkook. that’s not me. i don’t have to prove it, do i?”

you feel so utterly exposed, disgustingly vulnerable. nevertheless, before jungkook is anything else, he is your best friend.

“t-they think i’m using you.” you hiccup, forearm covering your stinging eyes. you taste the salt in your own tears as you speak. “but that’s unfair, so unfair. i only accept what i’m given. i barely ask you for anything. it was only one time, o-only one time. i asked you to come back, because i missed you. i want to be with you because you make me happy.”

jungkook’s jaw clenches in anger, no longer able to withhold his tears. he sniffles, wiping his wet cheek on his shoulder. you’ve suffered more than enough because of him. if anything, he should be the one getting the lashings from his side and yours. this is wrong. this is all wrong.

“shh- shhh. breathe, baby.” he coos as he pushes down your arm, brushing away the tears on your face. “come here.”

you whimper when he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style to the living room. he sits on the sofa, and he sits you on his lap. you slide off him, just a tiny bit for your back to reach the armrest, pulling him along with you.

“hug me,” you demand quietly.

he fails to defy the urge to smile, abruptly pulling you in for a passionate kiss that steals the air from your lungs. your eyelids flutter shut, tense body relaxing into him as your lips follow his lead in this delicate dance of enigmatic intimacy. your fingers graze his jaw shakily, afraid it might cut you and you’ll be awoken from this enduring dream. they desperately tangle themselves with his hair, digging to keep him glued onto you.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

he makes a whispered promise carved into the walls of your apartment, sealed by his lips pressing to your knuckles, and you’re left to wonder forever if he kissed your left ring finger on purpose.

jungkook is soft-spoken, slow and careful with his words that could make or break you.

“i’m so sorry that i hurt you. and i’m sorry that you have to go through this because of me. i’m sorry for everything. i’m sorry. but…” he inhales, and exhales, licking his lips. “the noise might never stop. i know it’s not as easy to say, but i hope we don’t let them get into our heads. just because we can hear them, doesn’t mean we have to listen, you know?”

and as much as it kills him to admit-

“we’re fragile right now, so i want to protect what we have.”

you profusely nod your head, and his thumbs sweep over your cheeks to catch your teardrops.

“let’s be happy, and love each other for a very long time, hm…? i know you’re not that kind of person, so you can ask me for anything. or you can even take them without asking me. i don’t care. what about it?” he says with passion and conviction, galaxy-filled eyes expanding as he shakes his head. “but never me, or my love. you shouldn’t feel like you have to ask for it. do you know why?”

you arch an eyebrow at him, still switching between fiddling with his long and slender fingers and tracing the veins running along his arms. “why?”

“because i’m yours. every single second of everyday. i love you. you deserve all the love i can give. that’s my number one responsibility as your boyfriend… but i failed you. i know you forgive me but… but i-i want to love you better. i won’t get tired of fighting for us, and showing you that i mean everything i say.”

“don’t say things like that.” at last, you crack a genuine smile, giggling as you lightly hit his chest. “i’ll become greedy.”

“good. that’s what i want.” he retorts with a chuckle, but he means it wholeheartedly.

he wants to be inconvenienced by you. he wants to make impulsively confrontational phone calls he will overthink before bed. he wants you to wake him up in the middle of the night clawing for snuggles. he wants you to jump on his back when you’re exhausted of walking. he wants to charm the owner of your favorite restaurant into cooking one more meal before closing because you always ask him to make a quick stop when he visits you. he wants his life to be influenced by yours in every possible way, two different colors mixed in a palette to create a new one that matches the sky.

“thank you.” you smile sheepishly. “and i’m sorry too, for everything. i don’t handle these things well… i’m still learning.”

“mhmm-hmm.” he shakes his head in disagreement, before leaning in to pepper your face with kisses. “i love you.” he smells like romance and comfort, sugar and cocoa from the brownies — the cure to your nausea. you still taste a hint of the sweet flavor when your tongue darts out to lick your dry lips, traces from your taste test and his.

“babe?” you whisper after minutes that felt like hours, drowsy and cozy cuddled up with your boyfriend in the corner of your sofa.

he hums in question, sleepily nuzzling his face on your neck.

“i’m so hungry. i think i’m going to die.”

“ah, yes. i can hear that.”

—

“should i slice the onions next?” you question in a sing-song voice as you enter the kitchen, immediately regaining possession of knife.

“stay away from them. i don’t want you to cry again.”

you pout, clicking your tongue. “you’re right. then what else can i do…? why do you look scared?”

you study jungkook’s wary stance in amusement, taking a glance at your hand where his shaking pupils are trained.

he playfully puts up his arms in surrender, laughter laced with nervousness. “baby, stop waving the knife around.”

“i’m not!”

“yes, you are! just put it down. i’ll do everything, okay?”

you place it back on the table with a scoff, slumping on the chair and crossing your arms. “and then what?”

“then have the brownies for appetizer.” with a self-satisfied grin, he cuts out a slice of brownie that has cooled down during the time it was left unattended.

“i don’t think this is how it works.”

“shhh, baby.“ he menacingly hushes you with his pointer finger over his lips. “don’t say anything. just taste it first. ahhh-“

you take a small bite from the piece that he’s holding out for you, and then another after deeming it too small.

“how is it?” he gulps as he anticipates your reply.

“yummy!”

“really?” he giggles when you chomp on the remaining dessert and accidentally bite his poor fingers.

“don’t know what makes a good brownie exactly, but it’s perfect to me.” you nod your head enthusiastically, somewhat feeling better with the prospect of having your stomach filled with more of your boyfriend’s cooking.

your jaw slacks open in offense when he slaps your hand in the middle of your attempt to pick up the knife, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he threateningly looks at you.

“what was that for? i just want more brownies!” you cry out, lightly kicking his shin from under the table.

“oh- ow!” he cracks up in hearty laughter, corners of his eyes crinkling as he rubs the affected area. “sorry, i’m sorry for my fault! they’re all yours! please forgive me! i’m sorry!”

you send him a scowl before pouring all your focus into slicing the rest of the dessert into bite-sized squares.

he bends down to your eye-level, cutely tilting his head to the side as he speaks lowly. “i’ll cook dinner now. just wait a little more… maybe two hours?”

“please tell me you’re joking.”

—

not long after, you hop on the vacant counter space with the brownies for a better view of the kitchen scene. you leisurely swing your legs as you watch jungkook freely move around your kitchen, occasionally getting lost as he converses with himself. if your calculations are correct, he has asked himself the questions “oing? what was i supposed to do again? what did i come here for?” twice so far. it’s a good thing he talks to himself out loud so you can remember things for him.

he stirs the pot of stew, leaves to gather more ingredients, then comes back to dump them in. the cycle ends with nods of satisfaction, before he waddles over to your spot for a snack break. straight away, you greet his parted lips with the chocolate-y goodness that was reaped from his sweat and tears.

as he chews on the brownie, he turns his face to the other direction and pokes his cheek for another request. with your thighs caging his hips and your hands grasping his collar, you tug him closer to your body. your plushy lips plant gentle but full kisses on his cheek, trailing down to his defined jaw and neck when you run out of space. the tingling sensation shooting up his spine prompts his fingers to dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, breathing gradually getting heavier with your every electrifying touch. the final kiss is granted to his adam’s apple, more prominent as he swallows.

you straighten back up while fixing your hair, and jungkook’s starry eyes follow your red lips in a hypnotized daze. there’s no one else who can make his heart flutter quite like you do. your breathy giggles are music to his ears as you take in the sight of both his cheeks adorned with scattered lipstick marks, appearing like watercolor on paper.

“what’s that for?” he eyed you suspiciously while you were painting your lips, but it’s him who kept coming back to you for more although you were already happy with one.

“you look so funny.”

but if this arrangement goes: he can make you laugh by granting you the permission to leave marks where your lips have been, he will happily live with that.

“can i take a picture?”

but you don’t even have to ask. your phone is still charging in the bedroom, so he proposes his for your convenience.

“here. just airdrop them to yourself.” he hands it to you with a cool shrug, nonchalant on the surface but giddy inside.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send a message/ask if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[unholyhelbig]

the oversight part 5? i love that series!

Title: The Oversight [Part 5/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7589

Warnings: Blood, guns, general violence, empty threats, angst, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: Listen, I straight up just finished watching 'The Iron Claw' and if you value your ability to hold it together, I suggest not seeing it. But also... go see it because it's phenomenal. Oh, and Happy Holidays!, like with most things, I regret my direction on this.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Softly, you denied the small wooden bowl that was passed person to person, filled with numbers scribbled haplessly on strips of paper. There was a pit of guilt in your stomach for not bringing a white elephant gift- but as the honorary plus one of Darcy Lewis you succumbed to your fate. She’d drawn a middle grade number and sidled up next to you with her third vodka tonic.

You took a swallow of your own cranberry flavored drink, something that masked the sharp taste of alcohol. You were feeling fuzzy, but in the light way that would assure you’d get through the rest of party and the competitive game of gift swapping.

“Thanks for doing this,” Darcy said to you, nudging your shoulder “it was a little too fancy for my liking.”

She had stressed that she needed your presence to get through all the small talk about science. Darcy was an expert engineer but she could only go so far when it came to awkward co-workers murmuring amongst the twinkling Christmas lights and pre-paid meals. She got along well with most, but you could sense her anxiety well.

“Of course, you know I’d never turn down smoked salmon.”

Truthfully, it sounded a lot better than what your own work was planning. It took some quiet background checks and calling babysitting references, but you eventually conceded to a teenage girl that was certified in CPR and didn’t charge interest.

Your own holiday celebration at the Diner had been lackluster and consisted of much more alcohol. This was quiet and subdued, and a welcome break from the usual chaos that surrounded your life. You were more than happy to watch people tear paper from candles and blankets and ornaments.

“How much money do you want to put on Jimmy bringing some sort of magic kit?”

You hadn’t noticed the girl that hugged the side of the bar, waving down the bartender wordlessly. She was drinking something sweet and garnished with orange. She had a beautiful smile and the clearest eyes you had ever seen. Darcy smiled at her with familiarity and it eased you.

“I don’t bet on things I’m going to lose.” Darcy said with finality. “Y/n, this is Monica Rambeau.”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

Her grip was firm, and you squeezed her hand back with the same amount of pressure. Her smile widened at that before the bartender returned with a fresh drink garnished with another twirled orange peel. The two of you separated.

“So, Monica, what do you do?”

Something in science, the answer was obvious if she was at this holiday party. But she humored you all the same, turning her back to the counter and leaning close to you. There was pride in her answer, and it bloomed in her chest.

“I’m a mechanical engineer, specializing in astrophysics and astrobiology.”

“Don’t’ sell yourself short.” Darcy interjected with a watery laugh “She’s the head of our S.W.O.R.D division.”

Darcy had spoken about this before and the name rang familiar. Her company was looking at alternative fuel sources that could supply space exploration. All the while, they focused on vertical growing and bettering the community. From what you understood, this was a big deal. She was a big deal.

“Wow, that’s very impressive Ms. Rambeau”

Your voice was filled with genuine awe, but your conversation was cut short when the number sixteen was called out. Monica sheepishly pulled herself away from the bar and held her strip of paper up before approaching the table filled with wrapped gifts. She went for a medium-sized one adorned in reindeer.

“Oh wow!” She forced a smile, voice sweet like honey “A magic kit!”

The air in your room was stale and fought you as you pulled it into your lungs. You’d, at some point, kicked off your comforter and were splayed out on your sheets in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. Sweat hat soaked through both and the fabric clung to your skin.

On a blind instinct you grabbed at the gun under your nightstand, fastened by nothing more than duct tape. You could feel your heart in your throat and struggled to swallow it down again. You weren’t sure when this became second nature for you, something within the last two months of accompanying Natasha to the gun range for hours a time.

All the same, you held the tip of the weapon to the ground and rounded the corner of your bedroom into the dark hallway. You were unsettled from the dream you’d just had. The memory. Your subconscious had finally connected the woman who stood at Carol’s side. Her familiarity.

Monica Rambeau.

It was true, there was a stark coldness to her when you’d met at a Christmas party just the year before. It was only in passing and there were moments, like at the fair, when Darcy would mention her co-worker.

This changed things. Anxiety spiked haplessly, even as you diligently searched and cleared each room the way you had been taught. Keep your gun down, keep your eyes on the darkest corners of the room, ready to fire your weapon at any point. Especially if it was aimed at Natasha.

There was the slight movement of a shadow to your left and you quickly raised the gun, aiming it directly at the disturbance. Veronica stood on a chair in the kitchen, struggling to fill a glass with warm water, the only temperature that the faucet would allow.

You let out a quiet, mortified sigh before tucking the weapon into the waistband of your shorts. Your daughter blinked with wide eyes and that same guilty feeling flooded you at once, overtaking the anxiety.

“Baby,” You breathed, closing the distance between you and flicking on the overhead lights. You both flinched at their harshness but eventually blinked the shock away. “What are you doing up?”

You didn’t expect an answer, nor did you get one. Instead, you scooped her up under her arms and set her gently on the linoleum. There was water in the fridge, but she always had issues pouring it from the large jug. Ronnie was stubborn and shot you a frown at your intrusion.

“Don’t give me that look, kid.”

Her expression eased and you dumped the water down the drain before refilling the glass with something colder and more refreshing. Ronnie gulped it down eagerly, soaking the collar of her shirt with the liquid. She let out an appeased noise and wiped the rest of the water away from her mouth. She stood on her tip-toes and placed the glass in the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me either.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked tiredly at you, your heart melting at the sight. It was easy to remember the words Natasha had trusted you with on the Ferris Wheel. Veronica would talk when she wanted to, but you had become quite good at reading her expressions and movements. Within the last month, you had stopped the long drives and the specialists. It eased you both.

“How about a sleepover?”

The exhaustion turned into joy and then combined within her look. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you scooped her up. She was getting too big for this, but you didn’t much care. You’d gotten stronger in the last few months and even if you hadn’t, you’d do the same.  

With a show of dramatics you tossed her onto the bed and replaced the duvet that you’d flung off. Carefully, as Ronnie’s stare averted, you placed the gun in the drawer next to your bed. The last thing you did was prop the window open, letting out the flat air and letting in the sound of the city.

Ronnie was pulled flush against your chest in a matter of moments, though you had suddenly lost all exhaustion. You listened to the sirens, to the calls of people just ending their nights. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the horns of the boats that settled into the harbor.

“I love you so much.” You whispered into the small of her neck, “One day I’m going to get us out of here.”

Veronica didn’t respond, but the squeeze her little hand gave yours was all the reassurance that you needed.

Clint swallowed down steaming black coffee without blowing on it to cool it down. The nutty scent filled the cab of the car and warmed your nerves. He drank like your daughter did, but with the purpose of waking himself up before the sun. You never did get back to sleep and were wired enough to refuse the cup he offered you this morning.

He’d knocked on your door as the orange sun moved over the horizon. You were to accompany him to the docks to check on business. This somehow seemed less intimidating than the dinner you’d attended with Natasha.

“It’ll be easy. We have a chokehold on the harbor, we just have to check with a few of the vendors to collect their dock rent and call it a day. Everything else is done under the table. People aren’t too happy because at the end of the day, we’re the ones that take money from them. But it’s a necessary evil.”

You nodded and watched as the city went by. It was peaceful, quiet. There had been a single foster home that you stayed in that had a view of the entire skyline. You were too far away to see the bustling people and the everyday chaos that accompanied it.

There were, of course, moments of calm when you would work the early morning shift at the diner. But that would always shatter by the time you made the two minute walk from your apartment to the back door that was choked with the scent of garbage and cheap cigarettes.

“We have some invitations to hand out too. In the glovebox.”

You furrowed your brow and popped it open. His weapon (or his second, or third) sat upon a stack of manilla cards with elegant writing on them that had to be done by hand. You inspected them but didn’t’ dare separate the paper.

“What are these for?”

“Nat throws a party for her benefactors every single year. It’s real fancy, a suit and tie thing. Her renters are invited too and if they have the balls to show up, they always have a good time. She makes sure of it.”

“We’re expected to attend?”

He nodded, “It’s a requirement, really. As Natasha’s right hand. You go where she goes and once your probationary period is over, you’ll be on her like glue. Though, I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.”

You frowned at his statement, his insinuation. Sure, you had gotten close to Natasha, had even grown to like her. She had a way of getting under your skin until it felt like she lived in it. Otherwise, you would have cut your losses long ago and let her slit your throat the first moment she met you.

There was a feeling of devotion that you felt the need to uphold. She had spared your life, after all. You’d spent the last two and a half months with her guiding you, teaching you how to obey her every word. Without fault, you would. Clint knew it, Kate and Yelena knew it. You knew it.

Instead of admitting it, you frowned and slumped further in your seat, struggling to ignore Clint’s own shit-eating expression. By the time he pulled to a stop, it had started to drizzle enough for him to flick his wipers on. The sound of them scraping against the window filled the silence.

You took careful attention to stay quiet and observe. Your gun was strapped carefully to your side and the invitations rested in your side pocket. You didn’t dare get them wet and let the ink run in a soupy mess. It had been years since you’d been out here and part of you was unsteady on the aged and slick wood.

“Sam is a cool guy. His family has hold on a good portion of the harbor. He likes to joke, so don’t pay him any mind.” Clint jabbed you with his elbow. “And loosen up a little bit, would you?”

You glowered at him and rubbed the stiff spot on your ribs but felt your shoulders lower a bit. There was a lot of weight behind this, that had been made clear to you the second you were inducted into this system.

Instead of heading directly down the long stretches of worn dock, Clint took a turn just before the asphalt ended. A small structure that looked less weathered than the rest of your surroundings rested at the lots end. The windows were thick enough to withstand the watery winds.

Clint stilled his large hand shooting out across your chest. It took you a few seconds to clock the shattered glass on the front door. Small smears of crimson pocked the shards that remained. Much like the evening before, you drew your gun on instinct, and Clint did the same.

He didn’t take care to hide your presence. Instead, he took the brunt of his large boot and cracked through the doorframe with the force of one kick. Wood splintered, raining down on linoleum and a desk that was easily from the 70’s.

You could smell the blood before you saw it, nearly sliding on the flooring. You caught yourself before that happened, heart pounding in your ears. “Fuck!”

“Jesus Christ,” Clint mirrored your sentiments.

Whoever had been here was long gone, but they’d left quite the mess. They’d torn through the filing cabinets, leaving legal papers and folders scattered against the desk and the expanse of cabin space.

You tracked the source of the pooling blood with little difficulty. A man- one that you had rightly never seen before- was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. From edge to edge of his throat was a long cut leaking an ugly red color. His stare was frosty, soaked into his sweatshirt.

It was like a car crash, something that you struggled to avert your eyes from until Clint physically grasped your chin and turned your attention to him. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, yes. Good.” You answered cooly, swallowing whatever dryness was in your throat. “Who would do something like this?”

“Carol… one of her lackeys. This is an eye for an eye thing.”

Even if it was an act of revenge, this was extensive. It sent a clear message even if you didn’t’ exactly know all the specifics of the feud. Of course, you’d seen Yelena at work and even that was mild compared to the brutality of this.

The thought of Monica, if it even had been her, completing a task as unfeeling as this filled your veins with ice. You felt your nails dig into your palms, soft and stinging. There was a surge of anger, and sadness that mixed into resolution. Natasha was right to despise the Danver’s family. Any family that treated the world with this much cruelty.

Natasha was in the gym on the second floor. Large windows overlooked the backyard, and a prolonged view of the harbor. There were blue mats adorning the floor, and a few wracks meant for weightlifting.

You had never seen this part of the house before. Usually the weather permitted sparring outside, but the late summer rain had made that impossible. Sheets of water obscured your usual view, though, it wasn’t exactly trained on the windows.

Natasha had her back facing you, her breathing timed evenly with each punch she threw at an 80-pound bag filled with sand. She wore tight-fitting shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Not that you had imagined her in that situation before.

Her muscles tightened and relaxed with each movement. They were scarred in a deep orchid pink, long ago healed. At one point, she was lashed. You recognized the damage done by a leather belt and shivered at the memory of it.

Natasha was fit, she was coated in a layer of sweat that dripped across her strength. You had to be clear minded for this and the state of her wasn’t making it easy on you. Her knuckles were wrapped, and she would grunt with each thrust of her fist. For just a moment, you wished you were under her mercy instead of the punching bag.  

That broke when she panted against the bag, stopping its swinging with a firm grasp on either side. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Natasha had focused her green eyes on you through the reflection of the window. Of course, you hadn’t intended to gawk as long as you had. But you were leaning against the doorframe of the gym, practically drooling. You had forgotten yourself and you wouldn’t’ put it past Natasha to notice.

She turned to you, a wolfish smile on her face. “Take your jacket off. Holster too.”

You struggled to ignore the haughty expression on her face when you did exactly what she said without question, almost too eagerly, depositing them on the edge of the mat. You pushed your shoes off too, knowing not to track mud on any of Natasha’s carpets.

Her eyebrow lifted at the action. She’d moved closer during your actions, and you’d nearly run into her before noticing. Her presence was intoxicating. All-consuming.

“You’re here to tell me something,” She proclaimed “you’ve got that adorable look on your face. It’s good to know someone in this house still fears me.”

She was joking and it tugged at your heart to send that mood down to the ground before lighting it on fire. You’d expected her to be in poorer spirits after Clint had called her and let her know what had happened at the harbor. Instead, she responded in her same calculated coolness that she regarded you with now.

There was nothing about her demeanor that eased you, and suddenly, it felt like you were being scolded for a decision you had made. Even more so when she grasped your chin and forced you to look at her.

“That woman with Carol from the other night. I know her. Briefly.”

“Briefly?”

“As in, I met her at a Christmas party a few years back and… left with her.”

Natasha’s grip tightened against your chin, her thumb digging into your jaw. There was too much alcohol flowing that night and after making stinted conversation about how to disconnect two metal rings smoothly, the two of you went back to her apartment.

Before the sun came up, you left. There was shame in it, and the walk back to your own apartment punctuated with Darcy’s scolding was enough to make you forget the encounter altogether. It was one night- a fun night, but singular all the same.

Natasha let out a small noise of disapproval that sunk straight to your core. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does she remember you?”

“It… didn’t seem like it.”

Her eyes narrowed, nose a short distance from your own. You could feel the hotness of her breath against your throat. How you had disappointed her. That much was clear from the lack of tenderness in her grasp. She eventually released you, trailing her fingers down the expanse of your neck.

She played with the small charm of your necklace, nothing more than a dainty gold chain with the tiniest whisper of a diamond in the center. Your skin prickled at the sensation, breath audibly catching as she worked her fingers over the length of chain.

“Well, I suppose this could be a problem. Especially with Carols violent behavior lately.”

Natasha sighed dramatically, and within an instant her nimble hand had tightened around your throat. She walked you the three steps backwards to the nearest wall. The small of your back landed with a heady thud and you used the last of your available breath to grunt out in protest.

Of course, you had seen her angry before, but it was never directed at you. Not like this. She wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure you, not really. But the shock of the movement had made you think she would end you all the same.

“You should have come to me right away, pet.” Her grasp tightened; words growled. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient, girl.”

Her words filled you with an immense shame for letting her down. Over the past few months, it had become impossible to be anything but perfect for Natasha Romanoff. The fact that you hadn’t connected the dots sooner was disillusioning.

The grip against your throat loosened ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her lips nearly ghosting your own. You could barely taste her, a strangled whimper escaping you. She pressed her body close. It was warm and overwhelming.

“I expect you to handle this on your own if it becomes a problem, darling.”

Before you could close the distance, Natasha pulled away from you entirely. It left you panting against the wall, wanting for something more. She knew exactly what she was doing. You craved her more than anything, and she had brought you so close to something you both wanted before denying it altogether.

Natasha sauntered, actually sauntered, across the gym and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench. She regarded you with flushed cheeks, her eyebrow raised as if nothing had just happened and you supposed that nothing did.

“Clint has told you about the party?” It took a few seconds before you found your voice, after her gentle urgings “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am. He did.”

She reached for a water bottle, exchanging it’s spot on the bench for the towel. She takes three hungry swallows, and you watched the way her throat moved in response to the water. Each of her movements seemed deliberate, nearly calculated to get a reaction out of you.

“Perfect. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about what to wear. I’ll lay a dress out in your room.”

“My room?” Your words were squeaked.

There was a short hum in response as she gulped down another helping of water before setting it down entirely. That anger had ebbed away from her almost entirely. The fire that had been within her eyes excited you, and despite yourself, so did her demands.

“You’re so skittish. Come here. We need to work on your lead hook.”

Natasha didn’t offer to wrap your knuckles, nor did you ask. Instead, you leaned into the bag, letting the course material cut into your knuckles with a welcoming sting.

There was great thought put into any Romanoff party that was thrown. Lights were wrapped around the banister, and caterers walked through the teems of people with unwavering silver trays of finger food that cost more than your old salary for a number of months.

Back storm doors were opened to the pool, lit up and buzzing with an equal amount of people. Natasha had hired a piano player who haplessly pressed down on keys and drew a small crowd with each song that would crescendo into the dining room.

The overlapping theme was a dark forest green that reminded you much of the paint color slathered on Natasha’s bedroom walls. Something you hadn’t seen in months, but remembered so fondly. It was clear that she wanted to present a united force, something strong and unwavering in their power.

Clint was dawned with a finely pressed suit and a deep green tie that matched the shade of Kate’s dress to the very hue. She wore something silk and modest, reaching down to her heeled feet but leaving her muscular arms entirely bare.

Yelena stunned in a dress of her own, a crushed sage velvet that had a dipping neckline and sleeves that met at her wrist. By the confidence of her stride, you had no trouble believing she had chosen the outfit with the thought of how many weapons she could conceal. Her devilish smile only confirmed your thoughts.

As of you, Natasha had picked out something a little more revealing. Much like the maroon number she wore to dinner the other night, the dress she chose for you hugged every inch of your body. Its fern color complimented your complexion, bringing out the redness of your cheeks.

A slit moved from the base of your dress to the middle of your thigh. A halter neckline clung to your breasts, nearly pushing them up and out. It had been years, high school prom, since you’d worn something even close to this. You felt your shoulders flush red when you descended the stairs and struggled to blend in.

Natasha was sidled up by the mantel in deep conversation with someone who was a stranger to you. Most of the people here were. Though, their hands gave way to their high-ranking positions in the city. Few had callouses or oil stains.

She was in a three-piece suit that was color matched to your own outfit down to the shade. There were gold accents on her jewelry and the neckline of her waistcoat dipped down the tanned expanse of her skin.

Kate let out a low whistle in response to your entrance as she offered you a hand at the base of the stairs. You’d almost missed the last one due to your shameless gawking at the woman of the party. “Quite the looker, y/n. Natasha chose this?”

“Naturally,”

She chuckled softly, a small sound “Nothing if not calculating. Do you know how to socialize at one of these things?”

“Mm, as the caterer, yes.”

This seemed to amuse her more than you’d like. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop was a name that you had reluctantly googled early on in your employment. She had grown up wealthy and well acquainted with gatherings such as these. Of course, that was before her mother wound up incarcerated for white-collar crimes. The skills seemed to benefit her here, however.

Kate did everything with practiced fluidity that you envied. She plucked two champagne glasses from a nearby tray. “Only one of these, nurse it like your life depends on it. That way they won’t keep trying to shove alcohol into your hands. This is work, after all.”

You followed her lead and took a small sip of the bubbling, sour liquid. It was more expensive than anything you had ever had before and far-from-palatable. It wouldn’t be had to keep the drinking at bay.

“The man that Yelena is schmoozing over there is Billy Russo. Jigsaw. He’s in charge of the lower quarter. The Romanoff’s and the Russo’s have a cordial relationship and Yelena is much more feared than him.”

“Why do they call him jigsaw?” You whispered.

“He tends to chop people into pieces until they’re impossible to put back together. And that’s if you find all the missing parts. He has a very nice summer home up in the Poconos, so don’t get on his bad side.”

Suddenly the drink in your hand didn’t look too bad, but you held it right where it was. Clint was laughing by the window, obviously pushing his charm on a woman that you had never clocked before. She was running her fingers up his tie, tightening it before letting her hands drop.

“Barton is with Ophelia Sarkissian, the Viper. She is known for her cunning leadership. She’s got a huge organization in Hell’s Kitchen. Something called Hydra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though because Natasha is keeping a tight eye on it.”

“Mm, cut one head off, two more grow back.”

“What?”

“Greek mythology. Hydra is a big water snake that has nine heads. Each time one was cut off two more would grow back in its place. It was practically unkillable until Hercules came through the marshes with his nephew. Hercules would slice each head off while Iolaus cauterized the wounds so the heads couldn’t grow back.”

Kate blinked at you with shock in her eyes. You simply gave her a shrug in return. People constantly underestimated you and your intelligence. Besides, when you were a child, you had a morbid fascination with Greek mythology as a whole.

She stared beyond your shoulder, lilting her head to the side.

“I didn’t realize that Natasha’s new plaything was so knowledgeable.”

Ice ran thorough your veins. Your eyes darted to the window where Clint and Mrs. Sarkissian had once been. It was vacant now, and an expertly painted hand drummed past your arm. They were sharp and sent chills down your spine as she rounded you, sidling up next to Kate.

“Trust fund kid, leave us.”

Kate drew in a sharp breath, straightening her shoulders. She nearly opened her mouth to stay something but thought better of it before shooting you a look of apology and vanishing into the crowd in the dining room.

Ophelia was intoxicating in her presence. She towered over you and wore snakeskin heels to widen the distance. She wore a tight-fitted black dress that had cuts on either side, exposing her toned stomach to the world. What she wanted with you wasn’t clear, but her hand toyed coyly with the neckline of your own dress, adjusting it.

“Word travels fast in this city. I just couldn’t wait to see it myself. Hearing that Natasha Romanoff of all people expelled her Winter soldier for a… Summer Sentient. All seasons are temporary, I suppose.”

“Expelled?”

The word had slipped from your tongue, and you quickly thought better of it when she settled her splayed hand against your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It was cold, unfeeling. Unlike the fire that Natasha had instilled in you earlier.

There was a demonic smile that spread across her face, both of her eyebrows lifting as she let out an exaggerated grasp. It was clear that this woman, this leader, couldn’t keep her hands to herself in any manner, including the internal affairs that she dangled in front of you like a prize.

“Oh, did Natty not tell you? She had Bucky under her thumb for years, nearly a decade. A few months back, he was just gone. There’s a lot of gossip in these streets and not much of it is plausible, but I’d put money on this one.”

 Again, her fingers danced over your collarbone. “Miss Romanoff is not known for her mercy, but after beating the Winter Soldier within an inch of his life, she let him go. He ran like any sensible man would, of course. But he left a trail of blood behind him. I’m quite sure he’s somewhere out west struggling to move in an upper body brace.”

She laughed cruelly at the look on your face. There was no use in masking it. You knew that Bucky had been absent, but through your own turmoil you had forgotten all about it. Your stomach twisted in unease. What if Natasha grew tired of you? It was inevitable, really. You’ only prolonged your fate by bending to her whim.

“Ophelia,” Natasha’s voice drew your attention first, and then the heat of her touch on the small of your back. “Have you tried the lamb?”

The woman faltered, gritting her teeth “I was about to.”

“Oh, you must.” Yelena seemed to materialize out of nowhere, looping her arm around Madame Hydra herself. She pulled with intent. “I haven’t seen you since Moscow. We need to catch up!”

“I was never in Moscow.”

“That’s a shame. I can paint you a brilliant picture.”

Their voices faded away into the rest of the party. It was then that you noticed Clint by the door, his stance stiffened. Kate glowered next to him, not following her own rule and downing the rest of her drink before plucking another off the passing tray.

You stepped out of Natasha’s grasp, not wanting to be anywhere near her at the moment. Her perfume was intoxicating. Its floral scent made you dizzy and took away your ability to think straight. It was part of the reason you had been lulled this far into complicity. It scared you that you were willing to do anything for her.

“y/n,” she urged.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s stare hardened. She gripped the back of your neck in a movement that would otherwise be familiar, sweet, even. However, the way she led you down the hallway made your stomach drop in a feeling of doom. “Not here, Malen'kiy krolik.”

Natasha’s office was strictly off limits, but you found yourself in the warmth of it in a matter of moments. There was no wall that wasn’t adorned with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a large cherrywood desk was at its head. It was kept neat like the rest of the house.

There was a PHD on the wall, and an associates under that. Each bore Natasha’s name. She closed the doors behind her. Without regarding you, she went to a shelf in the back of the room, pouring herself a glass of bourbon, much like the one she was drinking when you stirred in her bed.

She swallowed it back, before pouring another. This time she sipped it. Your own back was against the far wall, heart pounding mercilessly through you. Yelling at Natasha had a lot more weight behind it than you anticipated.  

“You’re going to do the same to me.” You eventually whispered.

Her body stiffened, muscles tightening and then releasing before she turned to you, her eyes reddened. “What?”

“I’ve been entirely blind to my purpose here. I’ve never… I’ve never understood why you chose me. Why not go for someone who knows what they were doing? Who knew how to protect you and care for you? You had that with Bucky.”

Her eyes hardened. “Don’t you ever mention that name in this house.”

“It’s the truth, Natasha! You could have let me die, just like that, and you didn’t. Instead, you took me in and trained me, and for what? Just to throw me into the harbor with cement blocks chained to my ankles.”

“That is an entirely outdated practice and frankly, it’s insulting.” Her words were soul deep, but they barely broke your skin. “I would never do that.”

“A bullet through the head, then?”

“No.”

You were gaining traction enough to pull yourself from the wall and take heady steps towards her. If you didn’t do it now, you would never. Part of you was certain that you’d never see the outside of this room again. That she’d snap and do exactly what you were imploring her to.

“He served you for years and within a singular night you nearly kill him.” Your breath shook, you were so close to her now. “What is stopping you from doing the exact same to me?”

“No, no” She reached up and grasped both sides of your face. There were tears against your cheeks, something you hadn’t realized dripped from your chin. “Malyshka, no don’t cry.”

Everything had come to a head; the months of non-stop training, the pressure of keeping this side of your life away from your daughter, away from Darcy. A true friend that you had been lying to. And now, knowing that it could be all for nothing. It was easy to dispose of someone like you.

There was no reason to show weakness in front of the woman who was training you not to feel anything at all. Above everything, you found yourself ashamed. She still held your face within her grasp.

“He hurt you.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched, there was a fuzzy vulnerability in her green stare. “I can show mercy, y/n. But I’ve learned, not when it comes to you. Even before all of… this, there was something that I saw within you. Something that made what I did to Bucky all the more worth it.”

You breathed in a watery sniffing sound that was replaced by nothing but a whimper. Natasha softened even more, letting her shoulders fall. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He was pulling back for months, and you were the final straw. I had never seen someone so resilient, someone who didn’t beg for their life but recounted it. In a moment of weakness, I let you go. I thought that training you, that making you mine, would absolve my sins but it’s only deepened them. My feelings for you have only deepened.”

Her forehead was pressed against yours, her ministrations, and God help you, her apologies were startling. Her lips were so close to yours; you could nearly taste the liquor on her breath “Natasha,”

Suddenly, she was all you could feel. Her hand was against you back, pulling you into her body to fit directly on hers. There was such a strong guiding power to her. Your shock was muffled by her mouth on yours, your whine swallowed in moments.

You melted into her, kissing back with enough fever to leave you both breathless. There were stars dancing in your vision, you lungs burning eventually pulling you both apart. She panted twice before pecking your lips once more, you nearly chased after her.

“Fuck,” she growled “you… are absolutely delicious.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated up and you hid your face in the small of her neck, letting out a small groan in embarrassment. You felt Natasha’s laugh rumble through her.

“No need to be timid, pet. There will be plenty of time for that later.” She raked her nails up your back, “Right now, I have a snake to behead.”  

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife]

[palant1r]

death note characters ranked by how much they fuck, from least to most:

L: im sorry but this bitch died a virgin. you know im right. we can talk about lawlight gay sex all we want and its very fun but there is NO way his relationship with light actually went beyond psychosexual mind games that they both found far more sexual than actual sex. he does not leave his weirdass computer floor room he is NOT on tinder. this guy had watari make him a special fleshlight that jacks him off in 3 seconds every time he experiences horniness so he can get back to work

near: same as L, really. the only reason he's ranked higher is because he hangs out with a bunch of sexy americans and could theoretically have had an opportunity at some point

Ide: asexual king. could have sex but simply has no interest in it.

light: divorces his mind from his body to an absolutely insane degree. uses sex purely as a method to give misa rewards for killing a bunch of people. this barely ever happens

misa: only ranked higher than light because i feel like she had sex at least once before meeting light and light was absolutely a virgin at that point

mikami: he has scheduled sex that he pencils into his planner about once every month or so

takada: with how she reacted to light's advances, it's clear that this is not a woman who is accustomed to pleasurable sex. girl go get some better dick its not worth it.

aizawa: on one hand, he is married. on the other hand, between the investigation and having a young child in the house, i doubt they're boning down on the reg

mello: i know people will get mad at me for ranking him this low. because like, look at him. he LOOKS like he FUCKS. but im sorry. he doesnt. he goes after his goals with the singleminded focus of a bear on cocaine presented with a dumpster full of salmon and sex simply does not play into those goals. however he would fuck to FURTHER those goals he just wouldnt even enjoy it because hed be thinking about Beating Near the whole time but like, in a heterosexual way

soichiro and sachiko: you KNOW old man yagami is a freak. that man is not normal and he's gonna dick his wife down crazy style. however he is also working long nights all the time

matsuda: between his need to be around other people and his neglected shelter dog rizz, i think its fair to say matsuda is having a fair amount of sex

matt: to mellos chagrin, matt fucks

mogi: this man is coveted in the tokyo gay scene. dick is bomb AND he makes breakfast in the morning. this man FUCKS but he minds his own business about it

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Gibbs Knows Best

Gibbs x Reader One Shot

Prompt: Gibbs is over for a dinner date when your daughter gets into a car accident.

Notes: Just Gibbs being his usual protective self. Mentions of a panic attack.

————

Running into the kitchen, you stopped the little cooking timer and put your oven mitts on to pull the delicious smelling salmon out of the oven. You threw a few spices on top and then got started on the mashed potatoes.

The dinner you were preparing was your idea since it was so hard to get Jethro available for longer than a day or so before he would get another case. It was only your 4th date but everything was going so well. Even your daughter was a fan and she hadn’t even met him yet.

You weren’t sure if he told his team about you but you had told your own coworkers plenty about him. The way he’s such a gentleman, always offering help or paying for everything every time you two went out as much as you would try to convince him otherwise.

You heard the front doorbell ring and went over to open it, seeing Jethro standing there in his work suit but holding a small bouquet of flowers.

“I picked these up on the way,” he offered with a small smile. You took them and let him in, letting him give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Smells great. Salmon?”

“Yeah. I was just about to make the mashed potatoes and the asparagus is keeping warm in the oven.”

He followed you into the kitchen and immediately took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves to continue where you left off as you looked for a vase.

“How was work?” you asked for small talk. He never went deep into conversation about his work but you’d thought it’d still be nice to ask.

“Alright. Got the bad guy.”

You filled the vase halfway with water and trimmed the stems before putting them in and setting it on your kitchen counter.

“That’s always a win.”

Your phone started ringing and your daughter’s Face ID popped up on the screen. She was suppose to be spending the night at a friend’s and you hoped everything was ok as you answered.

“Hey sweetie, what’s up?”

The sound of your daughter’s scared voice shot a jolt of fear through you.

“Are you alright? Where are you?”

Your frantic questions caught Jethro’s attention who stopped cooking to listen.

“Ok. I’ll be right there, don’t go anywhere,” you advised, hanging up the phone and turning the oven off.

“Everything alright?” Jethro asked.

“No. My daughter just got into a car accident. I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“Well let’s go,” he simply stated, turning the stove off and going over to put his jacket back on. You could’ve told him that you were fine and could go by yourself but decided to welcome his help as you both rushed out of the house, taking his car, red and blue lights flashing all the way there.

>>>>

As you rounded the corner, you could see half the street blocked off as fire engines and cop cars were parked in the middle. You saw two cars. One was smashed into a light pole and the other a few hundred feet away, visibly damaged.

Parking as close as you could, the both of you got out and made your way through the nosy crowd of onlookers, catching the attention of the officers.

“Please stay back with the rest of the crowd ma’am.”

Before you could protest, Jethro spoke for you.

“Special Agent Gibbs, let her through. Her daughter is one of the injured,” he ordered, flashing his badge. The officer nodded and stepped aside, allowing you to come through. You saw your daughter over on the sidewalk, talking with the EMT’s looking seemingly unharmed and called her name.

“Mom!” She ran over and you hugged her tight.

“Mom, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know he had been drinking so much! Sean..I don’t think he made it..”

She was crying hysterically and trying to catch her breath but failing. You knew a panic attack was coming on but there wasn’t much you could do. It was something she had struggled with ever since her father died 3 years ago.

“Honey, you gotta calm down.”

She shook her head, only crying harder. “It’s..my..fault..”

“No honey, it’s not. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

You were surprised when you saw Jethro walk over and take your place, putting his hands on her arms.

“Hey, I’m a friend of your moms. Let’s go over here,” he said, leading her a little further away from the crowd and accident. He then had her sit down on the grass, crouching down in front of her.

“Let’s get your breathing slowed down alright? I want you to take a big breath in for every 3 seconds ok? 1..2..3, big breath.”

He held onto her hands that were shaking and opened them up, keeping them from cramping while chanting his count.

“That’s it. 1..2..3..Now let’s take a big breath and hold it for a second before letting it out, alright?”

You watched the two of them counting and breathing together before eventually her breaths became slower as she calmed down. He continued massaging her hands, making her open and close them.

“Better? I know this was a lot to handle but your mom’s here and I’m here. You’re safe and that’s what matters.”

He gestured for you to come over and you sat down next to her, pulling her into your side, giving him a grateful look. He gave a small smile in return and stood up.

“I’m gonna go see what’s going on and see if we’re clear to take her home.”

You nodded and he left to speak with a few of the officers as your daughter stayed quiet, occasionally sniffling and taking in a deep breath.

>>>>

After a few questions answered, we were given the ok to leave. The drive home was silent except for the low music playing on the radio and Jethro’s hand never left yours.

Once home, you sent your daughter upstairs to take a shower and change as you and Jethro went into the kitchen. He pulled you in for a hug, allowing you to let out a shaky breath, while holding back tears.

“Thank you. For me and her. It usually takes forever for her to get out of an attack like that.”

“I’ve had a bit of experience with anxiety attacks in the past so I just did what usually helped me.”

You pulled back to look up at him and leaned in for a gentle kiss.

“This wasn’t how I wanted the two of you to meet.”

“Well we can try again tomorrow morning if you’d like,” he proposed.

“Are you suggesting you spend the night?”

Neither one of you had spend the night over at either one’s house yet but his question got your hopes up.

“Is that ok? I can sleep on the couch if you’d like-“

“No. I mean no I’m not gonna have you sleep on the couch. And of course you can spend the night.”

“Good. I’ll make the coffee, you make the eggs?”

“Deal.” You couldn’t hold back the grin and gave him another deep kiss.

[queenendless]

🎆❣️A Future Bright (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader ft Various JJK)❣️🎆

A/n: So short cause I have officially run out of JJK fuel. It might not be the best but I wanted to get something out today so sorry about that. S2 is done. I will miss it and writing for this show. But I need a long ass break from JJK. Like 5 months. Make sense to me.

Referring to everyone by their first names in this, side ships, mainly poly SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader.

And thnx u to everyone whose followed, liked, reblogged and enjoyed my JJK fan content these past few months. Imma work on other anime fanfic content after I take a break. Tbh? I wanna write for BNHA Hawks. He's growing on me. And maybe Demon Slayer stuff with Tengen and his wives. Idk yet, we'll see.

PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE STEAL COPY TRANSLATE AND/OR REPOST MY FANFIC WORK. Rather reblog like and follow please and thnx u.

Booths and stalls lined up both sides of various roads.

Rows of lanterns hung from the treelines to the lampposts.

Droves of people flocked. From wearing kimonos to just plain snuggly attire to battle the coldness.

Praying at the shrines to make wishes for the coming year came first.

After that, chaos ensued.

A squealing Nobara hurried over to embrace her lifelong friends Fumi-chan and Saori-chan before introducing them to Maki who was keeping it cool to Nobara's admiration.

Kento brushes something off Yu's scarred cheek only for the younger man to kiss his stern partner fully on the mouth.

A teasing Mai and Momo along with a reluctant but curious Kasumi dragging a stubborn blushing Kokichi off to doll him up with various trinkets and hats they spotted at various booths.

Ieiri and Utahime trying to catch some goldfish at one of those booths. Utahime shouting out her constant success at catching them fishes; her competitiveness shining through, and Ieiri calmly cheering her wife on.

Yuji laughed while Megumi and Junpei smiled at his radiant expression while chowing down on barbecue skewers together.

That was long before your salmon haired boi yelled out in alarm as a heated Todo chased him in his fervent pursuit to drag his brother off to see the Takada-chan's New Year's Eve live special screening at Shibuya crossing.

Noritoshi eating a kebab as Yuki filmed the whole chase beside him, aimed at Choso as he let Yuji jump into his arms and speed off with Todo right at their heels, dust clouds left in their wake.

Riko and Misato shooting darts at a gaming booth all to get the familiar looking, long as hell, rainbow dragon plush to the girls delight.

Atsuya dragged his bae Hiromi by his collar into the nearest bar just to get away from your group and drink to their retired hearts content.

Masamichi and Yoshinobu sharing sake in the place across from said bar.

Yuta kissed both Rika and Toge on their stuffed cheeks as their mouths were full of sweets; mochi cheeks he spotted in his mesmerized gaze.

Right before Panda, carrying plushies by the armful, dumped his winnings all over his ecstatic buddies.

Spotting Toji and Shiu amiss the crowd, eyeing his son as his protective brother instincts creaked out as he played tug of war with Tsumiki who was stubbornly set on kissing a dopey grinning Junpei some more as her lipstick marked his rosey cheek.

Toji snorted at the sight before being dragged off by the arm by Shiu, opting to get a better view, a less crowded spot at that.

Nanako and Mimiko running around with sparklers lite.

Tears filled up your eyes to the brim.

Seeing so much happiness.

So much positivity.

All amassing here.

All in this moment.

Together.

Your mind flashed.

What could have been …

Buildings sliced and diced to mince.

Magma erupts from the streets, encasing all in its range.

A circle of darkness that continues to grow.

No lights.

No life.

Barred from all.

You were getting caught up in your mind too much lately.

Thinking too much, wandering in too deep, letting intrusive thoughts cloud the light.

Your knees trembled, your grip slipping, you wrap around your belly, prepared to not let it get the brunt of the fall.

“Y/n!”

His long raven locks flowed in the breeze. His almond brown eyes are so vibrant and sharp and alive.

“Sugu!” You weeped immediately into his charcoal robes, grasping handfuls of his front, alarming him tremendously.

“Y/n! Be careful! What's wrong!?”

“I'm just so happy we're all together celebrating tonight!” Your waterworks hit him right in the face as he led you two to a bench to rest your bloated sore self.

“Tiredness, mood swings, they do come with pregnancy, love.” Suguru calmly explained as you clung to him, pulling your legs up to rest on the space left on the bench.

“Perhaps we should take you home early. I am terribly sorry if we pushed you too much with coming here … jeez. Now where did Satoru go this time?”

Warping right by your side nearly gave you a heart attack. Even still, you were never quite prepared for Toru's spontaneity.

Getting down on one knee, Satoru tenderly caressed and smooched your clothed bump. “Right here~!”

“Toru!” You yanked the man up by his sleeve, having him sit beside you as well as he draped your legs over his lap as he let you cuddle him and weep in his neck.

His shades titled down to reveal his devoted gaze as he carefully pulled you atop his lap, nuzzling your head as he exchanged smooches with Suguru. “Aww, wifey. It's okay. We're here. Just think. A new year. New hijinks. New possibilities!”

Suguru's head rested on your shoulder as his heated breath made you mewl. “And a new addition to our family.”

Viewing the kids all animated, the adults mingling, the buzz in the air, it all helped to ease the unrest in your hormonal self.

“I hope we can continue living out our somewhat sense of peace in the new year.” You murmured, humming as they gently smothered you in their plush chests and secure arms.

“Agreed.” Their giant sculpted hands felt your bump together, wistfully grinning as you smiled shedding tears of joy.

An upbeat song blared out through the speakers.

Next thing you know, few turned to many dancing.

Lost in paradise.

For a dance mob has formed.

Yugi, returning out of the blue, took the lead, bopping with his usual upbeat finesse.

Megumi wasn't dancing, more like bashfully scratching the back of his head, too shy to look anyone in the eye, until a beaming Yuji had him, helping his boyfriend loosen up.

Nobara twirled and swirled, tugging her girls in to all get in sync and flaunting their beautiful strong selves.

And Gojo, in all his glory, was swaying with style, cause of course he wanted to get down most of all. Yuta, Yuji, Megumi, even the twins flanked both his sides, strutting their stuff.

From Takuma to Choso to even Panda, everyone you knew found the groove. From found family to your work buddies. Even the tipsy adults. Even the former assassin and his handler buddy. Even a well disguised Nobuko who had her bodyguards on standby also in disguise warily kept their eyes on the heart eyed Aoi Todo.

The dancing flash mob you never expected to happen did in fact happen.

They clapped, they swayed, they spun, they did it all!

The ships sailed as many familiar faces knew how to dance so acrobatically well. Leave the sight to the imagination.

Fireworks began littering the sky.

The billboard's timer struck 00:00.

Cheers and claps rang as embraces were exchanged.

You giggled as Suguru Geto swept you up in his arms, cupping the back of your head and your cheek to kiss you passionately.

You just had to ask.

“Where would I be without all of you?”

Satoru warped again back to you just to smirk at your jump scare. “Probably bored out of your mind.” You and Suguru shut your white haired husband up by slapping his shoulders to his snickering amusement.

“It goes both ways, Satoru.”

“Aw, I love you too Suguru~” He pulled his shades up to rest on his head as those Six Eyes glowed with love for the growing life in your belly you three made together. “All of you.”

You two peppered kisses all over Satoru's laughing face as the rest of your found family danced the first night of the new year away.

[wackyharpy]

Solicitude

Eric (Divergent) x Fem! Reader

Summary: Eric takes care of his girlfriend after the hard day.

To find more stories — masterlist

A/N: English isn't my native language. I'm obsessed with this man, oh gods! Needed to write something like this. I'd be very happy for your comments and reblogs. Enjoy :)

Warnings ⚠️

NSFW 18+, fingering, p in v sex, she/her pronouns.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

She enters their shared apartment late in the evening locking the door. Muscles all over the body ache after hard trainings with the squad she's part of. Their commander always keeps them fit.

She finished her initiation taking the third place on the rankings board. Such success for a girl, who was one of the two among other male initiates, ended up with her becoming a part of the squad of the special purpose for secret missions.

Since the day their commander chose her, he has never regretted. It was a right decision. She is smart and witty — former Erudite — calm and placid — a perfect person not to blab plans and inside scoop.

Additionally, she's the youngest leader's girlfriend.

To start relationships with Eric wasn't an easy decision, but two years have already passed and they're still together. Unexpectedly, Eric has turned out to be a simple person to live with. Yes, the character he has, sometimes drives her crazy, although it's not the problem that can't be solved. He's dominant, intimidating and frightening, as he was the first time she met him during the initiation.

Nevertheless, she's discovered much more other facets of his personality. He's not just that cruel leader everybody is used to seeing him. Eric can cook — the first thing that surprised her a lot. He's a good listener and adviser. He motivates her to work and to become a better version of herself — she appreciates time they spend together in the gym where he shares his knowledge of how to obtain skillfulness in fighting, shooting, plotting plans and strategies.

They've learned how to be a leader and a subordinate, a mentor and a student outside the walls of their apartment. But here, they're only Eric and her. Just a boyfriend and his girlfriend.

She walks deeper in the room greeting Eric who is finishing dinner in the kitchen area. Dim lights of lanterns illuminate the space along with the moon whose rays permeate into through the panoramic windows — their apartment is situated on the upper floors of Dauntless compartment.

She rubs red weary eyes with her calloused palms, and sits at the table in the dining area. Exhales heavily. Eric places a plate with baked salmon and veggies in front of her. He constantly pays attention to her diet for her to have energy and be healthy.

"Thanks," she smiles warmly.

Being a leader, he's never provided her with advantages that may assist her easily gain a position in Dauntless. Some people may consider, she got her place in the squad because of Eric, though that's not true. Her efforts are the reason she's there. The only benefits she has is access to products of high-quality, good clothes, domicile and protection.

She eats every now and then looking at sharp features of Eric's face, at his perfect nose and slightly plump lips, at his cheekbones which she adores to contour with the finger. Her eyes go down viewing vividly black tattoos on the neck. She feels how something is tugging in the lower abdomen.

"Eat your meal. Stop gazing at me," she hears his voice's deep timbre. Abruptly, her cheeks turn pink and she chuckles. She sees how a perfect line of Eric's lips twitches in a smirk.

"Salmon is really good," she praises dinner.

"Mhm... received two fresh fish this morning."

***

They finish dinner and clean the table, then do the washing-up together. Eric hides two plates in the shelf above the faucet and turns to her immediately embracing her little petite figure with his strong arms.

"Tired?" The serene tone of his voice soothes her.

She cuddles closer to his chest smelling a pleasant male scent, and just nods. She feels a soft kiss on her forehead, and then Eric rises her from the ground taking to the bathroom.

After brushing their teeth — they've got used to do all this plain routine together, the couple gets ready to take the shower. Eric turns on water and begins to undress her. She yawns finally feeling how much her muscles are strained, in need of rest. Hooded eyes watch how Eric attentively takes off all of her clothes, then undresses himself.

He's not a type of guy to say "love you" and other sweet nothings about his feelings, but she doesn't need that. She's got used to his own tongue of showing love and affection.

Before stepping into the shower cabin, Eric checks the temperature of water, only then leads her inside along with him. She closes her eyes relaxing under warm streams realizing how much her body's got exhausted. Eric massages her shoulders gently once in a while placing kisses on them, her neck, or back. He helps to soothe knots in her strained muscles. She sighs contendetly leaning back on his powerful chest. She feels that Eric is smiling, feels his tender touching on her hips and stomach. She enjoys such moments when he takes a lead, dominates but gently, and looks after her. At times like this, she feels safe and peaceful.

After the shower, he dries her wrapping in the soft towel. Eric takes her face and kisses her affectionately and possessively.

"Fancy sex?" His look is demanding and piercing.

She bites her lower lip that doesn't escape Eric's attention.

She nods, also adding:

"But I'm too tired to be active in bed."

He is silent for several seconds, just rubs her cheeks with the thumbs. Then responds:

"I'll take care of you."

With these words, he leads her to their bed that stands opposite the floor-to-ceiling windows. She sinks in the black linen that smells of them. After coming into contact with the duvet, her head and eyelids suddenly feel heavy. Drowsiness washes over her, foggy curtain falls onto her eyes.

Eric lies beside her and she immediately snuggles her nose into his bicep closing her eyes, giving her whole body to him. He unwraps the towel revealing her steamed, after the shower, body.

His calloused hand creases her breasts, plays with her already hard nipples and then goes down reaching her labia. Eric rubs them leisurely watching her reactions. She's a bit sleepy, though still reacts to his movements gasping quietly. He finds her pulsating clit giving it proper attention until her pussy is wet enough to insert two fingers inside. Her moist insides welcome them and he starts gentle but steady movements back and forth. She breathes out, moans a little, and Eric looms his head over brushing his lips against hers.

"Like it?"

"Mhm," she cuddles closer, still keeping her eyes closed.

"Open your legs wider," he commands whispering.

She obediently does as he orders. His thrusts become faster. She feels hotness rushing to her core, something tugs, then her walls clench, and she releases sticky juices orgasming. She exhales heavily feeling pleasant relief.

Eric takes out his fingers spreading clammy liquid of her pussy all over her entrance and inner labia. He pumps his already hard dick for some time and settles himself comfortably between her lean legs. He rubs pinkish head of the cock against her drenched folds, then starts intruding with his member inside.

Eric bites his lower lip feeling how her enjoyable tightness wraps his member. They both gasp. He looms over her hiding her safely from the world conquering all her senses with only his presence.

"Eric..." sweet moan of hers.

His thrusts are slow and gentle — he's not planning to make rough sex tonight. He wants her to enjoy herself, relax, and ultimately sleep peacefully.

[beansprean]

Art for the Exchangeapalooza gift I got from dear @yougoadedme!!! Ranch N' Rider Weekly: Special Edition - please go read it it's so good

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Marwa dressed in cowboy boots, jeans, and a pink flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows. She has one boot up on the bottom slat of a wooden fence and one hand braced on the top slat, the other in her hip as she grins into the distance. The background behind her is a rolling green field and rows of pine trees in watercolor. She is wearing a gold wedding band and diamond engagement ring.

2. Waist up of the Djinn, human, on a vague purple background, dressed in a flannel version of his salmon shirt tucked into his usual brown trousers. He is smiling indulgently, looking up over his glasses and holding up a bottle of margarita mix in one hand and tequila in the other. The margarita mix reads "EZ Margs - Delicious Margaritas at the snap of your fingers." The Djinn says, "I live to serve...liquor." He is also wearing a gold wedding band.

3. Guillermo sitting at a coffee table on a vague real background. There are a few black playing cards with white writing sitting on the table and Guillermo is on the side closest to the viewer, topless, and turned around to face the viewer with a sour expression. His face is flushed red and sweating, eyes darting away from the image before him. The image before him is this: human Nandor, having leaped fully onto the table in a crouched position in nothing but a white jock strap with pink hearts, flexing both of his arms with a triumphant grin and crowing, "I win!!"

4. Close up of human Colin Robinson, aged about 7 or 8, wearing a green flannel open over a red tee shirt. He is grinning excitedly, eyes shining, as he places a cowboy hat with a beaded turquoise band over his head. No less than five speech bubbles full of unintelligible babbling surround him.

5a. Nandor and Guillermo stand in a paddock, the former wearing a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up tucked into jeans with a silver horse belt buckle and the latter wearing a blue embroidered western shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a light brown cowboy hat. Nandor has his back to Guillermo's front and a leather bridle looped around his neck and shoulders. He holds the bit in his hands, but the ear strap is pressing directly into his throat. Behind him, Guillermo is holding the reins in both fists and is pulling them taut so Nandor is forced to lean back into him. Nandor's face is flushed, expression dazed and struggling to be stern but clearly not altogether displeased with the situation. He mumbles, "Guillermo, what...are you doing?" Guillermo's eyes are wide and wild, as if he isn't fully in control of his actions, face red and sweating profusely. 5b. Behind them, Colin, wearing a red cowboy hat with a strap and a long sleeved yellow shirt under an orange tee shirt that says 'Lego my Eggo' with a picture of a Lego waffle, stares at his uncles from atop a horse. The horse, Glitterfoot, is gray with a lighter mane and darker nose and ears, a white blaze down his face. He is properly tacked up western style, the reins in Colin's loose hands. Glitterfoot is also staring at the other two men, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he and Colin await instructions.

6. Guillermo and Derek sit across from each other at a table in a bar. A neon sign on the wall says "Sassy Cat Bar & Grill & Tack & Feed & Haberdashery. Mon-Sat 9am-12pm 2pm-2am" Guillermo, wearing an untucked red-violet flannel and jeans, is sitting with his back to the viewer. The back of his wooden chair has a burnt-on design of a rearing horse with a cat on its back, wearing spurred boots and waving a cowboy hat in the air. The Guide, human, leans one hip on their table and stares at Guillermo with a flirtatious grin, pen and notepad poised and awaiting their order. She is wearing a sparkly black beret, hoop earrings, a black and purple flannel shirt mostly unbuttoned tucked into a high waisted jean skirt, a gold horse belt buckle, and sparkly black thigh high cowboy boots. Her hair is curled and teased out big and poofy. Human Derek, sitting across from Guillermo in a brick red Henley and jeans, leans his crossed arms on the table and grins expectantly at Guillermo, waiting for him to react. Guillermo's shoulders are hunched up defensively and he has his face half turned away from the Guide toward the viewer, flushed and sweating nervously. /End ID

[owlcoholik]

Sunny Sockeye big beefy reference sheet AND Sunny age chart. 2 for 1 bonus blue light special.

sockeye salmon have that life cycle thing where they uh die after they hit sexual maturity...and i really didn't want that to be the case for anthro salmon since it leaves them at somewhat of a disadvantage. so instead she just dulls and gets more distorted with age.

[quintessencewrites]

Desire

Shuri x stripper! reader

"Ladies and Gents, we got a treat for yall tonight! So much cake, it'll make you want to lick the icing first."

"Please help me in welcoming Desire to the stage!"

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, nudity, fluff, explicit language, stripping, illicit drug use, lap dances, etc.

Word Count: 3.2k+

Tags: @lunax0654 @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @zestgodtj @themageking @becauseimswagman1 @k3nn3dyxo @dayjlovesromance @778ij @rxcently @widowmakker

Special Thanks to @letitias-fav for choosing y’all’s stripper name and effectively choosing the title as well 🫶🏾 thanks babes🤍🤍🤍

A/N: This was supposed to be a short and sweet little one-shot, but I got carried away and it ended up over 3,000 words long. You guys are gonna love this one, I just know it. I'm in love with it myself; I'm so freaking proud of the work I did on this story <3

A/N 2: NOT a part of my ShuRiri x Sade series. That returns this Thursday, 1/5/23 <3

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The clock on the wall is torturing me, its hands moving so slowly, I’m sure they aren’t even moving at all. I’m counting down; only 30 minutes left until I can clock out.

“Y’know, staring at that thang won’t make time go no faster, chile.” My eyes almost peek at the back of my eyelids, but I suppress the eye roll. Mr. Ellis doesn’t deserve that; he isn’t the target of my frustrations. “Here, now. Table 7’s food is up.”

“Table 7? I don’t have table 7, Mr. Ellis. Where’s Christine?”

My eyes peel away from the clock when my question is met with silence. The older gentleman points his head in the direction of the office that sits tucked away in the back of the kitchen. “She’s not feeling good again. Poor thing, pregnancy is taking a toll on her.”

My heart aches for the girl, 8 months pregnant and planning to work til the end. She’s exhausted, often sleeping in the cramped room for her entire shift. I reach for the aromatic trays, more than willing to cover for the waddling woman.

“She shouldn’t have to work.”

“You gon’ pay her bills, y/n?” the old man retorts. “If it was left up to me, you wouldn’t be working either. This job, or that other one.” The end of his sentence slithers off his tongue in disgust.

The sigh that releases from me is impatient. I didn’t feel like having this conversation with him again. The father-like figure made it clear how much he despised the work I do, often telling me “You gonna slide down that pole right on down to hell.”

“College don’t pay for itself, Mr. Ellis.” A deep ‘mm’ is all I get in return before I’m shooed into the dining room to deliver meals.

“Table 7… table 7,” I mumble, leaving the familiarity of my section of the restaurant to enter the unfamiliarity of Christine’s.

Table 7 sits in the center of the room, and it is surrounded by gorgeous women. They cause me to stumble over my feet a bit, but thankfully, the food doesn’t go down. At the heart of the group, is a girl whose eyes refuse to look away as I walk toward them. It causes my cheeks to go red and my gaze to fall.

“Hey everyone. Christine is taking a quick break, so I’ll be your server. My name is y/n.”

“Y/n? I’ve never heard that name before. It’s lovely.” the one whose intent look I couldn’t escape spoke. Her accent was thick and heavy, yet her voice was light and pulled me in.

The blush in my cheeks has for sure crept to the tips of my ears now. “Tha-thank you. Alright now, y’all gonna have to help me out some. I didn’t take y’all’s orders, so I don’t know who has what.”

The dark-skinned beauty to my left opened her mouth first. “I had the grilled salmon.” With a swift nod, I slid the hot plate in front of her. “The vegetarian meal belongs to me,” expressed the one on my right.

“That must leave you with the pork tacos?” I question, placing the plate in front of the girl with the dense vernacular. She nods with the corner of her lip between her rows of teeth. “Though, I’m suddenly feeling like cake,” she whispers when I reach across her to deliver her food, eyes clearly no longer on my face.

The boldness in her words separates my lips and almost buck my knees from under me. “Um, I-ha,” a nervous giggle escapes me and I take a small step back. A quick ‘ahem’ clears the shock from my throat. “If you ladies need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask,” I ramble off before beelining back to the kitchen.

“Girl, don’t you bust through them doors like that. Scaring my old soul”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Ellis.”

Christine is standing next to the aged man, silently munching on saltines. “I took Table 7 for you, Chris.”

“Table 7? Oh, the group of girls? Y/n, aren’t they gorgeous?” she’s practically sighing.

“Yeah, intimidatingly so,” I allow the eye roll to follow through this time and glance up at the clock. 7:50. Ten more minutes.

“You don’t get tired, y/n? Leaving one job to go straight to the next?”

My hands reach up, capturing my curls and piling them atop my head in a bun before I answer. “Yeah, Chris, I’m worn out as hell-”

“Watch that mouth in front of me, chile.”

I wince, knowing better. “Sorry, Mr. Ellis. I’m tired as heck. But if I sit around too long thinking about how tired I am, I won’t get anything done.”

“I feel you. Do you mind checking to make sure table 7 doesn’t need anything else before you go? I’ll give you whatever tips they leave,” Baby mama asks with a mouthful of dry crackers.

I really don’t want to, but I’m motivated by the money. “Sure,” I offer, retying my apron and pushing the swinging door open.

I barely make it across the restaurant before the stranger’s eyes meet mine. A grin stretches her face as I approach. “What can we do for you, y/n?” she drawls, eyes glimmering.

I return the smile, genuinely intrigued by what about me has caught her eye so. “I’m just checking on everyone before I clock out. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Her brows furrow. “You’re leaving? Wait, let us show our appreciation for your service before you go.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” I vocalize once I notice all three women reaching into their wallets.

“Well, we’re going to,” the recipient of the vegetarian dinner states matter-of-factly. My mouth is closed, fingers playing with my rings nervously, not sure how to accept such open generosity. I wasn’t used to having to do so on this job. Here, people were supposed to leave their tips and be long gone by the time I went to retrieve them.

One by one, wads of cash are folded into my hand. The last girl’s hand lingers a bit longer. “Thank you,” she whispers to me. “You’re welcome,” my voice returns at the same volume.

“Have a good night, y/n. I hope to see you again.”

“Ye-yeah, yeah. You as well.” I trek back to Christine and Mr. Ellis and without counting the money first, I place half of the bills into her pocket before grabbing my belongings and rushing to the back door. I was going to be late. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow,” I call as the door shuts.

Thankfully, the car ride isn’t a long one. In ten minutes, I pull up to Missus, rushing in. “You’re late,” the DJ calls out to me from the sound booth. “No shit,” I yell back, running to the dressing rooms.

“You’re late,” Indigo echoes when I reach my locker.

“Why doesn’t anyone start a conversation with ‘hello’ anymore?”

“Bitch, because you are late. What took you so long? I had to convince mama to not take you off for tonight.”

I place a grateful kiss on my best friend’s cheek. “And I appreciate that. I’m only ten minutes late though.”

House mama peeks her head into the room. “Glad you could join us, y/n.”

My turn toward her is slow and I’m hoping my innocent smile can wipe away her pissed-off expression. “Hey, mama…”

“Don’t ‘hey, mama’ me. I warned you that you may be trying to juggle too much-”

I didn’t feel like hearing this lecture either. “I’m not mama, give me ten minutes. I’ll do a double-set to make up for it.”

With pursed lips and worried eyes, Mama walks away, leaving just me and Indigo. I reach into my locker and grab the first fabric my fingers brush across. I don’t have time to be picky, slightly dissatisfied with the black piece I’ve picked up. It’s a bit more revealing than what I usually chose to wear, despite the job title I held.

The one-piece had no straps, just a thick band covering my nipples but leaving my areolas for the people to see. The part that donned between my legs covered my second pair of lips well enough, though the thin string betwixt my cheeks left nothing to the imagination.

I reach down to my bag, searching for the clear stilettos I wore with almost every set, and became frantic when I couldn’t find them. “Ugh, Indi, can I borrow your black shoes?”

“The strappy ones?”

“I’d prefer the non-strappy ones.”

“Too bad. Those are currently on my feet. You’re getting the strappy ones. They’ll look delicious on you, with that outfit. I’ll help you lace them.”

The eye roll makes an encore but I don’t protest. I don’t have time to. Sitting on the furry pink bench, I allow Indigo to slide the shoes on and tie the strings up my thigh. I attempt to stand, but stumble at the unexpected height. Indi is much shorter than me and sports a whopping 10-inch shoe compared to my 6-inch ones.

“Damn, girl, I’m gonna break my neck.”

“Nope,” she pops the p in the word. “You’re gonna step on theirs. Get out there, shake that fat ass.”

I hear the DJ’s booming voice before I even declare myself ready. “Ladies and Gents, we got a treat for yall tonight. So much cake, it’ll make you want to lick the icing first.”

“Ew, what a disgusting way to put it.”

Indigo smacks her lips. “He’s not wrong,” she states, eyes not moving from your backside.

“Please, help me in welcoming Desire to the stage!”

A deafening remix of Birthday Cake by Rihanna roars through the speakers, and I have to practically run to the stage to make it to my cue.

It’s not even my birthday, but he wanna lick the icing off

One foot in front of the other, the strut of my walk and sway of my hips brings me to the pole center stage. The lights are blinding, I can barely see. I give the DJ a quick signal to turn them down a bit and when the strobes dim I can see the audience gaping at me.

With the pole behind me and both my hands on it while I face the crowd, my entire body is on display, just how they like it. My head dips, my curly mane falling over my face before I swing it back up.

It’s so exciting, don’t try to hide it, I’mma make you my bitch

My eyes catch hers on their way up. She’s here, sitting front row, ogling my almost naked body.

The girl from the restaurant. Her intense eyes are burning heat in my body, sending it upward to my face. Her confidence from earlier has been waived and a sweet shyness falls upon her. My routine doesn’t falter, it can’t falter, yet my mind is far away. When my thick thighs bring me closer to the end of the stage, I get a really good look at her.

Her jaw is so well-defined, it must have been chiseled from marble. The spirals hang from her head to cover her face ever so slightly, though the shaved sides keep her features open. Her eyes are so dark, they appear black instead of brown and right now, they’re set hard, focused on my figure.

She’s surrounded by the same women who accompanied her at the restaurant moments ago and they too can’t help but be entranced by me. My mind is telling me to take advantage of this opportunity, to get close, and I give in to the thoughts.

My legs sweep over the edge of the stage, and I climb down, not having to hop far due to the insane height of Indigo’s shoes. Her stare should be deemed rude, but I’m eating it up. I sway to her lap and make it my seat, straddling her thin waist. Throwing my head to the side, I allow my hair to mask my mouth, not wanting anyone to read our conversation.

“It’s nice to see you again,” I whisper, lips brushing her ear and the girl inhales deeply but doesn’t speak. “You know my real name. That’s a problem here. I think I ought to know yours.”

“Sh-Sh-Shuri,” she stutters out. Lifting to my feet, I walk back to the stage and finish my set in a split on the cold floor, giving Shuri an eyeful. Her orbs grow, almost bugging out of her head, and with a sly smile, I leave, returning to Indigo who’s still in the dressing room, now lighting a tightly wrapped blunt.

“I will never understand how your confidence shifts when you’re on stage versus when you’re not,” she says through the smoke.

“It’s a talent,” I shrug, taking the seat next to her. “Pass.”

She hands the joint over, and I take a deep drag, eyes shut with my mind still on Shuri. The odds that she was here right now were second to none. “What you thinking bout?” Indigo asks, reaching over to pluck the blunt from my fingers.

“There’s this girl out there. She was at the restaurant tonight too, flirting hard as hell, but here, I seem to have her speechless.”

Indi’s head lifts from the headrest momentarily. “Is she fine?”

“She looks like a greek god.”

My friend sucks her teeth in response. “You always get the good-looking ones. You wanna share?”

“Nah, one look at you and she won’t want me anymore,” I reply, eyes closing again.

“Shut up,” Indigo retorts. At the same moment, mama walks in. “Good set, Desire. You still owe me an extra one, but right now, you’ve got a private dance. Room 7.”

With a quick nod, I stand to my feet. I already have a feeling as to who it is and I’m unsurprised when I enter room 7 and see Shuri already seated on the couch at the back of the room. She stands when she notices my presence and it catches me off guard.

“Sit. You actually need to be sitting for this, at least in order for me to do my job correctly.”

My voice seems to have her hushed, but she sits as told. “I, um. You don’t have to dance for me. I just wanted your time. I’ll pay, of course, more than what you’re asking, but something about you all night has just been captivating.”

Captivating comes out breathy and I’m at a loss for words at hers. “You wanna pay me to spend time with you?

She’s nervous when her head bobs with her bottom lip pulled into her mouth, biting hard. “If that’s okay, of course,” she stumbles. “I-I don’t want to insult your work, the taste I got out there was pretty fantastic, but something is calling me to just get to know you.”

There’s a heat in my cheeks and a fury in my stomach. “Yeah, yeah, Shuri. We can talk.”

I sit next to the nervous girl and face her. She’s really cute when she’s fumbling around like this. And she’s fumbling over me. Shuri speaks first, “So you work as a stri-a dancer? And a waitress?”

“You don’t have to be afraid to say stripper. That’s what I am. Yeah, I work both. Waitress from 3 pm to 8 pm, stripping from 8:15 pm to 3 am. Class in between.”

Her eyebrows crinkle as her face frowns. “Class? So you’re a student?”

“Mhm. I go to NYU.”

“What is your major?” she rattles off.

“African-American Studies. Minoring in Dramatic Writing.”

Those eyebrows jump back to the top at her face, impressed, but they return to their scowl.

“How are you managing two jobs and being a full-time college student,” she asks, clearly concerned.

I allow myself to shrug. “I’m dedicated to it.”

“You definitely are.”

Shuri’s hand reaches across the couch, inching towards mine, but too nervous to grab hold.

I beat her to the action, placing her hand in my own and scooting closer. “Do I get to ask you questions now?”

A grimace passes over her face so quickly, I think I imagine it. “I suppose so.”

“Your accent tells me you’re not from New York. Somewhere in Africa, I’m guessing?” She nods a confirmation. “Where?”

“Wakanda,” she returns, and suddenly I put two and two together.

With a quick release of her hand, I jump to my feet, forgetting the death traps I was standing on. My ankle rolls underneath me and my body descends, but just as I’m expecting it to come in contact with the hard floor, I instead feel an arm wrap around my waist, steadying my fall.

When I look up at my rescuer, I’m utterly speechless. “You’re Princess Shuri,” I whisper-shout. Shuri’s eyes aren’t on mine, instead trained on something a bit lower that’s got her mouth opening and closing and tripping over her words.

Meeting her gaze, I notice my breasts exposed, the fabric of my leotard having shifted during my tumble. Hurriedly, I pull the black band back down, arms quick to cross my chest. “Shit, Your Majesty, I’m so, so sorry. This is so indecent,” I glance around, desperately searching for something to use as a cover-up.

Shuri picks up on my actions, unbuttoning and removing her blazer and placing it around my naked body. “No, no it is okay. Please, drop the ‘your majesty’. You called me Shuri before.”

“That was before I realized I was talking to royalty. I’m so sorry."

The Princess's eyes were desperate, begging me to return things to how they were before. I look around before sitting on the couch again.

“You sure just Shuri is okay? I don’t want to be rude…”

She drops to her knees in front of me and takes my feet in her hands, beginning to unlace the damned shoes from them.

“Just Shuri was okay before; it’s more than okay now.”

Her words sink in. “Okay, Shuri. Why are you in New York?”

A small smile returns to her pretty face. “Just some business with the Avengers.”

Wow, I really had the Princess of Wakanda, the Black Panther, a freaking Avenger, seated at my feet instead of me bowing at hers. Once she’s removed the footwear, Shuri takes my sore and bruised foot in her hand and begins to dig her digits into them. “I hope I am not being too forward. I hate seeing anyone in pain.”

“No worries,” is the last thing that leaves my mouth before she interrupts me again.

“Desire is a fitting name for you.”

“What? Why do you say that?” I’m interested in her words.

“You have this energy surrounding you. It’s been pulling me in all night. I barely even know you, yet I’m craving you. I desire you.”

“Oh,” I gasp, flattered beyond belief. My stomach is turning, my attraction for the royal at its peak.

“Well, I-I didn’t choose the name. Indigo chose it for me.”

“Indigo? Do you have a girlfriend?” Her hands drop, ready to friendzone herself before I even answer.

“No, God, no,” I laugh at the idea. “Indigo is another dancer here. She’s my best friend.”

She grins like a Cheshire cat. “Good.”

“Good?” I ask. “Why good?”

“Because I don’t want to have to compete with someone for your heart.”

“My heart?” her words are hypnotizing, pulling me in and holding me tight. “You want my heart?”

“No, y/n. I desire it.”

Masterlist

[lensman-arms-race]

Episode 77 part 2

Spoiler free:

Haha, this is like videogames

Hmmm! Lore drop!

Haha, oh no

What

Spoilers ahead!

As always, it's funny as hell that dead toilets explode on impact, as though they're made of some sort of Explodium material.

Rambo is very oily/sweaty now - I think DFB is definitely doing fan-service for the mutant trio fans :D

I don't really understand how suddenly the goodies are able to kick Astro ass (asstro) all of a sudden, when previously the Astros were too powerful. Plot armour?

Swat using his khopeshes as a ranged weapon is very videogames, haha.

Swat gives us a literal lore drop (dropping his tablet on the ground, which POV picks up and looks at).

This tells us several things and is worth the entire episode!

The character indicated with a question mark appears to be Secret Agent to me; it looks like the figure from the poster in episode 70:

I'm not great with faces, but that's Secret Agent, isn't it?

But why is he marked with a question mark?? Presumably Swat knows SA was Alpha Hills administrator, because the skibs had this poster we saw in episode 70. Who added the question mark?

But the title? Special Government Objects Defence Service? What 'objects' was the government defending against??

Does this mean techfolk were hostile to humans at this point, or were the defence service experimenting with using objects themselves, and accidentally created/became skibidi toilets?

Also, the 3 defence service members with uncovered faces - again, I'm bad with faces, but are those not the mutant trio??

The implications!!

We then get to see a large cam who looks very like a mini TCam! (Ignoring that 'miniature titan' is an oxymoron.) There's the shoulder cams, the dented lens protector, the energy shield, the backpack hardware resembling the titan's flight-pack, the big-ass chainsword acting as melee weapon in an echo of TCam's hammer, and an Ol' Painless-style gun that the cam uses on its arm like TCam does. (Chainsaws are not great as a melee weapon in real life, but hey, Rule of Cool.)

They've got a similar outfit to the two salmon-shirts. Lucky is already accounted for (currently under arrest), and we haven't seen 'Karl' (the black-headed salmon-shirt cam) for ages. Did he get an upgrade??

I'm wondering if this cam is going to be the narrative substitute for Plunk, i.e. this will become the elite Cam unit. And are we going to see a similar unit for the Speaker faction? (The TVs already have Sabre.)

We all noticed Kitty Cam, right?

I love how the Cams' lens-protectors catch the orange light and momentarily visually echo the amber eyes of the mutant trio. It's a little cinematic flair that hammers home how the two factions have joined forces!

The other cam might be the Plunk-lookalike we saw in leaks. It seems more Cams are getting the same cyan torch that Plunk had.

Then we get to see what made Rambo say 'damn!' (Not quite a spoiler because it was in the episode thumbnail.)

Cam Matriarch got some upgrades! I really hope she can still do that thing where she retracts her head like a turtle and brings out her time-slowing flechette cannon. The extra cannons are 'cool' but her previous appearance had a unique charm to me.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate

I hate this

Chew my bum

This is not allowed to be the truth

Hate hate hate hate hate

I don't want the robots to be transformed humans! I hate this idea and I will hate it forever!

I appreciate the extra bit of lore - "As one, to the end." (But it doesn't sound like Cathy's previous voice! Boo!) Who exactly is POV cam in this episode?

Summary: Good lore drop but HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE

[solidwater05]

Hermitcraft Enjoyer spotted

Give me yuor Ramblings

(/nf ofc)

Yay!! Here's my nonhuman headcanons for everyone I watch!

Mumbo is an android! He's completely human-passing, he tends to do things the 'human way' (building things instead of modifying himself), and he has never ever mentioned that he's a robot, so everyone thinks that he's a really weird human. He does not know of human concepts like 'fear of death'. Nobody understands why he never got redstone poisoning despite his complete lack of PPE. It's just because he's not organic

Grian is a parrot avian ofc but he also gained cod-like traits when he started spending more time near the ocean. It happens

Gem was human at the start of the season, but she's an anglerfish hybrid now! Same reason as Grian

Doc being a creeper goat cyborg thing is canon so I'll share a little hc on his cybernetic enhancements. He can detect redstone signals! It allows him to locate problems with his machines without having to look around, saves a lot of time. A side effect of this is that he knows that Mumbo is an android because he can detect his redstone!

Etho is a phantom hybrid! He needs very little sleep and he still manages to be sleep deprived. He doesn't use fire res potions to protect himself from the sun, instead he wears his clothes over his wings. He says that it works perfectly, so why would he change it?

Tango. blaze. we all know this one. He doesn't take any special precautions around water. In fact, he forgets that water is a thing until it starts raining and then he screams really loud about it

Pearl is a shapeshifting salmon! She enjoys her human form, but she will correct anyone who calls her a human because she's actually a fish

Joel is a moth hybrid. Yes, he does like lights. Just look at his base!

Well Cub being a vex isn't exactly a headcanon is it. Specifically I hc that he used to be human and became a vex later on, while Scar was born a vex! (the cannibalism is unrelated to this. there's just something wrong with him)