#he’d occasionally stop by for a drink and a dance

[redladydeath]

"Our Lady of the Underground" is somehow simultaneously giving both Mimzy and Fem!Alastor

[mother-above]

I'm Not The One For You

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has been stressed at work and decided to hit the bars with his brothers. He gets so drunk that he may have forgotten what his love looks like

Warnings: fluffy with some spicy implications

WC: 1.1k

*masterlist*

a/n: I've been writing some heavy things and needed a break. I hope yall enjoy this short fluffy piece! xx

The sound of heels clicking on cobblestone joined the myriad of sounds along the Sidra. The city was lively, and all types of music and chatter filled the crisp air in Velaris. As you got closer, the bass at Rita's was getting louder. You, Morrigan, Amren, and the Archeron sisters were glowing from the spa's lavender-scented oil and dressed to the nines. After an afternoon of well-deserved pampering and last-minute shopping, it was time to meet with the boys.

You were wearing a dark blue mini dress, the material sparkled and reflected light with every movement of your body. The black strappy heels matched with your manicure and pedicure.

You were vibrant and ready for the night out with your mate and friends. Work had been tiring, especially when it was your job to organize military exercises with other Courts armies.

Excited to step into the bar, you grinned as the music vibrated all around you. Scanning the dance floor, your grin spreads when you see your blue-siphoned mate absolutely smashed and tearing it up on the dance floor with his brothers and other partygoers. Happy to see him relaxed, you go over to the bar to order yourself a drink before joining Azriel.

Despite being known as the “quiet one,” Azriel loved to dance and party occasionally. Work had been stressful lately, so he let loose and drank to his heart's content. Females and males were coming up to him all night asking to dance with him, but he refused, and if they got insistent, he’d give them the “sorry, you’re lovely but I’m married” speech. Everyone was always respectful and backed away, after all, he was the Shadowsinger.

It wasn’t even late but admittedly, Azriel drank too much, and his wild erratic dancing proved the point. His brothers and family teased him from afar, even Elain was poking fun at the drunken shadowsinger. In the corner of his eye, a female in a short blue sparkly dress approached him. Smelling like lavender, the female slid an arm around his waist and pressed her body against his.

You were about to bop to the beat of the music when Azriel stopped dancing and ripped himself away from you. The movement was so sudden, that the cocktail in your hand splashed droplets on the floor.

“Az? What’s wrong?” you asked wide-eyed.

“S-sorry, I’m taken. I’m just waiting for my wife,” he slurred as he deliberately turned away from you and started dancing again.

Startled, you looked at Cas, Rhys, and the girls and you burst out laughing. You pointed an accusatory finger toward the Illyrians.

“He doesn’t even recognize me! I can’t believe he’s shit-faced this early!” you weren’t mad at the boys, just highly amused.

Tapping Azriel on the shoulder, he turned, and you gave him your most dazzling smile. “I haven’t seen you all day and this is how you greet me? I’ve been wanting to dance with you, love.”

His eyes run down your body appreciatively, his gaze slowing around your thighs, he’s always loved your thighs. You gave him an encouraging nod, but he was still clueless.

Bringing up his left hand, he shows you the golden band around his ring finger. “I told you I’m married, see? She also happens to be my mate.”

You stifled a giggle and stepped closer to him. Surely, he would recognize your scent, right? You grabbed his hand and let your fingers trace the scars, he loved it when you did that.

In complete shock, he snatched his hand away after a few seconds.

“Look, you’re beautiful but I’m not the one for you. I would walk away before my mate gets here. She’s Night Court’s best warrior and I’m afraid she won’t let you get away with you bothering me so much,” said Azriel, his lips pressed into a line.

You started laughing, your handsome mate was so loyal. You can’t believe he would have sic’d you to flirty females. His family, who were listening to the whole thing, was snickering as well. Rhysand pinched his nose highly regretting pre-gaming at the townhouse, at the time it was a great idea.

Azriel squinted at his family when he realized they were laughing at him. “What?!”

Rhysand clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Brother, you’re so drunk that you don’t even recognize your own mate!”

Azriel’s eyes furrowed as he looked at your beautiful twinkling face, your lips forming into a smirk. Azriel tugged on the bond three times, and after a short beat, you tugged the bond four times. It was something the two of you did, the first person tugged three times and the four tugs meant that the second person loved them more. Clarity burst through his intoxication and when he realized, he tipped his head back in laughter.

Moving closer to you, he pressed his lips onto your temple and murmured an apology against your skin, this was the last time he was going to drink this much. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a hand on your waist and the other on your bum. You turned to place a kiss on his cheek and then his lips.

He squeezed your body, and you pressed your lips on him again. “Why do you smell like lavender? No wonder I didn’t recognize you, I hate lavender!”

“That’s the oil they used on our massage today,” you said. A slower song was playing so you swayed with Azriel. He held you tight as you gazed into his eyes, melting at the sight of the brown and greens melting together.

After a few more hours of partying, it was time for you and Azriel to go home. Smelling of sweat, booze, and lavender oil, the both of you opted to bathe together.

You relaxed and laid on Azriel's chest as he took the loofah and scrubbed your skin. He said he wanted you to smell like yourself again and insisted that the bath water was to be changed for the two of you to properly soak. Now that the suds smelled of your favorite soap, he pulled you against him and he closed his eyes.

“Az?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m really happy to know that even when you’re shit-faced, you won’t ever cheat on me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, his hand splayed across your stomach and held you tighter. “Why would I do that when I’ve got the most perfect person in the world in my arms?”

You blushed; he always knew how to make you feel loved. Turning around to straddle him, you bent down to capture his lips. Who were you to question his logic?

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

MDNI, Mentions of sex but no smut, violence.

Thinking about baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara who’s scow immediately returned to his face as soon as you and your daughter were out of sight. Wasting no time to march to the elevator and hit the button to your floor.

Baby daddy!Miguel who couldn’t help but let out a scoff in disgust when he turned the corner of your hall and saw Henry sitting on the floor against your door. Not noticing until he was close enough that he was passed out, head lulled to the side, and an occasional snores leaving him as Miguel glared down at him.

Baby daddy!Miguel who had to resist the urge to wake him up with a swift punch in the face, and not stop until he wasn’t conscious again.

Baby daddy!Miguel that opted to instead nudged him with the side of his foot. Wanting to see what bullshit he’s spew out first.

—

What you ever say in this guy, Miguel will never understand, what you’d see in any guy that wasn’t him he’d never understand. Although to be fair, when you were with him, he probably wasn’t as pitiful looking as this.

“Not so much of a cocky ass now huh?” He couldn’t help but mumble to himself before taking the heel end of his foot and nudged the smaller male's knee. “Wake up.”

After a few more nudges, Henry woke with a loud snore, droopy eyes looking around in confusion before he finally noticed the legs in front of him. Neck cracking up slowly until he was met with the sight of Miguel’s body hulking over him. The overhead lights casting a shadow over his face so he couldn’t read his expression, and if Henry was just a tad bit less drunk, he’d feel the death-like glare being casted on him.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He slurred, remembering why he was outside your door in the first place.

“None of your business.” Miguel retorted, hands crossing in front of his chest. Despite his scary guard dog aura, Henry tsked in annoyance as he began to stand.

“I think knowing where my girlfriend is my business-“

“She’s not your girlfriend anymore.”

Silence filled the air as Henry was finally able to get himself up on two feet, before a scoff left his lips.

“She already told you. I’m not surprised.” Now it was Miguel’s turn to scoff.

“Of course she told me. I'm the father of her child-“

“I knew something had to still be going on with you two.” Henry’s finger jabbed into Miguel’s chest, his drunken slurring forming into a bit of a hiss. Not phasing the bored look on Miguel’s face. “I’m not fucking blind, I’ve seen the way you looked at her. You’re still in love with her.”

“Look, I’m not wanting to cause any problems,” that’s a lie, “but it’s obvious you’ve had too much to drink and are just talking nonsense. She doesn’t want to see you, alright? So how about you walk away and leave her and my daughter alone.” Miguel spoke calmly, not denying the allegations thrown his way before they both knew it was true.

Miguel’s hand found its way to Henry’s back, not-so-gently pushing him towards the elevator and away from your front door.

“I’m not stupid as you think I am, man.” Henry retorted, planting his heels into the wooden floor to stop himself, before turning around to face Miguel again. “You’re not over her, you don’t think I knew what you were doing at the barbecue when you were dancing with her? Practically fucking her in front of me.” Miguel’s jaw clenched to keep himself from acting irrationally as Henry hissed at him like a dog ready to attack. “The way you always try to one up me in front of her. I’ve seen your messages to her, the old photos, the Spanish nicknames-.”

“Alright that’s enough dude.” Miguel interrupted him. Tone returning to its harsher original one.

“I’m not surprised the minute the opportunity comes, she runs back to your ass!” Henry shoved against Miguel, causing no recoil from the larger man.

“I’m not the one who cheated on her.” Miguel snapped back.

“Yeah, but you were just waiting for the opportunity for me to fuck up. Look like some…knight in shining armor.”

“Okay, man let’s go. You’re not gonna be able to finish this fight. Go home.” That’s when he felt it, a harsh pain on the side of his face. He didn’t realize till he touched his cheekbone and hissed at the throbbing sensation that came from the area that had transpired.

Henry just punched him in the face.

“I wanted to be nice. You already put her through a lot of shit in the past few days.” He mumbled as he rubbed the stop that was sure to bruise black and blue. “But you decided to make this more difficult for yourself.”

Henry didn’t have a chance to reply before his back collided with the wall, air being knocked out from his lungs as Miguel’s hands found their way to Henry's throat.

“You wanna know what happened the night she caught your ass sleeping with another girl?” The question was rhetorical.

“…What?” Henry asked, voice meek under the weight of Miguel’s hands.

“I got her to stop crying, comforted her… got her some food… then I started fucking her till she starts to cry again.”

“You son of-“ Henry began, trying to thrash his way out from under Migue, only to have more pressure applied to his throat. He quickly stopped when he felt himself become light headed, arms that were around Miguel’s wrist drop back down to his sides, and a cough left his throat when the hands around his neck loosened slightly so he could breathe a bit more properly again.

“You’re gonna shut up and listen, and listen good.” Miguel began, his voice dropping down to just above a whisper. Allowing Henry to let out a frantic nod before continuing. “I was the one who comforted her when you fucked up and broke her heart. I was the one who was there to pick up the pieces, not you. I’m the only one who knows her better than she knows herself. I’m the father of her child, me. It was always gonna be me. You weren’t the one who changed her baby’s diapers, you weren’t the one who taught Gabi to ride a bike, you weren’t there for her like I was. You never will, because when it comes down to it, she’ll pick me over you, every. damn. time.”

Miguel didn’t know what felt better, finally getting Henry to shit his smug ass up, for being able to get all his frustrated thoughts out in words.

“She’s mine, she’s always been mine, she's always going to be mine. So don’t for another second, think that you can just walk back into her life and act like you own her. You don’t own shit, you understand?” Miguel finally ended his rant, eyes narrowed as he waited for Henry’s response. Satisfaction flowing through his veins when the smaller male looked like he had just just been face to face with the grim reaper himself.

“I-yeah, yes-I understand.” Henry finally stuttered, face paled, and eyes wide.

“Good, now I want you to walk out of this building, and walk out of her life. If I see you or hear you trying to talk to her ever again, I’m not gonna do as much talking next time.”

—

Part 8<

Not proofread.

Word count:1.2k

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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@ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade

[d3adlyromb3ar]

✧'. ݁₊ ♡∘⊹ so delicate, your touch

— pairing. inexperienced!choso x fem!reader

— synopsis. you help choso adapt to the world, teaching him about many things he doesn’t quite understand. although, you didn’t know helping him adapt would take this kind of turn.

— word count. 3.7k

— contents. fluff, smut, nipple play, titty worship, dry humping, handjobs (male receiving), blowjobs (male receiving)

— notes. dividers @saradika 💕

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ CONTENT

Days turned into months, and soon it was a routine to wander off with Choso. Showing him the wonders of the world, while teaching him things that were unknown to him. You answered all his questions, making sure he adapted thoroughly to this world that was new to him.

There was just so much that he didn’t understand, and after your offer to help him out— he leaned on you to guide him through everything he was confused on. He felt more comfortable having you around, not letting him stumble off into this odd world without guidance.

You liked spending time with him, finding him easy to talk to. Choso felt the same way, except he’d rather listen to you talk all day. You calmed him, made him feel normal. He thought you were incredibly kind, your huge heart something he adored about you. He found himself just wanting to be near you, even on the days he didn’t feel like exploring the world.

That’s where you found yourself with Choso, relaxed on your bed together as you showed him one of your favorite movies. Tangled.

“Her hair is so long, and magical?” He wondered, genuinely curious.

You found it adorable. You giggled.

“Yup, she got her powers from a magic flower her mother had to drink when she was sick and pregnant with her.” You explained.

Choso hummed, his eyes never leaving the screen. Watching intently as the girl so called Rapunzel, healed this man’s hand with her hair.

“Intriguing.” He whispered.

You giggled again, his interest in the disney movie endearing. You didn’t expect him to be so interested. The two of you sat in silence, only occasionally answering a question he had. Otherwise the movie played on.

You leaned back against the headboard, both your hands supporting your head as a specific scene started to play. The music started up as the two characters watched the lanterns from their boat.

It was quite a beautiful scene, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment. The way the man was so gentle towards the girl, it was so sweet— you had wished you could have something such as that.

Meanwhile, Choso wasn’t paying attention to the movie anymore. He glanced over to you when he saw you adjusting yourself and caught a look at your eyes. How they were practically shining as you were trapped in the scene. He couldn’t stop himself from staring, taking in your features— how ethereal you looked from the tv’s glow. His eyes danced over your brows, looking lower to the way your lashes hovered over your eyes, looking even lower to the curve of your nose. His eyes danced down to your cupids bow, steeping lower to your plump lips— his own mouth parting as your tongue poked out the wet them.

He let out a heavy breath watching you, studying every micro expression you made— he was captivated by you.

After a wave of warmth rushed through his body, he swallowed through the dryness in his throat and let his eyes dance lower, dropping from your chin and down your neck and collarbone— his eyes locking on your chest. He stared shamelessly at the steady rise and fall, the movement almost relaxing him into a sleepy state— that was until he looked a little lower.

His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the two pebbled indents, poking through your shirt. A lot of unknown to him, but he had known basic human anatomy— at least a good portion of it.

He was licking his own lips, his eyes unable to stray away from your nipples begging to escape from your shirt. He felt like he should look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“(Y/n)? Why ar—” He trailed off, growing nervous when your eyes met with his, “Are you okay?”

You were confused with his sudden concern.

“What do you mean Cho? I’m fine.”

“Oh… um never mind then.” He mumbled bashfully.

Your gaze softened and the movie was suddenly forgotten in the background, despite it being one of your favorite scenes.

“Cho, hey. What’s wrong? You can ask me anything remember?”

He nodded but couldn’t seem to voice what he wanted to say in the first place, so he pointed instead towards your chest.

You were confused, following the tip of his finger and glancing down to your shirt.

“You like my shirt?” You wondered.

He shook his head.

“No…” He pointed again, this time his finger got closer and he misjudged how close he was to you, because before you could think twice— the tip of his finger had brushed against your hardened nipple through your shirt.

The action had you letting out a little gasp, warmth shooting straight to your core from it. Choso retracted his hand, but his eyes were dilated, your reaction intriguing him.

Your eyes shot down to your chest, noticing he was talking about your tits. Oh.

“Oh you mean my… boobs?” You asked, not feeling uncomfortable at all by his curiosity.

He nodded, his hand dropping to his side.

You tried your best to put the pieces together and assumed he was specifically referring to your nipples— which had your cheeks flushed.

“Uh, what about them?”

He turned his body towards you more, his eyes glancing down from time to time, but you could tell he was trying not to look. Although, you didn’t mind if he did.

“They are… hard.”

He was talking about your tits so casually, you knew you should be mature and answer his questions but you couldn’t ignore how flustered you felt.

“Yeah, I guess they are.” You laughed awkwardly, but it wasn’t that you felt uncomfortable. You were just flustered.

“Why?”

You bit your lip, Choso’s eyes followed, and you thought for a moment of how to answer.

“Well, sometimes they just get hard. Like, if I’m cold or… turned on.” You answered truthfully, although maybe you shouldn’t of added in that last part.

Choso’s eyes met with yours, breaking away from your lips as you spoke, and his eyes had darkened. Unbeknownst to him, he was turned on as well. Staring at your body so sensually had him spinning.

“Are you?” He wondered.

You tilted your head in innocent confusion, the action had Choso licking his lips.

“Am I what?”

“Are you turned on?”

His words had your core throbbing and you had to squeeze your thighs together, not missing the way his eyes shot down and caught the slight movement.

Truth was, yeah. You were turned on. Like really turned on, it was hard not to be when he was looking at you so intensely.

“Well, I wasn’t before but…” You trailed off, and Choso was hanging onto every word, “After you touched me accidentally, yeah.”

He swallowed nervously and lowered his gaze, he felt bad all of a sudden. Not meaning to make you uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry… I… I didn’t mea—”

“Cho it’s okay,” You stopped his apologies, noticing his distressed look, “It felt good actually.”

His expression switched from embarrassed to the same darkened look again. Like he was realizing now.

You couldn’t help your own curiosity.

“Have you never… touched someone like that?”

He shook his head, his mouth parted slightly— like breathing was becoming a hard task.

“Do you want to?” You asked, your voice lower.

Choso swallowed, scooting a little closer to you, his movements almost as if he was squirming a bit in his spot— like he couldn’t control himself.

He nodded, his pupils blown out.

“Go ahead.” You whispered, your eyes falling on your chest before meeting with his.

“A-are you sure?”

You smiled sweetly at him. Always trying to be so polite. You nodded.

“Yes.”

At those words, Choso let his eyes fall on your breasts. His focus on the hardened buds. His hand lifted slowly, his eyes meeting with yours one last time as if he was asking for permission again. At your nod, he focused back on your chest, his hand cupping one of your tits.

Even through your shirt, you could feel his palm warming your tit. You watched him, his eyes wide and staring at your chest. It was adorable how excited he was— no actually it was hot.

He lightly squeezed the mound before letting his thumb brush over your nipple, eliciting a gasp from you.

He eyes shot up to yours, pausing his movements as he took in your hooded eyes, the way your lips were parted. He kept his gaze on you, brushing this thumb over the bud again— this time watching your body jump, your mouth parting wider as another sweet sound escaped.

He liked the reactions from you, knowing he was the one causing it.

“It’s not the same for everyone but…” You trailed off, another brush of his thumb over your nipple making you take a deep breath in, “I’m really sensitive there.”

He licked his lips, his other hand coming up to give the other tit attention. He lightly squeezed and kept teasing the buds, until his mind wondered what they felt like without the shirt.

They already felt so soft through this material, but his mouth almost watered at how they’d feel bare.

“Go ahead Cho.” You whispered, almost like you read his mind.

His breathing was heavy, his hands dipping under the hem of your shirt, tracing his fingertips up the soft skin of your belly.

You shivered, his touch so delicate. Touching you like you were fragile and bound to break.

His fingers brushed the underside of your breast, the feeling causing you to shiver again, goosebumps covering your flesh. His cupped both tits as he had before, but this time he could finally feel your soft skin. He was right— so soft. He gently massaged your tits, before letting his thumb brush over your nipple again, this time no material in the way.

You whined at the sensation, eyes pinching shut as he played with your tits. It felt so good, and for someone who hadn’t touched anyone before like this— he was pretty damn good at it.

Choso’s eyes shot up at your noise, the sound only spurring him on as he used his pointer finger and thumb to roll the sensitive buds.

The throbbing in your core intensified, and you could feel a knot start to build up in your abdomen. If he kept playing with you like this, you might just end up coming.

“Cho… feels s’good…” You breathed out, “If you don’t stop… I might…”

Choso didn’t stop, he was hungry with desire. He was hungry for you— he needed to feel every inch of your body.

He lifted your shirt off quickly, leaving you bare and exposed to him. His mouth watered at the sit of your plump, perky tits— nipples rosy and swollen. You were one hell of a view.

“So… pretty.” Choso panted out, licking his lips before lowering himself to your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth.

Your back arched, pressing yourself further into him as he sucked on the sensitive bud, swirling his tongue around before flicking it.

“F-fuckk Cho…” Your voice was rough and scratchy, the sound making Choso growl into your skin. The vibrations on your nipple making you cry.

Choso kept his mouth locked around your bud, his hands dropping from your chest. His arms circled around you, picking you up with ease until you were straddling his lap, his hands pushing on your back so that your tits were smushed in his face.

This position had the throbbing in your core tripling, but with your core pressed over his, you relieved the ache in your center— grinding your hips down hard and slow over him.

Choso let go of your nipple with a pop, a pained whimper leaving his lips. You stopped your hips.

“What’s wrong Cho?” You cupped his jaw, tilting it up to see his glossy eyes.

“Do that again.” He begged.

You held him, stroking your thumb along his jawline as you grinding your hips over him once more. The friction was delicious to your clit, but not as satisfying as the sounds Choso was making.

One of his hands stayed pushed against the small of your back, keeping you close to him while the other shot down and gripped your hip.

“Again.” He growled.

You started up a slow and steady pace, your hips pressing down on his clothed member.

His face contorted up into a pained expression, biting his lip to try and stop the whines from escaping, but you heard every addicting sound.

“Has no one ever touched you like this?” You purred, running your fingers through his scalp.

He shook his head weakly, his own hips starting to jut up into you— needing more.

“Does it feel good?”

Choso gazed into your eyes, his own glossy with an almost drunk looking gaze.

“Feels s’good.”

You changed your pattern and started grinding little slow circles on him, his breathing getting heavier as his hand gripped your hip tighter.

“M-more, I need more please—!” He whimpered, burying his face into your chest again, licking and sucking on your already overstimulated tits.

You panted into his hairline, your nose resting there as you found the strength to speak.

“What do you want Cho?”

He flicked your nipple with his tongue, giving it a gentle kiss before releasing it once more, tilting his head up to meet your drunk gaze.

“More…” He whined, his hips jolting up into yours.

You giggled lowly, your voice strained and breathy. He was so needy and whiny, it had the throbbing in your core only getting more intense.

“I know Cho… but what do you want?” You cooed, brushing some of his fallen hairs back, “You want to keep touching me… or do you want me to touch you? Make you feel good, hm?”

His eyes were darting from eye to eye, his face scrunched up almost into a pained pout as he couldn’t answer. His facial expressions were an answer enough.

You circled harder onto him, his hands tightening around you.

“Is that it? Want me to make you feel good Cho?”

He swallowed, his eyes fluttering shut before opening back up— the sultry sound of your voice making him dizzy.

“Please.”

You smirked and leaned in, giving the tip of his nose a kiss.

“I’ll be good.” He whined.

You bit your lip, this strong massive man melting underneath you. It was incredibly sexy, and you just wanted to devour him.

You leaned forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, knowing he probably had never kissed anyone before. He was hesitant at first, letting you take lead while he just felt you. After you opened your mouth a bit, taking more of his lips into yours— he slowly started to move against you, he mouth parting and trapping your bottom lip in between his.

Choso was all new to this, but he really liked it. He especially liked that it was you he was doing it with.

Your hips moved in a delicious pace, one that had Choso going mad. The friction was succulent, and the mere idea of never having felt or experienced this feeling before had Choso wanting to cry. It was so good— too good.

“You’re so hard Cho,” You panted in between kisses, “So big.”

He thrusted up, the all too amazing friction not enough— he needed so much more.

One of his hands left your hip, relieving the flesh as he moved his hand up towards your breast. Your back arched into him as he squeezed the plump flesh, circling his thumb over the bud.

You lifted off of him, not missing the whine when you left him.

“Hold on Cho.” You giggled, stripping yourself of your shorts and panties. Choso watched with drunken glazed eyes, hungrily staring at your exposed center. “Is this okay?”

He swallowed hard, eyes raking up your beautiful nude body until he met your eyes.

“Yes… so beautiful.” He spoke breathlessly, never have seen someone— something so breathtaking.

You blushed from his words, crawling closer to him and sitting back on your knees in front of him. Straddling him, but careful to stay off his center. His eyes were dilated, wide with anticipation.

You rubbed your hands on his legs, running your hands over his knees and caressed his thighs through his pants. Your touch was so addicting, even the softest most innocent touches had him going wild. His skin tingled underneath his robes.

His breath hitched, his eyebrows pulling together when your hands stopped just before you could smooth a hand over his covered member.

You gazed up at him.

“Can I?”

He nodded, his own hands fisting the bedsheets below him.

You smoothed your palm over his dick, a gasp escaping his lips as his body shuttered. You bit your lip at the reaction before hooking your thumbs into his pants and sliding them down his legs.

Choso stayed still and patient. Although, he wouldn’t be able to keep that control for long.

Your core throbbed at the sight of his muscular legs, eyes trailing up from his calves and landing on his thick, bulging thighs.

Your hands ran along his exposed skin, the feeling of your fingertips scraping against his skin soothing. The burning in his skin calmed at your touch, his eyes closing at the pleasant sensation.

“(Y/n)… please…” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, but he just needed more of your touch. All of it.

“Patience Cho, m’gonna make you feel good.” You purred, your hand running over his tensing thigh and cupping his painfully hard member.

Choso couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into your palm, whimpering as the touch of your skin against his most private part felt heavenly.

“F-fuck…” He whined, voice strained and breathy.

You wrapped your hand around the base of him, squeezing and sliding up his cock until you reached his rosy tip. You smoothed your thumb over his slit, smearing the precum that had built up there, taking your time to circle the pad of your thumb around his head— driving him insane.

His knuckles were white and strained as they fisted the bedsheets, his eyes clamped shut as the feeling was too much— it was too good.

He cried out, face scrunching up as you rubbed your palm over his head, collecting his juices and grabbing ahold of his cock again— this time beginning to stroke him with a delicious pace.

He felt so hard and huge in your hand, you were licking your lips and squeezing your thighs together— wanting to feel him inside your aching pussy.

“How’s that feel Cho?” You whispered, your other hand lightly scraping your fingernails all the way from his abs to his thigh.

He whined, hips thrusting up to meet your strokes.

“S’good… s’good… don’t stop… fuck…”

You smirked at his reaction, completely melting from your touch. You stroked him faster, making sure to rub your thumb all the way across his tip with every stroke.

Your other hand started playing with his balls, gently rolling them in your palm. That action had Choso growling, his eyes shooting open and gazing down at you.

His expression was dark, his eyes glazed over with some primal urge— one that had him wanting to devour you.

“You gonna cum for me Cho?”

His expression switched back to a pained, needy look. His eyebrows pulling together as his mouth hang open, panting as the sensation was building so perfectly.

He nodded lazily. “Yes… yes.”

You felt his hips thrusting into your hand quicker, a messy pace and you knew he was close. Without thinking, you lowered your mouth onto him, sucking on his tip, letting your tongue circle his head before flicking his slit. Choso watched with a drunken expression, as you sucked on his most private area. It wasn’t long before he was letting out a pained whimper, thrusting his dick into your mouth deeper and shooting his seed down your throat.

You kept playing with his balls, running your hand up and down his thigh soothingly as he lazily thrusted into your mouth, your tongue running along the underside of his dick as he worked through his high.

His vision slowly lost the black spots, his breath finally coming back to him. That sensation, it felt like he had died and had come back to life— it was indescribable.

You released him with a pop, giving the tip one last kiss, making him hiss as he was sensitive— but the gesture had him already getting hard again.

“How was that Cho?” You asked in a sweet, gentle voice.

Choso didn’t answer for awhile, pulling you up into his lap. Sitting you down in his already hard again member. It was supposed to be a sweet gesture, but the feeling of his dick throbbing against your abandoned core— god it took everything in you to not sink down onto his dick.

He hugged you close to him, just gazing at you and breathing— staring at you with a dangerously longing look in his eyes.

“That was amazing baby,” Your cheeks dusted pink at the nickname, making your pussy clench around nothing. “You’re… really good at that.”

You giggled, running your hands through his hair.

“Good Cho, I’m happy I could make you feel good.”

Choso gazed at you, his hooded eyes darkening as he realized how good your very wet pussy felt sitting on top of his dick. His hands snuck down from your back, landing on your ass and giving the flesh a squeeze— earning a jolt of your hips against his. The action made him growl.

You gasped, back arching into him as your aching clit got some relief.

“Can I return the favor?”

You were dazed, spacing out as he felt too good underneath you— and you stared at him with glossy eyes.

“W-what?” You asked breathlessly.

He smirked, his eyes soft but lust filled. He gave your ass another squeeze, addicted to the feel of them in his hands.

“Can I make you feel good?”

You grinded your wet heat over his dick, both of you letting out a hiss at the action. You gripped the back of his neck, leaning close and hovering your lips over his.

“Please.”

— ending notes. don’t be mad at that ending, i promise another part is coming 😏

[comatosebunny09]

hurts so good | astarion a

summary: he’d gotten this devastating bright idea to ruin your life halfway through. stave off your pleasure for as long as he could, even if it meant you’d hate him in the morning. genre(s): erotica, romance warning(s): female anatomy, explicit language, bodily fluids, blood drinking, orgasm denial, brief anal play, cervix fcking, dirty talk, terms of endearment (love, darling), praise kink, drabble notes: heavily influence by this beautiful artwork by @looneylolita. screenshot credit

No time for pleasantries.

Just Astarion notching his hips to yours. Holding you so tight, the fat of your ass craters beneath his fingers as he fucks into you from below.

“Take your pleasure,” he rasps. “Take what you want from me, my love. Use me.”

The depth of his voice is enough to make you clench.

Like you haven’t been doing plenty of that already.

Each roll of his hips is languid. Deep. Purposeful. As if he’s on a mission to unravel every tangle of nerves in you with the slippery scrape of his cock. The head of it intermittently batters against your cervix, punching the air from your lungs.

You tremble so good for him, making his cock twitch and his body shudder.

You’re both saturated with sweat—or perhaps it’s slick? You gave up distinguishing the two after hours of this. This excruciatingly slow dance where you’re fucked within an inch of your life. He stops when your stomach pulls, and your mind floods with endorphins, and fuck.

It’s always with that wicked smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes that he tells you, “Not yet, darling. Gods, not yet. I need you to hold out for me a little longer. You can do that for me, can’t you, my love?”

As if it’s that easy a feat with his thumb running meticulous circles ‘round your clit, and his tongue flittering across your nipples.

The sultry gravel of his voice doesn’t help matters, mingling with the perfect amount of desperation. And the way he looks at you. Strips you down and exalts you like an idol to be worshipped despite the maddening thrust of his hips—

Gods.  

You’re too drunk from the pleasure to argue—maybe it’s blood loss? It’s all so very frustrating. Confusing because hours ago, he was telling you to fuck him like he were your toy. And at first, you did, with hands pressed to his sternum for leverage as you bore down on him.

But he’d gotten this devastating bright idea to ruin your life halfway through. Stave off your pleasure for as long as he could, even if it meant you’d hate him in the morning.

Judging by the ethereal, orange glow seeping through your curtains, morning has already begun its sluggish creep across the horizon.

Astarion bucks his hips, bringing you back to the present.

You careen forward, catching yourself on your hands. You’re a panting mess, pupils blown wide, lips parting with the effort to breathe. You sift through the haze of your lust to glare at him.

His eyes crease with mirth in response.

“Astarion, what…what the fuck, man?”

He chuckles, something hoarse and abrasive that gnarls in your stomach. One of his hands smooths up your back to clasp around the nape of your neck. He brings you down to tempt you into a kiss, and he licks into your mouth, evoking a keening sound from your throat as his thumb tenderly skates along your cheek, betraying the devilish snap of his pelvis.

“Focus, darling,” he croaks into the space between your mouths. “Wouldn’t want you giving up on me after coming so far.”

It takes every bit of you not to smack him for being such an insufferable piece of shit.

You settle for growling something half-hearted, coming down onto your elbows, your hands bracing themselves on the crown of his head. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, pelvis rolling like waves dragging along the shoreline.

His hand pinches and pulls at your rear as you ride him, occasionally dipping between your ass cheeks to tease your puckering anus and fuck it all if he doesn’t know what it takes to push you to the outskirts of chaos.

He affectionately roots his nose against your neck, a groan rolling like thunder in his rib cage as he traps you in the circle of his arms.

“That’s it, love. Fuck me. Mmm, just like that.”     

Behind shuttered lids, you feel the cold prickle of his fangs in your neck. You relinquish a sigh to the balmy air, your nipples sore and pebbled as they rub raw against the rigid pane of his chest whilst your hips rut against him at their own discretion.

Your senses are crowded with only him. The slow pull of your blood into his mouth makes your pussy quake, and you share dual moans from the feel of it. His hands glide down to your rear to steady you. To temper the pace as that sparkling feeling builds between your legs. You whimper with exasperation, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“Astarion,” you gasp, fighting against his grip around your body.

You wince when he retracts his fangs, and he breathes something sweltering and erratic as he drags his flattened tongue up your throat, fingers reaching through the riot of your hair and pulling.

“I know, darling. I know. But you’re performing so wonderfully for me. Stay with me. Just a bit longer.”     

You sigh, the sound wet and painful as if forced from your lungs. Maybe if you’re good and continue to play at Astarion’s game, he’ll grant you the luxury of your release.

Until then, you settle for rocking against him, praying to the Gods above for a most handsome reward.

masterlist

[anna-proxx]

♡ 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

summary: you and arthur are occasional lovers with no strings attached, except you caught feelings.

word count: 2613

tags: fluff, suggestive, love confession, high honor arthur, friends with benefits, fem!reader

warnings: nsfw/explicit content

a/n: I’ve been battling writer’s block due to perfectionism and decided to write a spontaneous oneshot as an attempt to pretty much break through it. It's not really a smut, just a fluff with suggestive aspects and nsfw setting. Found this idea sweet, hope you enjoy!

✮ masterlist

You and Arthur first met when he was drunk and while you usually steered away from drunk men, this one in particular caught your eye. For some goddamn reason you decided to take care of him as he sang to himself in the saloon, alone, almost picking a fight with one of the regular customers, if it weren’t for you getting involved.

He hadn’t even tried to touch you and overall he seemed to be safe to be around. You made him eat some food (though he protested, saying he’d rather dance with you) and drink some water, to make his hangover at least a bit better the next morning. Then you made sure he was sound asleep before leaving him in the hotel room, putting a little note on the nightstand saying his adaptation of the song about Otis Miller was by far your favorite.

The second time you met in the same saloon. Though this time he was still sober, with a beer in his hand, looking quite worn out after the day. He didn’t remember you that much but you explained and after realizing you were the stranger who took care of him and left his sick, disoriented self the note, he opened up to you more.

And after sharing a few drinks, that he insisted to pay for you, and some loose conversation, you ended up in that same room, this time with you both being tipsy and making out, after you made the first move and kissed him.

It was like you were obsessed. With the way his rough hands treated you so gently, how he towered over you with your back against the wall, how you found yourself enveloped in his strong arms or the deep low groans in your ear that sent tingles into your belly.

It progressed into something more regular. Both of you helped each other release all the pent up tension and forget about everything that was going on outside the bedroom. What happened in that hotel room stayed between the walls. The desperate kisses, muffled whines and hot touches, your bodies intertwined like stems of ivy. The hungry look in his eyes stayed ingrained in your mind, keeping you company during the nights you spent alone.

Arthur felt safe with you. After Eliza he was reluctant to do this type of thing again, but there was just something about you that set his whole self on fire and made it impossible to resist you.

There was a good hunting spot nearby and he liked to return there for that reason, or maybe, just maybe, it was also the way he stopped by at the saloon every time, searching the room for a familiar face as soon as he stepped inside.

This sort of relationship was unusual for you as well, but his touch drove you crazy. He was so gentle and rugged at the same time, so big and mysterious while having a soft side you got to see anytime he let his guard down.

You knew he was no saint. Though he never told you details, you assumed the law was after him, but your intuition let you relax in his presence and you leaned into the comfort, trusting that if anything, he would protect you rather than hurt you.

The connection was mostly physical but slowly, one night after another, he was taking a hold over your heart, as much as you denied it to yourself.

Until you were finally ready to accept it.

— ∽ ♡ ∼ —

“You… seemed… angry today,” you said between your breaths, lying with your back against the soft mattress and covered only by the thin layer of a blanket.

His eagerness today was really something, clutching the headboard as he pushed his hips against yours, making you lose your breath with every thrust. It seemed personal, like there was more tension to release than usually – and you were more than happy to give him the freedom.

A soft groan left his lips in an agreement, his lungs still trying to fill with air as he lay beside you, exhausted but satisfied.

You yourself were still in that sweet daze, your heart pumping warmth into your whole body and tingles dancing all over your stomach, a smile on your face you couldn’t hold back.

The soreness between your legs somehow felt so good, a reminder of this night that would stay even after he’s gone.

After a moment you rolled to your side, watching Arthur’s glistening face as he was covered in sweat, as much as you were. The loose strands of his hair were sticking to his forehead and a familiar warmth spread in your stomach as you imagined reaching out and brushing those strands back, gently caressing his cheek and planting a kiss on the little scar on his chin.

Yes. You were pretty much screwed.

He turned his head to look at you and caught your gaze, silently reciprocating it and giving you a perfect view at his greenish blue eyes. He looked so vulnerable in that moment it tugged at your heart, wanting nothing but to embrace him in your arms.

But you had no idea how he felt and you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself.

“I uh…” Arthur cleared his throat, turning away to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Lemme clean this up.”

Your soft gaze followed him as he held onto the cloth and as his eyes asked for consent before he lifted the blanket and gently wiped the stickiness from between your thighs.

You didn’t even try to hide your red cheeks, the situation making it seem more than understandable. You wondered whether he realized how sweet this was of him, how much it made you fall in love even more.

You were both silent and the air felt thick between you two, as if there were many things left unsaid and it made the silence louder.

You never knew but always wondered what ran through his mind after your shared intimacy, how he felt, what was the mysterious gleam in his eyes as he watched you hot and sweating beside him.

When he was done, you sat up with the blanket over you again, watching his flexing muscles as he turned away from you, giving you a perfect view at his back.

Arthur lit himself a cigarette, breathing out soft clouds of smoke that floated up towards the ceiling. He sat back, feeling nothing but lightness and comfort inside.

He turned his head to look at you and found you already watching.

“Ya want a drag?”

“Sure,” you accepted, holding the blanket over your chest as you leaned forward. Instead of taking the cigarette from him as he expected you to, you left it between his fingers and simply wrapped your lips around its end while he held it out for you.

You gently put your fingers around his wrist instead, letting him watch you a little surprised.

Leaning away, you fought back the irritation in your throat and turned away from him, tears forming in your eyes. With your mouth at the crook of your arm, you broke into a violent cough.

“Not used to it, huh?” Arthur lightly mocked you, bringing the cigarette back to his own lips as he watched you struggle to gain composure.

You turned to him with teary eyes, laughing at his snicker. “I can’t be good at everything, cowboy.”

After a few moments your breath finally steadied and you found Arthur lost in thought when you looked back at him. Studying his side profile without him taking notice as he continued to smoke, something occupying his mind.

You caught yourself wishing for those hands to hold your hips instead like they did just half an hour ago. For his bare chest to be pressed against yours again, to have his lips on your own. It was like an addiction.

Having him sit beside you like that, naked, turned you on all over again.

He had no idea how much he had you wrapped around his finger.

You cleared your throat, moving your gaze before he could catch you drooling over him.

“So uh… I’d like to ask something of you.”

He looked at you with surprise in his face, curiously turning his whole body towards you.

“Huh, what is it?” he asked in a relaxed tone, shifting closer to you.

You chuckled under your breath as you turned to reach for your satchel lying beside the bed and pulled out a folded paper.

You slightly shook your head at how silly this was, but handed Arthur the paper along with a pencil nonetheless, a grin on your face.

“I’d like an autograph please,” you said playfully, making sure he knew this was a harmless request from you. Lying back, your eyes followed him as he unfolded the paper with one hand, a wave of shock stunning him as he stared at his own wanted poster.

He immediately searched for your eyes, puzzled by the gesture, frowning in confusion. But the soft features of your face and relaxed body language calmed him. You were just playing around.

Now amused, he chuckled, looking back at the paper in his hand. “Where did ya get that?”

There was a hint of insecurity in his voice. Now there was no doubt you knew about him being a criminal. You had an evidence in your possession and yet you were still here, in the same bed, naked, your skin still hot from his touch.

“On a business trip. Seems you’re quite a celebrity.” You grinned, moving closer as you looked over his shoulder at the drawn outlines of his face.

“You’re prettier in real life, trust me.”

He softly huffed at the compliment, hoping you wouldn’t notice his flushed cheeks. But you did and found it endearing.

“So… you gon’ collect that reward?” he asked, a joking tone in his voice though he kept his gaze fixated on the poster.

You chuckled. “No, no, I don’t think I’d stand a chance against someone built like you, besides, I don’t usually sleep with people I plan to turn in to the law.” You kept the playful attitude, pointing to the pencil in his hand. “Come on, sign it. I’ll keep it as a memento.”

“This?” He seemed amused by the idea, not grasping why you’d possibly do such thing.

He turned around to stub out his cigarette, his thoughts an entangled mess. Did you really not mind? He almost spiraled into overthinking as he stared back at his effigy, paired with a ‘wanted’ and a fair sum of dollars in bold. He wished he could make this part of him disappear, especially around you.

“Sure. I don’t have your photo, so…” You were clearly still joking with your lighthearted tone, little did he know there was truth in it. You planned to keep that poster, safely hidden away, as a way to keep something as a reminder of him. Was that silly?

He chuckled again as he put the pencil against a corner of the poster, scribbling down his name in neat, pretty letters.

Arthur trusted you, knew you wouldn’t misuse it. Your eyes were too honest and your physical intimacy too passionate for that.

You thanked him as he handed it back to you, giddily putting it aside and giving him a big smile.

“I must assure you,” you started teasing him, “that this is my first time being involved with an outlaw. You’re not a threat to me, are you, Mr Morgan?”

“Well that depends,” Arthur answered with the same kind of mischief, a playful gleam in his eyes as he turned to his stomach and lay close to you, his breath warm on your face.

“Depends on what?” You held back a laugh, enjoying the mood of the conversation.

“I’ve made ya scream before.”

“Oh, shut up.” You gently hit his arm with your palm, a laugh escaping your lips this time, making the outlaw laugh with you.

“You know, you’re not quite that threatening,” you said, still smiling, purposefully teasing Arthur who furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Am not?”

“No. Unless you attack me with your kisses, that is.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve done, woman.”

“No, but I’ve certainly felt some other things.” Without thinking you hurriedly planted a kiss on his scrunched nose and turned your bare back to him, sitting on the edge of bed as you reached for your clothes scattered around the floor.

Arthur lay back with his arms behind his head as he continued to rest in bed, watching you put on your clothes, though quite messily, and your hair that stayed tangled despite you running your fingers through it.

You let out a soft sigh as the room got filled with comfortable silence, yet it made you nervous to the core.

You were in love and you usually weren’t afraid of expressing your feelings. But now it felt so intimidating, so risky.

“Arthur…” you said with seriousness in your tone this time, quiet and hesitant enough to pique Arthur’s interest. He sat up straight in bed and you looked back over your shoulder, catching him as beautiful as ever.

Lit by warm candlelight, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his bare skin. The broad shoulders, though slouched in relaxation, his chest and flat stomach, small scars all over his exposed arms. The way the blanket lay casually over his lap brought warmth into your cheeks and you bit your lip as you remembered the events of just a little while ago.

You looked at his hands, his knuckles bruised and his fingers holding the sheets. And finally his face, curiously watching you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite identify. His light brown hair that you loved seeing this ruffled and messy. He really was so beautiful.

“I think…” You tried to swallow the dryness in your mouth, your palms sweating as you struggled to hold eye contact. “I caught feelings for you, Arthur.”

There. You said it. And you felt like a fool.

Your cheeks were now red and you felt a pit in your stomach, not quite believing you just said it out loud. You knew you wouldn’t have it in you to say it again.

You avoided his gaze, having no idea what his reaction was, the little moment of silence felt like an eternity to you.

“You… did?” There was disbelief in his voice and it made you shift nervously, taking a deep breath as you seemingly forgot to breathe.

“Yes.”

The silence became unbearable. You didn’t know how he looked at you, too scared to see the expression of his face and too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“I have feeling for you as well, (y/n).”

Your eyes widened in surprise and your heart jumped in your chest as you turned around, joy spreading through your veins.

You searched for any sign of deceit in his face, but there was none. He sat there looking completely vulnerable, honest, defenseless, his cheeks pink as he watched you back.

You rushed towards him, cupping his cheeks before connecting your lips in a long sweet kiss. Arthur wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his body as he lovingly pulled at your lips, softly breathing into the kiss with a sense of relief.

Slowly you put his weight on him, making him fall backwards little by little until his head lay on a pillow underneath you.

He broke the kiss, looking up at you with dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. “‘M the only one undressed here.”

You grinned at him, not moving a single inch as you kept him locked under you. “I don’t mind.”

With a kiss you muffled his laugh, a wide smile on your own face.

“So… how ‘bout I join you on your hunting trip tomorrow?” you proposed, hope in your eyes.

“Sure.” Arthur chuckled at your excitement, finding the spark in your eyes adorable as he caressed your cheek. “But I ain’t much of a good hunter.”

“That’s okay.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Me neither.”

[gucciwins]

Gala After Gala

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

Word count: 28,920 (no joke)

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

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

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

Another gala. Another check to write.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me, sir?”

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

“Yes?” Harry asked in a bored tone.

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

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

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

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

“Not my taste.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

“The food offered tonight had large portions.”

“For once,” he scoffs.

“Open bar?” She offers.

“Strange,” he rebuttals.

“But it works.”

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

“See you around, Mr. Styles.”

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

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

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

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

“Nowhere.”

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

“Well.”

“What are you drinking?”

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

“Want another of whatever?”

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

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

“Uh…got to know a few people.”

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

“Oh, Y/N.”

Y/N.

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

“Have you met her?” Miles asked him.

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

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

“How old did you say she was?”

“She’s 23.”

“Real young.”

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Styles, always a pleasure.”

“It’s always mine.”

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

“Quite something,” Harry inputs.

“Evening, Mr. Styles.”

He nods at her, “Y/N.”

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

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

“You’re an intern,” Harry states.

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

“Undergrad?”

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

“What’s your job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

“Just Harry, please.”

She shrugs him off.

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

“My friend is an apprentice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Bartolo.”

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

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

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

Harry cancels his date that night.

+

No invites have arrived at his house or office.

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

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

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

“Come in.”

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

“Yes, Diego.”

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

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

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

Formal Attire - Be ready to dance

Anthony Carmichael

+

Y/N was nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but–”

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

“I really shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Styles,” Y/N greeted

“Y/N.”

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

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

“Never.”

“Are you not good at it?”

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

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

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

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

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

A date.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

+

Rejections never came easy.

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

Was she disappointed he said no? Absolutely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Alba!”

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

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

“Danielle will be with you shortly.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell your dad to get the best trainer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Julieta!”

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

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

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

“Fine, what will I have to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four hands shot up. Harry’s included.

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

“Very well. Do I have $1,250?”

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

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

“$1,500?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YOU BOUGHT ME, HARRY!”

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

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

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

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

And like that, they’re alone again.

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

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

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

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

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

Girlfriend?

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

“No girlfriend, I can assure you.”

“You’re a liar,” Y/N spits out.

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

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

“Saw me?”

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

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

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

“Please,” Harry begs.

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

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

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

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

“Y/N,” his tone full of defeat

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

Harry nods.

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

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

+

Y/N has been dreading this day.

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

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

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

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hello, Y/N, you look wonderful.”

She nodded but made no move to invite him in.

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

“I’ll, umm, go put these in water.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haha, we’ll be going now.”

“Have fun, dears.”

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

“What are we allowed to do?”

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

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

“We’ll have to see, won’t we.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lead the way, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

“Oh, love.”

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

“That’s Tank,” he shares.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thoughts?” He asks.

She giggles, “it’s amazing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

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

“Knew it,” she celebrated.

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

“I want to hear what you think.”

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

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

“You’re a Spice Girls fan.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Paramore,” he states.

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

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

“Shut up!” Y/N yells.

“What?”

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

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

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

“Thank you for today, Harry.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

“Would–”

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

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

“Goodnight, Harry.”

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

She always came alone.

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

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

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

“This is–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s handsome,” Isaac states.

“And he knows it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With permission,” you remind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N shrugs him off, “I’m over it.”

“Sure, babes.”

Y/N scoffs, “I am.”

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

“But he’s been a dick.”

“I think he’s intimated.”

“Of?” Y/N questions.

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

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

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

“You paying?” Isaac teases.

“Yes, you little diva.”

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

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

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

“You okay?”

Y/N freezes. Of course, it’s him.

“All good,” she assures Harry.

“Good.”

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

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

“Y/N, wait.”

She looks at him expectantly.

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

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

He shakes his head, “not at all.”

“Hmm…”

“I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.”

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

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

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

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

“Good night, Mr. Styles.”

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

“Take care.”

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

He really had no chance now.

+

Y/N loved ice cream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that’s devastating.”

“It was.”

“I thought you liked him.”

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

“Maybe he didn’t see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N watches as her best friend laughs.

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

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

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

“He doesn’t know you.”

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

“--love to take you on a date.”

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

“Y/N,” he breathed out.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry?”

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

Harry frowns, feeling his skin itch.

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

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

“The very one.”  

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

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

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

+

Harry is an idiot.

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

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

“I’ve been busy,” Harry mutters.

“Hmm…”

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

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

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

“That’s a first.”

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

“Ask her out, simple as that.”

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

Mitch winces, “ouch. Bruised her ego.”

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

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

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

He shakes his head, “course not.”

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

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

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

“It’s all shit.”

“Backtrack. Why did you reject her?”

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

“Eighteen young?”

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

Mitch sits back on the couch, frowning.

“Spit it out.”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

+

Y/N hated being sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re kidding?” Sapra asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry?” She whispers, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Harry.”

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

“Are you going to make me eat alone?”

“Sorry?” He breathes out.

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

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

“Do you want a blanket?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s the bub doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“No–” she’s cut off by a yawn.

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

“Thank you for letting me in.”

“Thanks for the soup,” she counters.

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

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

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

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

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

“Friends it is, Styles.”

“Friends,” he confirms.

And maybe something more.

+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Progress. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She scoffs, “Surprised?”

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

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

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

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

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

Harry agrees, “thank you, Aubrey Hepburn.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugs, “I try.”

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

“You’re a poet now?’

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

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

“I like challenges,” he answers carelessly.

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

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

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

“No, Y/N, wait, please,” he begs.

She pauses, turning to look at him.

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

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

“But I-”

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

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

She gestures for him to go on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Y/N, you look beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to paint?” She exclaims.

He shrugs, “thought it’d be fun.”

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

Harry sighs in relief, good that’s good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“You’re cheeky, beauty.”

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

“Harry, this is too much.”

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

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

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

“All done,” he whispers.

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

“More wine, Beauty?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready, beauty?”

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

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

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

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

He points to himself, “that’s me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love jalapeños.”

“Is pepperoni and jalapeños alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this okay?” He breathes out.

“Mhm…”

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

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

“Beauty,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

“You can have another taste.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet dreams, beauty.”

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

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

+

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

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

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

“Does that mean we’re dating Beauty?”

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

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

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

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

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

Harry was happy to have her kisses.

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, wake up.”

Nothing. He tried again.

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

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

“Come on, it’s late, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were the boxers not okay?”

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

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

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

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

“To the guest room.”

“You don’t want to sleep with me?”

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

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

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Perfect.”

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

“Kiss, please?”

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

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

+

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

“Beauty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” she greets. “I’m Y/N.”

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

“You as well, Mr. Levington.”

He grimaces, “Malcolm is fine.”

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

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

“The hotels,” Y/N gasps.

He laughs, “the very one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry laughs, “Y/N’s my–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A pleasure, Ms. Y/N.”

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

“What do you mean?” She feigns innocence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I driving?” She waits expectantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, she’s one of a kind.”

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

“Seems you’re wanted, Styles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yummy,” she giggles.

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

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

“Another, baby?”

She shakes her head no.

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

“What do you want, beauty?”

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

“Harry,” she whines.

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, baby?”

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

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

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

“Kisses and cuddles?” She requests quietly.

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

+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it our age difference?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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

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

Everything was perfect.

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

This evening Y/N was working on her laptop while Harry read a report for the upcoming month. Y/N sighed, closing her laptop and leaning back into the chair. He lifted his head in concern to find her already looking at him, a frown on his face.

“Beauty, what’s wrong?”

Y/N throws her hands up, “you're giving me too much?”

“Sorry?

“I didn’t need a new bag.”

She’s talking about her backpack ripping, and Harry thought nothing of replacing it for her.

“Your old one ripped.”

“My shoes were perfectly fine,” she fires back.

“The laces were barely holding together,” he reminds her.  

“I didn’t need new underwear.”

Harry smirks, “now that was for my pleasure.”

Y/N huffs, “Honey, I’m serious. I don't need all these material items.”

Harry sighs and pats his lap for her to come to sit. She does so without a second thought. She gets comfortable straddling him as his hands rest on her hips.  

“I like providing for you,” Harry expressed.

“I can provide for myself, mister.”

He nods because he knows she can. “But it makes me happy.”

“Harry,” she deadpans.

“Gives me a love boner.”

Y/N scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Be serious.”

Harry’s hands cradle her face, his thumbs rubbing her cheeks affectionately. “Baby, you could run me dry, and it gets me going because it means I was able to take care of you.

She sighs. “God, you're so cute,” she mumbles.

Harry grins, knowing he’s won. “Will you be my good girl and let me spoil you?”

Y/N nods slowly. He leans in to kiss her, but she stops him. “If you ever give me a diamond, I'm out,” she reminds him.

“Got it, no diamonds…. What about pearls?” He jokes. At least, she thinks he is.

“Lovie,” she exhales.

Harry has decided he’s had enough of the conversation and kisses her. Y/N always tastes so sweet. He gets lost in exploring her mouth against his that he doesn’t realize she has started rocking against him. Since Harry had given Y/N two orgasms in his bath, they’ve been more physical, but Harry isn’t in any rush, and neither is Y/N. They’re taking it slow, learning every part of their bodies before taking that final step in their relationship. He pulls back the dimples on display, he runs his index finger over Y/N’s swollen lips.

“Popcorn and Survivor, beauty?”

“Oh, Styles, you sure do know the way to a woman’s heart, don’t you,” she teases.

Harry pecks her lips. “Only yours, beauty. Only yours.”

+

Y/N couldn’t believe Harry would do this to her.

Harry sent over a large red box with a bow holding it closed. The carrier bid her goodnight, and she hurried to her kitchen to open the package. Removing the lid, she found a gorgeous emerald green dress. She picked it up, admiring the silk, and quickly pulled her phone out of her sweat pocket to call Harry. He answered on the first ring.

“Hi, beauty,” he greets cheerfully.

“Harry, tell me you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” He feigns.

“You sent me a dress for tonight.”

“Ah,” he giggles. “That I did. Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Good. I'll be there at seven to pick you up.”

“You want to go together?” They knew they were both attending, but for some reason, she assumed they’d arrive separately.

“I didn’t get a matching tie for nothing.” He laughs. “See you soon, beauty.”

Y/N hurried to get ready, excited for what the night had in store for her and Harry.

Harry knocked on her door at seven on the dot. She rushed to the door, swinging it open and telling him to come in as she rushed back into her room. He laughed because he had never seen Y/N frazzled, and here she was, rushing, knowing she was running late. Harry put the blooming calla lilies in a vase he knew she kept under her sink.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Harry. My curler was being stupid, and then I couldn’t find my heels.” She huffs as she stands at her entrance, slipping on her heels.

Harry takes a minute to admire the dress on her. It’s an elegant satin spaghetti strap dress with a high slit up her left leg. Her hair is in an elegant updo, with a few strands framing her face. She’s gorgeous, and she’s all his to show off tonight.

“You sure you don’t want to stay home tonight?” He asks, reaching his hands out for her to take.

She shakes her head, knowing exactly what he is thinking. “Absolutely not. It’s a big night.”

And it was.

Y/N’s internship was hosting their gala of the year, where she played a prominent role in helping with the budget and the guest list. He would never keep her away from an event where she was an important guest.

Y/N grabs her clutch that holds her most essential items, such as her lipstick, ID, cash, and keys. She’s telling Harry she’s ready to go when she catches a yellow vase on her table filled with her favorite flowers.

“H,” she sighed. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He kisses her cheek. “Anything to see that pretty smile.”

As she focuses on Harry staring down at her, she realizes she didn’t kiss him hello. Y/N leans in close, pressing her glossed lips against his. Harry hums at the familiar feel. He wants to take it further but knows they need to get going.

“All set?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go then, my gorgeous date.”

Arriving at the venue, Harry offered his keys to the valet as Y/N was helped out the door. Harry met her by the first step and offered his arm. She happily accepted. Walking in, Y/N was awed at the displays of gold scattered around the room. The table decorations were pristine, the lights were perfect for photos, and the ballroom was full of people. As soon as they were inside, Y/N was whisked away by her director, Valentina. Y/N gave Harry an apologetic smile but promised to find him later. Harry had always been good at spending time alone, but for once, he wished Y/N could have paraded him around the room as they introduced each other to people they knew. He knew that time would come.

It’s a beautiful and busy evening; at one point, a waiter finds him a single drink on a tray and hands it over to him, saying that a woman in an emerald green dress sent it to him. It was an amaretto sour, his new favorite. Y/N smiled from across the room when she saw him raise it in her direction as thanks.

The event was winding down, the string quartet was playing their final songs, and Harry was ready to call it a night. After an entire evening away from him, Y/N managed to make her way across the room and stood before him.

Y/N perks up as she hears the opening notes to the song the quartet is playing, their song. Moon River. Harry doesn’t tell her he’s turned the song into her ringtone.

She holds her hand for him to take, and he takes it without a second thought until Harry realizes she’s leading him to the dance floor.

“We’re going to be the talk of the town,” he tells her looking at the lonely dance floor.

Y/N shrugs, “it doesn’t matter.”

As opposed to the first time they danced together, holding space between each other, they were much closer this time. Y/N wrapped her hands around his neck, and his hands found their place on the low of her back.

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that your opinion is the only one I care about,” Y/N promises him.

Harry’s dimples break through and she grins, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. She settles back in his arms as their song plays, lost in their own world.

“You know,” Y/N lifted her head, resting on his shoulder. “You once told me you didn’t dance, and yet this is the second time I have gotten you to dance, hmmm?”

Harry laughs because she’s right. “I was waiting for the right partner,” he affirms.

“And is that me?”

“Beauty,” he says softly, his emerald eyes locked on hers. “It could only ever be you,” Harry promises.

Y/N smiles in delight. They might not have had the easiest journey to getting to this moment, but Y/N knew she wouldn’t change anything for the world.

Dancing with Y/N on an empty dance floor to a song he knew had now become theirs, he knew meeting Y/N would be the thing to ever happen to him in life, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for them together.

thank you so much for reading! i love you endlessly, amores 💜

please come tell me what you loved or your favorite part on anything at all. always happy to receive a message. 

[charmandabear]

Yule

Summary:

While snuggling by the Yule fire, you forget just how sensitive elf ears can be.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 2.2k Tags/Warnings: post-game spoilers, cunnilingus, blood drinking, p in v sex, spawn!Astarion, soft!Astarion, fluff and smut, Astarion deserves to be bitten too

Read it on AO3.

Enough people said they'd still be interested in reading holiday-related fics even after the holidays, so here you go! Huge shout-outs to Idylla for their incredible art used in the banner. Their modern!Astarion absolutely ruins me.

Midwinter Nights: Yule | Christmas | New Year's Eve

Astarion curled against you as the Yule fire burned low in the hearth. You knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake all night, despite his insistence to the contrary. It amused you even more because, as an elf, he didn’t really need to sleep. But he had grown so accustomed to it at this point, snuggling up with you each night as you got your mandatory eight hours, it was a harder habit to break. 

You had only just put the most recent batch of cookies in the oven, but you were a little concerned for what would happen when you needed to take them out. Astarion was much like a cat in that way; if he climbed on top of you, it was a crime to disturb him. You could lay there forever, pinned beneath his weight, and you’d thank the gods for it. 

You peered down at him, sleeping so peacefully. He almost looked like a cat, pointy ears occasionally flicking at the warm air that emanated from the fire. You could practically see his tail swishing contentedly. Ever since killing Cazador and reclaiming his freedom, he’d been so drawn to creature comforts, looking for softness and indulgence in all he could find. 

You ran your fingers through his white curls, scratching his scalp absentmindedly. He shifted in his sleep, subconscious nudging him into your touch. You would sit here all night if you could, nails dancing over his pale skin while he slept soundly. You knew that eventually your timer would go off and you would need to take this latest batch of cookies out. But for now, at least, you could just enjoy having him pressed up against your side.

You stared into the fire as your hand wandered, gently stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck. You marveled at how much had changed in these past few months. Karlach and Wyll ventured to Avernus to fight on the front lines of the Blood War, and while you missed them, you knew you were only a ritual away from seeing them at the House of Hope. Gale had gone back to continue his studies in Waterdeep, and Lae’zel found herself living a surprising life of domestic bliss with Shadowheart, newly reunited with her parents. You haven’t heard much from Halsin, Jaheira, or Minsc, but you were certain that they were finding respite wherever they were. 

As you’re getting lost in your thoughts, you stopped paying attention to where your hand flitted across Astarion’s skin; that is, until you heard a breathy moan escape his lips. You looked down and realized that you were running the tip of your pointer around the shell of his ear. You pulled away suddenly, embarrassed as you realized you were basically doing the elf equivalent of teasing his nipples. He whined at the sudden loss of contact, and you sat frozen, unsure if he was awake or not. 

He stirred, legs squirming against a definitive bulge growing in his loose pants. He sat up and blinked sleepily, gears turning as he put together where he was. He turned to you and suddenly his eyes focused, pupils wide like a cat focused on its prey. 

“If you wanted something, you could’ve just asked, you know,” he said in a low purr, and you could feel yourself clench in response to the fire his words stoked deep in your core. 

“Sorry love, it was an accident,” you whispered, trying to sound cool but the crack in your voice gave you away. 

“Accident or no, you’ve made your bed, so I hope you’re ready to lie in it,” he said with a grin, fangs glinting in the firelight. He launched himself onto you, kissing you roughly as he tangled his hands in your hair. You tried to regain your breath as you kissed him back, your hands scrambling for purchase on his clean linen shirt. Your body bent back with the weight of his as he shifted on top of you, prying your legs open with his knee. An unseemly moan escaped your lips as he pressed his hardness right up to the apex of your thighs. You ran your fingers through his hair, though whether it was to regain control or just hang on for dear life, you couldn’t tell. 

Between the heat radiating from the fire, the slight delirium from staying up all night, and the way that your arousal for this man made your head swim, you could barely think straight. He continued to roll his hips into you obscenely, and you could feel the telltale dampness seeping into your small clothes. You spread your legs a little wider, trying to feel that delicious friction through the several layers of fabric that separated you. 

You broke the kiss to take in a gulp of air, beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. His lips migrated to your neck, flicking the tip of his tongue along the puncture wound that had only recently closed up. A shudder surged through your body at the sensation and you squirmed involuntarily, your body urging you closer to his. You rolled your head away from him, presenting your neck as a silent offering as you had so many times before. He needed no further invitation and sunk his teeth into the sensitive flesh, your simultaneous groans of pleasure mingling together in your ears. You knew you were courting danger by letting him bite when you were already woozy, but it was worth the risk for the good it did you both. He always became a little more powerful, a little more dominant right after drinking your blood; for you, the feeling of him siphoning just a little of your life force away gave you an unmatched feeling of ecstasy.

He detached himself from your neck and looked down at you, panting. The sight of him post-feeding always sent you into a frenzy. His cheeks and ears uncharacteristically flushed, his bloody lips in a sedate half-smile, hair a tousled mess, and a wild look in his eyes like he was ready to devour you. You could only imagine what he saw in return; your hair splayed out beneath you, eyes glassy, mouth open in a suspended moan as blood trickled down your neck.

He ran a hand down the front of your blouse and you arched your back to meet his touch. He was still pressed between your legs, your knees hooked around his waist. He ran a finger along the waistband of your pants, causing you to whine needily.

“Tell me what it is you want, pet,” he purred, the predatory cat out in full force. Your hips bucked up against him as you grasped at the rug beneath you. He looked so gorgeous in the orangey firelight, his skin soft and glowy. You pawed wantonly at the hem of his shirt, any semblance of speech leaving your body. He grabbed your flailing wrists and pinned them above your head, bringing his lips within an inch of yours.

“Your words, love. Tell me what you want,” he growled, a little more forcefully than before, eliciting another desperate mewl. 

“Ah- I.. Astarion,” you pled with him and he grinned, fangs pressing into your lips.

“Yes?” The word was a breathless whisper. He looked down the length of his nose at you, crimson eyes piercing into you.

“I want you to taste me,” you squeaked out, writhing beneath the hard length of his body. He pressed his lips to your ear just as he pressed his erection into your mound.

“Good girl,” he hissed, and pushed off your chest to slink downward to your hips. He grabbed your waistband and slid your pants down over your ass, dragging his cool hands across your heated skin. He pressed his lips into your hip and you arched into him, yearning to feel him on every inch of you. Your skin prickled from the heat of the fire, his contrasting touch making you shiver. 

He traveled downward, each kiss pulling a new and more debaucherous sound from your throat. His lips hovered above yours and he relished in making you twitch with need. After a second of teasing that felt like an eternity, he swiped his tongue along your slit and you groaned in relief. He dug his fingers into your thighs as he gently lapped at your folds, making you feel more heated with each pass. He spread your lips apart with his dexterous fingers, tracing lazy shapes with the tip of his tongue.

Your fingers curled into his hair once more, hoping to regain control of your cantering hips. He pushed his tongue deeper into you and your breath grew ragged, your hips begging to fully fuck his face. He relented to your control, letting you grind on his lips and tongue to chase your own satisfaction. Your cries grew in tandem with the pressure that mounted in your core, and this time when your hands wandered to stroke his ears, it was intentional. He moaned into your cunt, a deep, primal sound that sent vibrations directly to your clit, sending you over the edge. He buried his face into you as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, thighs squeezing around his head.

He pulled away once the pulses had subsided and you delighted to see his disheveled face, your juices reflecting in the firelight. He roughly pulled you up onto his lap, pulling your still sensitive swell down hard onto his erection. You moaned into his lips, sharing the taste of you with him.

“You saucy little minx,” he growled even as you could feel his smile through the kiss. Your fingers fumbled at his waistband, desperate to free him and feel him inside you. He peeled your blouse over the top of his head just as you released his cock from his trousers, tip already glistening with precum. Your breath hitched at the sight of it, your pussy already aching to be filled.

The length of his cock teased your folds, and he cupped one of your breasts in his hand, the pad of his thumb skating over the pert nipple. You threw your head back, raising your tits up with a heaving breath just so he could latch on with his mouth, suckling gently. Your arms around his neck, you danced your fingers close to his ear, teasing him as much as you were asking him for more. He pulled off your nipple with a pop and stared red hot daggers into you.

“Careful love. Mess with the cat and get the claws,” he warned in a low and dangerous whisper. He raised your hips up and pulled you down in one fell stroke onto his stiffened cock. The cry he tore out of you was your most obscene yet, but you were already so wet and hungry for him that you slid down to his base without resistance.

You began to ride his dick, your knees pressing against the floor as he stretched you out with every thrust. Now it was his turn to toss his head back, leaving his pale throat open and vulnerable. You sunk your teeth into the cold flesh, your dull human incisors not actually piercing skin, but eliciting a delicious groan from him nonetheless. He kept his hands squarely on your hips as you bounced up and down, relishing the slide of him along your inner walls.

You wanted to see him lose himself in you. You wanted him to come undone like you were. You needed more of those breathy moans in your ear as he unleashed the predator within.

You nipped at his earlobe.

Almost as though an external force possessed his body, he slammed you down onto your back without pulling out of you. He pushed your knees up to your ears and pounded into you forcefully, the edge of your second orgasm rapidly approaching. Your tits bounced with the force of his thrusts, and it took everything in your power to keep your eyes open so you could watch him unravel above you. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his red eyes looked down on you, positively feral. You could see his fangs through the soft o-shape his mouth formed as he came, his orgasm sending you crashing into yours. You could still feel his cock throbbing inside you with each burst of his seed even as your vision slowly faded into black.

You awoke a few moments later curled up on some pillows and a cool washcloth laid across your forehead. Next to you was a glass of water which you gulped down eagerly.

Astarion came back into the room, face still looking deliciously flushed and bitten, with a small plate of cookies. He kneeled down next to you and held one up to your lips, and you accepted the snack without hesitation. He pulled the washcloth from your forehead and kissed your cool damp skin, his lips almost warm in comparison.

“Love, you can't scare me like that. I thought I fucked you into a coma. If you're feeling unwell, say something,” he said, red eyes full of concern. You wave it off with a shrug.

“What can I say? Maybe I like messing with the cat,” you respond with a giggle as you bite down on your cookie, teeth bared playfully.

[planchettewrites]

With the Taste of Nectar Upon His Lips

Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland)/AFAB!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Idia has a very inappropriate dream about the Housewarden of Ramshackle. Very much "Epic I" from Hadestown inspired. This was originally a fic I wrote using my friend's OC, but she gave me permission to rewrite it as an Idia/Reader.

CONTENT WARNING: | SMUT | Wet Dreams | AFAB Reader Using She/Her Pronouns

0.9k Words | MDNI pretty please

She was gorgeous. She was the type of gorgeous that Idia Shroud didn’t think he ever deserved. Her hair fell like a waterfall down her back, and her eyes sparkled up at him like diamonds. Her smile was that of the Gods above and below—it was the smile of a goddess and yet the smile of a seductress. His hand found its way under her chin to hold her face up to smile at him. On her knees, she looked like the most beautiful woman in the world, and there he stood, towering above her. The control he felt in his life was nothing compared to how he felt now. He could feel her hands paw at his thighs, and his jeans tightened. She batted her eyelashes at him, and he felt weak in the knees. 

When Idia was little, he remembers hearing a song of love about the gods. He remembers hearing the love song about the King of the Underworld and the Goddess of Spring. She’d gather flowers in the light of the sun, and the King fell hard and fast, so much so that he took her home to become his queen. They loved each other, and the kingdom that they shared, but the world above missed their goddess and wanted her home. The King allowed his wife to return to the world above, and the sun burnt twice as bright when the Goddess returned home. This is how the seasons came to be, he was told. He was told that the King and the Goddess shared a pomegranate—the fruit of their love. It was the fruit of their marriage and the seeds of their love. 

For him, she was this goddess. 

She now sat on his lap, their lips meeting and their tongues dancing. Her hands were placed firmly on his shoulders, and his hands roamed around her body. His hands grabbed her delicate thighs, went up and down her back, and occasionally groped at her breasts. Women were so much softer than he ever imagined. Her skin was like silk, and she was as soft as plush. He would be content if she was the only thing he could ever touch for the rest of his life. 

One of her hands led him to under her skirts, where he felt a source of wetness that made his face grow hot. His fingers found a bundle of nerves that made her nearly jump out of his lap. He let out a small laugh and pressed kisses to her neck. He shushed her quietly as she sang that song of love for him. Her voice was that of angels—he was sure that her voice was driving him mad. She had to be a siren. She had to be. He pushed a finger into her slowly, pushing it as far as he could go. She was warm and so incredibly soft. He’d hook his fingers as they went deeper into her, reveling in all the little noises she made. 

He found himself drinking her up and lapping at her like a man starved. One arm was wrapped around her waist, and the other was hooked around one of her thighs. Her hands were in his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. When he sucked on that bundle of nerves, she let out a noise that he was sure he would remember for the rest of his life. It was a noise that he would willingly walk into the Underworld to hear. He must’ve been addicted to her because he couldn’t stop himself. If he drowned himself in her, he would die a happy man. If her thighs trapped him, so let it be. The strain in his pants was aching, and the only way he found to fix that was to grind against the sheets. He didn’t want to let her go; he would hear the noises she was making for the rest of his life. 

She lay under him with her eyes shut and a giant smile on her face. Her legs wrapped around his slender waist, and her arms around his neck. His hair pooled around her as he thrust into her, each movement purposeful and methodical. Maybe playing mobile rhythm games actually gifted him with some sense of timing and rhythm. Each thrust was deep, and he could feel her around her with every movement. He must be dead. He must absolutely be dead because there is no way he was lucky enough to have her underneath him moaning his name. His name sounded like a prayer on her lips as she begged for more–more of him. His hand reached that bundle of nerves again, and she let out a scream of ecstasy that he knew that he would never forget. 

____

Then he awoke with a stain on his boxers. It wasn’t the first time in his life that he was beyond thankful he wasn’t sharing a room with Ortho, but he was certainly grateful that he wasn’t sharing a room currently with his younger brother. He looked down at his boxers and almost felt ashamed of himself. He came in his pants from a dream. It is not just a dream about any woman, but a dream about her. He had a very, very sexual dream about her. Perfect her. 

Thankfully, being housewarden, he had a bathroom to himself. Laundry later would be a nightmare, but that was something he could save for another time. 

[literallylexa]

Dean x Reader: SMUT

“Stopping the Hunt”

Prompt: Dean shows up every time you finally “get over him.” Sam goes to hell and Dean comes to you for refuge. However, you already have a boyfriend. Dean gets jealous and you get angry.

Warning: angst, smut, depression, Dean being jealous

Dean’s arms just do something to me

💜•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••💜

The hunting life never has been your thing. Ever since you were one of the victims of a vampire attack, you’ve kept an eye out for the supernatural. That’s how you met Dean Winchester. He was everything you wanted in a man. Protective, strong, caring, he’d do anything for you or his brother Sam. However, you knew that you could never have a relationship with Dean, just due to how his life is. He’s always on the road and put into dangerous situations. He’s nothing but a phone call and a fuck buddy every now and then. You always wanted more though. He was irresistible. Little did you know, Dean felt the same way.

You’ve moved on from Dean Winchester though, you think to yourself. Sometimes..well all the time you think about him. Sometimes romantically, sometimes not. After you started dating your current boyfriend, Edward, you decided it was time to move on from Dean. You’d never be able to have a relationship with that man. Never more than just an occasional booty call.

Tonight is date night. You shouldn’t be thinking about Dean Winchester anyways. You’re going out to have fun!

-I’ll be there in 10

Edward- Okay, I’m at the bar meet me there. Usual spot

You sigh and look into the mirror while fixing your hair. Today you decided to have it down, natural. You glance over your body, making sure the little black dress doesn’t have any stains on it. You decided to wear makeup tonight, wispy lashes, eyeliner, and some faint red glossy lipstick. You pucker your lips together, checking for any cracks and then reapplying some more. You rub your lips together making sure they’re covered. You take one more look at yourself before you grab your heels and purse.

The nightlife was always fun. You always like to try a new drink everytime you go, you’re very adventurous. On the day to day life your more to yourself, but once the alcohol comes out you’re very extroverted. Making new friends, meeting new people, dancing and singing the night away. Sometimes a drink fixes your worries, washing them away as the night goes on. Washes away Dean, all the supernatural shit you’ve seen, all their deaths. If you could take it all back, you would. You never wanted to be a hunter, you never wanted to know about the supernatural. You’ve never wanted to meet Dean.

As the night goes on the more progressively drunk you get. Heels come off, and no fucks are given. You grind against Edward in the bar, dancing along with some friends who stopped by. Edward grabs your hips, swaying them side to side against his cock. Maybe other things were taken that night other then alcohol, but it sure as hell felt amazing.

The night always ends in your bed, skin slapping and moans fill the air. Sheets on the mattress had lifted up and pillows fallen off the bed.

The morning always ends the same too. Alone.

You look over next to you in bed and Edward has already left. He never stays around anyways. Life sometimes gets lonely. Your parents aren’t around anymore, few friends live in the same state as you. Before Edward you were hanging out with random girls at the club and bringing home one night stands. Going to work, eating, drinking, fucking, then sleeping. Sometimes you’d occasionally look at a case online, send it to some hunters and go on about your business. People like you..who know what’s out there aren’t meant for happy endings.

You finally get out of bed. Sliding into some ugg slippers and long tee shirt with nothing underneath. You head over to the kitchen and begin to brew some coffee when a knock at your door gets your attention. Heart pounding you head over to the door. You look out your peep hole and gasp. Before you open the door you go to your pantry and grab some holy water along with a silver knife. With shaky hands you unlock the door and open it. Immediately you throw the holy water and cut the person.

“(Y/N)!” Dean yells out, “I’m not a damn demon. Or a shapeshifter. It’s me!”

“Dean what the fuck are you doing here?” You demand. Last time your encounter didn’t go well with him. You were stupid enough to tell him how you felt and he left the next morning. Typical.

“It’s a lot but I promise to explain if you let me in.” Dean says, hope glistening in his eyes.

You could never resist him. As much as you wanted to you couldn’t. “Fine. I’m making coffee. Sit your ass down and tell me what the fuck happened.”

Dean smiles and sits down at the dining room table. “Same as I remembered it. A little updated though. Looks good.” Dean looks around your house.

“Where’s Sam?” You ask Dean, setting down a cup of coffee in front of him. Dean immediately takes a sip, groaning as he swallows, “So good (Y/N).” Dean groans, “I’ve been all over the country but they never make coffee like yours.”

You laugh to yourself. It’s nice for someone to appreciate you once in a while. Even if it’s Dean doing the appreciating. “I let you in so now you have to tell me what’s going on. What did you and Sam get yourselfs into now?”

Dean takes another sip and sets the mug down, his demeanor changing. He begins to tell you the story about letting Lucifer about the cage, Lilith, Sam being Lucifer’s vessel. “Sam is in hell, (Y/N)..with the devil himself.”

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. “Oh my god-goodness Dean.” You correct yourself. Maybe God shouldn’t be mentioned in this senerio. “Whats the plan to get him back?”

“There’s no plan.” Dean says looking down.

“Where do you plan on staying?”

“I have Baby.”

“Dean…” You say, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. “Why don’t you just stay with me for a little. I have a comfortable couch, Baby has a parking spot.” You smile down at him. You could have sworn that his emerald eyes were tearing up. Before you could look at him better, Dean turns his head away, wiping his face. “So what’s going on with you?” Dean asks. You weren’t going to admit you already had a boyfriend just yet. “Oh just the same old shit.” You chuckle, looking around nervously.

“Don’t tell me you’ve met someone?” Dean says, “I can tell when you’re lying.” 

“Ok yeah I met somebody. But it’s no big deal.” You say.

Dean seemed almost irritated when you admitting to it. “I shouldn’t stay.”

“Dean, no I insist.” You plead. As much as your and Dean’s relationship is strained, you never want to see him hurt. “How about we get some breakfast?” You ask, trying to change the conversation. Dean thinks for a moment but ultimately said yes.

•••

After breakfast with Dean, everything was back to what it was. Laughing, flirting a little bit, telling stories. Sam wasn’t mentioned during that conversation though. You know Dean will bring it up when he wants to.

“Please make yourself comfortable.” You tell Dean. “And let’s have you take a shower huh?” You squeeze your nose in between your fingers and Dean pushes ur arm jokingly. Dean brings his belongings out of the impala, just two duffle bags and some guns.

“We can buy you a little dresser so you can put all your shit in. Sorry I don’t have another room for you.” You say to Dean as he begins to walk up the stairs.

“No (Y/N), you’ve already done a lot. No need to worry about that…well maybe I could use some soap. I don’t want to smell like flowers and rainbows.” Dean laughs.

“It’s mixed berry, asshole!” You yell at him going up the stairs.

Moments later you hear the water turn on. You smile to yourself. Dean Winchester living in your house. You began to imagine yourself with him, but those thoughts are quickly wiped away when your phone buzzes. Edward. Right. You’re dating Edward, you have been dating Edward for the last couple months. Edward is normal. Edward has a future for himself. A stable job, family, friends, a home. Edward is good for you. You sigh out loud, frustrated with yourself thinking about Dean. Dean will eventually leave anyways. Unless he’s done hunting. But he won’t ever stop hunting. Your mind races back and forth. You decide to answer your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby. The bar is having some event tonight, rock and roll music and shit. Want to come? Just meet me there.” Edward says.

“Oh sure. I’ll be there tonight.” You say and end the phone call. Fuck. Maybe you can just leave Dean here and go out.

You decide to clean up to distract yourself from thinking about the two men. You hear the stairs creek as Dean comes downstairs. You turn around and look at him. The sight of him made you breathless. Combed, wet hair dripping onto his tight grey shirt. He’s not wearing a flannel, so his large muscular arms are showing, veins going down them to his hands. His jeans fitting him perfectly, you could see every inch of him. Your eyes wander to his groin area, slightly seeing a bulge through the jeans. For once you don’t see him wearing shoes but only white socks.

“I definitely used up all your hot water.” Dean laughs, running a towel through his hair to dry it.

“What a gentleman.” You say to him. Guess you’ll have to wait to take a shower too.

“If you would have joined me you could have had some hot water too.” Dean winks at you.

“Uh huh in your dreams.” (Or maybe yours) “Soo..” You begin to say, “Tonight at the bar they have a rock and roll night. Want to join? Get some drinks, meet some girls?” You say.

Dean thinks for a moment before saying yes. “Is your little boyfriend going to be there?”

“Yeah he is, but he won’t be a bother. He usually talks to his friends anyways.” You say.

The rest of the afternoon is going great. You do some errands with Dean and Baby of course. It was nice not to drive all the time. It felt nice having Dean drive you around, taking you wherever you wanted. You get some burgers for a quick lunch and head back home. Dean turns on the TV while you put away the groceries and clean up around the house. Dean walks over to the porch and looks at to your backyard. “You need to cut the grass. Do you have a lawnmower?” Dean asks.

“I usually just pay somebody to do it. Clearly it’s been neglected.” You say, standing out on the porch with him. Your yard was fenced in, perfect for a dog.

“Guess I’ll just have to do it tomorrow.” Dean says.

A warm feeling goes through your body as Dean says that. You could imagine him cutting the grass, getting all sweaty and you throw him a beer. When he comes inside you make him some food and make love in the shower after-

“If you do that I’m going to pay you.” You say to Dean quickly.

“You’re already letting me live here. That’s the least I can do for you (Y/N).” Dean looks down at you. The sun shines on his skin perfectly, making it golden. His green eyes have little bits of yellow and blue in the suns rays. You notice Dean looking at your lips, traveling down to your collarbone, and down to your breasts. You get embarrassed from him looking. He’s already seen you naked before, many times. Dean licks his lips as he looks back up into your eyes.

“I’m going to get dressed.” You leave him there on the porch. You run back up to your room and shut the room quickly. Your heart races. You cannot get involved with Dean again, at least romantically. He will leave. He always does. Tears begin to form in your eyes but you wipe them away quickly. Maybe you did love Dean, but you could never admit that- not even to yourself. If you did you’d just get hurt.

You put on some makeup once again. Wispy lashes, eye liner, lip gloss, highlighter and blush. You put on a small dress again, with some heels. As you begin to walk down the stairs you get nervous about Dean seeing you. “Are you ready to go Dean?” You yell out as you walk down the stairs.

“Yeah I’m-“ Dean stops in his tracks, mouth wide. You could have sworn to see his bulge grow through his pants. “Goddamn (Y/N).” Dean practically drools. He eye fucks you with his green eyes, not missing a single inch of your body. Your hair to your plump glossy lips, breasts pushed up from your dress, your legs and thick thighs exposed, he was even infatuated with your beautiful feet in those sexy, scandalous heels. Dean gulps multiple times, hands beginning to sweat, increasingly getting aroused by your figure. Dean grabs your purse for you along with his leather jacket. You guys get into the impala and head to the bar.

It was already packed by the time you two got there. Music loud, tables filled. You lead Dean over to your usual spot at the bar and order drinks for the two of you. “(Y/N)!” Edward comes over, obviously already drunk. He slings his arm around your shoulder and slyly squeezes your left boob. You jump in your seat, startled by the sudden grope. Out of the corner of your eye you see Dean’s nostrils flare, lips puckered in annoyance.

“Edward uhm, this is Dean Winchester. He’s my friend from a while back.” You say.

Edward makes an effort to be touching you. He sets his drink onto the bar counter, standing behind you while you sit in the chair. One hand on your shoulder, and one on your thigh, almost completely underneath your already short tight dress. “So you’re the one (Y/N) used to talk about huh.” Edward chuckles.

You mentally face palm. Fuck you forgot you told Edward about how Dean left you once. Dean clenches his jaw, passes a side eye to you. He takes a sip of his drink and sets it back down. “And I haven’t heard anything about you.” Dean pulls an angry grin.

“Ahh alright how about we have some shots!” You yell to the two of them. “3 shots please!” You call out to the bar tender.

“We’re about to start another game of pool. Dean, you wanna join?” Edward asks.

“I’d be happy to.” Dean takes the shot like water. Edward also takes it, slightly grimacing at the taste. You shake your head and take your own shot, immediately ordering another one after.

Edward takes you by the waist and walks you over to the pool table, Dean following behind. Some of Edward’s friends join in, along with some strangers to watch. Rock and Roll plays, Eye of the Tiger starts up, getting the bar riled up. Edward starts first, getting a ball into the hole. He grabs you by the hips afterward, standing behind you he presses his clothed cock against your ass. You intently watch Dean durning his turn. His muscles flex when he moves, shirt fitting him tightly, riding up his back as he leans over the pool table. You knew Edward was no match for Dean playing pool. Dean hit three balls in durning his turn. He turns around, smirking at you and glares at Edward. Edward goes next. Dean stands close to you durning your boyfriends turn. You could smell his cologne, god he always smells so good. The side of your hip brushed against him a couple times as you move around a bit, each time you touched slightly you felt shivers down your entire body. Maybe it was the alcohol hitting.

As they play, the more increasingly angry Edward gets. As they play, the more cocky Dean gets. Edward begins to not notice you anymore. Durning one of Edward’s turns, Dean wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close. “You’re beating his ass.” You whisper over to Dean, standing on your tippy toes to reach his ear. He chuckles, looking down at you and smiling. “We need to play again sometime.” You laugh and bump him with your hip, causing his hand to fall and wrap around your waist instead. You felt dizzy from Dean’s touch. “I guess you just want me to beat your ass again.” You jokingly tell Dean. Everytime you play, you would always beat him and Sam. They would always say that you’re cheating. Dean slightly squeezes your love handle as he begins to pull away, “How about you grab us some more drinks, huh sweetheart?”

Shivers get sent down to your pussy. His husky voice never fails to make you wet and horny. When you get to the bar, you take two shots of your own, and bring a tray to the pool table. Dean and Edward finish the tray themselves, trying to out do each other.

Everything is blurry at this point. Dean, Edward, and you were clearly wasted. The pool game finishes, and of course, Dean wins. Everyone cheers out for Dean, including you. Without thinking, you jump into his arms and hug him. Dean holds you up by your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist. “Shots for everyone!!” Dean yells. Everyone heads over to the bar. Besides you. When you get off Dean you begin to walk with him and the crowd, however Edward holds you back into the crowd. He grips your wrists tight, causing it to hurt. “What the fuck was that (Y/N)!?” He yells at you.

“Get the fuck off me! You’re drunk!” You yell at him, trying to swat his hands away. His grip only tightens and he begins to pull you to the bathrooms. “Get off me!” You yell at Edward, trying to pull away. He slams you against the wall, head facing it. “Why the fuck are you hanging out with Dean Winchester?” He spits, grabbing your hair into a ponytail. Panic spreads through your body. Fight or flight. Well, you ain’t no bitch, you’re a fighter. You slam your head backwards, head bumping Edward. He falls to the floor dizzy. For a minute you could have sworn his eyes turn black. Doesn’t matter if it was your eyes playing tricks on you, you were out of the bathroom in a second. Hurriedly, you squeeze through the crowd in the bar, trying to find Dean. “Dean!” You yell out. You can’t find him. You exit the bar and begin to call Dean. No answer. Fuck fuck fuck. You take a breath to calm yourself. Putting your hair up into a ponytail, you begin to head back into the bar. Before you even step foot, the door opens, revealing Dean.

“(Y/N)! Where were you? Are you okay?” Dean asks worriedly. He grabs your shoulders and look down at you, scanning your face. He looks down at your wrists and they are red. “That motherfucker.” Dean grits his teeth. He gives you the keys to Baby. “Sit down. I’ll be back okay?”

“I feel like I saw black eyes.” You say.

“I’ll go in there with that expectation.” Dean says, looking at you. He stops for a second before pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’ll be back okay?” He repeats. You nod your head and begin to walk to Baby.

Not even 5 minutes later Dean comes out the bar, fists clenched. A pissed off expression covers his face. He slams the door when he enters the impala.

“Stupid ass fucking piece of shit Edward Cullen is not going to contact you again.” Dean murmurs. He steps on the gas and drives you back home. The car ride was quiet. Somehow along the way Dean had placed a gentle hand on your thigh. You accepted it, placing your hand ontop of his. You let down Baby’s windows, needing to feel the fresh air.

You and Dean enter your house. He helps you take off your heels and makes you sit on the couch. He takes off his jacket and sits next to you. You lay your head down onto his shoulder, sighing. “What is this, Dean? What are you and me?” You ask. The alcohol is still making you bold. Dean must still be feeling the alcohol too. Your glossy eyes look at each other for a little bit too long. “I want you, (Y/N).” Dean says. “Dean…I can’t do this if you are going to leave again.” You whisper. Dean’s eyes shine, a sorrow expression on his face.

“He wasn’t a demon, (Y/N).” Dean says. “For once, I’m thankful it wasn’t. I’m tired, (Y/N). I’m done hunting. I want to start over. I want to start over with you.”

Your lips crashed against his wet, plump lips. He gently grabs the back of your head, pulling you in closer. You moan into his mouth. Your tongues dance together and you French kiss. Dean lifts you up and places you into his lap. You grind down onto his already hard bulge. Your dress has already lifted up all the way, exposing your black lace thong. Dean moans at the sight of you. He lifts your dress off your body, immediately kissing and licking the top of your breasts. You grind down harder on Dean, needing to feel more friction against your clit. Dean takes your bra off, exposing your breasts to the cold air. He takes one nipple at a time, licking and sucking, swirling it in his mouth getting it hard. He massages your other boob in the process. You beg Dean to take off his shirt. He obliges, exposing his abs and muscles. Dean kisses all over your neck, collarbone, and down to your titties. You needed more of him. “Dean, baby, please I-“ He cuts you off with a kiss, his fingerings beginning to trail down to your soaking wet pussy. “Baby you are so wet for me.” Dean groans. You grind against his fingers, trying not to moan loud. Dean lays you down onto the chaise of the couch, while he is on his knees at the bottom of it. He pulls your thong to the side, exposing your pussy to him. His thumb slowly and gently rubs your hard clit, circling it. He begins to taste you, moaning as he does so, lapping all your juices like he’s thirsty. You swore you could have just come undone by him tongue fucking you. When he adds a finger into your soaking wet hole you scream. “Fuck Dean!” You feel as his thick, long fingers fill your hole. He curls them, hitting your spot. With his other hand he continues to rub your clit. One hand grips onto his dirty blonde locks, while the other is trying to grab onto the couch. Dean chuckles watching you unfold in front of him.

“Dean I’m going to cum.” You cry in urgency, moaning out his name. Dean decides to add another finger inside you, stretching you out with his three fingers. With another flick of your clit, you tense up and shake, and cum with a cry out. He doesn’t stop though, he rides out your orgasm, fucking you with his fingers and playing with your engorged clitrous. You body feels warm, like you’ve been sweating. Dean pulls his fingers out of you and gives you a long lick, your hole to your clit. You shudder.

However Dean is not finished with you. He unbuttons his pants, pulling down them along with his boxers, his cock popping out. Dean gives it a couple strokes, looking at your body. “Come here baby.” Dean instructs. He has you sit up on the couch while he stands. You greedily lick his cock from his balls to his tip, swirling your tongue around the tip of his penis, then planning your lips around it, sucking it to the base of his cock, choking at the length. Dean moans your name and gently holds your hair up for you, out of your face. You massage his balls with your hands, while you fuck him with your mouth. Dean cusses and shivers as you deep throat him. Dean makes you stop, pulling you up to kiss him, tasting his own cock in his mouth. Dean smacks your ass a couple times and swings you unexpectedly over his shoulders. He carry’s you up the stairs and lays you down onto bed, missionary style.

“I’ve missed you.” Dean moans into your ear, stroking his cock. “I’ve missed everything about you.” He kisses you, placing a hand on your neck, holding you in place.

Dean puts your legs over his shoulders and slowly slides his large cock into your vagina. You feel your walls opening up around him, gripping his cock tight. He begins to pump you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how sexy, and beautiful you are. How much he cares for you, how much he loves you. He’s making love to you. You moan his name out, his dick pumping deep inside of you, making your toes curl. “Dean you feel so good inside me!” You cry out, your nails trailing down his back making red marks. Dean groans into your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys along it. “If you keep on talking I’m going to cum.” Dean chuckles, making his pace faster.

“Cum for me Dean. Please cum for me!”

With that, Dean pours his cum straight into your pussy, you could feel his dick twitch strongly inside of you. His pulls out, and his cum leaks out of you. He gets off of you, and lays down behind you, pulling you into an embrace. He snuggles his face into your hair, breathing in your scent. “I won’t leave you, (Y/N).”

•••

The birds chirping in the morning wake you up. You roll over to find the bed empty. You sigh, typical. You throw on an oversized tee and head down the stairs, however a smell of fresh coffee, bacon, eggs, and pancakes fill you senses. There Dean is making some breakfast for the two of you. He didn’t leave.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Dean smiles at you, bringing you over a fresh cup of coffee. He places a kiss on your forehead as he does so. “So I’m thinking today I can go and buy that lawnmower…”

The end

Or is it?

[delta-piscium]

Wayne doesn’t believe Eddie at first when he says he’s a Vampire. It’s just because when he was twelve he spent several months insisting he was a Vampire. He’d literally make edible fake blood and have it together with Wayne and his morning coffee. Whenever it was sunny outside he’d use an umbrella to shield himself etc.

So, when Eddie sits him down and is like “I gotta tell you something.” Wayne is just like “okay, whatever you say. Whatever you need to do to deal.”

He does eventually manage to convince Wayne, who, when he’s finally onboard, never stops making small comments like, “I liked that syrup mixture you had more, you make your own choices but the vegetarian stuff was a whole lot simpler than this whole song and dance biting people.”

Whenever it’s sunny outside Wayne will wordlessly hand Eddie an umbrella, ignoring the glares he gets for it.

Steve notices and asks him about it since he’s actually fine in the sun and Eddie just grumbles out some excuse about Wayne just worrying

That is until one morning when Wayne asks how they slept and when Eddie yawns out a “good” He gets this glint in his eyes immediately responding “I thought a coffin was crucial for a good nights sleep?”

Steve looks so confused and also a little concerned because that’s a little insensitive and Eddie finally has to explain. Blushing furiously he as quickly as he can tells Steve that no Wayne wasn’t being insensitive, Eddie just told him when he was twelve that he was a vampire and for a month he tried to convince Wayne to get him a coffin to sleep in, claiming it was the only way he’d be able to get actual rest. Meanwhile Wayne is chuckling to himself in the background occasionally cutting in to add details, and like always, ignoring the murderous looks sent his way by his nephew.

After that Steve starts too. He hands Eddie umbrellas, when Eddie bites him he waits until he can feel him drinking before he’s like “be honest, is my blood better than the fabricated stuff you had? I won’t be mad if you don’t say yes.” Eddie bites down a little harder in retaliation.

He once asks him if he’ll be fine sleeping in a bed, but only that one time because he catches Eddie in a particularly petty mood where he just starts walking away saying “yeah, wow, ur right. Guess I’ll find a fucking coffin. Too bad they only fit one.” He only comes back because Steve half tackles him and drags him into bed refusing to let go.

For their anniversary he gets Eddie a full on cape (Eddie is only a little bit annoyed because the cape is actually cool as fuck and he had wanted one since he was a kid.)

[diorchids]

tuck you in, rafe cameron.

dead dove do not eat, non-con, stepcest, stepbro!rafe, fem!reader, fingering, ‘little sister’ used, reader is an adult

a/n: i wrote this while sick, please ignore any errors

stepbro!rafe seeing you at a party all drunk while you stumbled through the masses, drink in hand.

you grumble each time a heel strikes your foot, trying to find your balance but failing to do so. how could you when there’s people everywhere?

rafe stood in a corner with his red solo cup, swishing it around while he kept his eye on you. he couldn’t trust you all by yourself — way too dangerous for his little sister.

he occasionally turned and smiled at his guys before walking behind you stealthily.

your legs trembled in the bathroom as you used the counter to steady yourself, dress ridden up to your hips while salty tears rolled down your face.

you were too tired to party, attempting to dance while other guys’ bodies tried to rub up against you.

you sniffled before wiping your face free of saline beads.

rafe knew you were crying, standing outside of the bathroom door that was creaked open just enough to get a small glimpse at the right angle.

you stepped out before deciding to walk home, your neighborhood was safe after all — mostly.

“where the hell are you going?” a familiar voice came from behind you before a hand was planted on your hip. your big brother.

“rafe… m’gonna h-head home,” you tried to get a bit closer, only stumbling before he put his other hand on your hip. he looked down at you, scanning your disheveled figure before you spoke again, “too loud in here.”

he removed his hands from your hips and tilted his head slightly, looking confused before shaking his head, “what are you talkin’ about? it’s perfectly fuckin’ fine in here — stop being a bitch all the time,” he sneered.

the word stung a bit, he’d always call you that when you opted on staying in. you paused for a second, and slurred your words to him, “i can walk home, rafe, don’t call me a bitch, m’just tired,” you trailed off, feeling guilty you made him get all mad. “i have to get home.”

“no," he stated simply, leaning against the doorframe. "you don't have to go anywhere. if you wanna leave, i’ll drive us both home." he says coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

you look at him with your teary eyes before blinking back the tears and nodding. “‘kay. i’ll — get in the car.”

you know when to shut up.

he grabbed your wrist roughly, pulling you closer to him. "wait," he said finally. "i’ll walk you." he wasn’t being kind, just making sure you didn’t do anything stupid.

rafe dragged you roughly down the hallway, making sure to keep a firm grip on your arm as he navigated through the house. he led you outside to his car and opened the passenger door for you. "stay there," as he walked back inside.

he came back outside a few minutes later, pockets a bit fuller.

you were still a mess, the liquor giving you no mercy as you sat in the passenger seat with your knees to your chest.

the ride was silent, rafe occasionally glancing over at you and snapping to keep you from dozing off. “wake up. not sleepin’ in here tonight.”

you just barely made it out the car before rafe picked you up, throwing your trembling frame over his shoulder with his hand wrapped around your back.

he eventually put you down in the house before you managed to get up the stairs, getting to your bed and flopping down as your dress rode up.

rafe stood behind you as his eyes roamed your slumped figure — it’s sad, you could barely move. he had to be a good big brother and tuck you in, though.

he couldn't help but feel a twisted mix of lust and anger as he looked at you. he stalked closer to your body and leaned down, and his rough, warm hand touched your inner thigh.

rafe groaned under his breath at the sight of you — so ready for your big brother to take you right here.

he rubbed your puffy nub through your panties while you subconsciously pushed your cunt back onto his finger.

“rafey… stop…” you managed to get out. you couldn’t stop pushing yourself onto his fingers, you knew you wanted this.

his fingers pulled your panties back a bit, just enough to get his fingers in there.

his fingers plunged right into your tight cunt, small spurts of juices spilling out to accommodate him stretching you out so quickly.

his other hand came down hard on your exposed ass cheek, smacking the soft flesh before gripping it and pulling it away, spreading.

“fuckin’ disgusting. stupid bitch, bet you wanted your brother touching you like this, wearin’ this slutty ass dress.” he spoke loudly, and you winced at the thought of your parents hearing.

his hand spanked your ass again, “wanted me n’you like this? daddy doesn’t know your brothers finger-fuckin’ your pussy like this, huh?” he was condescending. a fucking dick.

tears streamed down your face and onto your blanket as you shook your head and whimpered, “mmf! get offa me, no rafe!”

he tutted and shook his head as you curled your freshly painted toes, ass trembling as he hit that spongy spot inside of you. “stop fucking moving.”

his fingers thrusted in and out of your resisting cunt that only welcome him with sweet juices flowing. he smacked your plush ass once more as he moved a bit faster when you tense around his fingers.

you tried hard to hold back, he’ll give you that.

your cunt gushed around his fingers, betraying your thoughts, giving into him.

[daysofyellowroses]

honey ii

carmen berzatto x afab! reader | 1.8k | continuation of this little story right here | tw: nothing really, just some serious cuteness

request was: she like asks him to go make her something strange like a bowl of ramen with maple syrup and pickles and ofc he obliges and makes it for her but he comes back and she’s like in tears and he’s like babe here are you hungry and she’s like *gag* “no I don’t know why the baby wanted that for so long now that I smell it- I just want McDonald’s I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for wasting your time” 😂😂 I imagine he’d just be like oh babe it’s fine I can get you McDonald’s that’s fine and she’s just so sad and pregnant bc she feels she bugged him ugh so cute - from my angel @thecapricunt1616 apologies this took a little while, hopefully you enjoy it! 🫶🏻💗🌼

🐻

There are many, many virtues possessed by Carmen Berzatto that make you love him unconditionally, madly and wholeheartedly. 

He is the most loving, passionate, considerate, loyal, driven and talented person you have ever met, and you wouldn't change him for the world.

Almost.

Patience is a virtue, albeit not one always in the possession of Carmy. You've seen him lose patience in the restaurant, when things are not running smoothly at a particular moment. You've seen him lose patience at traffic lights, when he can't find his other shoe, when he can't wait for someone to call him, he has to call them.

Generally you can deal with the lack of patience, because Carm will apologize for losing it in the first place in the most sincere way and everyone involved moves on.

But..there came a day where you couldn't forgive so easily. 

Things had been going well with Carm since you first sat up on your kitchen counter and asked him to undress you, a memory you often dwell upon. At first it was pretty casual, seeing each other occasionally for some very fun stress relief, then it turned into more. Neither of you had initiated the big conversation, it was like a silent understanding that you were both only seeing each other, and were both committed to that.

You gradually moved your stuff over to Carm's, the easiest move you'd ever had. Going across the hallway and merging your life with his was surprisingly simple. You fit together perfectly, everything seemed to be smooth sailing.

Until you hit a bump in the road.

Not the worst bump, just..an unexpected one. And, you were a little to blame, even if you weren't ready to admit it.

Thanks to things going so smoothly, it made all aspects of your lives better, including your (very healthy) sex life. Morning, noon, night, didn't matter what time or what place. You'd lost track of how many times you'd almost got caught sneaking into Carm's office. So far nobody had ever discovered your little rendezvous but you figured it was only a matter of time.

Because of your flourishing sex life, you had decided to switch birth controls to something a little more effective. But, in the brief window between stopping your old one and starting your new one, there may have been a night out.

There may have been drinking, dancing, pulling each other into cubicles.

You were sure you had asked him if he had a condom on him, like..96% sure. In your defense, you were slightly (very) inebriated and slightly (extremely) horny so maybe you filled in some gaps and heard what you wanted to hear. Carm had even less patience when he was drunk so there was no stopping him as soon as you pulled him closer.

So, a couple of days later when you were sure your hangover should have gone, you decided to bite the bullet. 

The little pink plus sign that looked back up at you was so judgemental. Oh you just couldn't wait a few days? Now look at what you've done.

You weren't actually sure how you felt about it, it wasn't something that weighed on your mind. You and Carm weren't exactly at that stage yet, you'd barely even talked about marriage or kids because you were still just enjoying living together and sharing a life.

When you told him, he had a similar reaction to you, unsure how he felt. The two of you ended up sitting on the couch in silence for a few moments before one of you burst out laughing, the other joining in soon after. 

You ended up laying on the couch talking about baby names, what family vacations you'd end up on, coming up with more and more ridiculous scenarios to make each other laugh while feeling more and more like it really was something you both wanted.

It wasn't easy, being pregnant. You attempted to read some books but they were either too scientific, too twee or too hippy-ish. It got easier as the months went by, as you adjusted to waking up to a slightly bigger bump every other day. 

Carm loved it, you discovered. He would stand behind you when you looked in the mirror, your hands touching your bump. His hands would move over yours, his head on your shoulder. He would kiss your neck, tell you that you were glowing as his hands wandered and you would remind him how you got into the situation in the first place.

Most of the classic pregnancy things didn't really happen for you until much later, your brief window of peace interrupted. The baby started kicking, morning sickness came full throttle, and you developed very..unique cravings. Personally, you had always thought the cravings people had were being exaggerated, how could someone suddenly want pickles in ice cream or oranges with gravy when they would never dream of it before?

But then they hit you, and you were frankly a little impressed with your baby’s requests. One of the many perks of dating Carm was that he was always happy to let you be a guinea pig for his latest creations, and when you started craving some more..unique meals.

You wanted spaghetti with plums and melted chocolate in it? He made it. Didn't matter how unusual, Carm was in the kitchen before you could insist the cravings would pass.

Some were more of a hit than others, but you always appreciated his endless patience for your strange requests. Particularly when it was late at night and he'd had a long day at the restaurant. 

Occasionally, you got hit with a craving in the middle of the night, choosing to ignore them or sneak off to the kitchen yourself to avoid waking Carm. A couple of times, he woke up anyway and would come shoo you out of the kitchen to finish making your latest creation.

You would have completely understood if he ended up losing patience with your more frequent late night kitchen trips, but he never batted an eyelid. 

Then, one night, you fully expected him to just snap, because you knew you would have in his shoes.

It had been a bad one at the restaurant, you got at least 3 different messages giving you a heads up that Carm wasn't in the best of moods. He would never take it out on you, but you usually gave him a little space to breathe on those nights, he would inevitably come to you after his shower, crawl into bed or onto the couch next to you and hold you close, tell you how much he loved you.

So, when you heard the front door open you kept your attention on the TV, listening as Carm took his jacket off and walked down the hall to the bathroom. The shower started a few minutes later and you let out a breath. Glancing down as you felt a pang in your stomach, you smiled to yourself as you placed your hand over your bump.

“So you can sense him hm?” You murmured softly, looking back to the TV. “Well it's just you and me right now kid. So what are we feeling?”

And so you ended up in the kitchen, looking through the cabinets to find what you were craving. 

“I know, I know,” You placed your hand on your stomach as you felt a kick. “You need to be more patient, I'm not the chef here.”

“True,”

You looked over your shoulder, smiling as you spotted Carm leaning in the doorway.

“I got this, if you want to relax,” You smiled. “Won't be long.”

“Nah nah, it's alright,” Carm smiled tiredly, walking over to you and dropping a kiss to your shoulder. “What’s on the menu today?”

“Hm..just a ramen bowl,” You shrugged, leaning back against Carm as he wrapped his arms around your waist and settled his hands on your bump. 

“With?”

“Maple syrup,” You admitted, glancing over your shoulder with a raised brow. “And pickles. This kid is doing a number on my insides already.”

“Sounds good, I got it,” Carm nodded, kissing your cheek. “Go relax, I'll take it to you.”

You didn't object, heading back to the living room and getting comfortable on the couch. At some point you went to lay down and ended up falling asleep, being woken up by a gentle touch and a smell that had your stomach lurching.

“Sorry, didn't mean to do that,” You murmured softly, opening your eyes and sitting up slowly. “I just..”

Your eyes fell on the coffee table, where a perfectly prepared ramen/maple syrup/pickle bowl was sitting. 

“Oh..”

“Can't wait to get the feedback on this one,” Carm smiled, sitting down beside you and reaching for the bowl. “It's definitely a first for me.”

“Yeah,” You nodded, accepting the bowl and taking a deep breath. It looked amazing, but the smell had you wanting to throw up. “It's uh..” You held your other hand over your mouth as you felt the need to be sick, gagging a little. 

“Sorry, I just..”

“Here,” Carm carefully took the bowl and set it back on the coffee table, his other hand moving to your back.

“I'm so sorry,” You sighed, moving your hand to your forehead as you felt tears bubbling up. The smallest thing now had you wailing hysterically, and you tried to stop the flood before it happened. “It looks so good but I just..”

“Hey, don't apologize,” Carm smiled, gently rubbing your back. “It's not the end of the world. I can make you something else.”

“Well that's the thing,” You groaned, closing your eyes as the tears started flowing. “I know you can but I don't want you to, I want..”

You felt a little ridiculous for crying so much but that didn't stop the tears.

“I just really want a McDonald's.”

Carm was quiet for a moment before he burst out laughing, his head dropping to your shoulder.

“It's not funny!” You protested, wiping away the latest tears. “You just had a really stressful day at work then you come home and I have you cooking some more nonsense for me that I can't even eat and now I ask you to go get me a fucking cheap burger!”

“Fuck I love you,” Carm laughed softly, kissing your cheek and getting up from the couch. “I'll get you as many burgers as you want, just promise me one little thing?”

“Of course,” You nodded, looking over to him as you wiped away more tears. “Anything.”

“Tell me you don't have a secret group chat about me?”

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the concerned look on Carm's face going straight to your heart.

“No,” You shook your head, smiling. “I definitely do not.”

“Good,” Carm nodded, lightly rubbing his jaw before turning to leave. “Okay, I'll be back.”

“Wait,” You stood up, walking over and taking Carm's hand, smiling as he turned back to you. “I forgot to say, get something for yourself too. And then double it so I can't steal it.”

“Deal,” Carm nodded with a smile, your heart swelling in your chest. “Just maybe no pickles.”

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Unravelling the Pact

After back-to-back missions, you and the boys finally get some downtime. Enjoying the nightlife on Coruscant, a stranger is all too willing to dance with you, leading to the boys making a decision that will change everything. Pre-Echo.

Pairing: All Batch x f!reader

Word count: 3.6K.

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: dancing with a stranger in a club, grinding, possessive Batch (but in a non-toxic way), bickering brothers, small insult from a stranger, flirting, pet names, communication and consent are sexy, discussion of poly, first kiss, roaming hands, I guess this counts as friends to lovers?

A/N: I'll die on the hill that Tech and Cross are tube twins, and that Wrecker is a smart/emotionally intelligent man.

This can be read as a stand-alone or as a prequel to Painted Pretty.

The loud music drowned out the sounds of the city outside, the dancefloor vibrating under your feet from the heavy bass as you moved to the beat.

Nearby, tucked in a booth, the boys kept an eye on you. Dancing wasn’t really their thing, especially after the string of back-to-back missions you’d all been running, but that hadn’t stopped you from wanting to let loose a little more. You’d dragged them out of the hotel, having splurged a little on some rooms with comfortable beds during this period of shore leave, knowing you all needed some R&R.

You’d found an okay-looking club where the boys didn’t draw too much attention – they didn’t look like Regs, which opened up a world of new possibilities, especially once they donned their civilian clothes. Drinks were decently priced, and the floor wasn’t sticky, both of which were a win in your books. You could feel the weight of their gazes on you occasionally, but you paid them little mind. That was their prerogative if they wanted to be sourpusses and stay in the booth.

A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them safe. As their civilian handler, you fed them missions and made sure they came back in one piece – the Kaminoans couldn’t have anything happen to their prized experimental unit, after all – and surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long for them to warm up to you, for you to become one of them. The black Aurebesh ‘99’ Crosshair had inked on your wrist six months ago, while the others crowded around and watched, was a constant reminder of that.

“Uh oh, incoming,” Wrecker grumbled, eyes watching as someone made a beeline through the bar towards you. 

All eyes at the table snapped in your direction. Hunter’s jaw clenched, Tech’s fingers tightened around his datapad, Wrecker sat up straighter, and Crosshair’s eyes narrowed at the man approaching you.

Clammy hands on your waist spooked you a little, and you turned to find the culprit. “You look a little lonely out here.” The man who’d approached you spoke. He was a little taller than you and couldn’t be more than a few years older, with tousled blonde hair and green eyes. His smile was warm, as was his body as he pressed closer. “Dance with me.” He insisted, shifting behind you, sliding an arm around your waist to pull your back to his chest and your ass to his crotch, the pair of you now moving to the beat.

At the booth, the boys bristled. Downing the last of the Corellian whiskey he’d been nursing, Crosshair stood. He could only make it one step in your direction before Hunter stopped him. “Vod.” His older brother's voice made him groan, turning back to face the table. 

Hunter shook his head. “We agreed not to interfere.” He points out.

Crosshair grits his teeth. “He’s got his hands on her.” He hisses out, sparing a glance over his shoulder in your direction.

“And she doesn’t seem to mind,” Hunter states, even though it kills him inside to admit it. He was trying not to listen to your fluttering heartbeat or the flirtatious words being whispered in your ear by the stranger, but you were like a damn honing beacon, and he couldn’t tune it out. 

“I mind,” Crosshair answers sharply, narrowed brown eyes focused on his oldest brother.

Hunter sighs quietly. Crosshair’s distrust of outsiders and his jealous streak had always been an issue. It was a miracle he’d taken to you so quickly a year ago - Hunter had been sure they’d go through countless handlers as the war progressed.

Frustration flashed in Crosshair’s eyes. “She’s ours.” He states.

“We agreed.” Hunter leans forward in his seat, silently imploring his brother to sit back down and shut up. Ever since they’d been old enough to talk, they’d formed pacts. And when you’d joined them, a new pact had been added to the list. 

Pact 52. None of them would make a move on you, regardless of the fact they wanted you. 

Your comfort was paramount, and they didn’t want to put you in an awkward position.

“You’d be fine if she went home with him?” Crosshair spits the word like it's poison, shooting a glare over his shoulder at the stranger you’re dancing with, whose hands are grasping at your body as if he’s known you his entire life. 

Hunter doesn’t have a comeback for that. He wouldn’t be okay with it. Not at all, in fact. But you’re a grown woman and he has no say in what, or who you do. If you want to spend the night in a stranger's bed, all he can hope is that you’ll leave your tracker on, insist he wraps it, and comm them if there’s a problem. 

“I would not be fine with it,” Tech interjects, his eyes shifting between his brothers, datapad long forgotten on the table. 

Hunter huffs. “We made a pact. When she joined, we agre-“

“Kriff the pact.” Crosshair spits, cutting Hunter off. “She’s not going home with him. He doesn’t know shit about her.” He presses his palms to the table as he leans down, the booth tucked away enough that no one can hear their conversation. 

The boys fall silent, each remembering the first and only time you'd gone home with a stranger. Shore leave was hard to come by, and you spent most of it with them, but you’d been up at the bar, chatting away with the barman, when you’d been approached. Hunter could still remember hearing the guy flirt with you; Wrecker could remember how he’d reached out to touch your arm. He’d bought you a cocktail you hated but had politely drank, Crosshair had noted, and you’d chatted for a little while. Then you’d disappeared with him, Tech’s datapad pinging a few minutes after you’d left with a message not to wait up for you. 

And in the morning, you’d come back to the Marauder smelling of that stranger, with a small hickey on your throat that you’d tried desperately to conceal. It had nearly killed them.  

“And what happens if she doesn’t want us, or only wants one of us? Could you handle that if it’s not you?” Hunter sighs as he leans back in his seat. This wasn’t a new debate – they often bickered about it – but it had never been this charged. 

Fear and jealousy rage inside of Crosshair. He didn’t want to think about that. You were theirs, and you wanted them just as much they wanted you. It was a fact.

“I-I don’t want her to go home with anyone else either.” Wrecker finally pipes up, looking awkwardly between his brothers and you. You’re still dancing with the stranger, laughing at something he’d said, eyes closed as you grind back against him. Wrecker feels an odd coil of anger in his gut that someone else has their hands on you. It’s a new feeling for him, and he doesn’t like it.

“All in favour of dissolving Pact 52.” Crosshair throws down the mantle, glancing between his brothers. He was tired of holding back. 

Tech lifts his hand a little in agreement, Wrecker following suit. But for it to be dissolved, there had to be complete consensus.

All eyes turn to Hunter, who’s staring at Crosshair like he’s gone crazy. His youngest brother could sometimes be stubborn and hard-headed, but he’d never called for a pact dissolution before. Tearing his eyes away, Hunter watches for a second as you dance with the stranger, taking in the way his hands are starting to creep down your body, how close his lips are to your neck. Fire rushes through his veins. “Go and get our girl.” He growls out his agreement, eyes swinging back to his brothers. 

Crosshair smirks in satisfaction, standing back up to full height. Dropping his toothpick onto the table, he’s on the move again, slinking through the crowd in your direction. Tech follows hot on his twins' heels, tucking his datapad back into its pouch on his belt.

Hunter sighs, watching them go, not entirely sure whether he’s just agreed to the self-destruction of his squad or the best thing to ever happen to them. All he knows is that he and his brothers are selfish and don’t want to share you with anyone else. He turns his focus to Wrecker, raising an eyebrow in silent question. 

“They can break the ice. If it don’t work and she don’t want us, we can blame them.” Wrecker explains with a grin. He wants so desperately to go to you, to put himself between you and the stranger, to feel your body pressed against his. But he also doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he’ll sit back for now and let his younger brothers do all the leg work. 

Hunter chuckles. Taking a sip of his drink, his dark eyes watch as Crosshair and Tech reach you. 

Lost in the music, you don’t realise the boys have approached until the man behind you – Trent, you think he’d said his name was – stiffens. “Hey buddy, do you mind?” You hear him bark over the song, your eyes flying open as your hips stop moving, finding Crosshair and Tech next to you. Your brows furrow in confusion. 

“No,” Crosshair answers, his fingers tightly wrapped around the man's wrist, prying it from your body. “Scram.” He demands.

The warmth of Trent’s hand disappears from your waist, and your confusion only increases as Tech reaches for you, gently drawing you closer to them and away from Trent. 

“Hey, take your hands off her.” Trent has no idea what’s happening but tries to break free from Crosshair’s grip, worried for your safety as you’re pulled away.

“I know them, it’s okay.” You find your voice, raising a hand in a placating gesture. Trent stares at you for a beat, before his green eyes flick to Tech and Crosshair. 

“Scram,” Crosshair repeats, low and deadly, as Trent meets his gaze. 

Trent swallows. “Eh not worth it anyway.” He frowned toward the three of you, shaking his wrist free before stumbling back into the crowd and turning tail. 

Trent’s words sting a little, but before that sting can settle, deft fingers hook under your chin and tilt your head, and your focus is pulled to Tech. “You look so lovely, darling.” He coos over the music, those soft brown eyes of his skating across your face and then down your body, chasing away Trent’s insult.

You blink a few times, brain pausing. Have you died on some remote planet somewhere and been teleported to a different dimension? Pet names weren’t uncommon – the boys had them for you, and you had them for them, but they were never affectionate. They were shortened forms of names and occasionally just a descriptor. And Tech was…flirting? 

“This is new.” Crosshair’s voice slinks against your ear as one of his arms slides around your waist, and he presses against your back, right where Trent had been moments before. His free hand smoothes down the curve of your side, across the dress you’d treated yourself to and had delivered to the hotel. Life in armour had made you appreciate the rare chance to dress up.

Your confusion only doubles. “If you two don’t tell me the hell is going on, I will purposefully snap every toothpick between here and Kamino and put viruses on all our datapads.” You threaten.

Crosshair glances up, catching Tech’s gaze. They communicate silently, the strange phenomenon you’d witnessed a handful of times over the last year. 

“Will you join us back at the table, please, darling? There is something we wish to talk to you about.” Tech finally answers your question.

Curious, you nod, letting them lead you back across the dance floor to the booth. Crosshair slides in first, Tech’s hand on your back guiding you in next, and then he sits, keeping you safe between them. “Is something wrong?” You ask, now more worried than confused as you look between all four brothers. 

“No, cyar’ika,” Hunter answers, the smokiness of his voice making the new pet name sound sinful, and you blink a little quickly at it, unable to control the strange thud of your heart. 

Silence sits with the five of you for a moment, the four men communicating with glances before Hunter leans in a little. “Were you planning on going home with him?” He asks, genuinely curious.

The question stuns you, and a small flare of annoyance erupts in your chest. “That’s none of your business.” You answer calmly.

Hunter gives a slight nod of his head, conceding the point. Taking a deep breath, he leans back in his seat and rethinks his approach. “It suits you.” He comments, unable to stop his gaze from dropping, from taking in how breathtaking you look in that little dress. 

Heat rises in your cheeks. Another compliment on your appearance. You weren’t used to this – usually, you only received them for your work, for a mission well done. “T-Thank you.” You stammer out. 

Satisfaction crosses Hunter’s face. “You’re important to us, you know that, right?” He asks, wanting to ensure that as this conversation progresses, you know they’re not just after frivolous fun.

Brows drawing downward, you nod. Under the table, you feel Crosshair’s slender fingers turn your hand over, the pads of his fingers gliding over the ink he’d etched into your skin. On your other side, you feel Tech lifting a hand, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of your hair – fallen loose while dancing – behind your ear. 

If Crosshair’s touch had given you a rough idea of where this was going, Tech’s actions took it to a new level. It was as subtle as a Rancor in a den of antiquities. A strange sensation settles in your stomach, growing as you glance at Hunter again. The look in his eyes confirms your suspicions, and you swallow thickly.

They want you. 

After a year of pining for them, resigning yourself to the friend zone, they want you. A million thoughts and questions rush through your mind, none of them sticking or answered. But if they want you, then there's something you need to say.

“No.” You state, catching the way Crosshair’s fingers pause, all four sets of brown eyes staring at you as you glance around the booth. For a moment, you can’t believe you have these incredible men wrapped around your little finger, hanging on your every word. “I wasn’t going to go home with him.” You clarify, eyes swinging back to Hunter, though you don’t miss the way all four brothers quietly let out the breaths they’d been holding. “Wasn’t my type anyway.” You tack on as your eyes betray you and dip for a nanosecond down to Hunter���s lips. 

What would it be like to kiss him? Or Wrecker? Tech? Crosshair? 

The fingers around your wrist tighten, and you glance down to watch the action, missing the look that Crosshair and Tech share across you. The air seems to vibrate with unspoken words. 

Tech broke the silence, leaning in, his voice a soft caress. “That is excellent news, darling.”

Tilting your head, you glanced his way, taking in all the details you adored – the sharp angles of his jawline and nose, expressive brown eyes, and lips that looked oh-so-soft.

A light bump against your foot pulls your attention away from the genius, eyes darting to where a large boot is pressed against the side of your heels. Eyes drifting up, Wrecker offers you a fond smile as you meet his gaze. Heart hammering, you know you can’t keep them waiting.

Crosshair’s fingers are now skirting around your wrist, drawing lazy patterns as Tech rests a hand under the table against your thigh, fingers splayed and curling around you – steady and comforting. 

“It’s your choice, cyar’ika.” Hunter captures your attention, understanding this is a pivotal moment for you all and could change everything. He decides to lay their cards on the table. “We’d like you to be ours. But we understand that’s a lot to ask. We’ve shared everything in life except a woman. You’re the first we want, so there might be bumps along the way – nothing we can’t work through.” He notes. “The feelings aren’t new, either. It’s…well…we’ve wanted you since you joined us.” 

All this time, they’ve wanted you, and you’ve wanted them. All this time, you could’ve been... “Then why now?” You question.

“It hurt, thinkin’ you’d be going home with that guy,” Wrecker answers before the others could, a large hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. “And it’s gettin’ real hard to keep pretending.” He shrugs, hand falling from his neck. “But we’ll keep doin’ it if this ain’t what you want. You’re our priority.” Wrecker is hasty to add. 

You’d never been someone’s priority before, and it comforted you knowing they’d immediately back off if you said the word. You reach across the table with your free hand, sliding it into Wrecker’s to link your fingers with his. Holding the big man's gaze, you give a small nod. “I want this.” You decide. “All of you.” You clarify, glancing around at the four brothers, watching as delight and surprise crosses their faces. “The feeling isn’t new, either.” You mimic Hunter’s words as a year’s worth of weight lifts off your chest. You know there’s a lot more to discuss and many things to work out to keep things fair, but making your intentions clear is a good start.

Crosshair’s grip around your wrist tightens, and you turn your head towards him. Longing and desire swirl in his hawkish gaze.

You only have a moment to commit his expression to memory before you feel the soft brush of his lips against your own, like the fragile wings of a butterfly alighting on a delicate flower. It was barely there, an exploration of the unknown, but it ignited a spark that threatened to consume you both. Eyes closing, you surrendered to the moment, and your lips met again, this time with more urgency and hunger as the bar's sounds faded.   

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Wrecker protested, scowling at his youngest brother. 

Hunter held out a hand, silencing him. Dark eyes focused on your face, and then on the way your shoulders dropped as you relaxed into the kiss, how your chest rose and fell a little quicker with each breath, and the gorgeous curve of your throat as Crosshair used his free hand to tilt your chin for a better angle to deepen the kiss. Senses tuning in on you, Hunter picked up on your rapid heartbeat. His nostrils flared, your sweet scent coming into focus even under the layers of other smells from the bar. With every second the kiss continued, your scent became sharper. 

Catching Tech and Wrecker’s eyes, Hunter tipped his head toward the rest of the bar. The three brothers pushed out of the booth in sync, leaving you in Crosshair’s capable hands while they grabbed your jacket from the coatroom, flagged down a taxi, and settled the tab at the bar. 

Lips still pressed to Crosshair’s, you gasp at the feeling of a warm hand on your back, reluctantly pulling away and opening your eyes, turning to see who’s touching you. Your gaze lands on Tech just as Crosshair’s lips find purchase on your jaw, trailing down your throat. A whine of pleasure slides out before you can stop it, and you watch as Tech swallows thickly at the noise, offering out a hand to you. 

Shakily, you take it, enjoying the contact as your heart races, every nerve alight as you’re guided out of the booth, and you hear Crosshair grumble as he slides out after you. 

“You only got away with that because you are the youngest.” Tech chides him, though the bite to his words is lacking. If anything, he’s jealous his brother took the opportunity before he could. In return, Crosshair offers him a trademark smirk, placing a fresh toothpick between his lips, not at all remorseful. 

The two of them escort you through the club – Tech leading you by the hand with Crosshair bringing up the rear, the warmth of the sniper's hand pressed against your lower back.  

As you step out into the city, your jacket is placed across your shoulders before you can feel a pinch of chill, strong hands guiding you towards a taxi Wrecker had flagged down, the gentle giant holding the door open for you. 

The five of you cram in. Hunter is pressed to your right, Wrecker to your left, while Crosshair and Tech take opposite seats. A tanned, tattooed hand lands on your right thigh as the taxi pulls away and into the night sky, deceptively soft fingers drawing slowly up to the hem of your dress, the red fabric pushed aside oh so gently as those same fingers curl around your body and hold on to you. 

You’re so caught up watching Hunter’s hand roam across your body that you’re startled ever so slightly as Wrecker’s large paw starts doing the same to your left thigh. A low chuckle from Tech has your eyes flicking across the dimly lit cabin, catching the wisps of amusement and desire on his face.

“That little heart of yours is racing, mesh’la.” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice ghosts against your ear as he leans closer, making you feel like you’re about to combust. You have no idea how this will work or how the night will end. What you know is that you trust them implicitly and can’t wait to have your hands on them.

[tojisbbygworl]

Just Hungry - Vampire!Sukuna x Reader - Halloween Special

He knows that if he were human, those chocolate brown eyes would have sent him into cardiac arrest. Your full lips wrapped around his dick would have made him fall to his knees. You cute moans and pet names for him would have done him in good. He would have kissed you passionately, and told himself he wasn’t going to let anyone have this pussy. And he would have gotten that. He can see you wanted the same.

Naïve girl.

Tags: 18+, Smut, Public Sex, Cunnilingus, Blood Play kinda, Slight Angst, Sukuna Is An Asshole, Kinda Dark tbh

My AO3

Masterlist

author's note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! Idky I just got the urge to write something for Halloween like I'm really in the Halloween spirit yall. So this is the result of that. I thought of it like a few days ago so I hope it's not too shitty lmaoooo Okay, enjoy!

There was something in the air that told him he was in for a meal tonight.

The wind was cold and uninviting, not that it bothered him. No, what was bothersome was that it was chasing many potential snacks indoors where it was warm. At least it didn’t stop any revealing costumes, these humans so desperate for attention and approval that it left them more than susceptible to his insatiable hunger.

Sukuna has made barrages of friends and acquaintances alike over the past 1000 years. This centuries group were party animals. It didn’t worry him that he couldn’t snatch a cute little thing off the street and drain her dry in an alley, the white haired one would find an event for them no doubt. He would just have to hunt there.

Halloween was undoubtedly his favorite holiday. He thoroughly enjoyed dressing up and schmoozing his way into someone’s good graces enough for them to let him pull them away into a secluded area. Of course, he could always compel, but where’s the fun in that?

And from the looks of it, he was going to have a lot of it tonight.

You were the only Daphne he’d seen tonight, and the cutest by far. Your real hair was dyed a blood orange, which added to how nice the costume was. He could tell from how loosely you were dancing, that you’ve had quite a few drinks and maybe something to smoke. He was going to continue scoping the scene before he made his decision, but the two of you locked eyes with each other. He thought there was no way you could see him well, but you looked him up and down, then turned back around to your friends.

You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

Maneuvering through the crowd came easy. His large stature commanded space and anyone who didn’t understand that was simply moved. You would look back at him occasionally and he could smell the fear dripping off of you as he approached you. But, you didn’t stop dancing. In fact, you invited him with your eyes. He smirked, then grabbed your waist.

Fuck, you were making him hard. He pressed his growing erection against your short skirt. You gasped quietly. He heard your heart go a mile a minute. Your blood would be nice to sip on. And you smell so sweet when you’re dripping with arousal.

He pushed off of you almost as quickly as he pulled you into him then left into the crowd. You didn’t stay on the dance floor for long after that. He pretended not to notice, but he could see you meandering about, trying to cross his vision and hiding it as mingling. He bet you didn’t even know most of the people here.

He humored you for a bit, then he decided that he’d had enough of waiting for his meal. He caught eyes with you and watched as you jerked up in shock and turned around. He finished his drink and followed after you.

He didn’t feel you deserved a respectful greeting. The both of you were alone in the corridor where it was a bit quieter. He whistled. You turned around, like a good little pet. He beckoned you with his index finger. You came waltzing back down to him, eager for some attention.

You were too quick to leave with him for your friends to even get a word in. It doesn’t matter, they would never see him again. Maybe even you, depending on how sweet you tasted.

Aww, you poor, sweet, thing. Those girls in the party were the only people you knew here, you moved to this town only a couple months ago. You were so scared to come out to this party and hated being left alone. He wonders why you were so willing to be left alone with him. Maybe you were just another human whore.

You said that you trusted him. Ah. No. You were just naïve.

He loved the way your pupils shrunk when he grabbed your arm just a little tighter and piled you against his body. He took your hand and put it on his hard dick. “See what you did to me?” He didn’t even need to compel you, you were so entranced by his voice.

“I can fuck you wherever you want,” he continues, already reaching to pull off your clothes. It was the middle of the night on the city streets. Eventually, a car would pass. “Choose quickly or I’ll fuck you out here so everyone can see you.”

In your panic, you looked towards an alley way. You didn’t even look back as you grabbed his hand and began to drag him there. That was a personal favorite  for him. Easy cover, easy to dump a body if necessary.

He wasted no time pushing you face first against the wall and pulling your bottoms down. He kneeled down and planted his face in between your thighs. His tongue took one long lick from your clit and into your dripping pussy. You were fucking delectable. And the squeal you made left him starving for more.

It didn’t hurt that you were certainly one of the prettier humans he’d selected for dinner as well. He knows that if he were human, those chocolate brown eyes would have sent him into cardiac arrest. Your full lips wrapped around his dick would have made him fall to his knees. You cute moans and pet names for him would have done him in good. He would have kissed you passionately, and told himself he wasn’t going to let anyone have this pussy. And he would have gotten that. He can see you wanted the same.

Naïve girl.

Sukuna felt nothing as he thrusted into you, your back against the brick wall, legs around his torso. Your “yes daddy” and your “fuck that feels so good” does nothing for him. It’s not just that he’s heard it all before. You’re a human. You are inferior to him.

You should be writhing in pleasure when he fucks you. There’s no other man on Earth that could give you better dick than him. But there are billions of others just like you. Why bother?

Even as your eyes fill with tears as you cum all over him for the umpteenth time, he feels nothing. When he’s finally spent and he cums inside of you, he feels nothing. It’s only when he finally gets his reward, taking advantage of your debilitated state, and plunges his teeth into your damp neck that he feels satisfaction.

But then, you moan.

He stops and looks at you, a drop of blood running down his lip. You look almost drunk, the. You blink a few times and tense up. You must have been embarrassed. You had no reason to be. It was the sexiest thing you had done all night.

He leans back down slowly, and licks at the wound he made. You shudder in his hold and he bends his leg in between yours. Like the good fucking slut you are, you start to rock on his thigh getting more and more loose as he sucks on you.

You taste so fucking good right now. And you sound like a goddess. He can’t believe this turns you on. He wants this more. He thinks he needs it. Maybe…he’ll keep this human? Just…as a pet. Fuck, you sound too good to let go. He needs more of your blood. More of you. He grips your entire body in his large arms, groaning into you as his mouth drops red.

Sukuna doesn’t notice how long the two of you stayed that way, but you eventually go quiet and start to give out, and he finds himself carrying you in his arms with his head deep in your neck. Sukuna lifts his head up and sighs. He blinks a bit, his vision unusually out of focus. He catches his breath the looks down at you.

You were alive, but you were passed out. The only injury on you were his teeth marks. Those would heal. 

Or not. He truthfully couldn’t give any less of a fuck.

He stands up, turns around, and walks further into the dark alley leaving you on the ground for someone else, or something else, to find.

You were an interesting one. But, he got his fill. He was just hungry.

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 17 - Edging

pairing: ethan hunt x f!reader

cw: fwb to lovers?, mentions of drinking, drunk sex (kind of), brief description of injuries, imf agent!reader, edging, nipple licking, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetration, overstimulation, crying, cum marking

word count: 1613

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

–

Ethan was not typically one to tease. It was nice sometimes, but for the most part, he just liked to please you. There was nothing more satisfying than to see you unravel for him from start to finish.

It was different tonight, however, after a few drinks with the team for a well-deserved post-mission celebration. Ethan’s body was aching; he’d taken the hardest hits, as he usually does. The difference about this particular mission, though, was that it was you by his side. Until the very end. You’d limped back to the safe house together, arms around one another, blood still dripping from the various cuts and lashes on your bodies. None of it mattered anymore, though. None of the cuts and bruises and aching pains could take away from the fondness between you and Ethan, the way your relationship—which had started as just a simple dancing among your feelings for one another—blossomed immediately after you helped him save the fucking world. 

You’d been sleeping with one another. Not frequently; the nature of your jobs did not allow that, but at any chance you both had. You kissed, too. Passionately, fervently, like lovers do. But there wasn’t any sort of label, nothing to go by in terms of what you were to one another. You guess you could still just call him your co-worker, who you substantially had feelings for and occasionally made love to. 

Tonight, though, as you fall into bed together, tipsy and giggly, there’s something very different. You’re not quite sure what it is. 

Ethan’s hands aren’t as gentle as usual, his touch eager and almost demanding. His mouth is sweet from the alcohol you’d been drinking, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. 

“Can I try something?” he husks in between kisses.

“Mhm,” is all you mumble against his lips, entranced by the alcohol in your system, his mouth on yours, and his warmth.

He pulls apart, grins, an excited little glint in his eyes. He momentarily looks around, and then visibly gets an idea.

“Can you hang onto the headboard?” he asks softly, guiding you up the mattress. 

You scoot up the best you can until your head hits the pillows, relaxing your body as Ethan settles above you. His hands immediately roam, reaching for your clothes. You aid him in taking them off, and then eagerly reach for his own when you’re completely stripped. He stops you, moves your hands away with a small smile, and takes them off himself. Slips off his jacket, his t-shirt, and then wriggles out of his jeans. 

You giggle, amused, and do your part in holding onto the headboard instead. You’re wondering what it is he’ll do, the uncertainty thrilling. Sex with Ethan was always the same stupor of hot, hungry passion. Lips numbing, tiring each other out. Usually not many words exchanged. It’s different tonight. Your connection to one another feels deeper, more trustful.

Ethan has always respected you. Even the first time you had sex, it was always about you and what you needed. It wasn’t just a need to blow off some steam, to finally give in to the tension; it was his infatuation with you. He was instantly obsessed with pleasing you, and it remained that way every time you had sex. He wasn’t gentle by any means, but he wasn’t rough, either. It was the perfect passionate pace every time. It was like making love. 

The way his arms wrap around your legs to pull you to him is not at all like the usual. You squeal in surprise at his strength, and watch as he brings your core to his middle. Your legs momentarily wrap around his waist as he leans down above you, mouth closing around one of your hardened nipples. He kisses and sucks, eliciting a high pitched moan out of you. One hand comes off the headboard to cup the back of his head as he sloppily kisses at your chest, moving onto your other breast, to your sternum, and back and forth.

You relish in the pleasure that courses through your body, eyes closed, a little smile on your face. Even more so when Ethan’s hand slips in between your bodies to touch your slick center. 

“Ethan,” you gasp out, the thickness of his fingers slipping through your folds.

The pleasure builds up quicker than you can process, your breathing getting heavier against the top of his head as his tongue swirls against your nipple. You squirm when his thumb swipes over your clit, body jerking at the sudden contact, eyes widening. 

It continues to build, your body tensing more and more, and you’re sure you’re seconds away from cumming when Ethan suddenly pulls back. Mouth off, hand off. 

“Fuck,” you whine breathlessly, lifting your head in surprise as he backs away just enough so that your legs untangle from his waist. “I was just about to—what’s wrong?”

He grins, hands still lingering on your legs. “What do you mean?” 

The pleasure floats around in your body, diminishing. Ethan settles on his stomach, spreading your legs apart to face your dripping cunt. You gasp as he places soft, tender kisses to your inner thighs, traveling as close to your center as he can and then trailing them the other way, teasing. 

You realize what he’s doing. 

It’s almost dizzying. Just the thought of getting to do this with him. 

When his mouth slots against you, your entire body goes slack. You try not to thrust against his face, but the orgasm you almost had just a minute ago is still lingering, still on the verge of spilling. Your grip on the headboard tightens. 

Ethan’s mouth is gentle, but you can feel the tip of his finger prodding at your hole. When it slips inside just a little, he pulls back, lips shiny and parted. “Can you hold it for me? Just a little?”

Fuck. 

“H-hold it?” you repeat, feeling him stretch you on his finger. “What do you mean?”

“Try not to cum. Can you do that?” he asks tenderly.

Just his request almost sends you over the edge, but you nod. You grimace when he leans in to swipe his tongue over your clit, the feeling almost too much to hold onto. 

The good thing about having had sex with Ethan multiple times before, is that he grew incredibly accustomed to your body, what reactions he could get out of you, when you were close to cumming. That’s why, when he feels your body tense, and you’re sure you’re really not gonna make it, he pulls back again. 

A frustrated cry comes out of you, loud and whiny. Your fingers slide into his hair, pulling slightly in impatience. 

“First time you do this to me,” you pant, your breathing erratic.

“Just wanted to try something new,” he murmurs against your inner thigh. He presses a firm kiss there, and then sits up. 

Your hand returns to the headboard again, and you watch with hungry eyes as Ethan grasps himself in his fist, cheeks flushed. It’s earth-shattering when he leans in and pushes inside of you. You feel your legs shake, your toes curl, as he sinks in with ease. 

Ethan doesn’t prolong it. He gets right to it; languid strokes at first, and then he increases his pace the more your expression calls for it. It’s still a challenge to hold on but you do it just because he asked. Above you, Ethan admires the pleasure painted on your face. He looks dazed, too, enthralled by how tight you feel around him. 

Your cries get louder as it gets harder and harder to hang on, mixed with the sharp sounds of skin on skin. Ethan suddenly pulls out the moment he feels you clench around him, getting a sob out of you.

Tears well in your eyes. “Ethan—fuck—please,” you plead, sniffling.

He cups your face, leans in to kiss you sweetly. He distracts you for a minute, mouth moving yours gently, and then slips inside of you again. 

It happens a few more times. You lose count after the second time, too intoxicated and overwhelmed with pleasure to even grasp anything but the sudden loss; how you get right to your breaking point and he knows exactly when to pull back. It’s so unlike him. It kind of makes this whole thing hotter, if you didn’t have the very sickening, very urgent need to cum once and for all. In the moment, you’re sure you’ve never needed anything more.

You nearly scream out when it finally tips over the edge. The pleasure crashes against you like a wave, wringing your body against the mattress. Ethan holds onto you, lets you thrash underneath him. He presses kisses to your face as you feel it, his thrusts momentarily slowing to let you breathe. He’s chasing his own high, however, and soon enough resumes his movement. He fucks you through your orgasm, sloppy and untamed, sensitivity immediately clouding your senses. Tears slip down your cheeks as his pace quickens, until it soon crashes for him too. 

He pulls out instantly, spilling his cum all over your abdomen, and his fist. 

Tired and sore, he immediately slumps beside you, trying to catch his breath. Your head rolls over onto his shoulder. 

He glances at you, floating in his high. His brows furrow; he touches your face. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

You wipe at your cheeks. Waves of pleasure continue to swim through you, your body glowing in ecstasy. “No.. that was great, actually.” 

He breathes out, smiling.

You lean your head back against him, sighing happily. “Where did that come from, though?”