#but I do have something to say about the way people think buying Harry (or whoever's) merch or tickets or whatever

[cupid-styles]

golf (sugar daddy h)

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: spicy but no smut, dirty talk, degradation, exhibitionism if you squint

sugar daddy h masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Mia doesn't care about golf. 

Not once in her life has she ever thought it was a fascinating sport. There are some sports, like hockey or baseball, that, at the very least, seem hot, if not a little attractive, but golf isn't one of those. 

And of course, Harry loves to golf.

It's nothing against him, really. If she's being honest, in her eyes, golf is a rich man's sport. Since they started seeing each other months ago, Harry has always made it a point to go golfing at least once a week. He has a membership to a country club nearby and either goes by himself, with his friends, or takes business partners there, where they spend the day drinking and hitting balls and whatever else wealthy people do at country clubs.

Mia wouldn't know because she's never gone and, quite frankly, she never wants to go. 

She adores Harry. She really, truly does, but being a frequent attender of the country club to play such a silly, boring sport just serves as another class barrier between them. Harry grew up going to golf camp, for crying out loud! Mia spent her summers working at the local ice cream shop, where she got paid $7 an hour to get yelled at by angry parents because she was only allowed to let their kids taste three flavors before they had to buy something.

So when Harry asks if she wants to spend her Saturday golfing with him at the club, she tries to come up with a million excuses as to why she can't. But because he's him, and he has a pretty face and a soothing voice and he threw in the prospect of spoiling her with a massage at the spa after they finished their game, she can't find it in her to say no. 

Harry has a business dinner the night before so Mia sleeps at her own place, which she's kind of surprised with, to be honest. (She anticipated him asking her to stay over so she didn't have a chance to get out of it.) Even despite the text he sent her at 11:40 pm to let her know that he got home safely (that's basically 2 am in Harry time), he shows up to her house in his golf clothes at 9 am on the dot, breakfast and coffee in hand. 

Mia has to physically drag herself out of bed to let him in, a scowl on her face, even though he went out of his way to go to her favorite bagel shop. 

"Morning, grumpy," he greets cheekily, smushing a kiss to her cheek. He doesn't even bother toeing his shoes off like he normally does, instead giving her bum a soft pat when she turns back around, "We have reservations at the club for 10, so you should go get dressed. You can eat in the car."

"Are you sure you want me to go?" Mia asks, and Harry has to ignore the slight hopefulness to her tone, "I've never even played golf before, I don't think I'll be very good—"

"It's not about being good, honey, I just want to spend the day with you. Show you off, y'know?" he leans forward to press a kiss to her temple before ducking down to catch her ear. "Now be good and go get dressed."

He doesn't catch the narrowing of her eyes as she reluctantly heads back to her bedroom, where she grabs the stupid golf outfit he insisted on buying her for this very occasion. She told him she was fine with wearing leggings and a tee-shirt, but he explained to her that there was a certain etiquette that came with golf, which included clothing. (Like Mia said, it's a rich man's sport.) So he bought her a short little skirt and a workout top and, if she's being frank, she's not sure if it's not more for him than it is for the game itself. 

She tried it on a few days ago when he brought it over and she batted at his chest when she saw the length of the skirt on her — unlike those trendy workout skorts that had spandex shorts underneath, the pleats of the one Harry purchased barely went down to the tops of her thighs. With a grumble, she said she'd just wear boyshorts to make sure no one "saw the goods."

But now that she's getting dressed for their golf day, she thinks she has a better idea. 

. . . 

Mia sucks at golf.

Harry keeps trying to encourage her and help her, but they're on hole 8 of 18, and she's exhausted. It's warm, she's sweaty, and Harry's beating her ass in the game. (What else would you expect from someone who spent their summer vacations playing every day?) 

"You got this, baby," he says, giving her waist a small squeeze as they approach hole nine. She rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses, rolling out her wrist in an effort to get rid of the cramps. "Do you still need me to help you?"

Just as she's about to say yes, she remembers the impulsive decision she made this morning. And she realizes she knows exactly how to get this game to end. 

"Actually, I think I can do it," she replies with a smile, jumping out from the golf cart. "Will you just stand behind me and make sure I'm doing it right?"

Harry's pleasantly surprised but nods his head, a zip of enthusiasm firing through his chest. He follows her out and stands with his hands on his hips as she sets herself up, trying to find her stance. 

Per Harry's instructions, she leans over just slightly, a small bend in her knees. And that's when he sees it. 

She's not wearing anything underneath her skirt. 

"Mia," he growls, ambling towards her to cover her from behind, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Um, I think it's called teeing off? That's what you said, anyway—"

"Not that," he mutters, a protective hand squeezing her hip. He glances around them to make sure no one's watching them as his fingers dance down to the hem of her skirt, gently pulling it down. "Why aren't you wearing any underwear, Mia?"

"Ohhhh, that?" she asks, turning in his grasp. "I must've forgotten them. I'm sorry."

She has a look of false innocence on her face, her eyes rounded slightly and her lips pouted as if she was truly making a genuine apology. He's seething — he wants nothing more than to bend her over his knee and issue loud, harsh smacks to her ass, but he thinks she would like that too much. 

"You're such a fucking slut." he mumbles angrily, his jaw clenching. He grabs the golf club from her hand and uses his other to yank her back in the direction of the golf cart, a surprised yelp sounding from her mouth. "Are you that much of a brat that you've been walking around with your pussy out all day?"

She shrugs nonchalantly as she climbs into the golf cart. Harry rolls his eyes and shifts the key into the ignition, starting the machine back up. 

"Guess you'll just have to take me home, then," Mia replies with a sigh. Harry snorts and shakes his head. 

"You fucking wish," he says. She blinks at him. "No, baby. I'm gonna take you into one of those private bathrooms, edge you until you're crying, and then we're gonna finish this game."

Mia's eyes widen, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as he drives over a bump in the road. 

"Good thing I brought that nifty little remote control vibrator with me," he continues with a smirk. "Had a feeling you'd be a fuckin' brat today."

Mia doesn't know if she's ever regretted something so much before.

[boldlyvoid]

Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some. 

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope. 

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her. 

“Really?” 

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on. 

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it. 

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one. 

He nods, “a few.” 

“anyone good?” 

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.” 

She looks puzzled? “What?” 

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers. 

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?” 

“I think so…” 

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever. 

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away. 

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can. 

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail. 

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.” 

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them. 

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.” 

“That they do,” he agrees. 

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over. 

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history. 

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house. 

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.” 

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to. 

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss. 

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks’ character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart. 

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad… 

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that. 

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed. 

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut. 

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” 

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.” 

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?” 

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses. 

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one. 

— 

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies. 

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York. 

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.” 

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!” 

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off. 

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…” 

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?” 

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.” 

“Okay,” they drop it there. 

Thankfully. 

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her. 

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message. 

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.” 

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?” 

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.” 

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer. 

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.” 

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.” 

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?” 

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously. 

“No reason. Just a hunch.” 

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know. 

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York. 

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers. 

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.  

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.” 

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means. 

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure. 

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know. 

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string. 

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

[gucciwins]

something new

wembley brings love and celebration 

Word count: 5190

A/N: posting something for the first time in months (since april) and I am very excited for you to read.  please let me know what you think. I enjoyed writing and promise I'm already working on the next thing 💜 asks

_____

Wembley Stadium.

It’s a place you had heard many stories about and even attended a show in 2019 as a gift for your father to watch his favorite band, Fleetwood Mac. This entire week has been remarkable, but tonight is the final night. You are here supporting your boyfriend, Harry, and because it’s the last night, there will be a celebration after with the attendance of everyone who knows Harry from family, friends, and workers.

When you first met Harry, you didn’t know he was Harry Styles. Many people would ask how you could not recognize the Harry Styles, but when you met him, he had a full beard and hair full of messy curls. He was dressed in mini running shorts wearing a black jumper and bright running shoes. The reason you spoke to him was his shoes. This brand is known for its style of color combination and lightness in weight, making it the running shoe. You had been debating buying a pair, and his looked well-loved. It wouldn’t hurt to hear an opinion from someone who wasn’t an online user.

“Excuse me,” you called out softly behind him.

He jumps and moves away from the counter. “Sorry, was I in your way?”

You do your best not to melt hearing his deep voice; it was comforting for some odd reason. You smile and shake your head. “No, uh, actually. I’m sorry to bother you. This is actually such a silly question now.” You pause, debating walking away while you can, but he encourages you to continue. “It’s about your shoes. Are the Hoka’s worth it? The online reviews have not been able to convince me, and I’ve read too many articles at this point. Yours look like they’ve seen a few miles,” you point out.

Harry looks down at his shoes and laughs, “so they do.” He meets your eye, stepping closer and away from the counter. “I’m on my fourth pair,” he confesses sheepishly.

You wince, knowing the price for these shoes is not cheap. “Are you constantly running? Are they easily worn out?”

His face reddens, and he fiddles with his necklace. “No, uh…I like having more options to match my outfits.”

You laugh, “that makes sense.” You pause. “Does that mean picking my first pair will be harder? I saved for one pair, and my pocket will hurt if I decide to bite the bullet.”

“I debated a few choices at my computer and ultimately bought two pairs. They were orange and yellow. Bondi are a good first choice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You notice the barista, Lily sliding a coffee on the counter and gesturing it’s his, meaning it’s time for you to go. “Sorry for bothering you, but this was very helpful. Sorry, I never got your name. I’m Y/N.”

“Harry. It was no bother.”

You doubt that.

“Bye, Harry.” You collect your bag and walk out, knowing you were going to overthink buying these shoes, and Harry would never leave your mind.

To no surprise, you’re back at your favorite coffee shop the following day, but this time dressed in your favorite jeans and a cardigan your grandma helped you knit over the summer last year. It’s pastel pink with flowers placed randomly all over. You didn’t dress cute for a guy. You dressed cute for yourself. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Lily is a good friend, and after walking your iced latte to your table, she sat down for a moment.

“Nice conversation yesterday?” She ponders.

“Mhm…nice fellow.”

“Was surprised you bothered him?”

You look at her, confused. “Was it rude of me?”

“Some would say so.”

“I’m confused. We talked about shoes. What did I do wrong?”

Lily stares at you, trying to see if you’re joking. “Y/N, be serious.”

“I am.”

She looks around, leaning closer. “You spoke to Harry Styles. Popstar sensation. Most loved man on the earth.” Lily sees you processing her words, and before you can make rebuttals, she pulls her phone out and shows you a photo of Harry, the guy you met, under a Harry Styles update page.

“Well, shit!”

“Yeah, he at least looks interested in your conversation.”

You roll your eyes, “geeze, Lily, thanks for making it seem like it’s awful to talk with me.”

“Not what I meant,” she apologizes.

“It’s fine. The beard threw me off.”

“He’s a regular here. Comes every other day.” Lily excuses herself needing to get back to work, and with that reassurance, he wouldn’t be coming in; you enjoy your coffee.

You took out your laptop and began to work while keeping an eye on the door. Pretty soon, you got deep into your research and didn’t even notice when the door chimed, signaling someone knew had entered.

“You look really focused. Are you working?” Harry had walked up to your table, startling you.

The truth was you were not working, although you should have been; it was a Wednesday morning. You feel your cheeks warm up, knowing you’ve been caught. “Won’t lie to you, Harry. I’m looking at shoes.” You turn your screen to let him see you have a page pulled up for running shoes with multiple open tabs.

Harry laughs in surprise and gestures to the empty seat to join you. You move your bag, and he happily slides in. You move your laptop closer to him, giving him a better view.

“Those are cute.” You had been looking at a lilac pair.

“Right! But look at these.”

Harry frowns when you switch the screen to display a cherry-pink design. “Now, that’s a tough choice.”

“Ugh…I know. I’ve been alternating back and forth.”

“Okay, close your eyes,” he orders.

You look at him skeptically but do as he says.

“It’s a sunny day which is just a miracle here in London,” you laugh, and he continues. “You’re out on a walk deciding where to go for the day when a stranger points out your shoe is untied. You bend down to tie it. Now what color are your shoes?”

“Purple,” you answer without thinking.

“Well, there you go.”

“That was helpful, Harry. Thank you. Are you a therapist or something?”

“In another life, I would be.”

“Well, what do you do now?” You ask, genuinely interested.

Harry looks at you, confused as if you’re really asking the question. “I sing for a living. Uh…” he feels embarrassed sharing this for some reason. “I go on stage and perform.”

You frown, looking at him closer. “From my eye level, you look like a rugged Harry Styles.”

Harry looks amused. “Rugged. Huh, I thought the beard was good.”

“It is,” you quickly agree. “Sorry, I’m used to seeing videos of him—well, you clean-shaven.”

“I’m on a break. It’s a nice way to let go.”

Right.

You were at a crossroads now because you liked Harry. He was friendly and easy to speak with, but would this new information change everything for you?

“Maybe we can go on a run when your shoes arrive?” Harry suggested.

Your eyes lit up, “really?”

“Mhmm…I like running around the park.”

“Oh, I love finding new trails,” you gushed. “I bet you have found the best-hidden roads.”

Harry shrugs, “we’ll have to see.”

“Uh… I’m sorry for not recognizing you. I don’t know if that was weird or not.” You decide to apologize.

“You’re fine, Y/N. When you came up to me, I thought you wanted a photo, but clearly, my shoes were more interesting,” he teased. “It was nice being just Harry.”

You smile sheepishly at him, “you’re still Harry to me. Feel like you’ll turn into Harry Styles when you’re clean-shaven on stage.”

“Not for a few weeks, then. I have shows in Los Angeles at the end of January,” he tells you because he wants to bask in being just Harry for a few weeks more.

“Oh, fun,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“Mhmm…” Harry waits for you to ask more, but instead, you turn the conversation to his workout routine.

From then on, conversation flows easily. You tell Harry you’re the oldest of three. Two younger brothers who live to embarrass you whenever they get the chance but love when you drive them around. You tell him about your job in publishing and that you worked your way up to being an editor. It’s a job you love dearly. Harry lets you ramble on, asking questions and wanting to learn more. He learns you’re allergic to mushrooms. Your first tattoo was a cherry you got at eighteen on an impulsive night out. That you’re the only family member in generations to be born left-handed.

Harry shares that he loves to travel because it gives him a place to miss and come home. He loves his sister and calls her his best friend. That he’s too competitive and loves a long game of Scrabble. He dreams of having a pet dog but does not want to commit when his life is on the road. You mention your family dog, Woodstock, named after the iconic yellow bird from the Peanuts comics. A yellow Labrador who runs up to strangers, always asking for belly rubs. You promise to take him to visit.

Your friendship with Harry grew from there. You would meet most mornings outside the coffee shop for a run and then for a coffee that turned into hours of conversation. You liked Harry and reckoned you liked him more than a friend, but there was no way you would change that dynamic and instead settle to be his friend. When Harry showed up one day clean-shaven, you were taken aback because it made him look younger, and it was as if you were seeing him for the first time.

“Don’t recognize me anymore,” he teases.

“I could spot those green eyes in a sea of people,” you promise him.

Come April, a shift in your dynamic happened. Harry wanted you to work out with him and his trainer. You thought he was crazy, but really Harry was dying for you to meet his friends. They couldn’t stop teasing him that you were made up.

“Harry!”

You both turned and found a man in a white shirt and shorts, similar to Harry, approaching you. Harry welcomed him in a hug before going to stand next to you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Brad.”

Brad shot you a smile, “pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

“It’s nice to put a face to a name. He can’t shut up about you,” Brad confesses.

“Oi! Stop that.” Harry frowns, but you can tell he doesn’t mind.

You end up having the worst workout of your life. Brad, not taking a moment of pity for you until he finally called it quits an hour later. You threw yourself on the grass, closed your eyes, and took slow breaths. You heard Harry laughing above you but did not acknowledge him.

“Come on, petal. I’ll buy you a coffee,” Harry offered.

You peeked one eye open, “and a scone?”

“I’ll get you all the goods you want,” Brad chimes in. “You were a trooper out there.”

“Fuck, I never want to work out with you again,” you huff.

“Don’t think we will if he has a say,” Brad points to Harry. “Never seen him so angry.”

“She’s my friend. Didn’t want to explain her death to her parents.”

After that, it seemed you only saw more of each other until one night at your home, Harry made a move you didn’t see coming. After the film finished, Harry turned serious.

“Y/N?”

“Harry, what is it?” You ask, concerned.

“I like you.”

You sigh in relief, “gosh, you scared me. I like you too, silly. You’re my best friend.”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Heard you loud and clear.”

He sighs, frustrated. “These last few months as your friend have been amazing. I feel so lucky you approached me to talk about shoes. While I enjoy being your friend every time we get together, these feelings I have continue to grow, and I can no longer keep them to myself. I like you, and I want to see where this goes.”

You sit there shocked because you never expected Harry to reciprocate your feelings, but he is pouring his heart out for you. “Harry,” you breathed out. “I-I-I like you too. I have for some time, but I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Me either, but Brad said a person as amazing as you would not wait around for me.”

You laugh, “tell him I’m a fool because I think I would have waited a lifetime for you.”

“I know it’s too soon to ask you to be my girlfriend seeing as we haven’t been on a date, but—”

You interrupt him. “Why can’t we say this is our first date? If we think about it, every time we have spent together could be considered a date.”

“Do you end a first date with a kiss?” He asks sheepishly.

“Only if it’s you,” you promise him.

When your wine-stained lips meet his, you feel a wave of peace surround you knowing that it might be soon, but the universe sent Harry to you. He was your other half. He made you better. You pulled him closer, loving the closeness this kiss brought you. Harry sighed, ending the kiss. You went in for a second kiss needing more of him for a little longer.

“Petal, baby. I’m here,” he spoke against your lips.

You giggled out of breath. “Sorry, I think I like you a little too much.”

Harry leaned his forehead against you. “I feel the same.”

“Good, let’s kiss some more and then have a sleepover.”

“Don’t you think it’s too soon, petal?” Harry asked.

You frowned, “you slept here two nights ago.”

Harry sighed, “you’re right.”

It wasn’t until a week later you made it official. Life was perfect, and you were happy. Harry knew starting a relationship as he began touring wasn’t the smartest option, but he was close to home and promised to check in at every chance. In each city he visited, he picked up a souvenir for you as a reminder he was thinking of you. It was cheesy, but he wrote you postcards from each city because even though they wouldn’t arrive quickly, they would remind you of him when you did receive them. It only made you like him more and knew you were falling in love quickly. There was no stopping it.

While you joined him at his special show at Slane Castle, you didn’t have the chance to meet many of his family, mainly only the band. They welcomed you with open arms, and how Harry never stops talking about you. It made you nervous. You hoped to live up to his words because these people and his band members meant the world to Harry.

____

Now being here to celebrate four sold-out nights at Wembley, it felt overwhelming knowing Harry’s entire family and friends from his childhood would be here. You’ve known Harry for months but loved him like he’s always been yours. It was a joyous day, but even that wouldn’t take away your nerves for the final night of seeing Harry shine on stage.

“No one is going to believe I didn’t recognize you when we first met,”  you tell him as the driver drove down a road that arrives at the back of Wembley, away from the crowd.

“Course they will.”

You give him a deadpan look, “you’re basically the face of the UK. A prince, some would say.” You sit up and clear your throat. “Oh, how’d we meet. Well, I met him at a coffee shop and asked him about his shoes.” You rolled your eyes, “sounds fake to me.”

“Good thing it’s the truth. Plus, I thought you were cute. Would have never worked up the courage to walk up to you, though.”

“Stop. You’re only saying that.”

“Nope, I mean it. Brad and the band like you.”

“I hope they do,” you muttered. “Only people I’ve met now. I’m meeting everyone.”

“You met Mum and Gem,” Harry reminds you. “Spent time with them for three nights.”

You sigh because, for a moment, you feel Harry doesn’t understand how overwhelming this is. Everyone here knows Harry. They know Harry from Holmes Chapel, and they know the amazing person he is. You feel happy to know and love him, but they’ve got a lifetime of Harry, and you’ve got months. It differs for everyone because you would move mountains to ensure he was happy. Except, everyone doesn’t know that. They don’t know you.

“Y/N, petal will you look at me,” he begs softly.

You take a deep breath and allow yourself to meet his emerald eyes. Harry takes in the worry shining bright, and smiles. “Petal, I love you. I know you love me. You remind me every moment we’re together and when I’m away. I don’t doubt it. My family knows you, maybe not your physical form, but they have heard stories and seen endless pictures. They will love you because I love you. If you get overwhelmed, you can always sit back and watch, they’ll understand. Most importantly, I will understand. I wish I could hold you as Mum introduces you to everyone. I told her to hold off, but she’s excited. Brad will be on the floor, and I know you enjoy that. You’re in safe hands.”

“I love you. Thank you. I know it’s your day, and I’m making it all about me.”

Harry shushes you, “hey, hey. We’re a team. Your feelings are just as important as mine. Now give me a kiss.”

You loved him, simple as that. He was the missing piece in your life.

___

The show was like no other. Harry, from the moment he got on stage, radiated happiness. The fans were the loudest they had been all week, filling you with so much joy. Anne told you to join her at the family box, but you decided to be on the floor as close to Harry as possible by the Jonny pod; you noticed Harry favored the side more, knowing his dear friend was in the audience tonight. From surprise songs to dancing and Mitch receiving his Grammy, you knew it would be a night you would never forget. As Harry began his encore with “Sign of the Times,” the rain started falling, and so did your tears. The fact that over 90 thousand people were here for Harry said enough. They chose to spend their evening with him, and he delivered to make it memorable.

You didn’t even notice that Brad captured a photo of you staring at Harry on stage with a giant smile and hands over your heart you would only see later when Harry made it his lock screen. Harry thanks the crowd for a magical night stating over and over again that he’s never been happier.

Brad wraps an arm around you and walks you towards Harry, who’s sharing long hugs and meaningful words with his bandmates. This is the man you love, and there’s nothing you’d change about it. You followed Harry to the dressing room, wanting a moment alone before the madness. Harry bounces around quickly to change, removing the overalls and shimming them down his waist. He slips on shorts, throws on a random shirt, and puts on his new Adidas Love on Tour sweater with his initials.

You lean against the door admiring him in all his glory. He didn’t bother for a shower, too eager to see everyone.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper. “I know it might not mean much, but I am.”

Harry pauses, finishes tying his shoe, and walks over to you. He stops before you, his hands finding a home on your cheeks. “It means the world. Don’t ever think it doesn’t. We might only have been together for two months, but my heart has loved you my entire life. You being here is enough. I could feel your love from the stage.”

He connects your lips together, and you melt against him. Harry breathes life into you, and you never want him to stop. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Harry. So much.”

“Good. Let’s go mingle.” You move away from the door and make your way outside when he tugs you back in. “Forgot one last thing.”

He hurries over to his bag, pulls out an identical sweater, and hands it to you. You accept it moving and look it over. Your eyes quickly find your initials on the right side, similar to his.

“Harry—this isn’t necessary.”

Harry shrugs, “it was your idea.”

You don’t fight him as he slips off your red leather jacket and helps you slip on the thin material. He fixes the collar making sure none of your hair is tucked under. Harry decides you look good, giving you a pat on the butt. “Now we can go.”

Harry held your hand as you walked over to the area Jeff had set up for the celebration. He mentioned there would be another location later in the night, but it would be good to let the crowds outside die out. On your walk over, Harry told you about outfits and signs he saw in the crowd. How overwhelmed he came when the rain came down. He felt at home.

You expressed how much fun you had, told Harry how Jeff and Tommy taught you the boot scoot during “Treat People,” and assured him many videos of your failed attempt were taken. Harry paused outside the door where you could hear the loud chatter, and you knew what was waiting for you behind those doors. Harry shoots you a look, and you give him a reassuring smile letting him know it’s okay to go in.

The cheers are loud when the man of the hour walks in. Everyone was quick to gather around him. You try to sneak away, but his grip on your hand stays tight. Every person who thanks him, he makes sure to introduce you.

“Love, go celebrate. It’s alright. I’ll be fine,” you tell him in a low voice.

Harry shakes his head, instead kissing you and pulling you along to meet and chat with new people. You felt a bit overwhelmed, but everyone has been so sweet. They asked where you were from? Scotland. What was your job? An editor. How did you meet? Coffee Shop. How proud were you? Immensely.

You kept trying to hang back, but Harry seemed to notice when you drifted away. He would kiss you and ask for your input in the conversation. You told him you were getting a drink and would be back momentarily, except you got a vodka cranberry and hid in a corner. Harry found you when your drink was half gone.

“Babyyy,” he called out. “Missed you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as he wrapped himself around you. He moved you away from the wall, making you face the crowd, his hands around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You lean against him, happy to be wrapped in his arms, feeling safe. “I love you, bub.”

Harry takes a sip of your drink and hums at the bitterness of the cranberry. He knows you’re a social drinker because it allows you to relax and not be as anxious. You and Harry get lost in your world as you let him talk your ear off. He tells you about people around the room, who they are, and how they’ve helped them. Surprisingly, Harry can name everyone in the room, though it shouldn’t shock you much. It’s just the type of person he is.

Your boyfriend is an affectionate person. He loves having a hand on the small of your back or your hand in his. He wants to be close because he says he wants makeup when he’s away. Some would say it makes him look clingy, but lucky for you, you love his touch; it’s comforting. You could feel his smile against your skin as he planted kisses on your face.

Even while in your corner, people come up to you. When they see Harry begin to kiss your shoulder or whisper in your ear, they excuse themselves. You can’t help but feel you are keeping Harry from celebrating with everyone, not realizing he’s happy to celebrate with you in his arms.

“Harry! Sue!” Is yelled from across the room. You see a short, dirty-haired blonde yell and wave for him, but Harry is too busy peppering kisses all over your neck to realize.

“Bubby, love. They’re calling for you.”

He hums against your neck. “I’m perfect here.”

You sigh because the yelling continues, and you’re starting to feel overwhelmed because he’s not celebrating. Instead, Harry is ensuring you’re not nervous, which seems like the most boring job in the world. He should be taking shots with friends and telling stories about the last four nights.

“Go on, I’ll be right behind you,” you promise him.

Harry tightens his hold on you, “baby, you sure?”

“Yes, no go. I’ll even bring you a drink.”

“Te–”

“Tequila neat,” you tease. “I know you.”

Harry pecks your lips once, twice, and a third time before making his way across the room, but not before looking over his shoulder one last time at you. You shoot him a wink and exaggerate, looking at his bum and making him laugh. He moves his hips a little extra just for you. As Harry easily falls into the conversation, you use this moment as an opportunity for a breather.

You were alone for around five minutes when you heard footsteps coming your way. You were in a corridor that led you out to the stage if you continued walking down but stopped halfway, knowing no one would come this way. You were wrong.

Harry is who you expected to see, but to your surprise, it’s Gemma, his older sister.

“Hi,” you greet softly. The conversations with Gemma have been short, but from what you can tell, she’s wise beyond her years and always ready to listen.

“You okay?” She asks, straight to the point.

“A bit loud,” you gesture towards the hallway where the music can still be heard.

She nods, “I get that.” Gemma looks around before moving to stand next to you shoulder to shoulder. “Are you okay?” She asks again.

You sigh, “I—i-i.”

“A bit much for a family gathering.”

“A bit,” you exhale, knowing Gemma understands what you might be feeling.

“It’s the perfect opportunity, I feel. I did forget how overwhelming it was. I don’t even remember my boyfriend’s first family gathering.”

“Are you saying I won’t remember this in a few years?”

“Oh, you’re never forgetting tonight.” She smirks, “unless you keep drinking.”

You scrunch your nose at the thought. “Better not.”

The two of you stand in silence, and you know it’s because Gemma is giving you a minute to gather your thoughts.

“I just—I love Harry. I do. I hope you don’t doubt that, but I don’t know how to celebrate when you’ve all been here for him every step of the way. Year after year.”

Gemma deflates, “oh, Y/N.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Gemma cuts you off.

“It’s okay,” she assures you. “It’s difficult because of his job, not because of who he is. But trust me when I say he loves you.” Gemma’s words are firm, and you believe her. As an older sister, you would do anything to protect your siblings but never lie to someone important.

“Harry talks about you every chance he gets. Did you know Y/N ran a marathon? She’s swam with sharks in a reservation center. Y/N’s CPR certified. She edited and helped publish five number-one books this year,” Gemma rambles off. “We all know so much because he’s proud and wants to share it with those close to him.”

“I-I didn’t know.” You let all of this process, but it’s a shock because some of the things Gemma listed mean nothing, but clearly, to him, mean everything.

“Everyone in that room,” Gemma points over her shoulder, “knows who you are and what you mean to him.”

“Everyone?” You whisper. It doesn’t feel real. You’d never been so loved, and it might be why you’re feeling overwhelmed because he wants to bask in your love. It’s not a show; it’s simply his way of showing he loves you in front of everyone he cares about.

“Celebrate how you want but know all we want is to see him happy. It’s clear as day that you make him happy. This is the happiest I’ve seen him, and it’s because of you. Maybe even happier than selling out Wembley.”

“Thank you, Gemma.” She hugs you tight, and it’s so familiar yet different from Harry’s. His is light and full of love, while Gemma’s is tight and warm. “He wrote you a beautiful song.” You’re referring to “Sweet Creature,” which he dedicated to her tonight.

“It’s a special one. Don’t worry. I hear you’ll be getting yours soon enough,” she teases. “I’ll see you inside.”

A few seconds later, someone else joins you. It’s as if your body knows who it is without seeing them because you feel the familiar flutter in your stomach as his smell wraps around you.

“Baby, where did you go?” Harry whines. Baby is a term of endearment that comes out a lot when he’s had more than one to drink. It’s your favorite during these times.

“I’m here,” you open your arms, and he happily falls in your embrace. “I’m proud of you, love.” You run a hand through the back of his head, keeping him close.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Like really proud. You’re so loved. What you do is incredible. I feel so lucky to be able to love you.”

Harry pulls back, and you see his beautiful eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall soon. “I love you.”

You press your lips against his and put all your love into the kiss. You wish you could spend the rest of the night kissing him, but there is more celebrating to do. Harry doesn’t let you pull away, instead deepening the kiss. You melt against him, forgetting your worries and enjoying this moment with him. A moment only for the two of you to remember.

“Let’s keep celebrating, my love,” you whisper against his lips.

“Still nervous?” He checks.

“Only a smidge.”

Harry smiles, “that’s okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

“You won’t let go?”

“Never,” he promises.

As you return to the party holding tight to his hand, he asks an important question. “Can I keep kissing you?”

Your laugh rings loud, echoing through Harry’s heart. You bring your hand up to rest at the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “As much as you like.”

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Friendly Favor

ONE SHOT

<< Request >> "If you take requests for one shots could I please give one ? Soo the good ol’ trope where Harry and you are best friends but he thinks he likes someone else so he asks you to fake date him to make the other person jealous but during the process he realises that he loves you and happy ending . I’d be thrilled if you do write something for this but it not that’s totally cool too thanks anyways and have a great day 😍" - ANON

~~~~~

Summary: When YN's best friend Harry asks for a favor, she knows it'll be difficult, but she loves him too much to say no. However, it's a dumb plan, and those usually don't end how you think they will.

A/N: This is my first fake dating trope fic. Hopefully it came out good.

Warnings: some explicit language, alcohol consumption, jealousy, arguments, fingering, hand/blow job

~~~~~

"I think this might literally be the dumbest idea you've ever had, H!" You laugh, grabbing a french fry from the plate sitting on the couch between you and Harry. You look over to find his arms crossed over his chest and a pout formed from his bottom lip. That adorable pout, with his pretty pink lips, that always seems to work on you despite your attempts to stand your ground.

"It's gonna work…" He grumbles, taking the plate of fries and moving them to the other side of him, just out of your reach.

"Seriously? You want me to pretend to be your date to a house party, so Chloe will get jealous and want to go out with you?" You laugh again in disbelief and lean over him in an attempt to reclaim your favorite comfort food. "That's seriously so dumb!"

"But it's a party. It'll be fun either way." He attempts to convince you.

"Full of people I don't know. I'd rather eat chalk." You respond, giving him a sarcastic glare, aware that your stubbornness will begin to crack any moment. Especially with his sultry dark scent currently floating around you.

"Come on… we're best friends… if you do me this favor, I'll… buy you something nice!"

"Harry, your idea of a nice gift is fuzzy socks. That's not really enticing." You giggle, reaching further across his lap, stretching your hand out as far as it will go but failing immensely.

"No, this'll be good. Promise. Plus you wear those socks all the time." He affirms, in that low, deep voice that causes a subtle shiver down your spine every time he uses it.

You and Harry have been best friends for years. Since right before 9th grade, in fact. You had moved in next door as the last school year ended, and quickly clicked with each other before it started up again. Since then, you two have been inseparable. At first, everyone thought you liked each other, but you both were quick to dispel those rumors. You didn't. You were just really good friends. But the older you got, and the more Harry denied it, the more bothered by it you became. He was everything to you. You trusted him, you felt safe with him, you had fun with him. You liked him. You loved him. Was it such a crazy idea that you two could be together? To you, the answer was always yes. He is very charming, and of course, very good looking. Every girl around swooned if he even looked their way, and melted away if he uttered the simplest "hello". He could be with any girl he wanted, and you were just you. Just his best friend. That's all you'd ever be to him, so that's what you'd settle for.

"Fine." You sigh, knowing that even if it hurts you, unfortunately you love him too much to say no. "I can do that. But I better get this gift even when this plan fails."

"If it fails. And it won't." He assures you, an annoying confidence beaming from his chest.

"Whatever." You reply, internally kicking yourself for being such a sap for him. He reaches around the back of your head and pulls it close to place a kiss on your temple.

"Thank you, babe." He replies, handing you back the plate you ended up forgetting about completely when his lips touched you. You love that nickname, but you hate it too, because you hate every girl who has heard it in the way you wish he meant it with you.

"Yeah, well, what are best friends for…"

×××

Nerves suddenly flood your brain as you walk up to the front door with Harry. Not only do you have to put on this little "girlfriend" charade with the guy you wish was your own, but you are worried you won't really know anyone inside, making an already awkward situation even more uncomfortable. He only mentioned Chloe being in attendance, because of course she is the only one he cares about being there. You know who she is, you have mutual friends of friends, and have been at the same hangouts or parties a time or two. You always thought she was a bit vain, and a big flirt with every guy who gave her the time of day, but she has clearly made an impression on Harry due to the fact that you're walking through the front door with a plan to make her jealous for him.

Harry immediately wraps his arm around your waist and you swear your knees could go weak at the gesture. You look up to where he stands next to you, watching him give you a quick wink, thankful that the lights are dim and covering up the blush rushing to your cheeks.

"Harry! What's up?" You hear, turning your attention further inside the house.

"Hey, love." He responds, giving a quick hug to Layla, a friendly face you are grateful to see. The three of you met this year, your junior year of college, all bonding over moving from small towns to this big, state university. You don't know her well, but at least you know someone. "Hey, YN! Welcome! I'm so happy you're here!"

"This is your party? This house is… wow!" You exclaim, your eyes wide as you look around the giant living room that makes your off-campus studio apartment look like a small cardboard box.

"Thanks! It's my parents, but they're never home, so I make good use of it." She shrugs with a smile. "Now, the drinks are in the kitchen, and everyone seems to have congregated in the living room. It's where the music is! So, have fun!"

She giggles and swiftly twirls around, waving as she finds more people to greet.

"Alright, girlfriend… drinks first?" Harry asks, chuckling as his palm leaves your waist and grabs your hand. This would be the sweetest little gesture if it actually meant anything real to him.

"Definitely. I'm definitely going to need one." You respond, letting him lead the way through a small crowd of people.

"Is it that difficult to even just pretend to love me?" He laughs, and you roll your eyes. It's the best motion you can think of to counteract every muscle in your body that wants to show him the exact opposite.

"Easy there with the love stuff… boyfriend… this is supposed to be a new relationship, right?" You remind him, and yourself.

"Right." He replies, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. He's easy to love, but this won't be easy to get through. He lets go of your hand and pours you a drink. "Let's mingle, really sell our story, yeah?"

You exhale heavily and nod, getting that firm reminder of the reason you two are really here, and that Chloe is actually the one he wants.

You take a gulp of your drink, grabbing his hand as he leads you to a small group of people you've met once or twice before.

"I didn't know you two were together." Someone politely states, causing Harry to squeeze your hand as a signal to really start up this charade.

"Yeah, s'kinda new." Harry shrugs and looks over to you with those sparkling green eyes you wish you could dive into. "But we've been best friends forever, so it was bound to happen."

Ouch. What a cruel thing to say, if he actually knew how true that could be for the two of you. If he actually felt the same as you.

But this is just a performance. For him. And since you genuinely feel the way he wants you to pretend that you do, you figure it will be easy to play along. So you will.

"Yep! He finally realized what he was missing out on." You smile as you turn your head to the group, your attention almost taken back by the way Harry clears his throat.

"I knew it would happen eventually! You're super cute together!" Layla exclaims, looking between the both of you with a tipsy smile. "And YN, you look fucking hot tonight, girl!"

You let out a laugh of disbelief. Your outfit is nothing special, even if you do feel good in it. Harry's hand wraps back around your waist and he squeezes your side.

"Yes she does." He agrees, looking over to you with a mischievous smirk. Those damn dimples could make any girl feel wanted. And, unfortunately, it does the same with you.

You shake your head and take another large sip of your drink, hoping the alcohol can kick in soon and get you out of your thoughts. You want to relax. You need to relax. You need to get through this night.

As the group disperses, you feel Harry pull you in tighter towards him, resting his forehead on your temple as he brings his mouth to your ear. Every hair in your body stands up immediately.

"You do look really good, babe." He states, causing your heart to flutter. As much as you know he doesn't mean it in the way you want him to, hearing those words causes your teeth to bite down on your bottom lip.

"Okay, hot shot, don't waste a compliment if people aren't around." You reply, trying to keep your composure and not completely melt at the whisper of words that just flowed out from him.

"M'serious." He sternly replies, causing you to turn towards him and be met with a frown. If he was truly yours, you'd run your thumb over to smooth it out and keep him calm.

Your eyes flicker down to his, then back up to the tension between his eyebrows. You're not truly his, but you're pretending to be, and this is your opportunity. You bring your thumb up to the line, slowly running it over and seeing him instantly relax under your touch.

"Thank you." You state, staring into his eyes for a moment before quickly bringing it down and patting his chest to push him back.

He gives you a wink and grabs your hand, pulling you to yet another small group of people, wrapping his arm around you in some way or another, and frequently placing sweet kisses on your cheeks, probably not wanting to do much more and cross the line. You weren't going to complain. You could enjoy this. You could definitely enjoy this.

×××

"Hello ladies." You hear that sultry British accent state, as Harry sits down beside you at the campus cafe.

"Harry. Please tell YN that she should come to the club this weekend with me and Seth!" Your friend Eva exclaims, causing you to roll your eyes. You don't mind parties, especially if you know people, but clubs are something different. Most of the time you avoid those situations and hang out with Harry instead. You find that to be a much better way to spend your time.

"Ummm… I was actually hoping she'd go to a party with me…" He replies, turning his attention to you.

"Again?" Your brow furrows in confusion, and Harry's eyes dart between you and Eva. She begins to look between you and Harry, rolling her eyes as he keeps a tight lip around whatever it is he wants to say next.

"I'm not giving up." She points at you as she stands up, grabbing her stuff and walking away.

You chuckle as she heads out and then glance back at Harry.

"So…"

"My plan didn't work." He states.

"I'm absolutely shocked!" You reply sarcastically and dramatically, throwing your palm against your chest.

"Shut up." He glares at you, returning his expression by sticking your tongue between your teeth. "But if we go to this party-"

"Seriously, H? Come on." You pinch the bridge of your nose, shaking your head slightly at his desperation. Why does he have to be longing for Chloe's attention? You'd give it all and then some, for real, if he wanted it.

"Please, babe! Pleeeease?" He scoots closer with a pout on his lips, and you hate that he knows that this tactic works well on you.

You sigh, in what is most likely defeat. You want to say no. You want to be selfish. You want him to give up on this plan and have him all to yourself.

"I'll give you a really, really nice gift…"

"I can't believe you're bribing me. And I can't believe it's working."

"Yeah? It's working?" He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling himself closer for a hug. He looks up and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he is batting his lashes in fake innocence.

"Fine. I can do that. But no more help if this doesn't work out." You state, hoping that it won't. Really hoping that it won't. Even if he doesn't feel the same for you, at least you can keep your best friend around.

×××

The days leading up to the next party were the same. Almost the same. Harry met you every day with a coffee, walked you to most of your classes, and hung out with you at lunch each day, as always. The thing that changed was all the little kisses on your hands, cheeks, and temple. The wrapping of his arm securely around your waist and the occasional squeeze on your hip when his hand dropped down slightly. The way he surprised you by grabbing your arms from behind, and mumbling "hey babe" into your ear. It was only a week, but it was the best week.

However, it was all just for show, and it was going to end tonight.

As you get out of Harry's car, you instinctively place your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as he leads you to the front door.

You're less nervous about this party, because it is once again at Layla's house, and at least you know the place, so maybe you'll also know some of the people this time. Plus you have Harry by your side. So as soon as you walk in, you both make your way to the kitchen for a drink, and he walks behind you, holding your hip, while you move over to where the rest of the crowd has gathered.

His palm rests on your shoulder and begins to stroke it back and forth. A warmth rushes over you at his touch. His now familiar, yet still exciting touch. You look up at him, being met by those deep, inviting dimples, and a seductive smirk. Your breath halts for a moment, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

He leans his head down and rests his chin on your shoulder, causing a subtle hitch of your breath. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he didn't hear your embarrassing reaction.

"We're pretty good at this boyfriend-girlfriend shit, yeah?" He asks in a low mumble, not helping the rumble of butterflies in your stomach.

If he only knew you weren't pretending. You could just tell him you aren't. But you actually can't. You'd ruin his plan, and most likely your friendship. You don't want to lose him, even if you can't fully have him.

"I'm a great actress!"

"Yeah." He replies, standing up straighter and releasing his hand from you. "M'gonna get another drink. Want one?"

"Sure." You reply, downing what is currently left in your cup.

"I'll be right back." He states, walking towards the kitchen and leaving you to stand alone in the corner of the living room. You pull out your phone, hoping to distract yourself from the awkwardness of being by yourself, waiting for Harry to soon return.

×××

You don't realize, until you look at the time on your screen, that you have been standing there in the dim corner for twenty minutes.

You shake your head and make your way to the kitchen to retrieve the drink that Harry has clearly forgotten to bring you.

You turn the corner and glance around, stopping in your tracks when you find your best friend, leaning against the refrigerator, chatting with the woman sitting opposite him on top of the counter. Of course, it's none other than Chloe.

Your heart tightens. This was the plan. This is what he wanted. And he ended up being right, because clearly it worked out in his favor.

You slyly make your way to the other end of the kitchen and pour yourself a generous amount of tequila into a cup, finding the best thing available to mix it with before chugging half of the cup and refilling it to the top.

If he gets to have his fun now, you might as well try to do the same.

You put your head down and make your way back out into the living room, bumping into a tall presence before reaching your destination.

"Sorry! Shit! Sorry!" You exclaim, wiping the small bit of drink from your top, and looking up to find a wide smile and even wider eyes.

"I bumped into you, YN, it's all good." The guy replies, causing you to squint your eyes at the confusion of how he knows your name. He chuckles as he notices your expression. "Trevor. We had English 1A together last year."

"Oh my god. Yeah! Hey!" You blurt out, smacking your palm against your forehead in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"Like I said, it's all good." He chuckles, placing his palm on your shoulder. "Are you okay though? You seem a little… frazzled."

"Frazzled?" You giggle at the word, then sigh at the realization that his observation was probably pretty accurate. "I think I just need to sit down."

"Follow me, the comfiest couch is this way." He states, motioning for you to follow him as you both make your way to the other side of the large living room. You find the giant sofa and plop down on it next to him. There is a lot of space, but you don't shy away from sitting close.

"Better?" He asks, resting his arm on the back.

"Much! Thank you."

"So, would you like me to ask you what's going on, or distract you with my incredible array of celebrity impressions?"

You bring your legs up onto the seat, pulling your knees to your chest and taking another sip of the liquid concoction that now seems less intense than before.

"Ooh, impressions, please." You reply excitedly. This is something you can distract yourself with. He is somebody you can distract yourself with. At least for tonight.

"Okay, get ready. You're going to be amazed!"

×××

The night moves on as you continue to talk to Trevor, feeling a lot lighter than you had at the beginning of the night, even if your body is full of tequila.

"Have you had the barbeque chicken at that place down the street from campus?"

"No, but now I think I definitely have to." You giggle, not for the first time with him. The more drink that enters your body, the more you relax, and apparently the flirtier you get.

"Maybe we can go someti-"

"YN! I've been looking all over for you!" Harry exclaims, doing his best to hide the frustration only you can tell that he is withholding.

"Clearly not hard enough." You mumble under your breath as you roll your eyes at him.

"Can you come with me, babe?" He asks through a forced smile, his hand subtly balling into a fist at his side.

"Actually… babe... Trevor and I were just talking about a barbeque place I want to try." You snarl, pointing to the man seated beside you, wishing you could manage to ease the intense confusion plastered all over Trevor's face.

"It's all good." Trevor states suddenly, standing up and giving you a small smile. "Maybe we can chat later."

He gives you a thumbs up, which you assume is to ask you if you're all good, and you nod. He turns to walk away and you watch Harry's eyes follow him until he is out of sight.

"Come on. Please." He utters as he reaches his hand out to you, reluctantly being met with yours as you glare up to him.

He pulls you hastily through the crowds of people, simply nodding as some of them attempt to get his attention, and finally stops at the end of the long downstairs hallway.

He spins you around, your back resting against the wall, and his palms on either side of your head.

"Harry, what the hell is your problem? What was all that?"

"Me?" He growls, his chest rising and falling quickly as he looks around, his eyes resting back on yours with a great deal of intensity. "You're just sitting there, flirting with that fucking guy, when we are supposed to be together…"

"Are you serious? Are you actually serious right now?" You question, feeling the breath being drawn out of you the longer he stares. "I served my purpose, and now I'm having fun."

"Served your what?"

"My purpose! I was only here to tell you to make Chloe jealous right?" You sigh when your chest tightens, hating every bit of your statement. Also angry that he can't seem to let you have any fun of your own. "And you seemed to have gotten what you wanted. You definitely had her attention in the kitchen."

"No. I mean, yeah, we were in there talking-"

Suddenly, you're interrupted by the bathroom door swinging open, seeing Trevor step out and glance in your direction. Harry immediately grabs the back of your neck, pushing his lips against yours with more pressure than you thought would be needed to sell the moment. You hear footsteps become more distant and you push on Harry's chest in an attempt to move him back.

"What's wrong with you? He's not the one we needed to make jealous, you idiot!"

Harry's breathing becomes shallow as his green eyes pierce into yours, flickering down to your lips before rejoining your gaze.

"Kiss me again." He whispers.

Your eyes widen in shock and your head quickly swivels back and forth to search for anyone nearby. There's no one around. There's not even anyone to make jealous anymore since he has the one he wants.

"Why do we-"

"Just… kiss me again."

You are about to give some sort of rebuttal when his warm palms meet your cheeks, coating them in a heat that could burn handprints into your skin. He steps closer, your back now completely flush against the wall as his body presses into you. His lips quickly find synchronicity with yours, and you begin to melt. Your palms grab onto his shirt, desperately wanting to claw at the tattoos on his chest. His tongue parts your lips and you move to bite his lower lip, causing him to reach one hand down and squeeze your hip. Your fingers intertwined with his hair. His palm slowly moves its way up to your waist. You subtly push your hips towards his and let out a small whimper.

Then everything stops.

"Harry, why-"

"Fuck. I shouldn't… m'sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He fumbles, taking a step back and running his ring-clad fingers through the curls that yours were just tangled in.

"It's…" You begin to state, completely stunned by what just happened. By the way he just touched you, and kissed you, and held you tight. By the way it seemed to have been about something more than a stupid plan about someone else. By the way he suddenly halted it all. "It's okay, H."

"I'm… you're… we're too drunk for this. I think I just got… caught up in the moment…" He mumbles, refusing to look into your eyes and fixating his down to the floor.

"Oh. Ummm, okay. It's okay." You reply, suddenly feeling so embarrassed and so vulnerable.

"You were right. This was a dumb idea. It… it was a mistake."

Your stomach turns into knots.

"Harry…"

"We're friends. That shouldn't have happened."

The knot instantly grows tighter and your heart begins to sink.

"Like you said, I… I got Chloe's attention, so you're off the hook. You can go… be with that Trevor guy if you want."

Every muscle in your body is frozen from shock, and your mind can't seem to comprehend how the two of you went from what seemed like a passionate make out, to him basically waving you off.

"Right." You scoff in disbelief. You knew what the plan was, you knew the outcome he was hoping for. But you definitely didn't think you'd be hidden in the corner of a dark hallway, pressed against the wall by your best friend, practically feeling his heart pounding through his chest as he kissed you. You also didn't think he'd kiss you and then immediately dismiss you. You frown at yourself for momentarily believing that anything different was going to happen. Whatever the past week has been, and whatever that kiss was for you, clearly it wasn't the same for him. Just a drunken mishap while trying to convince others of this fake relationship, and you don't want to stick around to see him actually give someone else what you thought that moment was for you. "So, I'm just gonna head home."

"Wait, YN, you don't have to leave."

"You can consider this a breakup or whatever. Have fun with Chloe." You feel a pressure of tears beginning to build, and the breath in your body begins to escape you.

"YN-"

"Goodnight." You state, pushing past him and heading out to the living room, quickly thanking Layla for her hospitality.

Before you reach the front door, you feel a gentle grasp of your wrist and turn to find Trevor's concerned eyes turning downwards.

"YN, are you alright?"

Tears threaten to form as you cover up your sadness with a subtle nod.

"Do you need me to take you home?" He inquires, a softness in his eyes that could probably calm you in any other situation.

Your eyes shoot over to Harry, instantly finding him leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed over his chest and a daggered glare shooting towards the both of you.

Sadness is suddenly accompanied by anger and you gaze back at Trevor.

"I'm actually meeting up with some friends. But… could you wait with me outside while I order an Uber?"

He smiles and nods, placing a hand on your back as you begin to twist the door handle. You shoot one last look back to your best friend, and see him standing up straight, eyes wide and fists clenched.

Well, one of you got what they wanted tonight.

×××

You had surprised your friends by arriving at the club. And you shocked them by showing up without your usual companion, Harry.

As you wait for the bartender to hand you some shots, you explain everything to Eva and Seth.

"So, lemme get this straight…" Eva begins, resting her elbows on the countertop, an eyebrow raised from your recent story. "Your best friend, who you are clearly in love with, asked you to be his fake girlfriend to get another girl jealous enough to want to be with him."

"Yeah. Dumb idea right?"

"But… you said yes…" She adds with a still raised eyebrow… "YN, that was just as dumb!"

"Well, I didn't-"

"Didn't think it would work?" Seth adds, shaking his head.

"Right."

"Still seems really dumb." Eva adds, causing you to glare in her direction and open your mouth to make your case.

Shot glasses are suddenly placed in front of you, and you are thankful for the interruption. You shoot yours down quickly, and look over to see Eva refuse the one she was handed, so you take it from her and shoot that one down too.

"Slow down sweetie." Eva suggests.

"I'm fine." You wave her comment off as you get the bartender's attention for another. You're not sure if your intention is to finally have some fun, or to drown out the events of earlier in the evening. But either way, you're going to drink enough until one of those things happens.

"YN…"

"Let's dance!" You shout, after downing your next shot.

"You never dance at clubs…" Eva replies, with what you assume is inquisitive concern.

"Come onnnn… let's dance!" You exclaim, grabbing the hand of each of your friends and dragging them to the dancefloor.

They follow you, seemingly reluctant, but begin to dance with each other as the next song plays. If they weren't your good friends, you'd be put off by their displays of affection for each other. But only because you'd be a little jealous. And now you're suddenly aware of the open space around your body.

You furrow your brow and explain to your friends that you'll be in the bathroom. Eva offers to go with you, but you insist that she continue to dance with her boyfriend. If Harry was there, it wouldn't be a problem. But now you're a third wheel and you're not about to ruin their night. You've already had enough of that for yourself.

You enter the bathroom and immediately pull out your phone, not hesitating to dial the first contact on your 'favorites' list. No one else could hold that space.

"YN?" You hear on the other end, a gentle tone coming through the speaker.

"Harry, your idea was fucking stupid!" You immediately exclaim, shouting to be heard over the music in the venue, even though the bathroom is only affected by a quiet thump of the bass. You'd take a moment to be more impressed if you weren't so drunk and angry.

"Yeah I know." He sighs, which begins to anger you even more.

"I fucking hated it. It was stupid. You're stupid." You begin to fumble, leaning against the bathroom wall as your knees begin to wobble the same amount as your words.

"Are you… drunk?"

"No!" You shout, grabbing onto the nearby sink to steady yourself. "Maybe."

"YN…"

"That's what you do when you break up with someone right?"

"What?"

"Even though it was fake. Fucking fake. But still..."

"Where are you?" He asks sternly, and even in your intoxicated state, you can picture every detail that is most likely displayed on his face. The serious furrow of his brow, the inward pull of his lips, the shifting of his weight from one foot to the other. You know every part of it.

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine!" You snap back. "I've got Eva and Seth. And not you! And it's fine. I'm fine!"

"YN-"

You pull the phone away from your ear and press the button to end the call. The shots have not given you results for either of the options you were deciding between when you got to the club, so you choose to gather yourself and go to grab another.

You bring your other hand to rest on the sink and look up into the mirror. You're not too much of a mess, but you notice tiny lines of mascara running down your cheeks. You didn't even know you had been crying. Crying for Harry, who isn't even yours. Wasn't yours before, wasn't yours tonight, and won't be yours ever. At least, not in the way you really want him to be.

He really can have whoever he wants. And it's not you.

You scold yourself for letting any feelings for him form, and then grow. He's your best friend. And obviously that'll never change. Unless you aren't even friends anymore. He looked so embarrassed after kissing you. He agreed it was a dumb idea. He told you it was a mistake.

A mistake.

So, he can fuck off. You can do what you want, and right now, that's going to get another shot.

You walk out and back over to your friends, ignoring the mildly concerned looks on both of their faces.

"YN…" Seth begins, stopping his movements from behind Eva.

"Please don't. I'm fine." You respond, beginning to dance and twirl around with his girlfriend. Seth offers to grab some water for everyone and leaves the two of you on the dancefloor.

You glare at the back of his head, quickly following his footsteps towards the bar.

"Three waters please." You hear him state.

"And another shot!" You add, crossing your arms as he glares back at you, as if you're locked in some kind of parent-child standoff.

You grab the shot glass and instantly shoot it back, taping it on the countertop to ask for another. You turn back to Seth with a smug look on your face, at least you're hoping that's what you are portraying, but you notice his gaze is focusing just behind you.

Your shoulder becomes warm and weighted with a palm twisting you around, and you turn to be met with those glistening green eyes.

"Oh, what the fuck. What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here, YN?" Harry asks, his hand still firmly, but somehow also tenderly, on your shoulder. You hate yourself that just this simple touch is getting your heart fluttering again.

"I'm having fun… with my friends… nothing new."

"Oh really? Since when do you go to clubs, and knock back shots like there's no tomorrow?" That familiar furrow of his brow appears and your instinct wants to smooth it out. But your anger quickly convinces you otherwise.

"Since tonight." You reply, crossing your arms again and doing your best to stand your ground. Physically and metaphorically.

"I think I should take you home." He suggests, moving his hand down your arm and gently holding your hand.

"I think you should fuck off!" You begin to shout, yanking your hand from his hold, letting the alcohol take over your judgment and your tongue.

Harry steps back and you can read the disbelief all over his face, as if it were an open book sitting right in front of you. If you're honest, you are a bit shocked by yourself too. You've never spoken to him like that before. Fought with him? Of course. You've known each other so long, that's only normal. But that? A statement like that isn't normal for you to make towards him. To be fair though, not much about this night has been normal.

"Come on, please. Let's get you home." He reaches out for your hand again, and once again, you pull it away.

"No!" You shout.

"Fine." He throws up his hands, never being one to push or force you to do anything you don't want to do. He turns around and begins to walk out of the club, but with the alcohol and the frustration mixing together, you huff and begin to follow him outside.

"Hey!" You yell from behind him, the cold air hitting your very heated face instantly, and causing a chill to spike all over your body.

He stops immediately, not turning around as you catch up to him, forcing you to move in front of him and stare into his eyes as if you were the one towering over the other.

"Yes?"

"You…" You begin to pant from the exertion from following him, and the cold air penetrating your bones. "You don't just… you don't just get to come here and... and act all protective and shit!"

"Why wouldn't I?" He scowls, suddenly switching back to the one who towers over you. "You're my best friend, YN! And you're wasted. I talked to Eva and Seth, they were worried about you."

"Right, Eva and Seth. Who I'm here with. Not you." You growl, glaring into his eyes as if to actually pierce your frustration into them.

"YN, I was worried about you too."

"I'm fine!"

"Yeah, you keep saying that…"

"And I… I am! You don't have to worry… not about me. You shouldn't fucking be here. You should be with… Chloe. "

"Is that why you left the party all of a sudden?"

"I left because… you got what you wanted! You didn't need me anymore!" You yell, feeling a mild heat return to your body as the alcohol reignites the absolute flustering anger.

"I did." He replies softly, taking a step closer so that his warm breath steams over your face. You momentarily close your eyes and the sensation washes over you. "I wanted you there."

"Are you really that selfish, H?" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest, partly because of the temperature, but mainly to protect yourself. To protect your heart. "I did it… what you asked me to do… and you got what you wanted… you got Chloe…"

"I don't-"

"I didn't need to stick around… I didn't want to stick around!" Your tongue becomes numb and you can't seem to control the words as they spill out. "I didn't want to just stand off to the side… and watch you with her!"

"What?"

"Nevermind." You drop your gaze, hoping that you can get clear headed soon before you say something as dumb as the plan he had come up with. "I should've… I shouldn't have gone along with it. It was such a stupid idea!"

"YN…"

"You said it! It was a mistake!"

"Babe, please…"

"Don't call me that." You state sternly, lifting your gaze with the deepest furrow in your brow. Would he smooth it like you did for him earlier? No.

"What?"

"Don't call me babe. I'm not your babe." You take two more steps back and pull out your phone to call for an Uber. "Babe is for someone you're with, actually with. We're not together. I'm not your babe. It was just pretend."

"I've called you that for forever…" He replies, softening his tone as he steps a little closer, causing your breath to exit and forget how to reenter. How does he always manage to take your breath away?

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have."

"YN, come on, you're drunk. Please let me take you home." He pleads, wrapping his hand around yours and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You look down at the gesture, feeling your cold demeanor begin to melt at the touch you've become accustomed to over the past week.

"No. I have a ride. Just go back to the party. Go back to Chloe." You grimace as her name leaves your lips, and your hand leaves his. "I've done my part in all… this.

"You know what, YN? You agreed to do it! But you clearly didn't want to and you didn't have to either. So whatever it is you're angry about, you can't blame me."

"Fuck off." You take every last ounce of self-control that you have to stop yourself from explaining why you're so hurt and admitting to what you've been feeling for years. It could only make things worse at this point. You sigh and look down at your feet, wishing you could be swallowed up by the pavement.

"I wouldn't have asked you if I knew that this, all of this, was gonna happen." He steps back and puts even more distance between the two of you and your heart sinks. Now it feels awkward. Now it feels wrong. "It was definitely a mistake."

"Definitely a mistake." You whisper back.

A car pulls up right in front of the two of you, and you know it's your ride. You look between the vehicle and Harry, not knowing which one to step towards.

"So, this… this is it." He crosses his arms over his chest, beginning to tap the back of one foot with the toes of the other, and clears his throat.

You step backwards towards the car. You didn't think this night could've gotten any worse, yet here it is.

"Goodnight, H." You state quietly, turning to grab the door handle, opening it, and looking back one more time at your best friend. If you can still call him that.

×××

The next day was painful for so many reasons, and the hurt just continued through that week. And then the next.

With how much you drank, you would think the night would be a blur, but the universe and your mind are cruel. You remember all of it. Feeling good with Harry, feeling hurt seeing him with Chloe, feeling distracted with Trevor, feeling ecstasy kissing your best friend, feeling embarrassed by his rejection, feeling way too drunk, feeling angry, and feeling hurt. Then, feeling nothing.

Nothing has been the same. Harry didn't walk you to any classes, or bring you coffee, or sit with you at lunch. He didn't come over every other night just to hang out, share food, and watch TV. He didn't call. He didn't text. Nothing. Nothing has been the same these past two weeks.

You had told your friends that you wanted to avoid any more parties, but with a bit of begging, Eva convinced you to go to Seth's birthday party. It was hard to say no to your second best friends, or maybe first now, especially when they mentioned that Harry never responded to their invite. It's not too surprising. He wouldn't want to be where you are.

So, you can be comforted by the fact that Harry won't be there. Although, 'comforted' feels like the wrong word. But Seth's parent's house is more modest, and you'll know a lot more people at this party, which should help you to relax even by a miniscule amount.

At least, you hoped it would. But whenever someone new walks through the door, your eyes dart over towards them. Your heart stops each time, until their name is spoken or you see their face.

You would grab a drink, but the anxiety building within is enough to fill you up, and you probably couldn't stomach it anyway. Plus you figure it'll be easier to leave the party early, since you are suspecting your ability and desire to hang out with everyone will be minimal.

×××

Whether it's the size of the house, or the actual number of people in attendance, this party feels a lot bigger than the previous ones at Layla's house. You've only talked to maybe a handful of people in this large crowd, but are overwhelmed enough to need some space.

You walk up to Eva and lean in to be heard over the music.

"I'm gonna get some fresh air." You quickly state, hoping your volume is enough for her to hear, but quiet enough for others not to. You'd rather be alone.

"Oh. Okay. But-"

"I'm not leaving…" You chuckle, knowing she wants you to stay as long as she can manage to. "I'm just going to the backyard."

"Okay…" She replies, her tone causing a mild curiosity in you, but brushing it off as just her drunken state.

You turn around and squeeze your way through the crowds of friends that Seth and Eva seem to have accumulated over the years. You don't know if you have even half the amount of friends they have here. One person seems to have taken away the need for a large group of friends. With just him, and a couple of close others, you've felt fulfilled. Complete.

Maybe you shouldn't take too long of a break. Maybe you should recharge quickly and get back in there. Maybe you'll need to start finding some new friends to fill that empty void you now have in your life.

No one else seems to be outside, much to your delight, and you catch a quick glimpse of a patio swing out of the corner of your eye, which you immediately decide is the place you want to be.

You walk around the outside furniture and barbeque, but stop as you look up to the swing.

Harry is there. Right there.

You can't tell if the sudden inability to breathe is due to an excitement to see the person you've been missing for two weeks, or anxiety seeing the person you were completely embarrassed and rejected by two weeks ago.

"YN?" He whispers quietly, his eyes wide at the sight of you.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't…" You begin to back up with very small steps. "I didn't know you were here."

He sighs, and it's potentially the saddest one you've heard, but that's the only thing that comes from him.

"I was just, umm, trying to get some air. But I'll… come back out later." You add. The reason to come outside was to relax, and clearly that won't happen for either of you if you stay. You turn around and head back inside, the emptiness in your friendship creating an emptiness in your heart.

Tears begin to cloud your vision. You do your best to guide yourself through the group of bodies to find a safe haven for yourself. The guest bathroom has a crowd forming outside of it, but you remember an office being close by. So through your blurry view, you fumble your way to the, thankfully, unlocked door and quickly close it as soon as you enter.

You take several steps forward, resting your palms on the wide, wood desk, and pull in some deep breaths. They don't last long as the door begins to creak open.

"Sorry, no one should be in-" Your words are halted as you turn around and are met with the most beautiful face. The face you're so familiar with, the face you've missed a lot, the face you love so much. "Oh."

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Can we talk, please?" He asks shyly, his head down and hand gripping the handle, only halfway through the doorway.

"I didn't think you'd-" You mumble back with a shaky breath, nodding and waving him into the room, watching as he hurriedly steps in, closes the door, and locks it.

He takes one step closer, still leaving an upsetting amount of distance between the two of you. But you understand. Last time you were close, too close, which didn't end well. Even though it was an incredible moment for those few seconds.

You shake your thoughts out as you are snapped back into the current moment by the clearing of his throat. You cross your arms around your body, a reflex to keep yourself together.

"What… happened?" He jumps right in, and you are so taken aback that you can't even decipher the context of his question.

"What do you mean?"

"That last party… it seemed to ruin everything. Things are so fucked up now."

Your eyes grow wide in shock. You figured he is just as embarrassed as you are, maybe a bit upset from your fight at the club, but you didn't think he'd feel like this. This intense. This harsh.

"I told you that plan was dumb." You respond, not completely meaning to make the statement aloud.

"Yeah, I get it." He frowns as he stares at the ground, clearly not even being able to look at you now. That hurts. "It was a huge mistake."

That hurts even more.

"You shouldn't have asked me."

"You shouldn't have said yes!"

"You shouldn't have kiss-"

You quickly shut your mouth, regretting those words, not meaning to bring it up and not wanting to admit that it means anything to you when it didn't mean anything to him.

"I shouldn't have kissed you." He finishes your thought with a shallow breath. You can see his regret, you assumed that was how he felt, but it still hurts. Not only because it meant something to you, and not to him, but because this is what it has caused. An awkwardness between you two. Between you and your best friend.

But anger begins to boil at the fact that this was all because of him and his stupid plan to win over some other girl. And that he only kissed you like that after seeing you hang out with another guy.

"So then why did you? Why did you kiss me?"

"You were with that other guy… you were supposed to… be with… me."

"Why did that matter? You were with Chloe! You got her! You got what you wanted!"

"I didn't get her. And I didn't get what I wanted."

"Oh my god, then I'm so fucking sorry if I messed things up for you with her!" You scoff, rolling your eyes at how pathetic this all is.

"I don't want to be with her!" He growls, running his hands down his face, then back up to run through his hair.

"Then what the hell is it, Harry? What the hell do you want that you didn't get?"

"You! For sucks sake! You! I want you, YN!" He growls.

"What?!"

"All I've wanted to do since that kiss… is kiss you again. And again." He moves towards you again, close enough now so that you can feel his warmth, and inhale his sultry dark scent, and feel that familiar tingle down your spine. "And again."

"But… we're friends…"

"Yeah. We are..."

Your body kicks into fight or flight mode, but is frozen in place. You have no idea where this is going and you're not sure if you want to know.

"Look, YN, I miss hanging out with you, and joking with you, and just talking with you. But now…" He sighs, stepping closer and closer until you can feel his breath on your face. "But now I also miss holding you, and making you blush, and kissing you."

Your breath hitches at his confession, your mind racing and your heart pounding.

"I… I thought we were just… pretending."

"I wasn't." He shakes his head, reaching his hands out to gently hold yours. "Maybe at first, because I was an idiot. But being with each other and doing all those couple-y things together made me realize I already had everything I wanted… with you."

"Harry, I-"

"I didn't even want to be with Chloe by that second party." He clears his throat and his admission causes your heart to flutter. "And she cornered me in the kitchen. I couldn't get away. All… all I wanted to do was be around you."

"Oh-"

"And when I got free, and you were with that guy, I snapped." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I guess I kissed you because… I wanted… dunno. You pushed me away and I should've left it at that but I couldn't. I didn't want to stop. But after the second one, you gave me that look and I got scared that you didn't feel the same. That you didn't want more."

"But I-"

"If you don't, I can live with that. I don't wanna lose you. I need you in my life. You're my best friend."

"But I-"

"But I wanna be more." He admits, squeezing his eyes shut as he squeezes your hands. "I want more than that, and I just need to know-"

"Can you just stop talking?" You exclaim, taking your hands back and moving them up to his shoulders. His eyes grow wide, with an expression of mixed emotions. "Let me have a turn."

"Okay…"

"I got jealous. So jealous. I hated the plan. I hated seeing you around another girl, and wanting another girl. Because I want more. With you. And… I have for a long time."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?"

"Fair enough." He answers quietly with a small smile. "S'pose I just didn't want to lose you."

"Me either." You reply, a rush of pink appearing on your cheeks as you dip your gaze. A silence falls in the room, despite all the loud noises just outside the door.

"Do you want to be together?" He asks shyly.

Your brow furrows with sudden concern when you look back up to him, and his expression instantly matches yours. "Being together will change everything, Harry…"

"I don't think that's true." He shakes his head, using his thumb to smooth out the crease in your forehead, just like you did with him before. "It feels natural between us. We are comfortable with each other, we know each other, and we already spend lots of time with each other. This would just add… extra… perks…"

"Oh really?" You smirk, a tingle running through your body. "Like what?"

"Answer me first." He whispers, closing the gap between the two of you and resting his forehead on yours. He places both palms on your cheeks, giving you every sense of comfort and excitement possible. "I need to know what you want."

"I want to be together."

"Yeah?"

You nod.

He pulls back while his eyes flicker down to your lips and he grazes them with his own. All the breath in your body leaves in that moment and your hands work their way up to the nape of his neck. Eyes locked on each other, you could swear that your heartbeats are the only noise that can be heard.

"Harry-"

Your words are cut off by the feeling of his plush lips firmly on yours. Again. But this time, much better.

"Is this okay?" He asks as he pulls away, just enough to give you two some space to catch a breath.

"Yes." You giggle, twirling your fingers into his hair. You could get lost in his curls and not even mind. "Now, kiss me again."

His dimples pops in quickly before your face is pulled back to his with one hand, and your body pulled in with the other.

Your lips meet again, passionate and desperate, as if they've been starved since the last time they met. His hands waste no time and begin to roam your body wildly. Rubbing your back, moving down your waist, grabbing your hips, and gliding over your ass. If you thought any of the other times he touched you were exciting, this was absolutely overwhelming.

His body presses further into yours, causing you to slide up onto the desk behind you. Your lips are parted by his tongue and each movement raises in intensity. One hand moves to your knee, slowly making its way up your thigh and every ounce of heat in your body travels to your core.

His lips leave yours and move along your jaw, landing right under your ear.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, nibbling on your earlobe.

"Ye-... Yes." You utter, eyes closed as his breath hits your skin.

His hand slides further up and you've never been more grateful that you chose to wear a skirt, as you feel him squeeze his way to your core. He grazes two fingers over your drenched panties and lets out a pleased exhale.

"Bloody hell." He whispers, as you feel a smile against your skin in triumph. His fingers run up and down, teasing you, and creating an unbearable yearning within.

"H…"

"You want it?" He asks, with the low, deep tone that makes your knees weak.

"Yes." You whine, opening your eyes to look at him and not only show your sincerity, but also your desire. "Please, yes."

He slips in your panties, running his fingers along you again, your bare skin excited by the touch. Your breath hitches as his fingers dip slightly into your folds.

"Harry, please…" You plead, letting out a soft moan as they enter you and you feel the coldness of his rings hit your entrance. "Oh my god!"

"You're so damn wet." He utters, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. The actual touch, and the knowledge that it's finally happening with Harry, quickly builds the pleasurable pressure that he's giving you.

Words escape you. The sensation is taking over. You don't even realize you've made any sort of movement until your eyes snap open at the feeling of his hard bulge trapped within his pants. He growls as you palm him, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Fuck… YN…"

Your fingers move to the button of his pants, surprisingly able to undo it without any trouble, and as you pull down his underwear, his cock springs out of its confines. Your eyes shoot down as you wrap your hand around it. He is big. Thick and long. You've only ever imagined what he was like. You knew it wouldn't be disappointing, there was no way. But the actual view of his cock within your grasp causes your breath to hitch, and with his fingers inside of you, you get even closer to reaching your peak.

He moans as you pump your hand. You moan as he thrusts his fingers. Your noises being drowned out to others by the thumping music throughout the rest of the house, and only being shared between the two of you.

Harry curls his fingers up, immediately hitting your most sensitive spot. Your body shudders and you throw your head back as an exuberant exhale leaves your lips. He thrusts faster, curling up each time, and your thighs squeeze together as your orgasm draws closer. He spreads your legs apart slightly and wraps his free hand around your back, pulling you as close to him as possible and getting deeper with the access.

"Oh my go-… Harry… I'm abou- t- cu-"

"Go on. I wanna feel it, babe."

With the nickname that you have so desperately wished meant something more to him, being uttered from him in exactly the way you've wanted it, your orgasm tips over and your walls squeeze Harry's fingers as if they're trapping them there forever. You moan out again, and again, as the ecstasy floods over you.

Your free hand grips onto the desk for leverage, keeping your body upright and stable, as you do your best to continue your motions around his cock.

"Harry! Oh my god!" You exclaim, still panting yet opening your eyes to see the widest grin on his face. "That was… so…"

"Good?" He chuckles, biting down on his lower lip.

"Amazing!" You reply with a breathy giggle.

His mouth falls open and his eyes close as both of your focus fully turns to your work on his cock.

"YN… fuck…"

He pulls into your body again, grabbing your hips as he kisses down your neck and across your shoulder.

"M'gonna… fuck… I dunno where to… to cum." He mumbles between moans.

You push on his body, sliding off the desk. He lifts his head up and you smile when you see his blown out pupils.

"Can I…?" You begin to ask, both looking down to where you hold and stroke him.

His eyes snap back up to yours, desire and concern written all over his face.

"Are you… sure? You don't have to."

"I want to."

"Fucks sake. Okay. Yes. Yes."

You lower yourself down to your knees, looking up through your lashes as you notice him swallow hard at the sight of you.

"Are you sure?"

He nods, exhaling strongly, his chest rising and falling faster as you stick out your tongue to lick his leaking tip. You lick up his base before taking him in, his cock filling your mouth so much that you try not to gag immediately.

"S'alright." He mutters, starting to pull away.

"Don't move." You state, grabbing his hip to keep him in place. "You're big, H. I just need to get used to it."

He growls at the compliment and grabs your hair. You move slowly back onto him, stroking in rhythm with your hand, and getting him deeper each time your mouth takes him in.

"Oh my-... god."

He begins to subtly pump himself in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you have to pull off quickly.

"M'sorry."

"Keep going."

"What?"

"Keep doing it."

"Bloody hell."

You take him in again, adjusting to his soft thrusts, humming against him as he gets deeper.

"Fuck… m'gonna… m'gon-..."

You cup his balls, which sends him over the edge with a loud moan, feeling his warm release spill down your throat.

"Oh my god, YN." He whimpers, his eyes fixed down on you as he thrusts in deep, making sure you swallow every last drop.

You pull off once he's done, kissing his fern tattoos, and pushing yourself back up to kiss his cheek.

"M'sorry babe." He whispers, still attempting to catch his breath.

"Sorry for what?" You ask, suddenly worried that this may have been another mistake to him.

"M'sorry we didn't figure this out sooner." He smirks, running his thumb along your lips and placing his firmly against them.

"Better late than never." You smile, entangling your fingers back in his hair, deciding to make it their permanent home.

He tilts your chin up to look him straight in the eyes. "You are incredible. That… was incredible."

"What are best friends for?" You chuckle, sticking your tongue out between your teeth, but pulling it back in when you see him frown.

"It's what girlfriends are for."

"Yeah?" You ask and watch him nod, peppering kisses on your lips and cheeks, making you giggle. He pulls away and his gaze flickers between each of your eyes.

"I do have one more favor to ask, though." He states quietly.

"Oh god." You chuckle, not anxious in the least at what this request could be. "What is it?"

"Let me take you on a proper date."

You grin widely, matched by one from him, and you press your lips firmly together, now addicted to the feeling that you've been dreaming of for so long. Butterflies awaken in your stomach at his request, and you nod when you see the amount of anticipation splashed all over his face. You kiss his forehead and rest yours against it.

"I can do that."

~~~~~

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[pixydustworld]

The clock above the fireplace read 11:35pm. 25 minutes until midnight. They had exactly 25 minutes to consummate their marriage.

Hermione wondered how the ministry would know if her shiny new husband didn't come inside her.

She drank more champagne.

“It doesn't have to be painful.” Malfoy said, staring above her head at the wall, seeming eager to over analyze the wallpaper, “There are ways for it to be.” He took a deep breath. “Enjoyable.”

“I’ve had sex before.” Hermione said.

“You have?” His voice was a touch surprised.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Loads of times.” Hermione scoffed (three times, to be specific, and it had been almost a year since the last time) “I’m an expert.”

Malfoy had the audacity to look relieved. “Good.” He said, “I’m glad you’ve had pleasurable experiences. When — when, we, consummate — ”

“Fuck.” Hermione said at the same time as him.

“— fuck,” Malfoy practically hissed, “Just. Just think of them.”

Hermione nodded. “Right.” She said, “Sure.” He was staring at her. Waiting for something; her permission, perhaps. “You can think about other people, too.”

The first time she’d had sex, Harry had been soft, if not a little too gentle. In the tent, surrounded by darkness and the ever present promise of death, their fumbling hands had met. It hadn’t been painful, but it hadn’t been overly pleasant, either. It just had been them.

The second time she’d had sex, Ron had been eager to please her, but it had felt off. Like a sneeze that wouldn’t come, like an itch just below her reach — overall, it had been unremarkable and unfortunately for her and Ron’s budding romance, a little unsettling.

The third, and subsequently final time, Hermione had decided that she needed to stop having sex with immediate members of her very small friend group, and Seamus Finnigan had been happy to oblige her.

In the middle, he’d gotten a leg cramp and accidentally headbutted her.

She’d gotten a bloody nose, and Seamus still wasn’t able to make eye contact with her without cringing.

Then, the marriage law had been announced, and Hermione had been too swept up in writing motions and testifying in court to worry about the elusiveness of her own sex life.

“Did you ever think you’d get married?” Hermione asked to rupture the silence that had stretched on for a bit too long. It seemed like a fitting question to ask, given their predicament. “I was never sure.”

Malfoy smiled and Hermione felt her stomach twist. This would all be much easier if he wasn't so handsome. “It was never my choice.” He said, “I always knew I’d marry someone my father chose for me. Perhaps that’s why I accepted all this — the lack of choice, that is something I’m familiar with.”

“You, however, fought to the bitter end.” He continued, “very valiantly, I might add. As is your nature.”

“It didn't work.” Hermione said softly. Admitting defeat to Draco Malfoy never seemed possible before — but now? It felt almost inescapable, the partnership that was materializing between them. Like the golden thread of fate was tightening around their wrists.

“You’ll figure out a way to make them suffer.”

“Not my nature,” Hermione said, finishing her glass of champagne, “That’s yours.”

The clock read 11:40pm. It seemed they could no longer avoid fate.

“If we don’t consummate,” Malfoy was saying, voice sounding far away, “And the punishment is a fine, I can pay it. I won’t pretend I’m not above bribery, either. I — we — have a lot of money. Perhaps we could buy the Minister an island? Do you think he’d like that?”

“Harry said the punishment was prison time.”

“Hm.”

Hermione stood from her chair by the fire and smoothed the nightgown over her legs, fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” She said, “For offering to pay a fine for me. And for hypothetically bribing the minister of magic with an island. But I think — I think this is just unavoidable. We’ll be okay.”

He smiled again, soft like the fuzzy clouds at sunrise. Hermione had never really noticed how his smile changed his entire face. “Yes,” he said, watching as she moved across the room, “We’ll be just fine.”

She lay down on the bed, closer to him now then she had been in years. The last time they’d touched had been when he’d clutched her shoulders the day of the trials, fingers tight around her flesh. When he’d apologized to her in that dimly lit hallway, tears tracking down his cheeks, uncaring of who saw.

Hermione found dwelling on the past did no one any good, but for once, she was glad he’d done so; if only for the growth that accompanied him with the passage of time.

Glad, that if this was going to happen, she would face the future with this version of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy shifted, looming above her, his fingers finding the strap of her nightgown, twisting the fabrics softly before firmly pressing his hands on either side of her body. The mattress refused to creak, the only sound in the room their soft breaths.

“On or off?”

He waited politely for her answer, but his hands betrayed his tension, clutching almost angrily at the sheets, in danger of ripping them. Rich people, Hermione thought, could afford to rip their sheets. They could simply buy new ones.

“On.” Hermione said in a thick voice.

“On.” Malfoy agreed. “I’m going to touch you now.”

“Yes.” Hermione wished she was someone brighter, someone like Ginny or even Lavender. If they’d been assigned Malfoy, the room wouldn’t feel so thick and heavy. They’d be able to smile — they wouldn’t be frozen beneath him, skin as rigid as the bones underneath. “Alright.”

“You’re so much smaller up close.” Malfoy murmured, surprising both of them. “From afar, it’s easy to convince myself you’re a titan, towering above us mortals. But here, I think it’s undeniable.”

“I was taller when we were kids.” Was the response Hermione decided to give him. “Do you remember? I used to be taller than Harry.”

“I remember.” His thumb was rubbing circles against the top of her thigh. Just touching the skin, nothing scandalous, but Hermione felt a bit like a puritan seeing ankles for the first time.

“Do you think our child will be tall?” She asked, “Like you are?”

His touch faltered for a bit, a crack appearing in his perfect facade. For a moment, his eyes were bright, hungry. Then, he resumed his lazy touch, fingers slowly tracing down her legs, beneath her nightgown.

“I hope they inherit all your goodness.” Malfoy said roughly, “And they inherit all my height.”

Hermione had never thought about being a mother, never considered that a possibility — she certainly had never expected to become a parent with Draco Malfoy. But a life with Harry had inadvertently prepared Hermione to adapt to her environment, like those frogs that change genders.

“I’ll need to stretch you a bit.” Malfoy was saying, sliding down her body. Hermione wondered when she should start calling him Draco. Surely, soon, with the home he'd seemed to have made for himself between her thighs. “Please, just try to relax.”

“Right.”

His hot breath on her center was the only warning Hermione received before he was licking her, tongue twisting its way inside her cunt, thumb lazily rubbing her clit. She was wet, not an embarrassing amount, but not enough for him to grunt his approval, the vibration sending a shudder skittering up her spine.

“Oh,” she gasped, hips squirming against his hold, “Wha — what are you doing?”

“Shh,” he hushed her, words mumbled against her cunt, “It’s rude to interrupt.”

Then, he closed his lips around her clit and sucked, his sloppy noises filling the room. Distantly, Hermione heard someone babbling, broken cries and unfinished sentences — it took a moment to realize that voice was her own. Heat, like fire, like a dragon, spread across her body.

He was pressing her to his face, fingers digging into her flesh; each time she withered away from his tongue, his lips, even his teeth, his grip tightened, an arm pressed against the flesh of her stomach.

Finally, finally, finally, she felt one his fingers slip across her folds, sliding through the wetness. Malfoy’s fingers were so much thicker than her own, entering her with a bluntness she wasn’t accustomed to, twisting her open. Fucking her slowly, with no clear intention of quickening his pace.

“After the war,” Malfoy said, licking up her cunt with leisure, “When we were at school, I wanted to be near you every second. It was like waking up and realizing I could actually see the sun.”

She remembered, even now, through her trembling limbs, how he’d looked at her during their 8th year. It hadn’t been a predator's gaze, but one of blatant observation. Like he was truly seeing her for the first time; finally allowing himself to look.

“What a gift it is.” He murmured against her, a second finger sliding to join the first, a pleasant burn beginning to overtake Hermione, bubbling over the surface, spreading across her flesh, “The privilege to bask in your warmth.”

He devoured her until she came with a wail, on an exhale, head tossed back. Hermione twisted and twisted and twisted away, but his hold was firm. It hadn’t been like that with the others, rarely, it had even been like that with herself.

“Will that be enough?” She sniffed.

He pulled his cock out for her to see.

“Three fingers, then.” Hermione said, voice unsteady.

It was 11:53pm by the time he’d stretched her to his liking.

“Hermione.”

Hermione jerked at the use of her first name. “Yes?” She hiccuped.

He squinted up at her, hair falling over his eyes. He really looked like a stupid fairytale prince, even now, with his face glistening, wet with her, it was completely unfair. “Think of someone else. It’ll help this part.”

To her credit, Hermione tried to follow his directions.

Visions of Harry’s eyes morphed into gray, Ron’s arms around her torso tightened, the way she imagined he would clutch her to his chest — Seamus’s moans grew deeper, like his voice.

It seemed all roads led back to Draco Malfoy, and Hermione was too tired to contemplate the importance of that realization.

Earlier, he’d called her valiant. Brave. Said it was part of her nature, woven into her bones. If she had nothing left, she’d still have her bravery. Perhaps, it was time to use the courage everyone insisted she possessed.

“I’m not thinking of anyone else.”

Malfoy looked like someone had shot him. “What?”

“I’m not thinking of anyone else.” Hermione repeated loudly. Maybe he had a minor head cold and was having difficulty hearing her, “I’m thinking about you.”

“But I told you to think of the others.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a dog.” Hermione scoffed. “I don’t blindly follow your orders.”

She ignored the way he smiled at her.

She felt him then, between her legs. Warm and heavy, a weight on her thigh, a promise for what was to come. “I’m,” Malfoy looked upset, angrier than before with the sheets, “I’m sorry that this happened. That it’s me.”

“I’m not.” The orgasms had loosened her limbs, a crack across a frozen pond; speaking to him seemed easier now, less world shattering. “I’m glad it’s you. I’ve fucked both my friends, it’s only natural that I’d carry on to my enemies next.”

“You think I'm your enemy?”

“No,” She sighed, “I think you’re my husband.”

“Say that again.”

“Husband.” She repeated. “You are my husband.”

“And you are my wife.”

Earlier cowardice forgotten, Hermione smiled up at him, all teeth. Malfoy blinked, like someone had turned on the lights. “ I’ve thought about you fucking me before.” She said softly, “Have you thought about me?”

Malfoy groaned, like he was in pain. “Constantly,” he said. “An agonizing amount. It’s time for me to fuck a baby into you. I’ll fill you up, alright? Will you let me?”

Hermione managed a confident nod.

The feel of all of him, tossed her head back.

Unfair, completely unfair, that this experience belonged to him, when already so many parts of her were his, too. His ownership over her mind had been a subtle acquisition, but this new feeling, the one burning through her, seemed to happen all at once.

“Such a good girl,” Malfoy grunted, “allowing me between your thighs.”

Then, he began to move, and the entire world seemed to tilt off axis.

Everything seemed to melt away, all that remained was Draco, the drag of his cock inside her.

She weakly clutched his arm when his fingers slid to her clit again, rubbing slow, agonizing circles. He smiled at the tears that stuck to her eyelashes, and it was a little mean.

“I won’t last,” he managed to say, “come on my cock, that’s a good girl, let me feel it.”

She felt when he came inside of her, heat spreading across her stomach. Winced slightly, when he kept fucking her, soft thrusts, fucking his cum deeper inside her.

“Have to make it stick.” He slurred.

“We can try again.” Hermione sighed, finally allowing her fingers to drag through his hair. Soft, softer than she thought it’d be — felt him twitch inside of her when she spoke. Wondered if her voice alone had the power to bring him to his knees.

“Has no one ever made you come before?” He hummed, “Does that job only belong to your husband?”

“You’ve never had a job in your life.”

She felt his smile against her skin. “Then I’ll need lots of practice.”

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger's Wicked Birthday - 1st -

The story's in his POV. As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Nsfw. Awkwardly translated smut.

They say that something predestined, something that cannot be changed or avoided, is called fate.

Being born male, female, or otherwise.

Where and when you were born, how long you'll live and when you'll die, all of these seem to be predetermined.

I've always been looking for a way to fight against all of that.

--

Roger: Hey, Jude. Cut back on those cigarettes. You don't know when those lungs of yours will fail.

Jude: Quit yer yappin'. Are ya my mom or somethin'?

Roger: Don't remember givin' birth to an arrogant, swearing bastard like you.

As I walk away after finishing up Jude's regular check up, my ears pick up the hustle and bustle of the dining room.

Roger: Huh? They're bein' awfully noisy.

As expected, when I entered the dining room, I found Harrison listening to a distraught Liam.

Roger: Hey, what's up? Did somethin' happen?

Liam: Kate isn't back yet so I want to go look for her now.

(The little lady?)

Roger: Calm down... You're not gonna find anything if you run out in the dark.

Harrison: Yeah, Roger's right. You were the last one to see Kate, weren't you Liam?

Liam nods.

Jude: You were supposed ta be watchin' 'er. Why'd ya let 'er go about as she pleases?

Liam: Tomorrow's Roger's birthday so we went out shopping to celebrate in advance. I thought about dressing up a bit and doing some stuff that'll surprise Roger.

Harrison: Liam, I now there's something you don't want to tell us, but now's not the time.

Liam: After we finished shopping, we parted ways near Leadenhall Market. Kate told me to go home first because she wanted to buy something in secret.

Harrison: Where'd you and Kate part?

Liam: At a bakery called "Harmony". Around there.

Harrison: If it's around there then...flowers, huh?

Liam: Flowers?

Harrison: Did she go by herself to get flowers for Roger?

Roger: Me?

Harrison: Yeah. There's a popular flower shop in alley where Liam and Kate parted ways. She probably knew about it.

Jude, who was quiet this whole time, muttered something troubling.

Jude: Tha's right, there's been some strange incidents lately. The naïve princess must've gotten mixed up in it. That woman (the queen) must 'ave some kind of info. Maybe.

Roger: I'll go get Victor...

--

There's been some kidnappings recently where Kate was now alone.

All those kidnapped were women, and those who were lucky enough to escape only had their hair cut, so it seems like they were kidnapped to sell their hair at a high price.

Based on the information from Victor, it was decided that Crown would search several hideouts of the criminals.

Harry and I ran through the back alleys of London in the dark.

Roger: ...? Hey, Harry. I can hear a man...and the faint voice of a woman through this door.

Harrison: May that's it. Let's go.

The man's voice gets clearer as we head down the path leading to the basement.

Men with guns and knives gathered in the dark.

(I see. So a bunch of thugs were kidnapping people)

Bearded man: After our watch is done, let's go for a drink- Huh, who're you?

In the dim light, Harrison and I exchanged glances. In times like this, a liar and traitor's quick thinking is useful.

Roger: Don't be so guarded. We're your buddies. We thought we'd take part too.

Bearded man: Huh? What're you on about? We'll lose our share with more people.

Harrison: Don't be like that. The police have been sniffing around lately.

Bearded man: The police...?

Harrison: We got contacts in the police. I got info on how to escape them.

Man with a gun: Hey... Wouldn't it be better if we brought them in?

Roger: Oh, we got a right to choose though. Let's hear some details about what you guys are doin'.

Bearded man: It's simple. You kidnap a woman to sell her hair and if she gets out of line, you kill her. That's it.

Man with a gun: In this day and age, a corpse has some value so it's like killing two birds with one stone.

(Yep, these are definitely the guys. Can't mess this-)

(0)

Harrison and I fire at the same time.

Criminal: Guh...

Roger: What's up? You're bein' unusually aggressive Harry.

Harrison: Yeah, wel... Anyway, I'll take care of the rest. You go ahead.

Roger: Yeah, I'm on it. Can't help but hear Kate's voice in my ear. Don't die Harry. Bringing you back will be a pain.

Harrison: Gotcha...

I head into the darkness, the sound of gunfire behind me.

(Multiple female voices...One of them...sounds like Kate)

I thought Kate would be sobbing in fear-

Kate's voice: -ight... It'll be alright. Help will come. It'll be alright...

My ears picked up Kate's voice, who was assuring the other women with her.

Roger: Geez... You're even worryin' over others in a time like this.

I run and run toward the voice, open the door in the dark, and head up the stairs.

Muscular man: Hey, who're you- Gah?!

I shoot and kill the criminals that come at me as I keep going.

(Found her...)

Among the women bound in rope is Kate.

Kate: Roger...

(Why're you trying to smile at a time like this?)

(You're not fooling anyone...)

As I go up to her and cut the rope with a knife, I notice flowers that fell at Kate's feet.

Roger: ...

Seeing them, I impulsively-

I held Kate tight in my arms.

Roger: Are you hurt?

Kate: Nothing serious. Just some scratches...here and there.

It's so like her to not count scratches as injuries.

Roger: I see...

Kate: I was sure...

Roger: Hm?

Kate: I was sure that Crown...that you would come and save me.

Kate knew about my curse as the "treacherous huntsman".

Still, she believed in me and fought against fear and anxiety.

(Damn. You're so cute and brave)

Roger: You're my birthday present, got it? Not letting anyone take you away from me.

Kate: Got it...

Kate's body starts trembling as if finally letting go of all the pent up fear.

I pat her back as if soothing a baby.

Roger: Scary wasn't it...

Kate: Yeah...

Roger: You did your best. You were great.

Kate: ... Roger... I-I...

Kate bawled so loudly that I couldn't help but smile.

--

After taking care of everything, I brought Kate back to the castle and tended to her wounds.

Kate: O-ow. It hurts...

Roger: It's supposed to hurt. Otherwise this wouldn't be moxibustion.

Kate: I'll accept it...

Maybe because she was still feeling guilty, Kate endures the pain without a fuss.

As I watch her in amusement, a thought appears in the back of my mind.

It's said that those cursed will meet an equally tragic end.

That's a solid conclusion I came to after years of researching curses.

(That's what's supposed to happen to us)

(I wonder what Kate's fate's like)

Kate's a curious woman who's aware of the fact that the world isn't pretty, yet still retains some purity in her heart and eyes.

Even those in Crown with strong personalities seem to be moved by her.

(A miserable fate doesn't suit Kate)

A long life's better than a short one, better to be surrounded by people than alone, and a warm place's better than a cold one.

(The kind of fate that suits someone who's able to smile so peacefully)

It was out of character for me to think of that for Kate who trusts others so easily.

Roger: Alright, done.

Kate: Thank you so much. Sorry for bothering you so late. Then...

Roger: Hey now, who said you could go?

Kate: Huh?

Roger: The treatment's finished, but the punishment isn't, little lady.

I sit down next to Kate on the bed, who makes a sound in her throat.

Kate: Punishment...

Roger: Thinking you'll get an answer right away just by asking's a bad habit of yours. Ask yourself why you're getting punished.

I whisper in her ear as I swipe my thumb across her lips.

Roger: I won't stop until you get it right.

Kate: Um, uh...

Kate jolts when I nibble on her ear before capturing her lips.

Kate: Nn...Roger...

(Soft as ever...)

Roger: Mm...Come one, answer me.

Kate: Because I got hurt...?

Roger: Wrong.

Even after releasing her wrists after kissing her repeatedly, Kate lets me do as I please.

Kate: Nnn... Hm? Ah...

(Hmm, not runninn'? Ahh...you obediently did as you were told)

The way she accepts my kisses while thinking fills me with sadistic desires and I hook my fingertips on the neckline of her dress.

Roger: That's it, think about it.

Kate: You don't need to tell...Ah...

Her breasts spill out as I pull down her dress and my lips are on her.

Roger: Hm? Givin' up?

While licking a nipple, I tease the other with my fingers.

Kate: ! I'm not...

(Ah~ That's a good look. You look so frustrated...like you're about to cry)

Kate: Ah...Is it...because I wandered off on my own?

Roger: Nope.

Kate: Huh...Ah....

I roll the peak in my mouth and Kate lets out a faint gasp.

(I'm disgusted at the thought that other men did that to her...)

I continue to suck and nipple as I slip my fingers in the wetness between Kate's legs.

It was already so wet and like with her nipple, I flicked her bud with a finger.

Kate: Ah...Nngh...Roger...

The moment I saw tears welling up, the irritation I felt within me finally subsided.

Kate: I...give up...

I grab Kate's chin and look at her as she muttered in frustration with tears in her eyes.

Roger: Hey, Kate.

Kate: Yes...?

Roger: I can't stand it when others make you cry. I'm the only one allowed to do that...Right?

Kate: Ye- Huh?

(What......................)

Roger: What's up with that response.

Kate: I just didn't expect it... I'm...not Roger's or anyone else's!

Roger: Then why're you squeezing my fingers so tightly?

Kate: That's because...Ah...I can't...

Roger: I'm not gonna last so let me enjoy your tears for a little longer.

Kate: Ah...wait...Roger

After that, I made Kate cry out a lot before having her finish me with her hand.

Satisfied, I went out for a drink with Jude.

Using my birthday as an excuse, I made him buy me a drink.

--

(I drank too much last night...)

I was lying on a sofa in the lounge with the aftertaste of alcohol still lingering when I felt a shadow over my face.

Kate: Roger...? Are you dead?

Roger: I am. So what do you want with a dead man? I'm not taking any complaints about last night.

Kate: It's not that. I have something for you.

(...?)

When I sat up, Kate shyly held out a bouquet.

Kate: Happy birthday Roger. Also... Thanks for being born.

Roger: O_O ...

(Wha...)

(Thanks for being born... That's the first time I've heard it since my curse)

(Kate...Only you of all people would say that without any hesitation)

Kate: Roger? Um...I went shopping with someone this time?

Roger: Haha, I know. Thanks...

Kate smiles happily like a puppy.

(Her crying face is the best, but her smile- it suits her)

Her smile's so cute that I can't but want to tease her again.

Roger: Hey, Kate. I must've fallen for you if I'm always thinking about you right?

Kate: Excuse me........ I-I don't know!

Roger: Pfft, hahaha. How cold.

After that, while I was walking with the bouquet Kate gave me, Victor suddenly told me what those flowers meant.

Anemones meant "fleeting love".

Kate probably didn't know what the flowers she gave me meant, but it's ironic.

My fate's a future ruined by guilt.

The worst fate lies before me, but I'm not gonna let it get me down now.

Trampling on fate, I-

Roger: Now, let's fight against it again today.

[slavghoul]

From a short radio interview with Antyradio earlier this month, it’s sadly dubbed but here’s a translation of the more interesting bits:

Before we started recording the interview, I could hear you were playing something in your room. It seems like you're working on some new songs?

TF: The songs I'm currently working on may find their way onto the sixth album, but I can't tell you when that will be. What I can tell you for sure is that when I return from the tour at the end of October, I will devote myself completely to working on that record. Right now I'm trying to write good songs, and I'm getting a sense of the direction it's going in. I think it will be very guitar-oriented in a way. Right now it feels very 70s rock. What I have so far sounds a bit like 70s Scorpions or old Boston mixed with Fabio Frizzi. It’s hard to say right now because I’m far away from a finished record, so it’s hard to predict, but a year from now there’s gonna be a finished record and at some point in 2024 it’s probably gonna get out.

You write all the music yourself, so you can change the musicians you work with whenever you want, is that right?

TF: I try to do it as rarely as possible. I haven't made any significant changes in the last five or six years. Of course, sometimes it happens that someone prefers to do something else or can no longer find the time to do it. We all have our own lives and our own duties. Sometimes there is a conflict of interest. I always try to make everyone feel comfortable and keep things interesting, but it's unavoidable, you always have someone leaving.

How do you prepare for the physical exertion that touring entails? Do you workout?

TF: Yes, I have to do that every day because now I'm 42 years old. Moving around the stage, playing and singing for an hour at a time up to 1.5 hours is only possible because of the torture I put myself through [laughs]. It used to be easier, I didn't have to do anything at all, but now I have to work on myself to maintain a certain standard. Although sometimes I still have weaker days, or I get sick. Many of my idols are now my colleagues, I have talked to them about it. Steve Harris also works out a lot to look the way he does now. And he still looks just like he did in 1984, if you look at him from a certain distance he still moves around the stage just like he did back then. That comes at a certain price, but it's important. If you want people to want to watch you, to buy tickets to your concerts, you have to keep in shape, you have to deliver. That's my job.

[autumnsnuggling]

"Sorry's Not Good Enough"

Thinking about Harry growing up hearing ‘Sorry’s not good enough’ and just learning it’s pointless to apologise, as it’s just spat back in your face anyway. 

Thinking about him really struggling to apologise to people, and mainly doing so by buying people gifts or making reconciliation gestures of some kind. 

Thinking of him building a relationship with Draco, who, for all his family’s faults, always taught him the importance of apologising to the people you love.

Thinking about Draco getting more and more frustrated when, no matter what, Harry doesn’t outright apologise for things. He changes his behaviour, sure, but it still stings and reinforces old stereotypes — the golden boy, too high and mighty to consider how a lowly ex-death eater feels. And what stings more is that everytime they fight, Draco makes sure to apologise to Harry. 

Thinking about it all coming to a head after they have a stupid fight about something that doesn’t even matter, and Draco’s still a little too amped-up. When he apologises and Harry graciously accepts, saying it’s okay, Draco just sighs, the spark of annoyance reigniting in his chest instantly. Thinking about Harry just flinching, trying to shrug it off, appease Draco in some way, whilst fighting off the shame his Aunt and Uncle drowned him in as a child. Thinking about everything ramping all the way back up until they’re both yelling at each other again, and Draco just leaves, screaming about how he knew Saint Potter could never truly value a death eater as a friend. 

Thinking about Harry destroying his house until all he could do was curl into a ball and sob. 

A day goes by, then another, and then a few more, until it’s been over a week of silence on both their sides. Harry knows Draco’s waiting for him; understands he needs to reach out first and explain. Except he wouldn’t be able to, not really. He was never good with words like that. So instead, he listens to his therapist, and chooses vulnerability.

Draco knows bits about his family by now, so, after a few anxious turns around the house, he extracts a few memories of Vernon and Petunia hissing the phrase at him, and attaches it to an owl with a simple note: ‘I can’t say it, but I am. I hope you understand.’

Thinking about Draco putting off watching the memory, just to be a bit of a drama queen, and then apparating to Harry’s the moment he’s seen everything, grabbing Harry in a hug. Thinking about him murmuring over and over that he’s so sorry, he should have realised, he knew Harry was sorry anyway, he’s much to Gryffindor to not be so ‘sickeningly sappy’. Thinking of Harry clinging to him, crying just a little, yet feeling able to breathe for the first time in a week. 

Thinking about Draco learning to appreciate Harry’s unspoken apologies, acknowledging them for what they are, and always reassuring him that an apology is always good enough for him.

[cosettepontmercys]

I truly can’t pinpoint when/what exactly changed about Taylor’s fans/fandom but the last few years (especially the midnights release) has really soured things for me and it’s honestly quite disappointing as someone who genuinely enjoys her music and thinks she’s a great artists. how did we get to the point of not even being able to voice an opinion about taylor without being crucified online. or if heaven forbid you dislike a song/album or enjoy the work of one of her exes (john mayer, the 1975, calvin harris, etc)

i’ve always been very fascinated/intrigued by the relationship between celebrities and their fans. and i think it’s really interesting to look back and think about how taylor built her fanbase by making herself as palatable/relatable/approachable as possible. like secret sessions, t party/loft 89/rep room, swiftmas, lover diaries, etc — all of which allow for fan interaction — but also relies on people getting noticed which then in turn encourages people to be as vocal? extra? whatever it is. which then feeds into the "who is a bigger / better fan" competition. i'm speaking from personal experience here, as someone who has liked her since debut — but i think a lot of this is also rooted in how much of the world hated taylor swift prior to ... i want to say folklore, really — like it was deeply uncool to like taylor swift, to be a swiftie, etc. and because a lot of that early criticism was rooted so much in misogyny, i think fans felt the need to (over the years) defend her — and i was one of those! i still am, when i feel like people are criticizing her unfairly. but i think that lends into the "taylor swift has never done anything wrong, and she's perfect and if you disagree then you're against us and you're a fake fan" mentality.

and then i think there's an element of ... not necessarily a superiority complex, but a something among fans who have met taylor. it's a genius marketing move, intentions aside. taylor's music is very personal — and taylor's marketing, and persona is very personal, in a way that other artists prior to taylor weren't, i think. relatability sells. you can see it in the way that people talk about her, and her music. which is very different from the way people talk about other artists — and obviously there isn't anyone else out there with the amount of fame/popularity as her, but you don't see the same amount of fanfiction-writing personal-life-speculating-projection onto other artists' lyrics as you do with taylor. and i think that when someone is that vulnerable with their thoughts, it makes it easy for people to think that they know them personally.

and i think that — as much as i love taylor — it's important to talk about her white woman feminism mentality. and i think that also seeps into how her fanbase interacts with her. the ginny & georgia "joke" is what comes to mind the quickest, but there are countless instances of taylor's white woman feminism — and her benefiting from it. and obviously it was in her right to call out a misogynistic comment, especially one directed at her, but not saying anything when the actress got so much hate for a line she didn't write ... made me feel a bit 🥴. it's interesting to see who taylor will choose to align herself with, i guess is all i'm saying.

i've really taken a step back from taylor — not just because the fandom is exhausting ( the amount of things i've seen about her, joe, travis, etc. is ... something! it's all projection! we do not know anything about these people other than what they choose to show us! ) but also because of her saying that she wanted to be on the right side of history and then over and over again choosing to be increasingly passive and silent. she will call herself an ally but won’t even talk about queer rights; she won’t talk about the literal genocide that’s going on. gun control, abortion rights, anything at all. it's just "go vote" but even that is incredibly passive. but she will take time to remind us to buy new variants, and to stream her music, and that her ex sucks.

i think there was a huge shift that started with folklore/evermore, just given that there weren't a lot of albums being put out during that time, the overwhelming public reception to it — a lot of people who previously didn't care for (or disliked) taylor started to like her, to give her a second chance, etc. then we get into the rerecordings era/midnights/etc., which started off with fearless and nostalgia and then became "how quickly can i put out the next thing". and bailey @placeinthisworld posted this earlier, which i fully agree with. it's about the next award, the next milestone. it's just all quantity. it's overexposure.

and then we have the joe alwyn breakup and the public response to that was also ... interesting. like i saw people crying over it, or saying that love is a lie, removing things from their playlists, acting like they were the ones who had been broken up with. which is just ... odd, given that we aren't the ones in the relationship. and now there are all these comments about being a "joe defender". and then with taylor dating travis, it feels almost like some weird american pipe dream unfulfilled fantasy for so many people — the singer and the american football player. and obviously, i want her to be happy! i don't care who she dates! but i do think the public reception about her and travis has been ... incredibly odd, and i think that the way people talk about her and travis is just ... very ... off-putting and is very rooted in some weird ... stuff. "she finally gets to be small :(((((" is such a weird thing to say. it feels like there's even more projection and self-insert-y stuff with her dating travis, which is a level i did not think was possible from her fans (and more so, the general public).

i have not felt this ... detached and impassive about a taylor release, ever, and it just makes me incredibly sad because i love her music, and am excited about the work, just not excited about the public reception, the public autopsy of her and joe's relationship, or the noise, and i know that internet spaces (and spaces in general) are what we curate, but it's also difficult when she is everywhere.

[avatar-anna]

Hi I was wondering if you could write something about the fan!reader having a small business and Harry randomly checks out the shop and he immediately thinks she's cute or something? If really appreciate it :)

yes!! i... don't really know how i ended up with this fic, and i'm not sure i like it, so lmk what you think!

part two

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was there again.

You knew who he was, of course, how could you not? Harry Styles was the world’s biggest rockstar, known for his 70s-inspired sound, arms covered in tattoos, and elusive reputation. He was loved by millions, yet no one actually knew him, which you assumed was a part of his allure.

In short, Harry Styles wasn’t the kind of person you thought you would find at a Saturday farmer’s market, yet he was there. Every weekend. You weren’t one of his devoted followers, but as time went by and you saw more and more of him, you began to notice things about him. He dressed impeccably, but in a way that said he didn’t want to be noticed. His painted nails were always in various stages of chipped, which you started to believe he preferred it that way because you never saw him with a new manicure. And from what you could tell, he only ever spoke to the two or three friends he walked around with, so you tried to respect his privacy and not notice him. That didn’t stop other people from coming up to him and asking for a picture, but you let him be.

It was hard to do that when he kept coming to your stall every weekend and left empty-handed, though.

Harry Styles, you discovered, was not only the quiet and brooding type, but apparently, he was also the type of person to inspect every single thing in a store and then not buy anything. Not a single thing. Some days it felt like he inspected every petal and stem just to not buy a single flower, let alone a whole bouquet. And his brows were always furrowed, like the display wasn't up to his standards. You didn't know what kinds of flowers Harry Styles bought, but clearly yours weren't good enough for him.

A real head scratcher because he was at your stall every Saturday.

It made you question your stall sometimes—the way you arranged your flowers, the brown paper and ribbon and twine you wrapped them in; the bunches of lavender and rosemary, and bouquets of roses and daises and carnations and peonies, and all the other sweet-smelling flowers you grew at home and brought to the market every weekend. You couldn’t understand why your flowers weren’t good enough for him. Or why he kept coming back to your stall if they weren't.

Each time he stopped by your stall and didn’t buy anything, you got more and more annoyed, something that didn’t happen often. It got to the point that by the sixth time he walked up to inspect your flowers, you couldn’t sit by anymore. You were going to say something, you just had to work up the courage first.

You’d been on your phone typing up possible things to say to him, so you didn’t see Harry walk up to your stall, and when you looked up, you jumped. He was right in front of you.

“I, um, I wanted to ask for your opinion,” he said, his voice so quiet you had to lean in to hear him.

“My opinion?” you asked, looking at him skeptically.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I—I want to buy a bouquet of flowers, but I don’t know which ones to get. I'm meeting someone and am in a bit of a rush, so if you could just...”

He gestured like he wanted you to be quick in your assessment of your own flower arrangements.

You were curious as to why now, after weeks of him practically judging your stall, he wanted your advice, or to buy something. But when he said he was in a rush, you realized you were probably a last resort. Harry didn't want to buy from you, you were just a convenient option.

"Sure. Is there anything you're looking for in particular?"

"Flowers," he blurted, looking at you like he suddenly regretted coming to your stall at all. At that moment, you wondered where his normal group of friends was. Harry was rarely ever alone, and you would've loved a buffer between the two of you right about now.

Rolling your eyes, you said, "I meant, what's the occasion? Are you celebrating? Is it romantic? Are they for a family member?"

You hoped that your questions would clear things up, but he only looked at you with a deeper frown. "Does it matter? They're all flowers."

This was your moment. This was your opportunity to speak your mind and match his sour energy. But as you opened your mouth to tell him how you really felt about his judgy eyes and above-it-all demeanor, you chickened out.

"You're right. Here," you told him, pulling a random bouquet from your stall and handing it to Harry. It was a personal favorite of yours—lavender and daisies and baby's breath bundled together with twine—and a pretty neutral bouquet. Unless he was about to go to some sort of anniversary event with a significant other, in which something a little more grand would be more fitting. But he said it didn't matter, so you decided not to think into it too much.

"That'll be twelve dollars."

His brows raised in a way that made you dislike him even more, but he only pulled his wallet out and handed you a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change," he mumbled, then walked off the way he'd come.

"Ass," you muttered.

Checking your watch, you realized the market was going to be over soon. And since no one was even looking at your stall, you decided to pack up for the day. You began pulling bouquets from their displays, already coming up with ways to repurpose the ones that were showing signs of wilting. You often dried them and made little bookmarks, plates, ornaments, and other kinds of decorations, but that took time and planning.

"Did Harry Styles just buy flowers from here?"

You looked behind you to where a girl dressed in bell bottoms and a crop top was standing, glitter-covered eyes looking at you expectantly.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Can I buy the same bouquet as him? Does he shop here a lot?"

There was an opportunity here. To lie or to tell the truth. Since you were still a little miffed by the singer's behavior, you went with a little white lie. "He comes here every week."

It technically wasn't a lie. He did come every week, but the girl didn't have to know that today was the first time he'd ever purchased anything. You had a lot of flowers to sell, and Harry was going to help you, whether he was aware of it or not.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The next Saturday came and Harry was back with what some might consider his “entourage.” If it was possible, he looked even moodier than he normally did, and he was headed straight towards you. You didn’t know what he wanted, nor did you care that people were gawking at him as he came into your stall. Thanks to him, business was better than ever, word having spread that the Harry Styles frequented your flower stand. You were in the middle of helping a bride with ideas for arrangements for her wedding, and you weren’t going to stop for Harry. He could wait.

“I need to speak to you.”

His voice made it seem like there wasn’t room for debate, but you didn’t see it that way.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute. Feel free to look around,” you told him, quickly going back to the bride to be.

You could practically feel him standing behind you, but you took your time helping the potential client. In reality, it was maybe two or three minutes, but when you turned around, Harry’s arms were crossed like you’d made him wait an hour.

Smiling, you asked, “How can I help you?”

“She didn’t like them.”

You knew what he was talking about, but an evil part of you kind of liked pissing the rockstar off. “Like what?”

Harry just continued to stare intensely. “The flowers. The ones I bought from you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” you said, and you meant it too. You took pride in arranging your bouquets. “Did you want to buy more or did you just want to tell me that?”

“Well, I—” He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I mean not really, but she said I had to.”

Your brows raised, both thoroughly confused and amused at the same time. “Okay. Well, have a look around, and let me know if—”

“There’s nothing here,” he interrupted. “She’s very picky. Likes to have stuff that other people don’t.”

Who was he dating? The queen? you thought. You understood getting the right bouquet and having a favorite flower, but you couldn’t just pull the ones you had apart and make Harry a new one. You grouped those flowers together for a reason.

“I mean if you think they’re unsatisfactory, then you could always just go somewhere else,” you said.

“It’s not me, it’s her,” Harry said. “I couldn’t care less, but she’s insisting, and I’m already here, so.”

He didn’t even realize that he just insulted you. And not only that, but he still expected your help.

Channeling all of your most calming thoughts, you took a deep breath and smiled. “Well, let me check the back for something more unique. Oh wait, there is no back,” you said with a shrug. If he didn’t care, then you didn’t either.

“Why are you being rude? I’m asking you for help,” he asked, seeming utterly confused.

It occurred to you then that the man in front of you might just be the brutally honest type, that he didn’t think he was being mean, just honest. He was, but you weren’t going to have it out with him about his behavior. If no one hadn’t called him out on it, you weren’t going to be the one to change his mind.

“I...guess you can come back to my garden and pick out a bouquet there, but it’ll cost you ex—”

“Done. When can we leave?”

“Market closes in an hour,” you said, eager to be rid of him for the time being.

“I’ll come back then.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered. It was sarcastic, of course, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry was back in exactly an hour, his friends nowhere to be seen. He watched passively as you loaded wooden crates of flowers into your truck, and when you finally closed up the bed, you walked back over to him.

“You can just follow me in your car, I guess. I live about ten minutes from here.”

You weren’t surprised when all he did was nod. He followed you to the market’s parking lot, your eyes widening when he slid behind a sleek black car with tinted windows.

The entire drive, your mind was occupied. You wondered how the hell you ended up in this situation and pondered ways it could’ve gone differently. Perhaps you should’ve just told Harry to find another florist, or just let him pick apart your bouquets. But you were here, driving in your beat up, barely working, pick-up truck with one of the biggest celebrities of today trailing behind you in a car that costed more than you made in a year.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Take a look around and let me know if you see anything you like.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t want to leave him alone among the rows of flowers, but you also didn’t want to awkwardly trail behind him. So you settled for venturing to the next row over pretending to gather flowers while keeping an eye on him.

Harry barely said a word as he walked up and down your garden, his face as void of emotion as always. You wondered if he ever smiled, or what his laugh sounded like, but you quickly shook those thoughts away.

“I can’t find anything.”

Having gotten lost in picking out marigolds that looked ready to be picked, you startled at Harry’s sudden closeness. It appeared he was very sneaky.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said, though you kind of expected that from him. “I don’t have anything else to show you.”

“I just don’t know what to get for her, and she’ll have my head if I don’t get it right,” he said, and for a moment it sounded like he was genuinely worried about the possibility of his head being removed from his neck.

Harry claimed he couldn’t find anything, but it looked to you like he wasn’t going to leave here empty handed.

“Um...” You quickly scanned the row you were in. Spotting some pink carnations and wild daisies, an idea sprouted in your head. You snipped stems and went to another row to pull some other flowers to match. “Here. Carnations symbolize gratitude and the wild daisies beauty and hope. And the little purple ones are unique and will tie the whole thing together once I wrap them in purple paper. Does that work?”

Harry took the flowers from your hands and inspected them like he was about to give you feedback on your choice. Why he would do that, you weren’t sure. You didn’t go to his home and criticize his music.

But all he said was, “Flowers have meaning?”

You breathed heavily through your nose. “Yes, they do. Now, if you’d like, I can wrap these up for you. Put a bow on them maybe?”

Harry looked like he wanted to ask more about flowers and their meanings, but he just nodded.

You led him away from your garden and into your garage, which you’d converted into a workspace years ago. It was covered in unfinished projects and snipped stems and stray petals, but honestly it always looked like that.

“Um, there are small animals following you.”

“Oh!”

Turning around, you saw that Harry was right. There was a line of ducklings following you towards the house. Bending down, you cupped your hands and let a couple hop in.

“This is Melon, Sandy, and Hank. They hatched recently, and now they follow me everywhere.”

Harry peered down at the ducklings curiosity wrinkling his brow. “They...follow...you?”

“Yep. Do you want to hold one? Actually, why don’t you just take these while I go wrap up your flowers.”

You handed the ducklings off to Harry while you darted into your workspace, making quick work of cutting ribbon and tying a knot around the sweet peas’s stems. When you returned, Harry was holding two ducks while one somehow made it onto his shoulder and was burying itself in his hair.

“Sorry, I should’ve mentioned that Melon does that,” you said.

It was a risk to step into Harry’s personal bubble, you didn’t think he would be the type to appreciate that, but he also looked slightly freaked out that a duckling named Melon was trying to make a home out of his hair. Carefully, you removed Melon from strands of hair until he was safely back in your hands.

Harry quietly took the packaged flowers from you and handed the other ducklings back. Figuring he was in some kind of shock from holding the three ducks, you left him to his silence and showed him out.

“Do you own a lot of animals?”

The question surprised you, but only because you assumed Harry would want to leave as quickly as possible. “I don’t really see myself as an ‘owner,’ but I technically have a cow. And Cheese. And deer show up every now and again.

“Cheese?”

“A tree frog,” you clarified. “I was high when I named him.

That time you were sure the corner of his mouth flickered. “That’s...unusual.”

“What? Getting high?”

“No, the cow and—”

“That was a joke,” you said, stopping him even though his flustered state satisfied you to no end.

“Oh. Well here,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and pulling out a bunch of bills.

You started at them in shock. There was easily a hundred dollars in your hands. “I don’t need that mu—”

“Just take it. Please,” he insisted.

For a brief moment there, Harry seemed... different. You couldn’t really pass judgement because you didn’t know him, but the last couple minutes, he wasn’t so tense and wasn’t frowning so much. More awkward than broody. But he seemed closed off again,so you just took the money like he told you to.

Harry quickly sped off after that, and you were left alone in the dust, literally, trying to comprehend the day you just had.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Wiggles says you own a cow.”

Your first instinct was to look up, not down, so you didn’t see her at first. When you realized it wasn’t an adult that was speaking to you, your eyes shifted downward.

The first thing you saw was blond hair slicked back into a ponytail, the next thing was the coffee cup. She looked like she was nine going on twenty-nine with a plaid skirt and sweater vest. Who was this girl and where did she come from?

“You realize coffee stunts your growth, don’t you?” you asked, though a smile played at your lips.

She looked down at you the best she could at her height. A very commendable effort, you decided. “It’s decaf.”

“Fair enough. Who told you about my cow?”

“H—”

“Lucy, there you are!”

With wide eyes, you watched as Harry jogged over to you and the young girl. Lucy.

It seemed Harry switched out his usual group of friends for this young girl. You knew you probably shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Wiggles?”

At that, Harry glared down at Lucy. “We talked about that.”

Lucy shrugged. “You talked. I listened, and then I silently disagreed.”

You immediately liked this girl.

Turning away from Lucy, Harry looked at you with pink cheeks. “Sorry about her. We were just leaving, actually.”

“Oh. No worries, she just—”

“You came all this way and you’re not gonna give it to her?” Lucy asked.

It seemed as if this girl was Harry’s kryptonite, as he began to blush even harder. Sighing, Harry set the drink in his hand down on the table you were sitting behind. The drink you always ordered.

You looked at the drink, astonished. “How did you—”

“I just noticed the label, and I knew that that coffee shop is close by, and I mean the drink is green so all I had to ask for was the green one. It’s not like it was hard or anything.”

It sounded like Harry was trying to convince himself of that fact and not you, but the fact that his moody, broody exterior wasn’t as thick as you initially assumed put a smile on your face.

“Thank you. I don’t know why you got it for me, but thank you.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Harry said, “Well, I told Lucy about the florist who owned ducklings and a cow, and she insisted that I take her, and when I tried to explain that your house wasn’t a petting zoo, she said—”

“That everyone has a price, and Wiggles has a very big wallet,” Lucy supplied helpfully.

Lots of things shocked you at the moment, it was hard to pinpoint which one had your mouth slightly ajar.

Harry had...a child? They didn't look anything alike, but that didn't say much. But not only did he have a child, who was just as blunt as Harry was, he talked about you to her. You were curious to know in how much detail, but you didn't dare ask. It was clear Harry—Wiggles—had his hands full.

"I was just bringing this as a thank you for your help last week. That's all," Harry said, looking you dead in the eye. It was like he needed you to know he had absolutely no ulterior motives with the coffee. Not that you expected him to. As far as you knew, Harry had never been photographed with anyone romantically, but you had a feeling a florist and cow owner wasn't his type.

"Thanks," you said, picking up the drink and taking a sip from the straw.

It was awkwardly silent after that. You didn't really know what to say, and from the looks of it, Harry didn't want to say anything. His mask of indifference was back, but he made no move to take himself and Lucy away.

"So is it like one of those black and white cows you see on milk cartons, or is it—"

"Lucy," Harry hissed.

"What?"

The pair had a very interesting dynamic. The way they interacted felt more sibling-esque than father-daughter, and now you really wanted to know what exactly they meant to each other.

"She's a miniature cow with brown hair," you said to Lucy, not minding her curiosity one bit.

"Miniature?"

You nodded. "She won't grow to be very big. Wanna see?"

Harry stood with his arms crossed while you and Lucy looked at pictures of your pet on your phone. As you scrolled, the young girl peppered you with questions, and while you were more than happy to answer all of them, you could tell that Harry was even more ready to leave.

"You really live there? It looks like a fairy's home," she said, admiring the picture of Petal the miniature cow dozing in the garden.

"I do."

Lucy turned to Harry, and while his arms were still crossed and his face was still pretty stoic, something in his eyes softened when he looked at her. "We have to have our next tea party there."

"You can't just use someone's home for your tea parties, Lucy," Harry said, sounding like he'd had similar conversations before.

"Well obviously Y/n would be invited too," Lucy said with a roll of her eyes.

Sighing, he told her, "You can't invite yourself over to someone's house, Lu—"

"It's fine," you said, even if Harry was technically right. "Lucy, why don't you go pick out a bouquet of flowers. Free of charge."

Lucy's eyes lit up, and she scampered off to inspect each one, much like Harry often did when he stopped by.

Now that you and Harry were relatively alone, you were able to digest some of the information you'd learned in the last few minutes, the first being that Harry Styles, the Harry Styles that toured the world as a rock star and sang about sex and hallucinogenics, went to tea parties with a girl who couldn't be older than ten years old and called him Wiggles. Who knew that was what he was hiding under that broody facade?

"I'm sorry about her, she has no sense of personal boundaries," he finally said, breaking you away from your thoughts.

"Like I said, it's fine. She just made my day."

That made Harry smile just enough for a dimple to indent one of his cheeks. It made you wonder what his actual smile looked like. Attractive like him, you assumed, though you doubted you would ever see it.

"Thanks. And don't worry about the whole tea party and coming over thing, she'll forget about it by tomorrow."

Harry was saying one thing, but it didn't sound like he was all that convinced, and after witnessing Lucy's fascination and persistence yourself, you knew that she would probably nag Harry about it for days, maybe even weeks, to come.

"I...wouldn't mind if she came to visit Petal, but I will require one thing."

Harry looked skeptical but also relieved that he wasn't going to have to repeatedly tell Lucy no. "Deal. What is it?"

"I need to know how Harry Styles got the nickname 'Wiggles.'"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Suddenly knowing things about a celebrity was weird.

To you, Harry had just been some guy that was popular on the radio and really had a problem with your flower arrangements, and now he and his...well, you didn't know who Lucy was to him, but they were coming over to your house so that she could meet your pet cow.

Life was utterly bizarre (cow pun intended).

You didn't really know what to expect from Harry. He was quiet and standoffish and had this uncanny ability to make you question every little thing you did. You were used to seeing him from a distance, watching him as he silently judged your bouquets of flowers, and now you were spending an extended period of time with him. You weren't sure why you cared, but you did.

So you put a little effort into what you were wearing for your guests, but not to the point of looking like you were trying too hard. A bandana over your hair, a pair of jeans that didn't have grass stains on them, and a green turtleneck sweater that made your eyes pop.

Lucy and Harry were right on time, something you were expecting from them. This whole arrangement was strange, but seeing Lucy's eyes widen as she took in your garden in person made it all worth it.

Harry was pretty much silent as you showed Lucy all the different types of flowers and how to properly pick them. He trailed behind the two of you like some kind of bodyguard, boots kicking up dirt and crunching gravel as he walked.

"Is he always like that?" you couldn't help but ask Lucy. You wondered if it was just you who had that affect on him, or if that was just his natural disposition.

"Mm, kinda. He's just shy. Doesn't know how to talk to girls."

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but that was not how you assumed Harry Styles would be. You weren't a huge fan of his by any means, but you didn't live under a rock, either. Girls practically threw themselves at him, you guessed he had no issue flirting with girls.

Not that that's what you thought Harry wanted from you. His feelings towards you were pretty clear, you thought.

"I can hear you, you know," Harry called from a few feet behind you and Lucy. She giggled, like that was exactly her plan, but you just blushed. He didn't need to know you were asking about him.

"And here's Petal. She mostly just sleeps and eats all day," you said a while later. Lucy had insisted you showed her everything, and after an hour, you finally made it to where Petal was napping in the afternoon sun.

"She's so cute! Isn't she cute, Wig—I mean Harry?"

You stood back after telling Lucy where the best places to pet Petal were so she wouldn't get spooked, more than happy to just watch like Harry was.

You tried not to, but you couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. Your eyes caught on the sharp angle of his jaw the curl of his lashes and the point of his nose. And when you settled on his hair, you couldn't help but smile.

"You—You have something in your hair," you said, and before you could think, you were reaching up to pluck the dandelion tuft from one of his curls. The image of Harry's hair dotted with flowers made you smile even wider.

When you pulled back and saw his wide eyes, though, you immediately took a step back. "Sorry, I should've asked before invading your space like that."

Harry cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "It's fine."

Not that you really expected to, but you couldn't read Harry for the life of you. There were moments where you thought he was just awkward like Lucy said, and then there were those where he just seemed inexplicably cold. Maybe it's just me, you thought, and you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by that.

When you turned back towards Lucy to ask if she wanted to go find your ducklings, you missed the way rested his face in his hands.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You weren't sure how it happened, but Harry and Lucy were suddenly a part of your life.

Well, that wasn't totally true. Lucy kept inviting herself over, and you learned very quickly that Harry had a hard time telling her no. Not that you minded. Lucy was sweet, and it was nice having people around.

Harry remained as cold as ever. Over the last few weeks, you knew almost everything about Lucy. As she helped you pick flower crowns, she told you how she preferred her coffee, while you showed her how to make flower crowns and preserve dried flowers, she revealed that Harry was her godfather who helped take care of her, and she told you about her classmate that sang a little too loudly during music class. And while you brewed tea for her tea party, she broke down her meal schedule, from breakfast croissant all the way down to her bedtime glass of steamed milk (non-dairy, of course).

And yet, in all that time, Harry remained a mystery. Unless Lucy included him in a story, you knew as much about him as you did when he was merely someone who came by your stall at the farmer's market.

It didn't bother you, but you were curious as to why stayed so far away whenever you and Lucy hung out.

"Are you free on Saturday night, Y/n?"

You looked up from where you'd been braiding little flowers into Lucy's hair. "I think so. Why? Are you asking to come over?"

"No, I have plans, but you should definitely go out."

She did that a lot, you learned. She liked to tell you what to do with your life and give you advice on how to spend it. Most of it you ignored, seeing as she was nine—though you did take her up on a coffee recommendation she gave you a week ago—but for the most part, you humored her.

"And where should I go?" you asked.

"Wiggles is playing at the Troubadour. You should go see him perform."

Looking over to where Harry sat on a patio chair, you assumed he would be on his phone or staring off into the distance, but his eyes were already on you and Lucy, watching the conversation play out.

"Um..." You weren't really sure how to answer with Harry staring you down like that. Did he want you to say no? Yes? You couldn't tell. "It's kind of last minute, don't you think? I think it might be sold out by now."

"He could work something out. Couldn't you, Harry? Don't you want Y/n to see you perform?"

You didn't know him, but one thing you could assume about Harry Styles was that he didn't like being put on the spot. Looking at you, he said, "If you want to come, I could figure something out."

Lucy jumped up and clapped. "See? Perfect! Now your night won't be boring and Wiggles will be so excited you're coming."

He certainly didn't look very excited. His face morphed into a grimace, though you tried not to be too offended by that.

When it was time for Lucy and Harry to leave, you pulled Harry aside once Lucy was buckled up in the car.

"I won't come if you don't want me to."

Harry shook his head, curls bouncing around his shoulders as he moved. "No, you should. The Troubadour is a cool venue."

"Uh...Okay. Sure. I guess it wouldn't hurt to have plans on Saturday night."

Giving you a curt nod, he said. "Great. I'll text you the details on Friday."

"Cool, I'll see you—then," you said, but he'd already spun around to get in the car.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"The Troubadour is a cool venue?" Lucy mocked with a giggle.

Harry rested his head on the steering wheel and blew out a heavy sigh. "Shut up, Lucy."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You were overdressed.

Or perhaps not appropriately dressed was a better way to put it. You weren't the type to wear a lot of black, but maybe you should've gone out and bought something more suited for a rock concert at the Troubadour. You were in a pair of denim overalls with a floral blouse underneath, a small bouquet of flowers in your hands to give to Harry after his performance.

Everyone at Harry's show was intense, and you were suddenly very glad that you were watching from the second floor. There was a lot of pushing and shoving right in front of the stage, people reaching out in the hopes that Harry would touch their hand.

And Harry. Well, at least now you knew why everyone loved him. Everything about him was hot as he sang onstage. He played guitar, his chest was on display with the button-down that was barely buttoned, and eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, making his green eyes pop. A few times, he looked up to where you were, and you blushed every time. You thought he was cute, like most of the population, but to you that was just a fact. Now, though, butterflies stirred in your stomach.

Maybe it was that Harry seemed to come alive onstage, or that you were finally seeing a side of him other than the quiet, indifferent person you'd become acquainted with through Lucy. Whatever the case, you enjoyed seeing Harry like this, less stoic and more energetic.

When the show was over, you waited and debated. You'd brought flowers for Harry, but his text didn't say anything about the two of you meeting afterward. In truth, your connection was mostly through Lucy, and without her here, there was no reason for you to see each other.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: You can come backstage if you'd like.

That was certainly unexpected. You made your way to what you assumed backstage, smiling at people as you passed. Some smiled back, and some glared at you when they realized where you were headed.

There was a security guard in front of the green room, but he must have been expecting you because he stepped aside before you could say anything.

"Oh! Sorry! I'll wait outside!"

Apparently, the security guard wasn't aware that Harry was changing out of his stage clothes. He'd been slipping his patterned button-down off his shoulders. You were quick to turn around, but not before catching a glimpse of broad shoulders and an entire chest covered in tattoos. Your heart had just stopped racing after his final performance, but now it was fluttering all over again.

"It's fine, Y/n. You can turn around."

Slowly, you turned on your heel. Harry was already in a t-shirt, a faded Ramones shirt with a stretched collar that revealed tattoos inching up his neck.

"These are—These are for you."

"Thanks."

You awkwardly handed over the flowers for him to take, Harry's fingers brushing yours when he eventually did. You weren't sure why you were so nervous all of a sudden. You'd seen Harry numerous times, so you didn't know why this felt so different.

"I really enjoyed your show tonight. I can see why so many people like you. And the, um, the part where you drank water and then spit it out was cool too. I think the girl next to me almost fainted."

Your nerves were palpable, so you weren't surprised when a smile itched at the corner of Harry's mouth. "I'm glad you had a good time."

Neither of you knew what to say now. Both of you stood in the middle of the green room, Harry holding the bouquet of flowers between ringed-adorned fingers and you wishing you hadn't given them away just yet so your hands had something to fiddle with.

"Well, thanks again for this. I had a lot of fun. Though maybe I should thank Lucy. She kind of forced your hand."

Harry was still staring at you with an unreadable expression. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

"I'm—I'm glad you came tonight," he said.

Your brows raised in surprise. "Really? I kind of thought you hated me."

Why did you have to go and say that, idiot? you thought. Now things were even more awkward than they were before.

Harry frowned, looking genuinely hurt by what you said. "I don't hate you. You think I hate you?"

"Well, no, I mean kinda? I guess I just took you not talking to me as disliking me, and before I even met Lucy you would always look at my stall with this hard expression on your face, and then you would never buy anything. Which is fine except you kept coming back so, I don't know, it just felt like my work wasn't good enough for you and you're always glaring and it—it's just this feeling I have."

You took a deep exhaled, having said all of that in one breath. You didn't come to Harry's show tonight with plans to say all that, but now that you did, you felt a bit better. Though now you worried you may have hurt Harry's feelings.

"I—I was just trying to come up with something," he said.

"Come up with something?"

"To say. To you. I don't know anything about flowers, and you make me nervous, and the fact that I couldn't just make myself go up and talk to you frustrated me to no end. I just didn't want to look like an idiot in front of you."

"Oh."

You had no idea how to respond. All this time, you thought Harry didn't like you, only to find out that he was...nervous to talk to you? You remembered Lucy saying that Harry was shy, but you didn't think it went that deep. Apparently, it did.

"So you...like...me then?" you asked. It sounded to you like Harry had a crush, but you weren't going to make any more assumptions.

"Yeah, I—I've been working up the courage to ask you out for weeks, but Lucy beat me to it. Nosy little menace."

You couldn't help but smile at the mention of Lucy. She really was the cause of all this. "Her heart was in the right place?"

Harry nodded, but he wouldn't meet your eyes. "I understand if—if don't want to. Go out with me that is," he said, pink tinging his cheeks. "Now that I know you thought I hated you and everything. But I don't. You should know that, at the very least."

He looked so defeated with his hair hanging in his face the way it was. All of this was coming as a surprise to you, and as such rendered you speechless. But the longer you went without saying anything, the more Harry seemed to deflate.

"You, uh, you haven't actually asked me yet," you found yourself saying.

You thought Harry was a mystery, and in some respects, he was. He'd been a little rude to you the first few times you spoke to him, but everyone had their off days, and he hadn't been like that since he and Lucy started regularly coming to your house.

And without actually speaking to him much, you knew quite a bit about him. You knew he had a goddaughter, whom he loved very much and let call him Wiggles. You knew that he seemed to have a hard time expressing his feelings unless he was onstage. You knew he had a close group of friends that he hung out with regularly. And you knew he let Lucy put flowers in his hair (but you only knew that because she told you).

It was a short list, but you found yourself wanting to add to it.

Harry looked at you, hope etching his features. "Right, um. Would you like to...to go out sometime?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

As your truck pulled into the driveway, you sighed.

You felt like Cinderella after the clock struck twelve. You checked in on all your animals, making sure they were all accounted for. As you finally made it to your bedroom, you replayed the night's events over and over.

You didn't think that was where the night was headed, you almost couldn't believe it. The last few hours felt like a dream, one that you would wake up from any minute now.

But then your phone chimed, and your heart did that weird fluttery thing when you saw who the message was from.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: I had a really good time tonight.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: Is it too soon to ask for a second date?

[1d1195]

Zipper Extra VII

As much as I love this couple, I struggled to come up with an idea for this so I hope this works.

~3.5k words

“I want it to be perfect,” she whispered.

“For whom, m’love?” He wondered. “For me? You’re there. We could get married in trash bags and be married by an alien,” he reminded her making her smile so gorgeously it made Harry’s heart skip a beat.

Harry was losing his mind again.

There was a ring on her finger and somehow that made her more enticing to the men that saw her in public. At the coffee shop, Harry would look at the different roasts to take home and someone would immediately start chatting with her asking to buy her coffee unaware that Harry was only a few feet away. Of course she stopped them politely, explained her fiancé was right there. “Oh, I didn’t even notice the ring,” the man murmured, further turning Harry green with envy.

When they were at the grocery store, the bagger insisted on lifting her items and offered to take them to her car while Harry headed back to grab something they inevitably forgot. Once more she assured the man that her fiancé was more than capable of doing so. “Hmm...I didn’t see your ring,” he admitted.

Of course they didn’t.

Why would anyone bother to look away from her pretty face for even a second to see if she was happily taken?

It soured Harry’s mood immensely. Naturally, she was kind about it on the ride home. She didn’t speak about it at all, merely held his hand as he drove and gave it a gentle squeeze every couple of minutes. She would tell him all about her ideas for their wedding; how she wanted sunset colors for her bouquet: peach, golden yellow, some light orange colors, sprigs of purple, and rosy pinks. “I think it will offset the blue dresses the girls will wear really nicely,” she explained.

He typically grunted in response still feeling frustrated over how someone blatantly flirted with her. It shouldn’t have surprised him. She was so pretty and so nice. It was a wonder Harry didn’t resort to physical fights. Eventually after a few grunts she would finally ask. “Do you have any ideas of what you want? I’ve been struggling with a seating arrangement plan. I see lots of cool things on Pinterest, but nothing really speaks to me.”

Almost always it worked. Harry would clear his throat, forced to answer her question. He had to forget about the jealousy that filled him because he would rather die than not help his fiancée with whatever it was she wanted. “M’not too sure,” he murmured. “What are the options?” Because he was not going to be one of those men who did nothing to help plan. She went through hundreds of different options and questions. They were pretty agreeable on most fronts.

“Having the seats listed on a mirror is really popular these days. I went to a wedding in college that was on a windowpane and that was cool. I’m really into this thing I saw though it almost looks like a clothesline—little clips hold the cards in place for people to find it.”

Harry could hear the way her voice changed when she talked about the little clothesline. “I like that,” he smiled.

“Yeah? You’re not just saying that?” She always asked.

“No, kitten. Course not,” if he didn’t like it, he would tell her. “I think it’ll be beautiful.”

“I was also thinking about our welcome sign.”

“Hmm?”

Harry knew she was trying to trick him into feeling less jealous the longer she spoke. It worked too. “I’ve been trying to come up with something punny. Finally found ‘you’ve been sentenced to a lifetime of happiness,’” she giggled. Harry snorted and shook his head. “Is that lame?” He glanced at her peripherally as they pulled onto their apartment’s street.

“Not if y’want it, love,” he assured her.

“I know, but I want you—”

“I think it’s adorable,” he pulled into a spot on the street and parked. He turned to her finally, gazing into her soft, pretty eyes. He looked at her lips and brought his hand to her face admiring how warm her skin felt beneath his palm. She was so pretty every moment of the day it was incredible she was all his to admire.

“It’ll have a gavel below the words, and I want it to be decorated with the flowers we pick,” she continued.

“You’ve already made the sale, kitten,” he chuckled, brushed his thumb on her lip.

“I want it to be perfect,” she whispered.

“For whom, m’love?” He wondered. “For me? You’re there. We could get married in trash bags and be married by an alien,” he reminded her making her smile so gorgeously it made Harry’s heart skip a beat.

“Well,” she sighed. “When you put it that way.”

“M’sorry m’a jealous monster,” he whispered quietly.

She blushed below his hand, and she glanced from his uninterrupted gaze. “I don’t think you’re a monster. I don’t think you have anything to be jealous of either.”

He smiled; pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded. “Probably not, but can’t help it,” he shrugged. “M’sorry.”

“I would probably tear a girl’s eyes out if she even looked at you.”

Harry laughed loudly. “I would never make y’jealous, kitten. Ever. But I would love t’see that.”

*

It was going to be a spring wedding. Spring in the loosest sense of the word. It was going to be on the first day of spring but there was no way of knowing if it would be a warm spring day or a holdover of a cold winter day.

It didn’t bother her much planning most of it. Everyone in her life told her a thousand different things that made her anxious and sick of hearing the difference of opinions when the only opinion she cared about was Harry’s.

“I want to show you my dress so bad,” she told him while they snuggled on the couch watching a movie.

He smiled. “I can’t wait t’see it, kitten. Gonna look like an angel,” he kissed the top of her head.

She buried her face into his side. “I don’t know about angel,”

He chuckled. “Course y’will, love. Y’look like an angel every day,” he reminded her.

She laughed, muffled by his ribcage. If she had the ability to tell her younger self she would one day be engaged to Harry Styles she didn’t think there was a world in which she would have believed it. But right beside him, calling her an angel. It seemed like the surest thing to ever bet on.

*

“Mom,” she sighed rubbing her forehead. Harry was walking in the door, a box of cupcakes for tasting. He picked them up after a long day of work. She could see the exhaustion on his face. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair had that look that he ran his hand through it too many times.

On the table was a giant poster board filled with sticky notes that was supposed to keep them organized in planning but felt like a full-time job some nights.

Her mom was talking in her ear about how her uncle wanted to bring his new girlfriend despite the fact his ex-wife was going to be there, and they did not get along. “Mom, it’s my wedding!” She was practically bubbling with tears. Harry rushed over, missing the counter as he put the box down, which left the cupcakes smeared on the floor in the process. Harry looked at the box like it was the box’s fault but feeling shame that it was his own doing.

Her jaw dropped in shock, unable to believe the chaos that seemed to creep in every moment the closer it got to the wedding. It was only four months away and they had already been planning for so long. While she looked at the ruined cupcakes, she listened to her mom try to reason with her that it was what you were supposed to do at a wedding. They could rearrange everyone when the time came so that everyone was happy.

“Mom, I have to call you back,” she mumbled and hung up without another word. Poor exhausted Harry looked at the cupcakes.

“Fuck, m’sorry, kitten,” he frowned. “I thought y’were going t’cry and I just wanted t’make sure y’didn’t...I can call and ask for another dozen and go get them right now—”

“Can we get married this weekend?” She looked at him nervously. “Please?” She whispered.

His voice felt broken. They had been planning for nearly a year. A wedding that they were grateful to afford because so many could not have the elaborate wedding they were planning. One that had everything they wanted. But even in their own planning, it was their wedding and yet it was still dissolving into anxiety and madness. It was supposed to be in front of all their friends and family. “But what ‘bout—”

“We can do that one too, but I’m going crazy. You’re going crazy,” her voice cracked. “I just want to be your wife. I don’t care about any of this anymore,” she whispered.

“Kitten,” he cooed.

“I know I’m crazy but if one more person asks if they can bring their child after I specifically said no children I’m going to scream,” she sniffled.

“Baby,” he frowned. “Please don’t cry,” he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “I know s’overwhelming but I want you t’have—”

“Then please marry me. This weekend,” she repeated into his shirt.

“How on earth could I say no to you?” He asked rhetorically.

*

Angelic was insulting compared to how beautiful she looked. In fact, there wasn’t a word to describe how perfect that dress looked on her. It literally stole Harry’s breath away. “Breathe,” Louis muttered to him as she entered. His voice felt frozen, and he wondered how on earth he was going to get through vows.

Louis was the only person they told. He closed the office down for the night. Told everyone that planned on working on a Saturday evening that they couldn’t. Something about buffing the floors or tenting for fumigation. But really, Louis was going to marry them as a recently registered online-ordained clerk. They were getting married in Harry’s office because that’s where she told Harry she loved him for the first time. She walked the short distance from the door to where Louis and Harry had moved his desk to the side so they could get married in the setting sunlight. There were a few bouquets of flowers that Harry thought would match the theme of their other wedding in a couple short months.

She held a similar bouquet in her hands. Harry thought she looked like an ancient goddess of sunlight and flowers. Her dress was A-line in structure. A plunging neckline with intricate floral lace on the bodice without any sparkle. The floral lace faded into the flowy skirt and against the setting sun, she looked golden against the pure white dress. She was the most precious thing he had ever seen. She was completely right; he was desperate to see her in this dress. Waiting another few months would have been sinful.

“Hi,” Harry smiled as she stood in front of him.

“Hi,” she giggled. “It doesn’t fit right because it still needs to be altered,” she told him and showed off the back that had a similar plunging neckline but against her back. “I stole all our chip clips,” she smiled excitedly. Harry laughed and shaking his head at her and her adorable antics. “And I won’t have my hair like this.”

Harry hadn’t even noticed that she had her hair down naturally as she always wore it. Her makeup was the same as he saw it each day. Yet somehow it was even more beautiful. “I think y’should,” he murmured.

“Oh?” She smiled. Nodding he scanned her up and down unable to believe she was all his. In a few moments she would be his wife for the rest of their lives and beyond. “You look perfect,” she assured him. Harry always looked handsome. He had plenty of suits due to his job, but there was one he had gotten shortly after getting engaged. He never told her but as she scanned the suit, it fit better than all his other ones, it seemed she realized he got a new one just for this day. Like it was made to be on him and look so perfect on him for this moment.

“Are you ready?” Louis asked quietly. It was their evening, and he didn’t want to spoil it or rush it. But Louis also knew that Harry would spend hours ogling her if he let him.

They both nodded eagerly.

Louis went through the basics, the things that were said at every wedding but they were staring at each other, Harry holding her left hand in both of his while her other hand held her bouquet. “Do you want to do your vows now?” Louis asked.

“I forgot mine,” she admitted.

He shrugged. “They don’t have to be the ones we wrote,” he offered.

She took a deep breath. “Okay, Louis, I’m sorry,” she smiled. He winked at her and she turned her gaze back to Harry. “They’re not going to make any sense if I say them off the top of my head,” she warned.

“S’okay,” he assured her. “M’gonna love you no matter what.”

With another deep breath she started. “I’ve been so lucky to know you since we were kids. Thinking back on it, I’m sure I’ve loved you since we were in college. Having our lives intertwined so obviously seems like fate, in hindsight. But I wouldn’t trade a day of our relationship and every path and twist and hiccup it led us to for anything. There are days where I truly don’t want to do anything but be your wife and just...bask in how perfect it is. I lose all sense of identity and it’s not a bad thing. I am so in love with you it makes me,” she sighed, shaking her head, keeping her gaze on his green eyes that looked golden in the sunlight. “I am so happy to marry you. It might be the best thing I’ve ever done. You make me a better person, you make me happy, you make me feel safe,” she blinked away briefly and laughed. “I didn’t...” she sniffled as she thought of the night that Harry was there to save her and kickstart their romantic relationship. Despite how scared she was at the time; she would be forever grateful for Harry finding her and keeping her safe. Always. “Oops,” she swiped at her cheek and Harry chuckled.

“S’okay,” he promised. She sniffled again, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I think if I admitted it to myself, I always had a crush on you. Ever since we were young,” he reached for that tear and wiped it away. “You make sure I have medicine when I don’t feel well, and you always make sure I eat. You dance with me in the kitchen, and you don’t mind that I’ve been in pajamas for two days on the weekend. You make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world,” she paused briefly and squeezed his hand like it was part of the promise she was whispering to him (and Louis). “I’m going to have a crush on you for the rest of our lives and I’m so happy we’re here and I love you very much. I always will. And I will always do everything I can to make you happy.”

Louis looked at Harry pointedly. “I can’t wait to hear what she has to say when she has prep time,” Louis smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes as she giggled, which just made his heart feel warmer than he ever thought possible.

He squeezed her hand. “I feel like I’ve said m’vows a hundred times t’you now. When I told you I loved you for the first time, right here. Then when I proposed. M’going to love you with everything in me. Every single day. M’gonna love you more every day. Somehow. I’ll figure it out, I promise,” he smirked making her giggle. “You mean everything t’me,” he promised. “I don’t care ‘bout money, houses, billable hours, or contracts. The second I think of you, it all goes away. You are my entire world. You make me so happy. Even when I don’t want t’be happy. Y’work tremendously hard t’make our lives easier and happier. T’make me happier. No one has ever done that for me before,” he explained. “I admire you more than anyone on this earth,” her eyes welled with tears again.

“M’going to love you and cherish you and take care of you for as long as we live and then wherever this afterlife takes us,” it truly sounded like a vow. “I want this to be the last time you cry, but seems a bit unrealistic,” he chuckled and wiped at her tears again as she giggled tearily through the words. “M'never going t’be responsible for your sadness, kitten. I promise. M’always going t’be responsible for making y’happy. When y’need me, m’going t’be there. Always. I love you more and more every second and I wish I figured it out sooner than I did,” the only nod to the rough start they had in ages. “But m’glad I figured it out now. Glad I get t’see you in this beautiful dress and hear y’tell me that m’worth it,” he whispered.

“You are,” she mouthed unable to speak.

“I love you,” he repeated. “Forever, and ever.”

Louis cleared his throat awkwardly and shook his head. “Didn’t know you could do that,” he muttered and pinched at the corner of his eyes. She laughed tearily, still but Harry couldn’t help but smile. Louis spoke again, more logistics and legalities. Terms and conditions the pair of them were used to hearing.

Harry was certain he said “I do, I do, I do,” about a hundred times when Louis asked making him and his beautiful girl laugh again.

“And do you take Harry Styles to be your husband?” Louis asked.

Her eyebrows pinched together as she looked at the most perfect man she had ever met. She tilted her head at him. “Are you holding your breath?” She whispered.

“Please say ‘I do,’” he mumbled but he was definitely holding his breath.

She giggled. “I do,” she rolled her eyes. “You idiot.”

“Thank you,” he sighed with relief.

Louis snorted. “Just kiss her already,” he chuckled.

Harry dipped her as if they were dancing in the kitchen at home. His hand unclipping one of the chip clips holding her dress in place. She giggled as his lips sealed over hers. “Congratulations, Mrs. Styles,” he murmured against her mouth when he pulled away slightly.

Louis chuckled, grabbing the clip, and heading for the door to sign the marriage certificate.

She kissed him again, the flowers falling to the floor, and she held his face in both her hands. “I love you, Mr. Styles,” she smiled. She looked so beautiful; it made Harry’s heart ache.

“This was an amazing idea, kitten,” he told her standing her upright, and kissing her again.

“I have those every now and then,” she tucked her face into his chest. Another clip fell off her back.

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Better get y’home so y’don’t flash Louis on our way out,” he suggested.

She smiled. “Well...I actually brought a change of clothes,” she assured him. “And I may have told Louis to leave the floor locked and leave,” she bit the inside of her lip.

Harry felt warm all over. “Oh?” One of his eyebrows quirked up. His expression hooded as he looked her over.

“I think you got a good view of my dress for now, right? You can wait till spring?” She asked, pulling the last two bag clips off the back of her dress. Without them holding it in place, it draped differently on her body making it fall haphazardly around her torso, dangerously close to revealing some of Harry's favorite physical features of hers.

“I’d like to view it on the floor,” his voice was low and hungry in tone as he scanned her.

She smiled. Turning around, she showed off her zipper. "Unzip me."

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

zipper: @sunshinextemptress94 @jhughesangel

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[magnolianv1nce]

(hc) being with nick + charlie . . .

pairing(s) : poly!nick and charlie x male!reader

synopsis : headcanons while dating nick and charlie !

warning(s) : polyamorous relationship , mentions of hickeys , mentions of making out . comment any i missed please !

✢ they both consider themselves ‘ the luckiest men on earth ’ for being able to date you .

✢ they love you to DEATH , and would want you to feel 100% comfortable anywhere you were .

✢ charlie would be the one who asked you out , but nick would be the one who first kissed you .

✢ the moment you three got together , nick and charlie would constantly take pictures of you .

✢ yes , they have a whole photo album dedicated just to you .

✢ you three would have matching lock screens or just a group photo of you three ( similar to those photobooth images . )

✢ youll easily be able to catch both of them staring at you in awe just because they realized they pulled YOU !

[y/n] — “ why are you both looking at me like that ? ” [nick + charlie with eyes of adoration] — “ like what ? ”

✢ before coming out to ANYONE about your relationship , they both would take sneaky kisses or affectionate love bites whenever they could .

✢ although they both can get away with minor PDA fairly easier and pass it off as ‘ best friends ’ and such , although the more handsy they get the more suspicious they look .

✢ out of everyone in the group , darcy would be the most likely to find out about you three , mainly through her gay intuition .

✢ once you three do eventually come out as a couple , everyone is extremely supportive ( darcy is constantly shouting that she knew it ) , even if other people outside the friend group dont understand it .

✢ even if ben hope and his homophobic strag patrol ends up coming up to you or talking about you , all three of you try your best to make sure it doesnt get to any of you .

✢ nick would constantly hold your hand or run his thumb against your arm while charlie would whisper little jokes about harry or ben .

✢ if it helps , they would lend you their sweaters or jackets to make it feel like they were with you everytime you wore their clothing .

✢ speaking of clothing , you three borrow clothes from each other so often that when you go shopping for new garments , youre basically subconsciously shopping for the other two .

✢ even if you dont play rugby , nick and charlie would still text you to come into the locker room just for kisses or affection .

✢ you almost get caught a worryingly amount of times on a daily basis while making out with them two ( although you and charlie both blame nick , but he makes it up to you by kissing you . )

✢ hugs . hugs hugs hugs . must i say more ?

✢ nick could very easily lift you + charlie up in a single hug ( then again charlie is quite easy to pick up regardless ) .

✢ nick would definitely hug you both whenever he gets the chance , whether that be in the hallways or in between his rugby scrims .

✢ he likes to use this as a way to lovingly mess with you and charlie , since he'll run at both of you for hugs and kisses after his rugby matches .

[y/n + charlie] — “ NICKKKKK , YOU'RE ALL SWEATY ! ” [nick] — “ then stop gripping onto me so tightly-! ”[ y/n + charlie] — “ nope . ”

✢ studying after school with these two are either 100% productive and you three actually get your work done . . .

✢ . . . or end up with your textbooks shoved to the side and you between nick and charlie in a very heavy makeout session .

✢ because charlie constantly takes all of nick’s sweaters , nick ends up willingly acting as your personal ATM .

✢ you need to buy supplies ? hes pulling out his wallet. you mention something you wanted ? next thing you know hes purchased it WITH overnight shipping . you say youre hungry ? hes already reciting his credit card numbers .

✢ charlie would make a playlist of songs that made him think of you !!

✢ he would also send you multiple songs or tiktoks that remind him of you , easily forwarding 71 videos from his fyp to you .

✢ he loves to teach both you and nick the drums , although youre more adamant about doing it than nick .

✢ youll usually sit on his lap or have him pressed against your back while his hands guide yours to play some rhythm on the drums .

✢ when you and nick come over to charlie's , tori often times drops tidbits of information on how charlie constantly talks about you .

✢ she often describes that he is , ‘ gooning about you two 24/7 ’ , much to charlie's denial .

✢ ideal dates with these two dont have to be a lot , it could literally just be facetiming .

✢ with that being said , the arcade is a hotspot for your dates . you three are easily familiar faces with the arcade staff , earning the nickname ‘ triple threat ’ .

✢ the mall and the beach are your other favorite spots , since they contain a lot of your favorite memories with the two dorks .

✢ although you dont consider it a date , taking nellie for a walk with charlie and nick are another highly popular event you three do .

✢ although nick is certain you like nellie more than him ( he is , apparently , NOT jealous . )

✢ speaking of jealously , when these two get jealous . . . its a riot .

✢ it doesnt even have to be that big of a deal , it could be an underclassmen asking you to meet them for lunch and they would be throwing up a shit storm .

✢ nick gets WILDLY possessive of you , and will intimidate others off with his signature arm cross paired with a glare .

✢ charlie on the other hand will get extra handsy , holding your hand or clinging onto your arm . he'll even play with your hair occasionally if it gets the point across .

✢ even afterwards when you three are alone ( like say , nick's house or in the locker room ) , theyll still be all over you , kissing you and hugging your ribs to death .

[nick murmuring kisses into your neck] — “ your ours , got it ? ” [y/n] — “ all i told him was i would get the assignment do-, ” [charlie against your back] — “ no talking to other guys ! theyre gonna fall in love with youuu . . . ” [y/n] — “ fine . . . you guys are more than enough anyway . ”

✢ if that certain person who makes them jealous still hasnt gotten the hint . . . charlie and nick take more drastic measures .

✢ like say . . . leaving hickeys barely visible on your collarbone or shoulder area or posting you three on his instagram story .

✢ regardless , youre happy that you get to be theirs , and theyre happy they get to be yours .

[archiveikemen]

『 The Past Records 』 Collection Event: Chapter 1

Jude Jazza & Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

< Ellis' POV >

I’m sure we met each other four years before we joined Crown.

On the night I arrived in London and was wandering around town in search of accommodation, I was crossing a bridge when I saw him there looking up at the moon.

Looking at his vacant facial expression from his side profile as he finished smoking a cigarette, I thought he was going to fall into the river below.

So, I asked him a question.

Ellis: Are you happy?

Jude: … So what if I am?

Ellis: I’ll make the happiest moment in your life… last forever.

Jude: Hah? What was that? You’ve got a screw loose.

Jude: The happiest moment in my life, huh. Perhaps—

…

< Third Person POV >

Victor: Work again? I was informed in advance, but you two sure seem busy.

It was morning at Crown’s castle. Victor had just arrived at the dining room for breakfast when two people were already heading out after finishing theirs even though it was still early in the morning, and so he called out to them as they passed by one another.

Ellis: Sorry, Victor. We’ll be back by nightfall, so let’s discuss the mission then.

Victor: Ahh, how very commendable! I’m perfectly OK with that!

Jude: Shut up. You don’t have to apologise to this weirdo every single time.

Victor: You have a very sharp tongue, Jude. But I like that about you.

Jude: Creep.

Ellis: We’ll be taking our leave now.

The two left the castle with facial expressions contradicting each other’s.

Liam: I’m impressed with how you’re still not depressed despite being treated with that tone daily, Victor.

Victor: Well, those two were recruited by me after all.

Liam: Just like them, you also told me that you were “OK with me keeping my current job” when I joined Crown. But they seem so much busier than I am.

Liam: I wonder if they have the time to go on missions for Crown.

Ever since Ellis and Jude joined Crown a few days ago, the two had yet to even go on their first mission.

William: Well, there’s no deadline for when they must have their first mission by.

Harrison: … You know, can we really trust those two guys?

William: What makes you say so?

Harrison: They say that they're traders, but I heard some suspicious rumours about them. It’s said that they have enemies everywhere holding grudges against them.

Liam: Oh, I heard those rumours too. Such rumours occasionally spread amongst my fellow actors.

Liam: There's rumours about things like an aristocrat got swindled of their entire fortune.

Harrison: It won’t be a problem if they’re merely immoral businessmen.

Harrison: But if they're spies from elsewhere, we can’t just sit back and do nothing.

Victor: Do you not trust them?

Harrison: As much as you’re a weirdo, but I believe that you’re a good judge of character. It’s just that…

Victor: !! Did you hear that, William?! Harry just praised me!

William: Yes, I did. He has more to say.

Victor: Right, please continue!

Harrison: … You’re really a pain in the neck.

Harrison: It’s just that because of these rumours, their background is too dubious for us to feel like we can safely assume that they’re trustworthy.

Harrison: Don’t you think we shouldn't let them go their own way too often?

Victor: Hmm, you have a point… but I don’t want to impose too much restriction on their freedom.

William: Why don’t we ascertain for ourselves, whether they can be trusted?

Victor: Ascertain for ourselves… I like that idea!

Liam: Ahaha, looks like something’s brewing.

Harrison: Ohhh I have a bad feeling about this.

…

Victor: All members of Crown are here~! It’s time for a new mission, and I call it “Operation Observe Jude and Ellis’ Way of Life”!

Liam: Wow—! *seal clapping*

Alfons: Another one of Victor’s idiotic plans? Marvellous.

Victor: I want everyone to observe the two of them and submit reports to me.

Victor: The theme shall be “are the two of them suited for Crown?”.

Harrison: Damn it… I shouldn’t have said anything. I already have enough on my plate as it is.

Elbert: … You’re busy?

Alfons: If I’m not mistaken, you’re in the midst of a proofreading job with no extensions allowed for its deadline, and the author of the book has yet to submit their first draft.

Alfons: I think you also mentioned having to burn the midnight oil before the deadline.

Liam: Then, why not have Harry be the commander?

Liam: The investigation works will be distributed amongst all the members except Harry!

Alfons: A Sneaking Mission? Sounds like fun.

Elbert: I don't mind.

Roger: I mean, I don’t see why not?

Harrison: … By the way, can I choose NOT to be a part of this?

William: At this juncture, I highly doubt so.

Harrison: … Right.

Victor: Well then, the investigation begins!

[collegetennisoriginstory]

kind of cringe (and by cringe i mean transphobic and antisemitic) to be talking about harry potter when rowling is a well known transphobe and antisemite and trans and jewish people have been saying for a year+ now to stop talking about this series and this author, giving them a platform and keeping them relevant and in the public conscious. i really really like this game and enjoy your writing, but if you cant do the bare minimum of allyship for your trans and jewish readers then i wont be able to keep supporting this game. very disappointing, i hope you can grow and do better

First up, I think you make a very important point in needing to caveat that we disagree with an author's stances/views (I absolutely do not condone Rowling as a person nor her transphobic / antisemitic stances) especially because NOT doing so would, as you say, continue to keep their books in the public consciousness. I've added this caveat to the original post :)

My bottom line is still: I stand with trans people, and Jewish people, and I cannot abide by the things Rowling has said and done and I fully see those deeds and words as an attack on people I care about. I think, like you said, it's important in this climate to reiterate this strongly, and unequivocally. There's no nuance needed here.

However, I think discussion of the author's work ALONGSIDE discussion of the author's transphobic / antisemitic comments can sometimes be more fruitful than simply erasing all traces of this person's existence, because discussion is (to me) always more constructive than erasure.

In other words, I believe documenting / sharing reasons for one's censure is almost as important as the act of cancelling / not supporting the author (because ultimately, statements like "I do not support Rowling's stance on xxx because xxx" will spark important changes to societal attitudes far more than simple silence will—as the latter will simply be an absence rather than a presence of careful, measured discourse.

I have always engaged with both the asks/messages I agree with and disagree with, and I have always been honest and unflinching in my replies. I understand that you might have a different view ("all talk about a work is bad/too much talk", for instance), but I think there is room for us to respectfully disagree on that.

I will continue to engage where I have the energy and time to do so, because I believe these conversations are the only way we can prevent society from becoming echo chambers / isolated, polarised camps. Censorship (including self-censorship with the intention to withdraw support from something) to me is far more nefarious than robust disagreement/dissent (in the vein of George Orwell's 1984 and Swyngedouw's argument that the absence of disagreement is the state of "post-democracy", where everything is always already decided.)

P.S. I think discussion of an author's shitty stances, and reiteration of allyship has to be done alongside cutting off all material / financial support for said author. I'm more than down with the latter. I am fully in the camp of not watching/reading/buying the books and movies, but I do believe continued discussion of the work and the author's stances go hand-in-hand with this.

Cheers!

[harryforvogue]

do you guys think mia’s harry ever gets snobby? i think so. i mean he’s grown up rich. of course he’s gonna say something that will have mia going “um what?”

canonically, he’s pretty snobby about the clothes he wears. he gets custom tailored suits and designer shoes. and he’s wearing them proudly. often looks at mia’s sweaters and tells her he can buy her the same things but in cashmere.

but i also think he gets snobby without realizing it. they’re sitting at a restaurant and mia’s really enjoying herself and all that, and she thinks everything’s going super well.

but then when they’re driving home, harry sighs deeply and says, “what a disaster.”

and mia’s like “huh?”

and he looks over at her. “i mean, cmon, right? how do you get a salad wrong??”

and mia’s like … “the salad?”

“yeah i mean the dressing was totally off. they should have just gone for a vinaigrette. they were so cheap with it too. it was practically a dry salad.”

“i thought it said it came with balsamic vinegar.”

“vinaigrette, mia.”

“yeah that.”

“definitely not the same thing.” he looks disappointed in her. “and it didn’t. they should have though. and my steak was way too over cooked. i wouldn’t go there again. i’ve had better food from street vendors in new york.”

and mia’s just quiet because she thought the food was fantastic but apparently her tastes aren’t as expensive.

“snob,” she mumbled to herself.

harry whips his head to look at her. “what did you just call me?”

“a snob.”

“i am not a snob!”

“it was a salad, harry.”

“it was done incorrectly!”

“salads are just salads! not to mention it was a side salad.”

“still part of the meal!”

“you just hate poor people food!”

“you didn’t even look at the bill, mia! that was a very expensive meal!”

(it’s true. mia had just slid it over to harry and gave him a sweet smile.)

[groenendaelfic]

do you think wille will/should abdícate in the future or do you think he’ll become king one day?

The way this is worded I am 99.9 percent sure this is one of my friends trolling me, but I'll bite anyway even if it is, so strap in, because I have many messy, convoluted THOUGHTS. (in case it isn't sorry for presuming Anon and thanks for your question and being curious about my opinion)

The reason why I think this is a friendly troll ask is because you can't make this an or question and I have been very vocal about that in the past. I mean you can, Young Royals fandom is doing it all the time everywhere, but you shouldn't and yes I'll keep being nitpicky about that.

Why? Because In the context of monarchies and royalty the word abdication only applies to crowned monarchs and yes it does make a difference.

Let me use a (simplified) irl example: Harry didn't abdicate, William can't abdicate (yet), only Charles can and only now that he's king. Charles could have given up his rights to the throne in favor of William when he was still Prince of Wales, but that wouldn't have been an abdication, not if he had done it before becoming King himself.

The same is true for Wilhelm. Wilhelm can only abdicate after ascending the throne. If he's not king, it's not an abdication.

Yes I'll keep harking on about this until the end of my days, because while it might not seem like a big deal what word you use here, it actually makes a big difference legally and politically and on all levels if it's a crowned monarch and head of state formally abdicating or if it's an heir giving up their place in the line of succession.

So what we're actually all discussing here (most of the time) is should Wilhelm give up his place in the line of succession and right to the throne, and my immediate reaction to that (after no, never, but also he's sixteen, it's way to soon for any of that) is, how and in what way?

We're all rooting for Wilhelm and want him to be happy, of course we are. Wilhelm is my absolute favorite, but I hate this trend in the fandom that's romanticizing what everyone likes to call "'Wille's abdication" or abolishing the monarchy in general, because just because "it's right", doesn't mean it's in any way easily or quickly done in a "haha and now Sweden no longer has a monarchy" kind of way. That's not how it works.

Don't get me wrong, I'll never romanticize the monarchy or any other systems enforcing hierarchies and inequality, not in irl nor in any of my fics. Tax billionaires until they aren't anymore, eat the rich and yes, of course get rid of all monarchies, but you can't just go "lol no longer a prince", especially when like Wilhelm, you're still a teenager and can't make a properly informed decision about what you're doing.

Now before you all come at me with pitchforks, of course teenagers can tell right from wrong and make informed decisions, but Wilhelm grew up not only with immense privilege, but also extremely sheltered and in a bubble. Yes he started out his first semester of 'high school' in a public school, but I promise you the majority of his classmates' parents weren't plumbers or tax accountants.

Wilhelm has no idea of real life, not even rich people real life. He doesn't go to the store or buy his own clothes, and neither do his parents, nor do they randomly go to restaurants or whatever. Wille has never been able to go out in public without being photographed and noticed and everyone making a fuss, and he has no idea how most things work because there's always staff doing everything for him quietly and in the background.

If, and I say if, Wilhelm is sure he wants to step back from his role, then he should still wait until his early to mid twenties before doing so, because doing so is complicated and not something he can change his mind about later. Also he needs to learn about normal life first.

But I digress. Lets say Wilhelm does want to give up the throne. He's brought it up himself as a possibility when he was still desperately trying to get Simon back in any way he could. That still makes him a prince and a duke.

He'd still be a member of the royal family/house (I hate how that seems to be used synonymously in English). Not being king wouldn't mean he wouldn't be expected to become a working member of the royal family once he's an adult, except now there'll be a different monarch, one he'll have to obey within the family hierarchy, and chances are it'll be August.

Okay, so we take this a step further. Wilhelm gives up his rights to the throne and doesn't become a working royal, but that would mean betraying his family (his words) and stepping away from them. Not just his parents but everything he's grown up with and everything he knows. And he'd still be a prince and a duke.

Wilhelm will never be Joe Average Wille (is Harry now? Was Diana? and neither of them were next in line), no matter how much he might want to, especially not after S02E06 and I know I've said it before but I'll say it again: he'll keep being hounded, he'll keep being seen as royalty, and the only thing that'll change is who pays for his security.

(which btw the security thing is no joke, I know Wilhelm has no Diana levels of celebrity yet, but he's now the first openly queer modern royal and heir to the Swedish throne, there will be significant international media interest and it will stay, especially now with smart phones being able to capture his every move, and I'm old enough to remember the shit show that happened when Diana no longer had official protection officers and police protection and it was not fun, hounded is an understatement and professional 24/7 security is expensive and private security will never be as good as those who also have government/Security Service resources)

Also I firmly believe that what Wilhelm hates is not being royalty or the future king, but being forced into a role, handed a script and expected to perform without any of his own input.

When that changes, and it will, his attitude towards it will also change.

People argue that he'll be happier once he gives up his place in the line of succession, but I disagree.

I think he might have been happier had he been born a normal kid, but also maybe not because then he'd be a very different person, so there's no telling, but he'd always live with the guilt of betraying his family and heritage, and people, both well meaning and not, will never let him forget that.

Yes he struggles now, and I don't want to make light of his struggles, but every teenager struggles with their identity and place in life and things will be different once he's grown up and more secure in himself.

My 'ideal' fantasy solution were this irl would be for Wilhelm to become the last King and to work with the government to ensure a smooth transition once he retires, because abolishing the Swedish monarchy is complicated, but do I think that'll actually happen? No. Because that's not the kind of person Wilhelm is.

Also Wilhelm has been born to immense wealth, privilege and soft power, all three of which he will to a degree keep all his life no matter what happens.

Of course he needs to put his own mental health and wellbeing first, and I'm aware that he never asked for any of this, but he still has it, and with that comes a duty, and I think it'd be absolutely selfish of him to just take that wealth, privilege and soft power and to let the "common people" deal with the mess he left behind, because let's not kid ourselves, if he announces he'll give up his throne tomorrow and sticks with it until he's eighteen and beyond, do you really think people in power won't do anything they can to keep the system in place?

Kristina loves her son and wants what's best for him, even if she's not the best parent, but she'll not dismantle the system for him.

She knew what August had done, and she still would've rather had him as heir instead of even so much as considering anything else.

The Royal Court most certainly won't, and even if the elected government wouldn't be opposed to getting rid of the monarchy (if, there's a chance but not a guarantee, depending who is in power when that happens), that's not the end of it.

You can't abolish the monarchy and keep the nobility (edit: as it's been pointed out you can in theory, but my point is that the nobility won't be happy about it because it's a threat to them as well, and not just socially, and why would a Sweden in the 21st century do one but not the other, elites don't like changes in the status quo, even if at first glance it doesn't directly affect them, and this does), and there will be plenty of people, both obscenely rich and averagely well off people, who will do their utmost to keep their position of privilege.

It will not only become a matter of equality, Sweden is one of the most egalitarian countries in the world. It'll be about history and heritage and tradition.

It'll be a giant mess and if it wants any chance of succeeding, it'll need someone in power to actively work towards it, someone whose position the monarchists and traditionalists and conservatives respect, and that has to be a King Wilhelm, not a Crown Prince Wilhelm or a Prince Wilhelm or a Joe Average Wille who took his wealth and privilege and soft power and ran away because he chose to be selfish and leave a system in place no one was better able to do something about than him.

Now of course I'm once again talking about an adult Wilhelm, canon Wilhelm is still a teenager and shouldn't have to deal with or worry about any of that, and he gets to want to be selfish, because he's sixteen, but he won't always be sixteen, and when he isn't any longer his outlook will have changed as well.

Now we come to another point though, and that is that Wilhelm is not a revolutionary. He has his own head and a temper and doesn't want to blindly do as he's told, but he's not the kind of person who goes and topples a system.

I don't even think Simon is. He wouldn't mind the monarchy being abolished, sure, but I don't think he has the energy to become a political activist and to fight the system all his life, especially in a life without Wilhelm.

With Wilhelm it's different, there I'm sure he'll use the power he has for good. He'd be aware that he can change things and do his best to choose his engagements carefully should he become a member of the royal family.

That said, in time I don't think Wilhelm will mind being King, not if he also gets to be with Simon at the same time, and I don't think he should give up his place in the line of succession.

Finally, and most importantly, because we're talking about a TV show and a fic fandom here and not irl, I love playing with the idea of the Royal Court, the Swedish upper class, and all the conservatives and monarchists having to (figuratively) bow and scrape to an openly queer, headstrong monarch and the gay, biracial love of his life who also happens to be the son of a poor, immigrant single mother, because that is a very, very cathartic thought, and so yeah, King Wilhelm and Prince/Duke/King Consort Simon all the way, always.

That's what drew me to this show in the first place, a queer Crown Prince, and not a random queer teenager going about his normal life. There're plenty of other (great) shows for that.