#possessive and jealous even of his alter ego | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

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you’re someone i just want around: VIII

Like wolves we've run wild

Let passion get too much

And let ourselves get burned by the fire

We're walking on wire

But nothing feels higher

Then when I see that look in your eyes

Small Talk, Niall Horan

A/N: here she is!! another part!! you’re probably used to this now, but part 8 got a little long, and will continue in a part 9 but honestly!! who cares!! it just means more vampirerry for all of us 😌 here we deep dive into a few more dates with a dash of some good ole jealousy!! love to see it love to hear it!! and andrea and i would just like to say THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED IN THE 1D CRAFT AWARDS!!!! we cannot believe ysijwa was even nominated, let alone that it won most unique!!! as a thank you, we’re doing a livestream this sunday!! you can send in questions, we’ll discuss the story, and just have a lil chat so please tune in!! details can be found here!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep writing and updating!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist : ysijwa playlist II

word count: 30k

content/warnings: confessions of an immortal shopaholic, blair waldorf dark au, the glamorization of the sugar baby lifestyle, harry not understanding the concept of sharing, y/n “eat the rich” y/l/n, harry the walking rosetta stone (tw: google translate), an italian chef (and psychic) who will also adopt someone before dessert is served, A Cinderella Story 6: Fifty Shades of Gucci Grey (rated R), an internal monologue of john mulaney’s “now we don’t have time to unpack all THAT!!!”, and a definitive guide on how to get rid of unnecessary parts of an outfit

Harry is aware that he has a taste for excess.

He wasn’t always like this, truly. When he was human, everything about his life had been thoroughly middle class. He was apprenticed to his father, the town’s blacksmith, and spent the majority of his life living in modesty. He wore plain clothes that had been sewn by his mother with the cheapest and most durable material she could find. He spent most of his days at the forge, or dutifully completing chores at home. He prayed quietly in church, took only the bare minimum of what he needed from anything, and, for the most part, kept his head down. He’d lived his life with no fancies, no frills, and no fun, in the hopes that all his humble modesty would serve him well in his next life.

And then he ended up eternally damned, so a fat lot of good that suffering had done him. All he got from following such a plain mode of life was intimacy issues, a newfound bloodlust, and a broken neck. Therefore, when it came to his afterlife, Harry decided to try a different route.

And that route, lucky for him, always seems to lead him back to Gucci.

Harry’s tried a lot of styles and a lot of designers in his two hundred and some years of life, but he’s yet to find anything that speaks to him like Gucci does. Whether it’s a leather wallet, a blue velvet suit, a sheer pussy bow shirt, or a silk neck scarf; if it has the Gucci label stamped on it, Harry probably owns it.

Whenever he steps foot in the store, sales associates flock to him, knowing that he’ll drop at least five thousand in one visit. Harry knows he should feel a tad guilty, but frankly, he thinks he’s earned it— more so than those billionaires he compels into making monthly donations to the “charity funds,” also known as his bank account.

His methods, however, do bring him a bit of flack from his friends. While Mitch normally does everything with Harry, the laid back and neutrally good-aligned vampire can only spend so much time in a high-end boutique before claiming that he’s “choking on the cologne of the entitled.” Niall, on the other hand, doesn’t let his teasing nature stop him from joining Harry, but Niall’s affinity for polyester usually stops Harry from allowing him inside the store. And Xander is a non-starter— the last time Harry tried to bring him, the vampire had spent the entire time cracking scathing jokes about Harry being a sugar baby, to which Harry responded with a comment about Xander being jealous of the salesman fitting Harry. That little argument turned into a three day battle of neither speaking to the other, and had only been settled when they each agreed that the other deserved to lose an eyebrow for what was said.

Harry could recount more instances of friction caused by his shopping habits, but needless to say, he either frequents the shopping district of Los Angeles by himself, or with Adam, who is wonderfully indifferent to Harry’s methods of obtaining pocket change, as well as how he spends said pocket change, and possesses the bonus trait of having an eye for beautifully tailored trousers.

It’s Adam who is by Harry’s side as he walks into the Gucci store for the third time in two weeks, his disinterested expression nearly eclipsed by the confident smirk that adorns Harry’s ruby lips.

It’s almost like they have a censor for him, Harry thinks smugly, as the associates begin to whisper to each other at the sight of him. Even if he didn’t absolutely love the brand, Harry would come to Gucci just for the boost to his ego.

Despite having accompanied Harry before, Adam still leans over to his friend, raising a quizzical brow as his eyes scan over the racks of clothing they pass. “Do we have to go to the counter, or—?”

“Oh, I never have to go to the counter.” Harry chuckles lightly, brushing his icy fingers over a smooth silk shirt styled on a mannequin. “They—”

“Mr. Styles!”

The egotistical simper on Harry’s lips grows, and he shoots Adam a smug look before turning around. “They come to me.”

“Mr. Styles, it’s so nice to see you again.” Mr. Koffman, the manager of this particular location, stops in front of Harry after a brisk walk over, fixing the fit of his suit jacket before extending his hand to Harry and Adam. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Harry shakes his hand once, enjoying the usual look of bemusement that flashes through the human man’s eyes at his strong grip and cool skin. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” He replies, shaking Adam’s hand once without moving his attention from Harry. “We’re thrilled to have you back so soon. I understand we have a suit in the works for you?”

Adam rolls his eyes the moment Mr. Koffman turns away from him, turning his attention to the rack of jackets to the left and running his fingers over the material.

“Yeah, I got the call this morning to come pick it up.” Harry pauses, giving Adam a sideways glance as his grin grows. “But I was wondering if I could do one last fitting, just to make sure everything’s set…?”

“Oh, uh—” Harry enjoys the frayed tone that echoes from the manager’s mouth as he begins to scramble, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’m so sorry, but we have another appointment coming in fifteen minutes, and—”

Harry sighs in mock disappointment, clicking his tongue as he gives a slight nod. “Ah. I see.” He sighs again and lifts his shoulders in a small shrug, glancing at Adam from the corner of his eye. The other vampire is watching him with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to bite back a laugh.

The light sheen of nervous sweat on Mr. Koffman’s brow begins to drip down his temple. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Styles—”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Harry waves off the apology with an unconcerned air, glancing at his own statement watch and sighing again. “If you could just have my suit sent down to the Gucci location on Rodeo, I’d really appreciate it— I know they’ll be able to squeeze me in for a last minute fitting.” Harry smiles at Koffman, whose face fades a shade paler as the creature gestures to his friend. “C’mon, Adam.”

“No, no, there won’t be any need for that!” Mr. Koffman says quickly, checking his watch again as his hand reaches for the handkerchief in his suit pocket. He dabs at his moist forehead while forcing a smile at Harry, who gives an easygoing smile back.

“It’s alright, Mr. Koffman, really— if you’re unable to make some room for me, I’m sure they’ll be happy to—”

“You’ve been a wonderful and loyal customer to us, Mr. Styles— we’d be more than happy to make room for you.” The human smiles again, the action more strained than before as he tucks his handkerchief away and clasps his hands in front of him. “Just— Just give me one moment to arrange it with alterations, and move some things around. Please, feel free to browse,” He gestures to the racks of clothing around them. “And I’ll be back in a few minutes once we have everything ready for you.”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, faking hesitation as he replies in a slow voice. “Well...if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble…”

“No trouble at all. Not for you.” Koffman, to his credit, manages to make the response sound natural before scurrying away, already dialing a number on his phone as he speed-climbs the staircase leading to the alterations department.

The laugh Harry’s been choking on for the last three minutes escapes the moment the human disappears, echoing off the marble walls around them as Harry turns to Adam with a glint in his eye.

Adam, on the other hand, looks less entertained and more annoyed. “Was that really necessary?” He asks in a bored tone, crossing his arms as his eyebrows raise in question. “Why do you need to try the suit on? You had, like, three fittings. It’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I want to make sure it’s perfect before I take it home— I’m spending way too much money for it to possibly be defective. And I want you to see it in all the glory of the mirrored Gucci fitting room.” Harry pats his friend’s shoulder as he steps past him, his attention captured by a pair of red leather and snakeskin boots sitting on a pedestal in the corner.

Adam snorts once, short and harsh. “Were those the only reasons, Mr. Styles?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Harry drags a finger over the embroidered side of the boots, his cherry lips rising at the corners. “I do enjoy making Koffman squirm. He’s so easily bothered by the littlest of things; it’s like an open invitation to cause some trouble.”

“Y’know, if I didn’t know what you really were,” Adam laughs once in spite of himself, shaking his head in disbelief while checking out a pair of plaid trousers. “I’d think you were the devil.”

Harry’s smile twists into something more sinister as he fiddles with his gold cross, twisting the pendant under the overhead lighting so it glints symbolically in Adam’s eye. “It’s a good thing I’m not, hm? I’d be unstoppable.”

“We’d all be doomed, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, absolutely. But world-domination aside, everyone knows the devil wears Prada, not Gucci. Get it together, Prendergast.”

The clicking of dress shoes against the marble steps alert Harry to Koffman’s return before his sputtering heartbeat does, and the vampire turns his head just in time to see him descend down the spiral staircase.

“Good news, Mr. Styles!” He beams at Harry as he steps off the last platform, nearly tripping over his feet in his effort to get to his client. “I was able to talk to the girls, rearrange some appointments, and we’ll be able to do a final fitting for you.”

“That’s wonderful t’hear, Mr. Koffman.” Harry tucks his cross back beneath his shirt with a pleased grin, catching Adam’s eye over the mortal’s shoulder. “I wasn’t fancying the drive to Rodeo.”

“I wouldn’t either, sir.” Koffman nods solemnly, gesturing to the stairs with a stubby hand. “But we’re always glad to make accommodations for you here.”

And isn’t that the truth, Harry thinks as he makes his way upstairs, Adam hot on his heels as Koffman leads the two of them to the alterations department. Part of the reason why Gucci— and this location, if Harry’s honest— holds such a place in his unbeating heart is because it reminds him of an era long gone. When Harry steps through the gold archways of the store, he instantly transforms into a person worth noting, and is waited on as if he were a lord in Victorian England who was set to inherit twenty thousand pounds. Now, of course, Harry could drop the equivalent of twenty thousand pounds in one shopping trip, but it was a large sum of money back then, when Harry could only dream of such wealth.

Now, the immortal’s reality involves him being waited on the moment he enters the alteration department, with one attendant handing him a glass of champagne as another shows him a display of accessories to match his custom suit, which hangs proudly inside a garment bag on the wall. Adam, for all his eyerolls, still accepts the complimentary champagne and appraises the accessories right along with Harry, who gets a chance to roll his own eyes as an attendant named Mara convinces him to try on a platinum watch.

“Would you like to try one as well, Mr. Styles?” The other attendant, Blair— Harry’s favourite consultant at the store, truth be told— bats her eyes at him as she taps a finger over the Rolex already adorning Harry’s wrist. “Could be nice to switch it up, no?”

Harry offers a polite smile as he readjusts the band of the watch on his arm, tutting in reply. “I’m afraid I’m rather attached to the Rolex brand for my watches, Blair.” He sighs before nodding his head at Adam, who’s become enamoured with the platinum band on his wrist. “Best to focus your energy on that one, I think. He’ll make you some easy commission.”

“It’s not about commission, Mr. Styles, it’s about finding you something you’ll love.” Blair pouts as she leads him behind the dressing room curtain, her lithe fingers unzipping the garment bag covering his suit with one swift motion. “I thought you’d know me well enough by now to know you’re much more than commission to me.”

The smile on Harry’s face only falters for one second, the flicker going unnoticed by the employee as she carefully removes the suit from the bag. The last time Harry had been here for a fitting, she hadn’t been working— he remembers because the new attendant they’d sent to deal with him had nearly zipped his suit into the garment bag when the fitting was over. It had been Blair, however, who had originally measured him for the suit, and Harry remembers her wandering fingers that paused at his inseam a moment longer than needed, how she had showered Harry with praise as he modeled the sample suit. It had done him good then as he strutted around the alterations department, flexing underneath the chandelier light as she’d complimented his every pose, but that had been nearly two months ago. Moreover, it had been two brunches, four dinners, three walks, and an antiquing trip ago. A lifetime ago, really.

“That’s very kind of you, Blair.” Harry finally manages to respond, his fingers pausing at the buttons of his shirt as she hangs the separate parts of the suit on their own hangers. “I’d trust no one else with a suit this expensive, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” A light giggle escapes the girl as she hangs the jacket on the wall, stepping back and admiring the pieces with a keen eye. “I’m glad you decided to go with the light grey fabric; it’ll compliment your eyes so nicely.” When she turns back around, Harry doesn’t miss how the same keen eye skirts over the half unbuttoned fabric covering his torso. “I’ll give you a moment to slip everything on. If you need anything…” The girl tugs the curtain back just enough to let herself out, her pink lips tugging into a simper. “Just call for me.”

Harry’s smile grows tighter as the curtain closes behind her, and disappears the moment he’s out of her sight. He’d forgotten, really, the effect he has on most mortals. It had been something he’d paid close attention to before, delighting in how they all unknowingly stroked his ego as their jaws dropped whenever he’d walked by. In a way, it’s nice to know that he’s still capable of that— he’s still a narcissist, after all— but it’s a little less satisfying when he’s grown so used to that careful attention from Y/N. When it comes to stroking, he thinks shrewdly, a smirk slowly crawling onto his face as he strips out of the rest of his clothes, there’s no one better than her.

Once he’s stripped completely, he dresses in the custom suit, pulling the crisp fabric along his muscled limbs and tugging it into place. He starts with the silk black shirt, slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoning the two sides together, excluding the top three holes. After that, he steps into the grey trousers, tucking the shirt in and taking a moment to admire the black stripe that runs down the inseam of the pants, which— to Blair’s credit— hug his thighs perfectly. Once he’s satisfied with the lay of the article, he slips the suit jacket overtop, adjusting the sleeves over the dress shirt as he fiddles with the cuffs.

“Now, don’t worry about the cufflinks with the suit, Mr. Styles,” Blair calls through the curtain, her voice grating across Harry’s admiration with an irritating cadence as she seems to predict his need. “They’re just some samples given by the store. I’ve personally selected some more appropriate pairs that match your style much better.”

When Harry tugs back the curtain, Adam has shifted himself to the plush velvet couch in the middle of the room, his champagne glass already refilled as he slouches back against the cushions. Mara, it seems, has disappeared from the fitting room, but Blair is standing just to the side, next to a table lined with gold accessories for Harry to try.

“Well?” Harry asks, stepping to the platform that sits in front of the mirrored wall, his jeweled hands tugging at the starched lapel of the jacket. He regards himself in the mirror for a moment, admiring the fit across his sturdy shoulders, before rotating around to face the vampire and mortal. “What do you think, Adam?”

Adam takes a long sip of his champagne, mulling over his reply for so long that it sparks irritation in Harry’s stomach, which is only soothed by his long awaited comment. “It looks good.” He nods, squinting his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “A little plain, compared to what you normally wear, but it’s nice.”

“I don’t know if it’s proper to call this plain.” Blair scoffs, looping the tape measure in her hands around her neck as she approaches Harry, her heels clicking against the lacquered floor. “Mr. Styles usually has a preference for something more patterned, true, but there’s something to be said for a sleek, simple suit.” Harry watches the way her eyes flicker down his body, pausing at his inseam with a look that’s less than professional. “And that black stripe along the inside of the pant certainly...draws the eye, does it not?”

Although her words are laced with implications, Harry directs a smirk at Adam as he rakes a hand through his curled locks. “It’s alright, Blair. Adam’s right, it is a little plain compared to what I normally wear, but every man needs a nicely tailored formal suit in his closet.”

“Exactly.” Blair nods in earnest response as she begins to circle Harry, her detail oriented eyes sweeping over every aspect of the suit. In the reflection of the mirror, Harry catches the way her eyes settle over the fit of his backside, her heartbeat increasing for just a moment until Harry clears his throat.

“The cufflinks, love?” Harry prompts, raising his arms as he begins to fiddle with the cuffs. “These sample ones are horrid. You said something about gold…?”

The attendant snaps from her objectifying stupor, her eyes meeting Harry’s in the mirror as a light blush settles over her cheeks. “Yes, I, um, picked some out for you here.” Her heels click again as she retrieves the velvet lined tray that’s studded with jewelry, bringing it to Harry for him to examine. “We have a few variations of the Gucci logo— interlocking G’s, some embossed onto gold coins— but I think this pair we just got in might be to your liking.”

Harry reaches for the cufflinks Blair points to, pinching one between his fingers and lifting it close to his eye to examine it. It’s a pair of interlocking G’s, but instead of a smooth finish similar to the other pairs before him, these have textured engravings all around the letters. It takes Harry a moment to realize that the engravings are scales, and the G’s are actually—

“They’re engraved to look like snakes, with black Swarovski crystal eyes.” Blair begins her infomercial-like spiel, holding up the other cufflink for her own examination. “They’re 18K gold with an aged finish, and the attention to detail is just extraordinary. Even the back is engraved with an Arabesque motif.” She twists the cufflink around in her fingers as Harry does the same, examining the engraving with an approving nod.

“They’re lovely.” Harry murmurs, wrapping his fist around the cufflink to secure it before removing the sample cufflink from his own sleeve. With one swift motion, he’s swapped one piece of gold hardware for another, fiddling with the fit of the sleeve as he sets the new cufflink amongst the fabric. “S’a nice fit, I think.”

“It’s a wonderful fit.” Before he can reach for the other cufflink, Blair snags his sleeve in her grasp, replacing the sample in a motion nearly as swift as Harry’s. “Beautiful, really. It’s such an understated suit, which works to its advantage, but the pop of gold on the cuffs will really make everything stand out so much more.”

Harry nods seriously, a pensive look on his face as he examines the sleeves once more before raising his arms. “What d’you think, Adam? Look alright?”

Adam offers a passive nod as he becomes distracted by the rack of watches again, his fingers draping over another platinum band. “Looks good, man. But you know that.”

“I know.” Harry flashes a blinding smile at his friend, dropping one emerald eye into a wink as he fiddles with the cufflinks. “But I like hearing you say it.”

“It really is a perfect fit, Mr. Styles.” Blair nearly coos the words as she circles him again, her careful fingers tugging and adjusting the lines of the suit just enough that it can be considered appropriate for her job. “Gorgeous. The best we’ve done, I think.” Her fingers dance over his lapel as she adjusts the fall of his open neckline, and a flash of warning ignites in Harry’s stomach as her skin grazes the ink of Harry’s chest. “But the suit is only doing half the work, you know. The rest is all—” Her touch travels up the lapel and across his shoulder, her body taking a step behind his own as her touch settles on the nape of his neck. “You.”

Although her skin barely brushes the back of his neck, the pin-prick touch bursts into a shudder that paralyzes Harry’s entire body, tensing his every limb. When it releases, his frame spasms one single time in reflex, yanking itself away from the human’s touch.

The shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by Blair or Adam, although each has their own response based on what they know of Harry. As his jade eyes harden to stone, Harry catches the cautious movements of Adam, who is slowly pulling himself into a tense and careful posture in the corner of Harry’s eye. Blair, on the other hand, is merely frozen with her hand still hanging in midair, a confused and bewildered expression painted onto her features.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Styles?” She questions, her self-preservation betraying her as she takes another step forward with her outstretched fingers once again reaching for Harry’s shoulder. “Is something in the suit bothering you?”

Harry gives a rough shake of his head as he leans back from her touch once again, forcing himself to take a deep breath through his nose to collect himself. When he speaks, his voice is low, raspy, and filled with a quiet fury that exceeds the intensity that would accompany a scream. “I think I’ve mentioned before,” He enunciates each word clearly, his delivery cold in every aspect. “I prefer not to be touched there.”

Despite the tense undercurrent of Harry’s voice, Blair’s expression relaxes once she realizes the cause of it. “My apologies. I was just trying to adjust the fit.” When she places her hand on Harry’s elbow and tugs at the sleeve, her brow creases at the taut joint, but her voice remains as smooth and slick as ever. “I’ll make sure to keep my hands to myself— or at least, wait for your direction on where to put them.”

The smile that curves over her lips begins to fall as Harry’s face stays as stony as ever, his own mouth dragged down into a frown as the implications of her words settle around him. Part of him wants to snap right there, to give into the instinct to bare his teeth, swell his chest, and show this emboldened employee what she’s really touching, but Adam’s eyes over her shoulder urge him not to.

His friend knows how sensitive Harry can get when his guard is at full throttle, especially when that issue stems from anything vaguely related to that particularly haunted place the young woman had carelessly touched. Watch it, Adam’s gaze seems to say as he shakes his head just enough for Harry to notice. It was an accident. You’re fine.

Harry inhales deeply once again, grounding himself in his human persona with each rise and fall of his chest. “That would be wise, I think.” He finally responds, straightening his back and turning to face himself in the mirror once again. “Just be a bit more careful.”

It seems that Blair has finally gotten the hint, because every touch of her fingers over him for the rest of the fitting is calculated and precise. Her hands do drift a little further on his body than what’s necessary, but she makes sure she doesn’t graze against his icy bare skin again. What Harry finds most curious, however, is that every swipe of her fingers against the fabric grates on what seems to be his last nerve.

They’ve played this cat and mouse game before, always teasing, always touching, and just barely staying out of reach. But it seems Harry has gotten too lax in his ways, he thinks, as his cold eyes watch the movements of the girl in the mirror, because she’s never been this blatant before, especially in front of another customer. Does she actually think something could happen between the two of them? Does she really believe that Harry would drag her behind the curtained partition, meticulously remove the suit he’s just paid thousands for, and trace his own fingers over her supple flesh as if he’s fitting her for himself?

The thought nearly pulls a ridiculing laugh from Harry’s chest, but that laugh is replaced with a pondering thought that irks Harry the moment it flickers into his mind. He could do that, yes. He’s certainly done worse, and Blair can probably sense that. If Harry were in her position, of being the mouse that believes it’s the cat, he would probably think that something was going to come out of all their chasing eventually. And why hasn’t it?

The answer, of course, comes to Harry a moment after the question does. Even though Blair is, by society’s standards, objectively attractive, and obviously willing to follow any direction he gives her, Harry is smart enough to not draw attention to himself by hooking up and feeding from a consultant that works at his favourite store. It had been Niall, he thinks, who summed up a simple yet effective rule wonderfully for him once: Don’t shit where you eat. Plain and simple.

But there’s a second answer that grinds at the back of Harry’s mind, festering inside every thought as Blair makes final adjustments, blathers on about accessories and additions, and tries to raise her commission by once again showing Harry watches. Harry doesn’t want Blair, because Harry has Y/N. Being touched by Blair feels wrong because Harry’s so used to being touched by Y/N. And Blair grazing over his neck bothered him so much because he can, apparently, only stand someone’s fingers grazing there if Y/N is the one doing it.

And perhaps festering isn’t the right word, Harry muses, because the warmth that’s spreading through him with that realization feels a lot more like blossoming than anything else. It flowers within him, lavender weaving through every limb, letting him know that maybe— just maybe— he’s not as selfish as he thinks. He could be a complete monster, and fabricate a relationship for Y/N while still pursuing other people, but he has, at the very least, one shred of decency hidden within him. Although he indulges his base desires whenever he’s with her, he at least has the power to resist one of them.

With that in mind, Harry finds it easier to pay less mind to Blair’s lingering touches and sly compliments, and instead focuses on cherry-picking the suggestions he wants to take from her.

“Y’think I should change the shoes, then?” Harry steps down from the platform, drifting closer to the full length mirrors to examine the black leather loafers adorning his feet. “Something more colourful?”

“Not necessarily colourful, no— after all, we’ve worked hard to create a cohesive look. We wouldn’t want to interrupt that with a sudden burst of fuschia.” Blair laughs once, brushing her hair behind her ears as she hums in consideration. “But something with a bit of gold, maybe? To match the cufflinks? We could add some gold hardware to those loafers, or just find a new pair for you…”

“New is always better.” Adam chimes in from the couch, tilting his half full glass to Harry with a wry smile. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Styles?”

Harry points a ringed finger at him, winking once in confirmation. “Right you are, Mr. Prendergast.” He begins scanning the room, his eyes catching every pair of shoes displayed and comparing them in his mind. “Do you have some selections we could look at, Blair?”

“If you give me a few moments, I could certainly run to the back and pull some—”

As Harry’s keen eyes settle onto a pair of boots on display in the corner of the room, he raises a hand, cutting the girl off in one swift motion. “That may not be necessary.” He murmurs, walking over to the pedestal and examining the newest object of his fascination.

The boots are made of matte leather with polished snakeskin over the toes of the shoes, both fabrics shining the darkest black Harry has ever seen. The leg of the boot is relatively short, and would probably only come to Harry’s ankle, with a black heel that would add an inch or two to Harry’s already tall frame. But the pièce de résistance that draws Harry’s eye the moment he sees them are the embroidered gold dragons that adorn the outer sides of each boot, their bodies coiled in such a way that Harry almost swears he can see them breathing.

He slides one finger around the toe of the boot, nearly shivering in how pleasurable the silky surface feels against his skin. “How much?” He mumbles the phrase with a reverent look in his eyes, his voice as delicate as his touch.

Blair’s smile twists into one of apology as words Harry has never heard from her before fall from her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, but those are actually a custom order for another client. They’re not for sale.”

Harry hums low in his throat, his fingertips dancing over the gold embroidery. “I’ll add another thousand onto whatever they’re paying.” He says, earning a breath of hesitation from Blair and a sigh of exhaustion from Adam.

“Christ, Harry,” The latter groans, rubbing his eyes in a frustrated manner at Harry’s familiar antics. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at sharing? Did you skip that part of kindergarten?”

“Kindergarten wasn’t really a thing where I grew up.” Harry reminds his friend, shrugging indifferently before turning his attention back to the torn consultant. “So? Another thousand? I think that adds on quite a nice percentage of commission for you, doesn’t it?”

“I— Mr. Styles, I’m not really sure if—” Blair stutters over her words as she quickly strides over to him, the clicking of her heels against the marble floor punctuating each pound of her heart in her chest. “I don’t really think we can do that.”

A short laugh echoes from Harry’s ruby lips as a grin dimples his cheeks, the humour of her words apparent only to him. “You know I don’t take no for an answer, Blair.” He raises his eyes to hers and locks their gazes, lowering his voice to a smooth and convincing octave, pupils dilating as supernatural magic flows into his irises. When her own eyes respond the same, her face falling slack for just a moment, Harry knows he’s alright to continue. “You didn’t answer my question. How much?”

“Just under four thousand.” The consultant replies immediately as the compulsion settles into her brain. “They would be around five if you wanted to add on the thousand you mentioned before.”

The smile on his face twists into something more conceited, and Harry steps back from the boots with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll take them, then.” Confidence weaves itself through his voice as he meticulously removes the suit jacket from his body. “Call Mara to wrap them up, won’t you? While I’m changing, I’ll need you to start pulling some more selections for me.”

Blair blinks the compulsion from her eyes as Harry’s stare dips from hers, her tone thick with confusion as she sleepily takes the jacket from Harry’s hands. “More selections, Mr. Styles? Of what?”

“Yeah, Harry.” Adam’s words are tinged with trepidation as he subtly checks the time on the watch now hanging off his wrist. “Of what?”

“Cocktail dresses, I think. Although I’m not opposed to a cute little romper, as long as it has a bit of sparkle and shows off some leg.” Harry says thoughtfully, rubbing over his pillowy lips as he ponders the thought. “But I think a cocktail dress would work best. Black, maybe. To keep it classy, but not too classy.” He says, shooting a wicked grin at Blair. “I’d like to see a bit of skin.”

“I’m— I’m sorry,” The befuddlement in the human girl’s voice finally begins to clear up, leaving curiosity-tinged jealousy in its place. “What sort of event is this outfit for?”

Harry’s loafers echo around the marble room as he makes his way back to the changing area, a plan already forming in his head as he speaks. “A dinner. Semi-formal, so no floor length gowns or anything like that. Maybe bring some matching heels as well, although...” Harry pauses with the changing curtain clutched tight in his hand. “I think a quick trip to Christian Louboutin down the street may yield better results in that department.”

“Quick trip,” Adam quotes scornfully, downing the rest of his champagne and setting the glass down on the gold side table with a groan. “That’s what this was supposed to be, H, and we’ve been here for an hour! We were supposed to pick up your suit, and then head back to Niall’s for the barbecue—”

“So text Niall and tell him we’re running behind; he certainly has no problem doing that to us.” A snort sounds deep in Harry’s throat as Blair walks to the ornate desk in the back of the room and picks up the gold-plated rotary phone, dialing a short number with practiced speed. “And, with the amount of times he’s complained to me about my lack of punctuality, he should be used to it by now.”

The other vampire rolls his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a groan. “Fine.” He relents, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “But you’re buying me this watch as payment.”

“Fine.” Harry shrugs as he echoes the word, his voice casual and without a care as he slips behind the curtain and finishes undressing.

Once he’s hung the suit back up on its hangers and redressed in his normal clothing, he retracts the plush curtain once more to find an annoyed Adam hanging up the phone, his newly purchased boots gone from the pedestal, and the heavy gold accessories that had been picked out for Harry being swapped for finer and daintier pieces.

Harry begins to examine the gold chains, humming in thought over the delicate pendants that swing from them. “How’d Niall take it?” He tosses the question to Adam over his shoulder, not particularly concerned about the answer.

“He told me to call you a wanker and rip off your ear, so,” Adam tucks his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head at the Irishman’s harsh words. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Another hum vibrates through Harry’s throat as he sets a mental note to make amends with his friend at a later date. “So do you want to rip off my right ear, or my left? I have to admit, my left is my prettier ear, so I’d be appreciative if you left that one alone.”

The laugh that leaves Adam is so genuine that Harry knows he can’t be too annoyed at him. When his friend joins him in overlooking the jewelry, Harry offers him an airy smile in return, pointing out a detail in one of the pendants to Adam’s interested gaze.

“Explain something to me.” Adam starts after a moment, his own hands grazing over a diamond bracelet. “Why go to all this trouble? A dress, shoes, accessories… what’s the point?”

If it were any of his other friends asking the question, Harry would take a defensive response, spouting off a justified reply about how he looks so good in the suit that it needs to be seen, and that he can’t wear it and have Y/N not match him in clothing that’s sufficiently up to par. But Adam’s eyes, albeit frustrated at times, have always been kind, and contain a depth of clarity that Harry can’t resist. He’s always been the most level-headed of the group, second only to Mitch, so the monster always feels safe trusting him with his innermost thoughts.

“S’nice, I suppose.” Harry replies with as casual a tone as he can allow, lifting his shoulder as the sound of a rolling cart heavy with clothing pricks his ears from down the hall. “I’m taking something from Y/N, so… it makes me feel nice to give her something in return, y’know? Makes me feel a little less guilty, at least, if she’s having a good time.”

Although Adam’s eyebrows raise at the mention of guilt, he makes no other comment on the surprisingly candid confession from his friend. “I get that.” He says slowly, settling down the gold necklace in his hand with a gentle touch. “I’m surprised you get it, but I get it.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry huffs as Blair rounds the corner and enters the room with a rack laden with black garment bags. “Don’t tell Niall I said that, alright? He’ll never let me hear the end of it, and if he thinks I’m going soft— which I’m not—” Harry tacks on quickly. “He’ll start trying to fuck with me, and then I’ll have to rip off his ear, and it’ll be a whole thing.”

“My lips are sealed, man.” Adam laughs, gesturing over his shoulder to the clothing cart. “Shall we pick a dress for the lucky lady, then?”

A smirk paints its way onto Harry’s face. “Mhmm. As long as you’re the one modeling it.”

///

A package arrives the next afternoon.

Like any Saturday when she isn’t working or with Harry, Y/N is home alone, trying to unwind from the previous week’s trials and tribulations. Although she’s worked customer service jobs at home, working a customer service job in Los Angeles is a whole other demon, and she finds herself more exhausted than she’s ever been more often than she’s not. It’s probably a good thing, she muses to herself over a cup of tea and her new copy of Sense and Sensibility, that she doesn’t have many friends in L.A., because she wouldn’t have the energy to go out with them anyways. And honestly, she prefers it that way. She’s learned to get along with her coworkers enough at her job that she doesn’t feel isolated, and sees Harry enough outside of work that she feels she has a shred of something resembling a social life. Her quiet afternoons at home by herself are really a godsend, in a way. They give her an opportunity to recharge to be present enough for social interactions during the week. Being lonely can be a challenge, yes, but being alone is an entirely different thing, and it’s something that Y/N quite enjoys.

Which is why she’s so confused when her doorbell rings at 2:13 P.M. on a Saturday afternoon.

The moment the sound pricks her ears, Y/N pauses her reading, setting her book down on her lap as she sends a confused look towards the front door. Her eyes slide to her phone next to her, tapping the screen to make sure she hasn’t missed any messages from anyone. Harry, surely, would at least text her before showing up unplanned, wouldn’t he?

When her phone screen is found to be predictably blank, and the doorbell rings again, Y/N stumbles her way from her couch to the front door, her chain clanging against the frame as she unlocks it and pulls the door open.

A man she doesn’t know raises an eyebrow at her as she looks up at him, and a spark of fear flickers in her stomach before she realizes he’s wearing a UPS uniform and holding a large brown package in his hands.

“Are you Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” He asks, glancing down at the tablet in his hands.

“Uh— yeah. Yes, I am.” Y/N replies slowly, tugging the patchwork cardigan she’d stolen from Harry around her frame. “Hi?”

The UPS delivery man gives her a quizzical look. “Hi.” He repeats back to her in a monotone voice, extending the tablet in his hand. “Sign here, please.”

The urge to argue that she wasn’t expecting anything bubbles up in Y/N’s throat, but she tamps it down as she accepts the tablet, using the pen attached to the device to sign her name. It’s probably from her mother, she thinks, scrawling her signature quickly before handing the tablet back. Even though L.A. is famously a city without seasons, her mother has probably knit her two new blankets for the winter months, or sweaters, or some other woolen article of clothing that Y/N will have no use for.

The UPS delivery man swaps the tablet in her hand for the package in his, barely sparing Y/N another glance before retreating back down her hallway.

“Um, thank you!” Y/N calls after him, shifting the surprisingly heavy package in her palms as she nudges the door shut with her socked foot.

She carries the box to her living room, setting it down on her coffee table before pausing for a moment to double back and relock her front door (although she’s adjusted to living alone, the fear that’s been implanted in her from a young age about living in a big city still has a hold on her).

The box, she discovers upon further examination, has no return address, but it does sound like there’s multiple items inside when shaken. And then Y/N remembers that she’s an adult, and should probably not be shaking a box when she doesn’t know what sits inside, so she sits back on her couch with a confused pout— until she once again remembers that she’s an adult, and can open a package addressed to herself.

It takes a moment of struggling to tear off the thick tape lining the seam of the box— a moment which would probably have been shorter if Y/N had retrieved a knife from the kitchen, truth be told— but the opening of the package makes the contents no more clear. When she pulls back the top of the box, she finds sheets of packing tissue paper, which she tosses onto her living room floor without care to reveal the surprises inside.

And what a surprise the black and white box with Gucci stamped on top is. Nearly as much a surprise as the second larger black and white Gucci box underneath, or the red and black box next to it labeled Christian Louboutin.

Y/N’s not quite sure how long she sits there staring at the packages in shock, but when she finally manages to unfreeze her limbs to take a sip of her tea, the liquid is considerably colder than it had been when she set it down to open the door. The packages are so unexpected that it takes her a moment to realize that designer boxes typically contain designer items inside them, and maybe unpacking those will bring her greater insight into what the fuck is happening right now.

Of course, that’s not the case.

Beginning with the smaller Gucci box, Y/N carefully extracts it from the brown container and sets it on her lap, untying the black ribbon encircling it as if she were dismantling a bomb. When she lifts off the lid to find a matte black leather clutch purse with a gold Gucci emblem as the clasp, she almost thinks that a bomb would be preferable, because surely, there’s been a mistake. Y/N certainly hasn’t purchased a Gucci clutch for herself, so it’s entirely likely that this was a gift for someone else, and the UPS man had just gotten the address wrong. Yes, she thinks to herself, ghosting her fingers over the supple leather in shock, that must be it. It’s a mistake. And because it’s a mistake, she should back this all up and call UPS to have them fix it.

And then she remembers the UPS man had said her name, and that’s enough motivation to open the Christian Louboutin box next.

Based on the brand, Y/N suspected that the box would reveal a pair of shoes. It’s still a shock, however, when she finds a pair of black satin heels that shine even in the low light of her apartment, with a satin ribbon death trap of an ankle tie, and signature red lacquered bottoms.

By the time Y/N reaches the third box, she’s moving on autopilot, her fingers robotically untying the black ribbon and lifting the lid without her instructing herself to do so. The only words she can manage upon seeing the black cocktail dress is a gentle but emotive “What the fuck?”

The dress, she finds as she cautiously lifts it from the box, is made of satin, and is nothing she would ever purchase for herself in a million years. The neckline dips into a low V, supported by off the shoulder cuffs, and Y/N can already tell by the cut of the fabric that if she were to slip it onto her body, the knee length dress would cling to her form. And— Y/N shifts the dress into the light as her eyes widen in shock— as if that weren’t enough, there’s a leg slit that runs so high that Y/N flushes at the mere thought of her thigh peaking through.

It’s that detail, coupled with the suspicion that a single item of the package— let alone all three together— costs more than her rent that leads Y/N to the realization that only one person she knows could have sent all of this.

Folding the dress carefully back in the box and setting it to the side, Y/N fumbles to retrieve her phone from where she had left it earlier. After unlocking it, she flips to her contacts and clicks on the familiar name, raising the device to her ear with a slow motion.

The phone rings four times before Harry’s voicemail crackles through the speaker. “Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I can’t talk right now, but if you leave a message at the beep, I’ll try to get back to you.” There’s a moment of hesitation in the recording, and Y/N almost thinks she’s missed the beep before Harry’s accented voice returns. “Unless you’re Niall.”

The expected beep finally sounds, and Y/N swallows hard as she tries to find the words she needs. “Hey, Harry, it’s, um, it’s Y/N. I just received your package— I mean, I think it’s from you, because I don’t know who else would send me a Gucci dress— which I can’t accept, by the way. That’s why I’m calling. So, um,” She sucks in a harsh breath to give pause to her rambling before continuing. “Just— just call me back, alright? Thanks.”

While Harry is usually attentive to every call and message from Y/N, her voicemail receives no reply, nor does her second phone call, or her third, or the four texts she sends to Harry in between. By five P.M., she’s given up on hearing back from Harry at all, and is nearly resolved to pack up the box again and march it to Harry’s apartment when his signature sharp rap echoes on her front door.

Despite her frustration at receiving no reply from him, there’s an air of relief running through Y/N as she tightens the cardigan around herself and strides to her front door. She unlocks it quickly, her greeting already falling from her lips before the door is even open.

“You better have a good reason for ignoring me all afternoon, Harry, because I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why—”

And then Y/N’s frantic eyes finally settle on the man before her, and the rest of her beration dies before it can leave her throat.

Harry is leaning casually against her frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest, as usual, and he’s dressed in a grey suit that clings to his body in a way that is so attractive, Y/N didn’t even think it was possible for a man to look this utterly flawless. The suit fabric looks soft to the touch, more luxurious than anything Y/N could ever dream of, and the black silk shirt that lies underneath looks even softer. The human tries to not let herself focus on the way the shirt is slightly unbuttoned, showing off the inked swallows that decorate Harry’s muscled chest, as well as his usual cross necklace. However, letting her eyes drift lower proves to be a mistake, as her gaze is immediately drawn to the black stripe that runs down the inseam of Harry’s pant legs, highlighting the muscles of his thighs in a way that makes her mouth water. Even his shoes, black leather boots embroidered with gold dragons, are attractive in a way that Y/N doesn’t understand.

“Hello, darling.” Harry’s charming voice and dimpled smile pull the girl’s eyes back to his face just in time to see his lips drop into a discouraged frown.

Although Harry is usually greatly fond of seeing Y/N clad in cozy clothes with her hair in a messy ponytail (especially when his own cardigan is part of the ensemble), the look isn’t necessarily welcome at the moment. Yes, she looks adorable in her pastel blue pajama pants with cartoon sheep scattered all over the fabric. And yes, she looks incredibly cute swaddled in an oversized The Nightmare Before Christmas tee along with his patchwork coat. However, given the premise of the plans he’s drawn for tonight, her outfit is far from appropriate. Especially because he’d expected her to be wearing the dress he’d bought her along with the heels and clutch, dishing out a sexy but classy aesthetic rather than the ever-present lonely couch potato one.

He gives her entire body a quick, judgmental sweep, brows cinching. “I— why aren’t you ready?”

The confusion bubbling in Y/N’s mind molds into indignation at his words, albeit a hint of bewilderment lingers. “Ready for what?” Y/N demands, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at Harry expectantly. “I’ve been trying to call you all day about the dress, and you didn’t answer a single time, so I don’t know what—”

“The dress?” Harry’s brow draws together deeper, his easy going demeanor twisting to match Y/N’s within a moment. “Why were you calling about the dress? Does it not fit?”

Y/N’s mouth gapes open at the question. “I haven’t tried it on, Harry, I—”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I can’t accept it!” Y/N exclaims, the suffix of obviously unspoken between them. “It’s way too expensive by itself, let alone with the shoes and the purse!”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Harry responds in a slow and careful voice. “Why don’t we step inside, love, and continue discussing this while you get ready, yeah?”

Y/N scoffs at the condescension in his voice, but does as he says, stepping back from the doorway and allowing Harry to walk inside before locking the door behind him. “Ready for what?” She demands again, following Harry’s path down the hallway to the living room. “You still haven’t told me!”

“Christ, Watson, I thought if I sent you a dress and heels, you’d figure it out!” Harry replies with a half-joking sigh, a degree of annoyance beginning to work its way into his tone as he touches the ribbon of one of the Gucci boxes. “You’re losing your touch, huh?”

“Okay, well, apparently I’m a little slow tonight, so fill me in, Sherlock.” Y/N matches Harry’s snippy remark with ease, pinching the bridge of her nose as her head begins to throb in irritation. “What’s going on? What obvious clue have I missed?”

“I sent you the outfit for you to wear—”

“I figured that much out, thanks.”

Harry’s emerald eyes snap to hers in an exasperated flat glance before continuing. “—to dinner. I made us a reservation at my favourite Italian place, and I thought that the dress and the shoes would be enough of a hint that I could keep the rest a surprise.” He gathers the ribbon with his fingers again, rubbing the fabric between them as his face drops its usual haughty front. “You really didn’t...you didn’t try it on? Do you not like it?”

The disappointed hesitation threaded through Harry’s thick accent stops Y/N short, worming its way into her aggravated chest and leaving a spark of guilt behind. When she speaks again, her voice is dulled by genuine warmth, less sharp and pointed and more soothing and grateful. “I...I do like it. It’s a lovely dress; a little more body-hugging than what I would’ve picked, truthfully, but it’s beautiful.” Y/N offers Harry a soft teasing smile before continuing. “I just...I can’t accept something so expensive from you.”

“Why not?” Harry’s brows re-furrow in sheer confusion as he drops the ribbon from his grip, turning to face her fully. “It’s just a dress, Y/N—”

“It’s a Gucci dress. And purse. And Louboutin shoes.” Y/N states with a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms over her abdomen as she drops her gaze to the rug she’d picked out from IKEA. “It’s too much, Harry. I know you meant well, but I can never...I could never pay you back for this, or give you something as nice, or…”

A disheartened pout tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as he registers the mortal’s words. It hadn’t occurred to him that his gift could be perceived negatively; he’d just thought she’d like it. He likes to think their friendship is in comfortable enough territory now that gifts wouldn't be a turnoff, especially because of how much more time they’ve been spending together outside of the bedroom. However, as he stands here now watching her hug herself in the living room of the tiny apartment she’d told him she was so proud to afford, he can see how wrong he’d been in that assumption. Y/N is independent, and has been from the moment he met her. A gift like this— so extravagant and expensive— could come off as him mocking her financial status, almost, even if it had originally been bought with good intentions.

Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth as something that feels a lot like embarrassment begins to boil in his stomach. She’ll feel like she owes him something, when that’s the farthest thing from the truth. If anything, it’s long overdue payment for everything Harry has unknowingly taken from her.

“I don’t care about that.” Voice dropping quieter, Harry takes a step forward, his cool fingers wiggling their way between hers and pulling her arm from her tummy. Once her hand is within his grasp, he squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles. He talks slowly, keeping his tone level and honest to communicate the real innocence behind his prestigious present. “I don’t need you to pay me back, and I don’t want you to feel bad. The money thing— that’s not an issue for me. And I understand if...it makes you uncomfortable…” His gaze flickers to the ground as well before meeting hers again. “I can take it back if you’d like, if it bothers you that much. But I was hoping…”

He rubs his finger over his cherry lips pensively, taking a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “Well. The reservation is already made, I’m already dressed— and looking like a proper stud, if I may say so myself—” He laughs once in an attempt to lighten the mood, his eyes glued to Y/N’s face to see if she takes to the joke. He feels cool relief flood his veins when she scoffs slightly, the edges of her mouth ticking upwards humorously. “And you’ll match me so well in that dress that it’ll probably put me to shame, dove.”

Y/N glimpses up at him hesitantly, squeezing his fingers with a playful air. “You’re really good with words, y’know that?”

“I like to think I’m good at quite a few things.” Harry grins suggestively, cheekily squeezing her grasp right back. “And I hope I can add ‘getting you all dolled up and convincing you to come along to dinner with me’ to that list. So...what do you say?”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip as she mulls over the suggestion, her fingers grazing over the lionhead ring on Harry’s hand. He has gone to a lot of trouble, she thinks, glancing over his appearance one more time. His curls are carefully coiffed, his skin is practically glowing, his trusty cross necklace glints alluringly in the buttery lighting, alongside a small gold hoop on his pierced ear, and the way the suit fits over his body, hugging every flexing muscle and annunciating every hypnotizing curve…

“What time is the reservation?” She finally asks, eyes flickering to the clock on her wall that reads ten after five.

Harry’s eyes follow hers. “Seven.” He says immediately, licking his lips once as he grips her hand in anticipation again. “We have plenty of time to make it, if— if you want to.”

It could’ve easily been the money Harry spent on the clothing that sways Y/N to say yes. It could’ve been the humiliation of not realizing what he was planning and ruining his surprise. But in reality, the thing that causes the next sentence to fall from Y/N’s mouth is the quiet weariness in Harry’s tone— a certain shyness that she hasn’t seen in him before, paired with a specific type of subtle raw hope that makes her heart absolutely melt.

“Alright.” She murmurs, nodding her head once as she draws away from his touch. “I’ll go shower, then, and get ready. Are you alright waiting out here?”

A relieved smile jolts at the corner of Harry’s lips as he easily nods in return. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’d offer to hop in with you, but…” He gestures to himself vaguely as his grin widens with conceited teasing, shrugging one shoulder offhandedly as if what he says next should be obvious. “We wouldn’t want to ruin perfection, now would we?”

The jesting response pulls an eye roll from the human girl. “Uh huh.” She snorts, snatching her phone from the coffee table as she begins to make her way to the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” Harry calls after her, slipping his own phone from his pocket. The click of the door lock pricks his ears, but he waits until he hears the shower running to unlock his device and dial the restaurant number.

“Bella Vita Ristorante, how many I help you?”

Harry exhales hard as he rubs a hand over his eyes, his head falling back to hang off his shoulders as his mind recalculates the evening’s plans, shifting things out of place to mold everything around this minor hiccup. He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible, swallowing down the instinctive bothered bite threatening to elbow through. “May I speak to Vincenzo, please?”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment, please.” There’s a shuffling on the other end of the line, and Harry’s gaze slides to the Rolex on his wrist as he waits, not nearly as patient as he knows he should be.

“Hello?” A familiar rough Italian accent echoes through the phone speaker, followed by a light clearing of the person’s throat. “This is Vincenzo.”

“Ciao, Vincenzo, é Harry.” Hi, Vincenzo, it’s Harry. He answers in Italian on reflex, gliding his hand over his lips once more as he fights the urge to tug on his styled hair. “Come stai?” How are you?

Friendly excitement breaks into the man’s voice the second the vampire makes his identity known. “Signor Styles, sto bene, grazie! Non vedo l'ora di vedere te e la tua ospite stasera.” Mr. Styles, I’m well, thank you! I’m looking forward to seeing you and your guest tonight.

Harry glances at the bathroom door symbolically, exhaling curtly through his nose. His tone comes out apologetic and unsure. “Sì, chiamo di stasera. Abbiamo riscontrato un piccolo problema. C'è un modo per spingere la prenotazione da sei a sette?” Yes, I’m calling about tonight. We ran into a little problem. Is there any way we can push the reservation from six to seven?

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry waits with bated breath for Vincenzo’s reply. The waiter’s response flows through the phone with a rueful heaviness that makes the immortal’s stomach plummet. “Siamo molto impegnati stasera, Harry… È un sabato, dopotutto.” We’re very busy tonight, Harry… It’s a Saturday, after all.

A frustrated sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he scratches at the nape of his neck, once again itching to yank at his curls but forcing himself to refrain the impulse. “Lo so, Vincenzo, e mi dispiace chiederti il favore, ma devo. Sai che te lo devo e ti lascio una generosa mancia.” I know, Vincenzo, and I’m sorry to ask you such a favour, but I have to. You know I’ll owe you, and I’ll leave a generous tip.

When Vincenzo replies, the hesitation in his voice is gone, replaced by reassurance and familiar fondness. “No, no, Harry, non mi devi niente. Per te, non è un problema. Gli amici aiutano gli amici per gentilezza, lo sai. Mi assicurerò che il tuo tavolo sia pronto per le sette.” No, no, Harry, you don’t owe me anything. For you, this is no problem. Friends help friends out of kindness, you know that. I’ll make sure your table is ready for seven.

Harry heaves a grand sigh of relief, a wide smile cracking his face in half. His head swings forward as a light laugh falls from his ruby lips, all tension washing out of his strong shoulders in one swift wave. “Grazie mille. Ti devo, lo fare.” Thank you so much. I owe you, I do.

His friend’s casual demeanor filters through the phone with a dismissive click of his tongue, and Harry can practically see the older man waving his hand passively. “Senza senso. Ci vediamo più tardi, sì?” Nonsense. I will see you later, yes?

“Sì. Grazie ancora. Ciao, Vincenzo.” Yes. Thank you again. Goodbye, Vincenzo.

As Harry hangs up the phone, he feels a weight lift off his chest. He knows that it wouldn’t have been a problem if Vincenzo had been unable to move the reservation; all it would’ve taken is a few words of persuasion at the host stand, and Harry would’ve been able to waltz right into the restaurant. But Vincenzo has been kind to him— has been such a good friend, really— and Harry would hate to tarnish that relationship.

With the new reservation secured, Harry tucks his phone back into his suit pocket, turning his attention to the gifts he’d brought Y/N that are still in their boxes. He removes the satin dress from its packaging, meticulously folding it over his arm as he snags the clutch and heels with his hands and carries them to Y/N’s room.

Harry nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot, hesitating in the door frame as Y/N’s familiar honey and lavender scent fills his senses, and the vampire’s gaze slinks over a place he’s spent countless hours in as she’s slept soundly next to him. There’s been a few changes, he observes— warm satisfaction begins to bloom in his chest when he sees the tapestry on the wall has been replaced with the framed Monet print from the antique mall, her half emptied overnight bag is lying on her chair still from her last overnight stay at his condo, and the comforter on her bed hasn’t been fixed back in its usual place. Harry sets the Louboutins on the ground before tugging the comforter back into order, draping the dress onto the bed and smoothing the creases that formed. After he lays the clutch down next to the dress, Harry steps back and admires his choices. It was good that he’d gone with the black satin, he thinks, brushing a hand over the shining fabric with a fulfilled expression. It’s simple, yet elegant, and matches him perfectly, which brings a flutter of pleasure to his dormant chest like nothing else.

With the dress sufficiently laid out, Harry turns on his heel to leave, and his quick movement blows an unfamiliar scent around the room. Harry inhales deeply, wrinkling his nose in response to the thick fragrance of carnations and cedar that settle into his senses. While cedar isn’t one of his favourite scents, he doesn’t usually mind it, but the overpowering presence of carnations nearly gags him, and Harry twists back around to find the source of the offensive stench.

It only takes a second for his eyes to settle on the cause, a new addition to Y/N’s bedroom that he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in. He takes one stride across the small room to her bedside table, picking up the object with a gentle grip.

The picture frame is made entirely of glass, but has a decorative gold edge lining the small rectangle as both decoration and protection of delicate hands from sharp corners. In the center of the frame is a photo of three girls dressed in navy blue caps and gowns with red and white sashes around their necks, their arms thrown around each other as their posture curves, and bright smiles on all of their faces. Although she looks years younger, her hair is longer, and her eyes more naive, Harry recognizes Y/N on the left right away. The identities of the other two girls, however, stump him.

Of course he wouldn’t recognize them on sight, as Harry has never met any of Y/N’s hometown friends, but his ruby lips drop into a frown when he realizes that he can’t even conjure a name for either of the girls. No first initial, no general idea— just nothing. They’re ghosts to him.

Harry traces a finger down the younger Y/N’s face, searching for any part of the woman he knows now in the girl who existed then. The acne on her cheeks that she’s covered in makeup for the photo match the pattern of light scarring she has on her face, small marks that Harry’s traced in the dead of the night as he listens to her breathe. Her eyes, while younger, do show a faint glimmer of that stubbornness that he’s been so prone to witnessing. But it’s her smile, Harry realizes, that is the most different. While the size and shape of it are the same, there’s a dullness to it that digs into his mind, scraping against his every perception of her. This is around the time she’d have been with her ex, he remembers, dragging a finger down the edge of the frame. But what else was life like for her there? She had friends, obviously, friends who still care about her enough to send her this framed photo drenched in their carnation and cedar scent. Life couldn’t have been all that bad.

He sets the framed photo back down on her bedside table, scanning the room with a keen eye more closely than he had before. If he tore through every book on her wall of shelves, would he find any inscriptions written to her from a person in her past? Notes that had been slipped between herself and others in high school science class, still pressed between yellowed pages as bookmarks? What if he dug into her bedside table drawer? Would he find more pictures, letters from those she’d left behind? It’s strange to think that with all the time Harry has spent in this room, there’s still so many secrets buried within its four glossy walls.

Harry settles his gaze onto the silk dress once again, worrying his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he does so. Y/N had been worried that a Gucci dress wouldn’t be a good fit for her, and while Harry had thought she meant she couldn’t wear a designer brand, maybe she’d meant she didn’t want to. Maybe her hesitation didn’t lie in just the cost of the outfit, but in her not wanting something so extravagant.

Sucking in a short breath through his teeth, Harry clears his mind of the thought. Y/N wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t want to, he assures himself, quickly adjusting the hem of the dress on the bed. And besides, it’s just for a few hours. She’ll be out of the dress soon enough, and into…

Harry turns back to her vanity, swiping the overnight bag from where he’d spotted it on the chair. A pair of sweatpants already lies inside, but Harry still tugs open Y/N’s dresser and snags another pair, as well as a comfortable t-shirt for her to sleep in. He packs two pairs of fresh panties as well, one high-waisted cotton and another a cheeky pretty lace (the latter is definitely for selfish reasons, if he’s being honest) along with Y/N’s favourite pair of fuzzy slipper socks, because he knows how her feet get cold on the tile of his kitchen floor in the mornings.

The image in his head brings a smile to his face as he grabs a few hair ties from her vanity and throws them into the bag, along with her half empty bag of makeup removers. She always gets a chill in the morning in general, so she normally emerges from his bedroom with one of his sweaters tugged around her tired body, half mumbling incoherently until Harry slides a cup of coffee into her hands. In truth, sleeping next to his icy body probably does nothing to help the mortal, but Harry just tries to wrap her in an extra blanket to help remedy the situation.

Just as he’s tugging the zipper on the back shut, he hears the creak of the bathroom door, followed by the soft steps of Y/N’s feet against the runner rug down her hallway. Harry straightens up just as the bedroom door is nudged open, and whatever sharp comment was on the tip of his tongue dies away as he sees Y/N.

She’s already done her hair, having styled it into soft curls that are pinned back from her face with two gold clasps on either side of her head, and if Harry were in a more comprehensive mindset, he’d be pleased that the gold will match the adornments on the clutch. But Harry isn’t in a comprehensive mindset, due to the fact that Y/N’s body, still damp from her shower, is wrapped in only the smallest blue towel Harry has ever seen.

After Y/N shuts the door behind her, she turns around and sees Harry standing in her bedroom with a bag in his hand, and she clutches the towel tighter to her chest in surprise. “Harry—” Her heartbeat stutters as she locks eyes with the creature before her, her cheeks immediately flushing with heat. “What are you doing? I said to wait in the living room!”

“I know.” He licks his lips slowly as his eyes flicker down her figure and back again, the bright emerald darkening to jade when he meets her gaze once more. “I was just laying out your outfit. Although now that you’re here, wearing only that—” He gestures to the towel with his free hand as the edge of his lips curl. “Why don’t we just cut out the middleman and have a quick shag?”

Y/N scoffs in response, pushing her way past her lover to her dresser drawers. “I already showered, H, and I even put effort into my hair, so we have to go out. Can’t waste it, y’know?” With her hand wrapped around the handle of her dresser, the human girl pauses, her gaze drifting curiously from Harry’s face to the bag clutched in his grasp. “What’s that?”

It takes a moment for Harry’s attention to turn from Y/N’s glistening cleavage to the object she’s nodding towards. “Oh, I— uh— I packed an overnight bag for you.” He clears his throat as he sets the bag on the bed, taking a step back from the item like it’s a ticking bomb. “It’s not— I’m not insinuating that you have to stay over if you don’t want to, of course. And you don’t have to use it, but I just thought that if you decided to, you’d want something comfy to sleep in.”

“How is it,” Y/N laughs softly, her curls bouncing as she shakes her head in disbelief. “That you can go from saying you want to fuck me to telling me you packed me an overnight bag, all in the span of one minute?”

Harry presses into the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he chuckles, dimples winking awake and eyes glimmering all at once. “S’easy, really, when you look like that. It makes me horny—”

“Everything makes you horny.”

“—but I’m still a gentleman.”

A low hum echoes from Y/N’s throat as she opens her underwear drawer, surveilling the contents before she begins to rummage for what she’s looking for. “Alright then. Would the gentleman be so kind as to step outside so I can finish getting ready?”

Y/N hears two quiet footsteps behind her before she can feel Harry’s cool breath on her neck, her damp skin prickling at the sensation.

“Do I really have to step outside?” He groans lowly as his lips graze the shell of Y/N’s ear temptingly, and she shivers when his teeth follow behind. “S’nothing I haven’t seen before.”

There’s a nagging temptation in the back of Y/N’s mind to twist around on her heel, drop her towel to the ground, give into Harry’s half-hypnotic seduction, and let him drag her back to her bed to take care of the heat that’s beginning to swell between her thighs. But she knows she’s already pushing the seven P.M. deadline, and if she allows herself to take that detour, she’ll never make it on time.

“Yes.” She mumbles, suppressing a whine as Harry’s lips move to the pulse point on her neck, smudging open kisses down her heated skin. “I just need to do my makeup and get dressed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

A disappointed sigh rustles across the shell of her ear. “Alright.” Harry murmurs defeatedly, smudging one last kiss to her jugular before stepping back from her intoxicating cloud of flowers and sugar that, if the burn in the back of his throat is any indication, is doubly intense from her shower. “I’ll just be outside then, doll. Take your time.”

Y/N keeps her back to Harry, clutching her towel with a clenched hand until she hears the click of her bedroom door shutting behind him. She knows that if she looks at him again, and sees that stupidly suggestive smirk on his face, she’d give him whatever he wants— which, considering she’s already trying to do that by going to this dinner, is a bit of a problem. Once he’s gone, however, she’s free to heave an exhale of relief as she searches for the undergarments she’s pictured in her mind.

While Y/N was in the shower, she’d been trying to picture what she would wear with the expensive dress that Harry had purchased for her. She only has one strapless bra— a nude coloured cotton contraption, which she’d purchased at a Target last minute for a dinner party a neighbour had thrown back home a few years ago— and she didn’t think that pairing the cheap article with a Gucci dress was going to work. Some of her friends back home, however, had just mailed her a little care package earlier in the week, and one of the things they’d included was a strapless bustier with a note reading “Here’s to getting L.A.’d!” tucked inside. They’d meant it as a joke, of course, but as Y/N extracts the lace garment from her drawer, she sends a silent thank you to her friends and their strangely omniscient humour.

Y/N releases her grip on her towel, drying the rest of the dampness from her body quickly before tossing the fabric over the back of her closet door. After selecting a matching pair of black lace panties, Y/N slips the undergarments on, fidgeting with the bustier to get it to sit right.

A gentle knock echoes from the other side of her bedroom door just as she gets the clothing settled. “How’s it going in there, love?” Harry’s voice floats through the crack in the door, half muffled through the barrier. “Have you got the dress on yet?”

“Not yet,” Y/N calls back, sitting down at her vanity as she analytically surveys her makeup. “Patience is a virtue, Holmes, don’t you know that?”

On the other side of the door, Harry lets out a long sigh, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers along the inside of his elbow. “Yeah, well,” He leans his back against the door, sliding one ankle over the other as he lets the wood support his weight. “‘M not very virtuous, Watson. I think you can attest to that.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the wooden door, a smug smile peaking onto his lips as he hears the blood rush to Y/N’s cheeks from inside the room. “What?” He taunts, satisfaction laced into his accent. “Cat got your tongue?”

Pressing his head back against the wood to hear better, Harry is met with the sound of a makeup brush sweeping against Y/N’s silky skin, so quiet that human ears could never detect it. He focuses his attention a little harder to try and picture the steps of her getting ready routine as she performs them.

A rustling of fabric that sounds a lot like lace pricks his ears, taking his attention with it as Y/N grumbles a reply. “You’re such an ass.”

“Ah, nevermind, then. Tongue’s still there, and as sharp as ever, I see.” Harry chuckles lowly as he listens to the nearly silent stroking of mascara over Y/N’s lashes.

He likes that, he realizes, as he raises one hand from its crossed position to rub over his pillowy lips while he waits. He likes hearing the muted sounds of Y/N getting ready— the bristling of makeup brushes against her skin, the hushed hums that leave her mouth as she debates over what colours to use on her eyelids, the muffled spritz of her perfume bottle against her neck. The notes of poppies and vanilla mix with her natural scent of lavender and honey, and Harry’s eyelids flutter when the fragrance rolls under the door and envelops him completely.

It takes a harsh bite of his tongue and digging his fingernails into his clenched palms for Harry to restrain the moan fighting to break through his tightened jaw. Months ago, when he first smelled Y/N in that club, he’d sworn that she smelled more delicious than any aroma he’d ever encountered, but now… Harry wants to laugh at the naivety of his past self, and probably would, if unclenching his jaw didn’t mean letting a growl fall from his throat. Now, he’s convinced Y/N’s scent is an aphrodisiac created just for him. All it takes is one small inhale, and his entire body responds. Even now, as he presses his pounding head back against the panel, he can feel his mouth flooding with venom, his abdomen tightening, and a subtle throb beginning to bulge his—

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice breaks through the cloud of arousal dulling Harry’s senses. “Can you help me zip up the dress?”

The vampire swallows the excess venom in his mouth in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He replies, his voice strained as he struggles to regain control of himself. He clutches the door handle in his icy hand, pushing the barrier open with restrained strength. “Yeah, I can.”

When he steps into the room, he expects to see Y/N facing the door, her hands clutching the loose dress to her chest the way she’d clutched her towel earlier. For a moment, there’s a flicker of excitement in Harry’s belly that beats back the desire rolling around inside him. He’s been waiting to see her in his dress for only a day, but it feels like an eternity, and he pastes a charming smile onto his face as he lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s.

What he’s greeted with, however, is the smooth expanse of the girl’s exposed back, a clear line of tantalizing skin running from the nape of her neck to the curve just below her backside, only broken up by a thick band of black lace with satin ribbing.

While he was able to control himself in the hallway, the inside of Y/N’s bedroom— with her mouthwatering scent surrounding him and her exposed skin in his line of sight— is an entirely different story. Harry can feel the way his canopy green eyes darken, and it’s a good thing Y/N is facing the wall, or else she’d see the shards of crimson that he can’t stop from flitting across his irises. With every step he takes towards the human, he becomes more aware of just how mortal she is— how her heart pounds louder with each passing moment, the shallowness of her breathing as he gets closer, the heat radiating off of every inch of her skin. Even with his centuries of experience behind him, it’s nearly too much for Harry, whose every instinct is screaming at him to lock the door and ravage the girl in front of him in every way he can.

Harry doesn’t stop walking until the front of his chest brushes against Y/N’s back and his breath is hitting her neck. He unhurriedly skims his palms over her bare shoulders, feeling the goosebumps that form underneath his icy touch as his hands run down her arms and back up again.

“This…” His voice is thick with desire as one hand travels down the trail of Y’N’s spine, eliciting a shiver from her before grazing the edge of the black lace. “This is new. I haven’t seen this before.”

“I…” Y/N’s speech falters as she feels Harry’s freezing digits trail down the small of her back as his other hand continues to stroke across her shoulder, barely touching the base of her neck with each movement. “I got it from my friends back home. They, um—” She sucks in a harsh breath as Harry’s hand inches its way towards her throat. “They sent me a package.”

Harry hums low in her ear, the sound vibrating throughout her body before settling in her warming tummy. “Did they? How thoughtful.” With his palm finally at her neck, he squeezes it once, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her jugular as his lips brush against the top of her ear. “I should send them a thank you note.”

The feeling of Y/N swallowing beneath his grip sends another wave of desire crashing over Harry, and he bites back a low growl as the fingertips of his other hand find the golden Gucci emblem zipper at the back of her dress. When he does, he tugs the metal tag up slowly, the sound of the zip barely audible over Y/N’s ragged breathing.

“S’a shame, really.” Harry murmurs in her ear, letting his teeth graze her earlobe just hard enough to catch her breath. “A crying shame.”

“What—” Y/N’s heart pounds out of her chest as Harry squeezes her neck once more, applying just a smidge more pressure than he did previously. “What’s a shame?”

Harry’s lips trail down her jaw, smearing a single kiss along the dip where it curves to meet her neck. His fingers squeeze her one last time before releasing. “That this pretty little piece your friends sent you is going to end up ripped to shreds on my bedroom floor.”

The blunt reply incites a squeak of surprise from Y/N as Harry tugs the zipper completely to the top of the dress, settling the seam flat against her flushed back before stepping away.

“Fits like a glove.” Harry murmurs as his hands return to his sides, fixing the fall of his own suit that was disturbed during his previous actions. He raises a single finger and makes a twirling motion as he dimples a smirk the human girl can’t see. “Give me a twirl, will you, dove?”

Y/N inhales a deep breath as steadily as she can, using the moment to calm her racing pulse before turning around to face Harry with a flustered complexion.

The dress, made of black satin, has a sweetheart neckline that sits off her shoulders, and hugs tight to the curves of her body all the way down to the hem, which sits just above her knees. It could be considered conservative, really, if it weren’t for the leg slit running so far up her thigh that Y/N is a little worried about flashing her underwear every time she takes a step.

Harry, however, seems to share none of those concerns, as he hungrily drinks in the sight of her with a satisfied grin and lust swirling through his jade irises. She’s kept her makeup fairly neutral, save for the bold red lipstick adorning her lips, and while Harry feels a prick of sadness at the realization that he’ll have difficulty kissing her throughout the evening, the idea of smearing said lipstick across her face afterwards erases the feeling completely. And the dress… “Y’look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, angel.” He hums lowly, rubbing his thumb over his lionhead ring absentmindedly. “So much better than Adam did, and without all the complaining, too.”

Y/N stares at her lover with a blank expression “What—?”

“Does it feel alright?” Harry strides around the mortal girl, examining the fall of the fabric with a keen eye. “I took a guess on your size, though I think I did pretty well. I've licked every inch of your body to the point where I practically have it memorized, so it was relatively easy.” He gives her a cheeky grin as his hand grazes her waist. “But Gucci sizing can be a bit tricky.”

“It— yeah. It feels alright.” Y/N tugs on the hem of the dress as she feels heat crackle across her ears, shooting him an accusing stare as she touches the thigh slit. “This is a little much, but other than that…”

“That’s my favourite detail, actually.” Harry laughs lightly as he walks to her bed, taking a seat on the edge before reaching for the Louboutin box. “But it’ll feel a lot more natural once you have the heels on.”

“Uh, yeah, about those…” Y/N eyes the offending shoes as Harry extracts them from the packaging, doubt painting itself all over her face. “Those look like six inch deathtraps, and I don’t really trust something that uses a ribbon to attach itself to my ankle, so I think I’ll take a raincheck on the heels. I have some flats I can wear instead.”

Harry scoffs, a snort echoing from the back of his throat as he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine, love. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You may not trust the shoes, but you can trust me, can’t you?” He unravels the ribbon from one of the shoes and pats his knee expectantly. “C’mere. I’ll make sure I tie them nice and tight, yeah?”

Y/N nearly chews on her bottom lip before she remembers the lipstick she’d carefully applied earlier. “Alright.” She relents, walking over and lifting her foot to rest on his bent knee. “But if I snap my ankle in half, you’re paying my hospital bill.”

“And I would do so gladly, except it won’t be necessary.” A quiet chuckle rolls out of Harry’s lips as he grips her calf gently, fitting her foot into the sole of the heel with one smooth motion. Once it’s sitting nicely, Harry diligently wraps the satin ribbon around her ankle, stopping midway up her calf before tying it tightly into a neat bow. “See? Nice and secure, darling. You’ll be alright.”

Y/N’s cheeks boil as Harry presses a single kiss to the slope of her knee before setting her foot gently on the ground. “Next one, please.” He smiles up at her with a twinkle in his sea glass eyes.

That twinkle, however, darkens the moment Y/N hikes her other bare foot onto his knee, gripping his shoulder for support as she teeters on one heel. The leg that she’s lifting is the side of the dress with the thigh slit, and she can tell from the expression on Harry’s face that he has quite the view.

Just like he did previously with the zipper, Harry takes his time slipping Y/N’s foot into the second stiletto. He trails his fingers all the way up her calf and back down before reaching for the ribbon, and is more meticulous in his motions as he ties the satin around her calf.

Y/N swivels on her other foot as she tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders, fisting the fabric of his suit between her fingers. “Thanks, H.” She clears her throat as Harry’s cool hands keep their grip on her lower leg, massaging the muscle beneath his fingers with careful and concise motions. “That’s, um, that’s good, I think.”

Harry hums in response, letting her know he’s registered her words, but he doesn’t release her from his grip. Instead, he bends at his hips, making sure that Y/N can still grasp him for support as he connects his lips to the smooth skin of her calf.

He smudges his mouth all along the area up to her knee, each kiss sloppy and open-mouthed as he inhales more and more of her intense fragrance. His nose nudges along the tender and dimpled flesh of her thigh, her scent growing stronger the higher Harry gets, and it burns his aching throat with lust and thirst. He can feel the heat radiating from her core, and he wants nothing more than to burrow his face between her legs and lose himself completely in her taste. But he’s already come so far, and put so much work into this night; he can’t let it all go to waste because his self-control is particularly weak at this moment.

With that in mind, he sucks in another long breath, sponging one last kiss to the top of Y/N’s kneecap. “Does it all fit nicely?” He asks, voice gravelly with desire as he squeezes her calf. “The dress, the shoes… is it all alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” Y/N whispers, releasing the fabric of Harry’s jacket before it creases, smoothing it with her palms. “It all fits good.”

“Mmm. Perfect.” His lips twitch against her skin as he drags another searing breath into his lungs. “Anything I give you always fits so fucking good.”

Another flash of heat rises to Y/N’s cheeks, and she nods weakly in response, not trusting her ability to form words. A quiet hum is the only comprehensible noise she can manage. “Mhmm.”

Harry straightens up the slightest bit, giving her an expectant look as he releases the grip of one hand on her calf to lightly touch the shell of his pierced ear. “Sorry, pet. Didn’t hear you quite clearly.” He says, his voice taking on a sterner tone. “Did you agree?”

Although embarrassment begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine, it quickly mixes with irritation. She knows what he’s getting at, and she can’t afford to let herself give in. “Yeah.” She mumbles, keeping her response as short as she can.

Despite the edge beginning to creep into Y/N’s voice, Harry can’t stop himself from pressing the matter. He never can, really, when he’s in a mood like this. When his mouth is filled with venom, when his head is throbbing so much that he can hear a steady drumbeat vibrating through his skull. He can’t stop.

“M’gonna need to hear you say it, I’m afraid.” He raises his ringed hand to the human girl’s chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger as he regards her with a firm and conceited gaze. “Speak up, minx. I know you have no issue with being loud.”

All it takes is that one reminder for all of Y/N’s resolve to fall away, her entire body flooding with warmth as she lets out a trembling sigh. She swallows the weight in her throat down as much as she can, pinning her eyes to where Harry is gripping her calf with a strong hand. “Everything you give me always fits so good.” She whispers, her voice higher than it was a moment before.

Harry squeezes the backside of her knee once. “Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Y/N’s entire body feels as if it’s on fire as sweat begins to bead across her forehead, but her mouth is as dry as a desert. She swallows thickly once more, gathering all the composure she can muster. “Everything—” Her voice cracks once, and she clears her throat as Harry’s thumb sweeps across her chin in an encouraging manner. “Everything you give me always fits so good.”

When she completes the task, Harry gropes her knee once more, but this time the action is a show of satisfaction rather than demand. He trails his fingers up her bent leg to her thigh, only stopping to dig his fingertips into the crease where her backside begins to plump. “That’s my good girl.”

Delicately setting Y/N’s heeled foot back on the ground, Harry rises from the bed, both of her hands grasped in his own to help her remain steady. Once he’s eye level with his lover once again, he leans forward and stamps a chaste kiss onto her forehead, his lips already tugging into a small grin before he pulls away.

“Y’ready to go, then?” He questions casually, smoothing the thumb of his right hand over her knuckles as his left hand snags the Gucci clutch from the bed, along with Y/N’s phone. He unclaps the clutch and settles the phone into its silk lining before handing the bag to the human girl.

Y/N clears her throat once more as she takes a shaky step towards her vanity, grabbing the lipstick she’d applied before and tossing it into the bag, clasping it shut with a final snap. “I suppose so.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she shoots Harry a nervous glance. “I might need you to carry me down the stairs of my building, though.”

Harry laughs once as he grabs the overnight bag he’d packed with one hand and reclaims Y/N’s left hand in the other. “Don’t worry, pet. I’ll make sure Cinderella doesn’t lose a shoe. Or break an ankle.”

“Thanks, Prince Charming.”

“Considering I’m the one that got the dress, I think the Fairy Godmother role fits just a smidge better.”

///

Although it takes careful steps, more than a few stumbles, and Harry’s hand wrapped securely around her waist, Y/N manages to make it down the multiple flights of stairs in her apartment building to Harry’s car waiting below. After the ten minute car ride into downtown L.A., the majority of which is spent with Harry’s hand sitting perfectly still on Y/N’s exposed thigh, the vampire pulls the car in front of a large restaurant with a line of well-dressed parties winding down the sidewalk.

The restaurant itself, Bella Vita, is one that Y/N’s heard of in passing, but has never experienced firsthand herself, probably because it holds a reputation for being the premier Italian restaurant in all of Los Angeles. Shock covers her features as she stares out the car window at the grand glass double doors, but only for a moment; after all, could she have expected anything less from Harry, who seems to indulge in luxuries the way most people do chocolate?

When the passenger side door swings open, the surprise returns as Y/N glances up and sees a blonde man she doesn’t know dressed in a suit holding the door open. The breast of his outfit is embroidered with the restaurant name, but it’s not until Harry, who has already vacated the driver’s side and is behind him, flips the valet his keys.

“Thanks, mate.” Thinly veiled irritation works its way through Harry’s voice as he steps in front of the valet, clapping his large hand over the employee’s shoulder. “I got it from here.”

The valet nods curtly, releasing his grip on the door as Harry extends his hand to Y/N. The mortal girl grasps it within her own, eager to receive the help he offers as she swings her exposed legs out of the low car and onto the ground.

“There we go, love.” Harry’s voice softens as he pulls her to stand, giving her a moment to find her balance on her own before sliding his arm around her hips. “Y’alright?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N nods in confirmation as she folds her arms in front of her body, grasping the Gucci clutch in tight hands while she appraises the packed high-end restaurant. “I see why you insisted on the dress now.”

A low laugh rumbles from Harry’s chest as he shuts the car door with his free hand. “I told you, you need to trust me more. Have a little faith.” He extends his palm towards the valet, shaking his hand quickly and smoothly while sliding him a bill. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo retracts his hand from Harry’s icy grasp with another respectful nod of his head, slipping the bill into the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, Mr. Styles. Enjoy your dinner.”

Y/N watches as the valet hurries to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in and starting the engine with ease as Harry begins to lead Y/N to the door.

“So…” She quirks an eyebrow as Harry confidently bypasses the long line of people waiting to be seated. “You’re Mr. Styles here, are you? Do you come here that often?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, releasing his grip on Y/N’s waist to open the large glass door for her. “Every once in a while, I suppose.” He quips, the answer as non-committal as most things Harry says. Once Y/N steps into the restaurant, the vampire follows closely behind, clutching her warm hand in his own as he leans down to whisper in her ear. “But I wouldn’t say it’s too often—”

“Harry!”

An older man that looks to be in his mid-seventies emerges from behind the corner, dressed in a fine suit and with an animated grin on his tan, weathered face. He waves off the host at the stand who had been about to approach the two new guests, his arms already outstretched towards Harry.

“Vincenzo!” Harry responds with equal enthusiasm as he lets go of Y/N’s hand to clutch Vincenzo’s between his palms. He leans forward and pecks two air kisses onto the employee’s cheeks as the older man does the same. “È così bello rivederti. Come stai?” It’s so nice to see you again. How are you?

Y/N’s eyes widen in utter shock at the fluent Italian that easily slips from Harry’s ruby lips, watching as Vincenzo takes a step back from him with the same excitement as when he first turned the corner.

“Sto bene, grazie. È meraviglioso anche vederti.” I’m well, thank you. It’s wonderful to see you, too. Vincenzo’s attention lists over Harry’s shoulder to Y/N, who is still standing behind him with her mouth half open in bewilderment.

“Grazie ancora per aver riorganizzato la prenotazione per noi.” Thank you again for rearranging the reservation for us. Harry reaches back and intertwines his fingers with Y/N’s again as another Italian phrase slips off his tongue with practiced ease. “Ti devo un favore.” I owe you a favour.

“Te l'ho già detto, non mi devi niente. Gli amici aiutano gli amici.” I’ve already told you, you don’t owe me anything. Friends help friends. Vincenzo raises an eyebrow as he gestures to Y/N, who’s still a half step behind Harry as he carries out the conversation. “A proposito di ... chi è questo, Harry?” Speaking of… Who is this, Harry?

“Perdonami, sono stato scortese.” Forgive me, I’ve been rude. Letting go of Y/N’s hand, Harry drifts his palm to the small of Y/N’s back, rubbing his thumb over the satin of her dress as he gently guides her forward for a proper introduction. “Vincenzo, sono Y/N, la mia ... amica. Y/N, questo è Vincenzo, il titolare del ristorante.” Vincenzo, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my… friend. Y/N, this is Vincenzo Genovesi, the owner of the restaurant.

Y/N’s ears prick up when she hears her name, and she smiles shyly in greeting at the older man. “Hi.” She wants to offer a more formal presentation, but is unsure if he speaks English or not, so she simply extends her hand to shake his.

Vincenzo’s smile grows as he grasps her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and planting an innocent kiss to her skin before taking a polite step back. “È così bello conoscerti. Sei così bello!”

With a gentle squeeze to her love handles, Harry lowers his mouth to Y/N’s ear, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin as he speaks. “He says it’s lovely to meet you, and that you’re very beautiful.” He translates, and Y/N can feel the way he’s smiling into her hair.

A shiver rolls down her spine as his cool breath meets her neck, but she manages to ignore the sensation, and instead sends a grateful smile in Vincenzo’s direction. “Oh… Thank you. Grazie.” She tacks on, and although she tries her best to mimic Harry’s Italian accent, the way the immortal’s body tenses against her side as he represses a laugh tells her that she didn’t pass the test.

Vincenzo, however, waves off Harry’s amused expression, flipping his hand airily in his direction before taking Y/N’s again. She finds out that he indeed does speak English, and it comes out with a thick accent that holds so much genuine kindness, she immediately takes a strong liking to the aged gentleman. “Wipe that grin off your face, cretino, at least she’s trying!” He pats Y/N’s hand reassuringly, shaking his head with a disappointed scoff. “The last time he brought someone here, they spent the entire time doing a Godfather impression. And it wasn’t even a good one!”

“How many times do I have to apologize for bringing Niall until you let me forget it?” Harry sighs in exasperation, his hand snaking around Y/N tighter than before. “I’ve already forbidden him from coming back.”

Shaking his head with a hearty laugh, Vincenzo pats Y/N’s hand once more before stepping back to the host stand and grabbing two leather-bound menus from the shelf. “I will never forget, Harry. But don’t worry; I’ve still reserved your favourite table in the back of the restaurant. Come, bella donna,” He tucks the menus underneath his arm as he gently loops Y/N’s arm through his own, tugging her from Harry’s grasp as he begins to lead her away from the entrance. “Let me escort you to the table, yes?”

Y/N allows Vincenzo to lead her, but glances over her shoulder to meet Harry’s amused gaze as he trails behind them, large hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as his eyebrows poise teasingly. The table in question, she discovers, is tucked away in a private corner of the restaurant, framed by a plethora of flora and candles that reflect back on the stone walls.

Although Vincenzo releases her arm to retract Y/N’s chair, Harry beats him to it, pulling the seat out smoothly and waiting until Y/N is seated comfortably to push the back of it in. He brushes his cool hand over her shoulder, nudging a loose curl away from her bare neck while offering her a dimpled smile.

As Harry takes his own seat across from her, the older Italian man gives him a knowing look, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Solo un amica, eh?” Just a friend, eh?

The vampire half rolls his eyes, nodding his head slightly as he lays the cloth napkin over his thigh, voice stubbornly flat. “Sì. Solo un amica.” Yes. Just a friend.

Vincenzo sets a menu down before each of them, clicking his tongue in unconvinced disbelief. “Non guardi un amica come l'hai appena guardata.” You don’t look at a friend the way you just looked at her.

Flipping his menu open with disinterest, Harry makes a bored sound in the back of his throat, waving off Vincenzo with a leisurely gesture. “Vorrei la carta dei vini, Vincenzo, non la tua opinione non richiesta.” I’d like the wine list, Vincenzo, not your unsolicited opinion.

A laugh echoes from the older man’s belly as he shakes his head in amusement, taking a step away from the table. “Certo, Signor Styles. Lo farò portare subito dal cameriere.” Certainly, Mr. Styles. I’ll have the waiter bring it right away.

Turning his attention back to Y/N, Vincenzo takes her hand and kisses it once more. “Bella donna,” He begins, heaving a long sigh. “It was lovely to meet you. And if this one ever gives you trouble,” he gestures to Harry with a nod, giving her a playfully wink, “I have five grandsons that would die for the opportunity to dine with a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Harry’s face hardens at the comment, but Y/N laughs at the joke, squeezing Vincenzo’s hand before releasing it. “Thank you, Vincenzo. It was so nice to meet you… Next time I come, you’ll have to teach me some Italian.” She adds, glancing at Harry as the curiosity of what they discussed before burns a hole in her belly.

The moment Vincenzo leaves the pair to their own devices, the mortal girl leans forward, the inquiry already falling off her lips. “Speaking of Italian…” She runs her finger around the stem of her empty wine glass, cocking her head to the side. “What were you and Vincenzo talking about?”

Harry waves off her question just as he did Vincenzo’s comments. “Nothing important. Don’t worry,” a sly grin works its way onto his lips as he smoothly changes the subject, “he wasn’t offering to set me up with his granddaughters, if that’s what you were worried about. It seems he only wants you in the family.”

“Who wouldn’t? I’m a delight.” Y/N remarks, a wry smile raising the corners of her lips. “But seriously, Harry— where did you learn to speak fluent Italian?”

The answer rolls off his tongue as easily as the language did. “Italy.” He states simply, as if it should be obvious.

And it’s not a lie; he really did learn in Italy. It just happened to be during the early 1900s, when he had been bouncing around between Florence, Venice, and Rome. He’d liked Italy, actually, and would’ve stayed there longer, but then an Archduke was assassinated, and Harry had to return to Britain to fight in what was then called “the War To End All Wars.” Harry had figured that he might as well, given that he could shrug off bullet wounds as easily as a knick, and could use his blood to help heal other soldiers when travesties struck. The Italian, it turned out, had come in handy as he fought his way through Europe, but considering the bloody conditions under which he did so, Harry much prefers using it to woo a lovely girl in an expensive restaurant.

“Italy.” Y/N repeats the word in a deadpan voice, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back in her chair, kinking an eyebrow stubbornly. “When were you in Italy?”

Ah, Harry thinks, habitually rubbing his thumb over his ruby lips. It seems a little white lie is necessary. “During uni. I did a semester abroad.”

For a moment, he thinks that Y/N doesn’t buy the fib. Her other eyebrow quirks upwards to meet its partner, but her gaze remains as suspicious as it has been since she first asked the question. When she finally opens her mouth to speak, there’s a small, irrational part of Harry that thinks she might prod for more.

“What do you mean, ‘a semester abroad’?” She questions, and Harry is about to over-explain when her posture suddenly relaxes, her arms returning to her sides as an easygoing laugh falls from her mouth, a seemingly entertaining realization dawning on her. “Wait, you grew up in England! You already lived abroad!”

A breathless and relieved chuckle rolls out of Harry as his shoulders drop, the tension rolling out of him as he leans forward. “I suppose that’s true, hm?” He hums, reaching for Y/N’s warm hand and tugging it onto the table to intertwine her fingers with his own. “I really just went a few doors down the neighborhood, didn’t I?”

“You really did.” Y/N sighs wistfully, drifting her thumb over the back of Harry’s knuckle without a second thought. “I’m jealous, though. I wish I had gone away for school, even just to a different state. I could’ve been living in Washington, or Oregon, or New York. It would’ve been so nice.”

The corners of Harry’s lips weigh down into a frown as he considers the possibilities laced into the comment. “I suppose, but…” He casts his gaze towards their knitted hands. Hers looks so much smaller wrapped inside his. “If you did, then you might not have moved to L.A. And then we wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, Mr. Styles, Miss Y/L/N.” A waiter that Harry hasn’t met before appears beside the table with a wine menu clasped in one hand and a basket of bread in the other.

The server is younger than others Harry has seen before, but Harry knows Vincenzo hires his staff carefully, and that he wouldn’t send anyone too inexperienced to take care of Harry. From the sweat beading his brow, the vampire can tell that Vincenzo has given the waiter a speech about Harry’s status with the restaurant owner, and the thought brings a small spark of satisfaction to him. However, that satisfaction disappears the moment he sees the waiter’s eyes linger on Y/N a moment longer than needed. He nods kindly to both of them, but the immortal can’t evade the small spark of irritation that zips down his spine at the employee’s subtle interest in his companion. Shifting in his seat, Harry tightens his grasp on Y/N’s hand, but keeps his demeanor neutral and polite. It’s not like he can blame the poor boy, really. Not when Y/N’s silky lips are sheathed in such a breathtaking shade of red.

“My name is Luca, and I’ll be your server for tonight.” He shifts his attention back to Harry as he sets the bread basket on the table before extending the small leatherbound menu to him. “Here’s the wine list you asked for, Mr. Styles. I’ll give you some time to look it over, and then I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”

Although his right hand is closer to the server, Harry reaches for the menu with his left in order to maintain his grasp on Y/N’s. “Thank you, Luca. I appreciate it.”

Luca nods once as he takes a step back from the table, clasping his hands behind his back. “Prego, signore.” You’re welcome, sir.

Harry’s eyebrow jolts up in mild surprise. “Oh, parli italiano?” Oh, you speak Italian? He asks, the flip in language gliding down his tongue without so much as a second thought. Harry hadn’t expected it, given that the young man’s natural accent is as American as can be.

Pausing on the ball of his foot, Luca nods as colour begins to rise to his cheeks. “Sì, signore, la mia famiglia è italiana. Mia nonna mi ha insegnato a parlarlo quando ero giovane.” Yes, sir, my family is Italian. My grandmother taught me to speak it when I was very young.

“Tua nonna è una signora molto intelligente, allora.” Your grandmother is a very smart lady, then. Harry’s mind drifts back to his own upbringing, when his mother would gather him and his sister around the table on Sunday nights, reading them Latin passages by candlelight. The memory brings a sad smile to his face. “Grazie per il menu. Lo daremo un'occhiata.” Thank you for the menu. We’ll take a look at it.

Luca nods again, but there’s hesitation in the motion as his eyes drift to Y/N once more, flickering from her own gaze back down to her crimson lips. “Is there anything I can get you before I go, miss? Some water, perhaps?”

Y/N sends a bright smile to the young man, nodding her head as a strand of her curled hair loosens from its pin. “Yes, please. And thank you.”

“Due acque, Luca.” Two waters, Luca. Harry interjects, clearing his throat quietly as he catches the human boy’s eye, giving a curt jut of his chin that signals he’s done ordering for the time being. “Grazie.”

Y/N reaches for the basket of bread the moment Luca has scurried away, her eyes lighting up as she hears the first slice crackle open. “Ooh, garlic bread.” She thrums happily as she takes a small bite while being mindful of her red lipstick, setting the rest of the bread on her side plate as she chews slowly and indulges the flurry of delicious flavors. She talks lightly over a semi-full mouth, careful as to not give Harry an unpleasant eyeful. “So what’s on the menu for drinks? I’m assuming you’re, like, an expert on wine, right?”

Harry’s lips twitch as he bites back a laugh at the hint of annoyance in her voice. “What makes you say that?”

“You shop Gucci like it’s Target, you speak Italian, you’re a regular at this place…” Y/N’s eyes sweep over their private corner of the restaurant before sending a teasing glance to Harry. “Being a sommelier on the side just seems like something to add to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at.”

Despite the small jab, a satisfied smile settles on Harry’s lips as he squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You really are good at stroking my ego, aren’t you, dove? I suppose we can add that to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at?”

The familiar comment brings Y/N back to the night the two of them met, in a dark and deafening club that’s the complete opposite of their current location. She twists her fingers within Harry’s, flipping their hands to examine his palm as memories float through her mind like movie scenes. How Harry had looked when he first walked over, the soothing and seductive tone of his voice, how she’d done her best to match his flirtatious compliments… how he’d kissed her in his car before taking her back to her apartment. She should’ve known then, Y/N thinks, that she wouldn’t have been able to let someone like Harry be just a one night stand.

“I guess I’ll allow you to add it.” Y/N murmurs teasingly as she clasps their hands together once more. “But, unfortunately for me, wine knowledge is not on that list, so… you pick something. I trust your taste.”

“Alright, then. No pressure for me.” Harry jokes, snapping his gaze from her hypnotizing irises to peruse the menu once more. “Would you like red, white, or rosé?”

The human hums as she considers the question, pursing her lips in thought, as if the answer she gives is life or death. “Red, I think.” She replies, watching as Harry’s brow furrows in thought while shifting his eyes to the red wine list.

A moment later, Luca appears again with two glasses of ice water balanced on a tray, which he sets down on the table before each of them. While both of them offer a murmur of thanks, it’s only Y/N’s show of gratitude that incites a darkening of his cheeks.

Another thread of irritation flares down Harry’s spine, but he forces himself to dampen it down with a reminder that if he were the one waiting on Y/N— rather than being the one sitting across from her— he’d probably be doing the exact same thing. “Penso che abbiamo preso una decisione, Luca.” I think we’ve made a decision, Luca. He says with a tight smile, snapping the wine menu shut and handing it back to the young man. “Prendiamo due bicchieri del tuo cabernet sauvignon, per favore.” We’ll have two glasses of your cabernet sauvignon, please.

Luca nods as he accepts the menu, his eyes flickering to Y/N’s ruby lips yet again. That’s three times in the last ten minutes...not that the vampire’s counting or anything.

“Ovviamente. Li prendo per te che scrivi.” Of course. I’ll get those for you right away. The server answers politely before tucking the menu under his arm and hurrying off.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Y/N says the moment the waiter is gone, her eyes alight with amusement as she pulls her hand from Harry’s to take a sip of her ice water. “But I can’t ignore it.”

Clearing his throat as he reaches for a slice of garlic bread, Harry slinks his head to the side before answering. “Ignore what?” He asks offhandedly, taking a bite of his bread and chewing it slowly. Had Luca’s fascination with her crimson smile not gone unnoticed? Or had Harry’s aggravation begun to show on his face?

“The Italian.” Y/N admits, setting her glass down and sitting forward as she rests her bent elbows on the table, propping her head upon her interlocked fingers. “I feel a bit left out, and, truthfully, a little jealous. I want to learn.”

A playful laugh echoes from Harry’s throat as he taps a ringed finger against the table. “I can’t exactly teach you an entire language over one dinner, sweetheart. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Hm. I know. It’s tragic.” Y/N sighs, giggling quietly at the way Harry’s laughter cuts off completely and is replaced with a wounded sound of protest. “But what about some important phrases? Just so I’m not in the dark all evening while you play Roman Holiday?”

Harry prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright. Why don’t we start with Mi dispiace?”

“Mi dispiace.” Y/N repeats slowly, trying her best to wrap her red lips around the Italian diction. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘I’m sorry’, which one could say in reference to, oh, I don’t know…” Harry shrugs lightly, matching the motion with a theatrical dejected sigh. “Insinuating that your date is without certain… talents?”

Although Y/N laughs again, she reaches across the table and wraps her hand around Harry’s, trying to tamp down the mirth in her voice when she replies. “Mi dispiace.” She repeats again, giving Harry her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“That’s passable, I suppose.” Harry props his chin up in his palm, rubbing his thumb over his pillowy lips in thought. “And then we have ti perdono— I forgive you.”

“How kind of you, Mr. Styles.” Y/N simpers, biting her tongue between her teeth to hold back more sounds of glee. “Give me another one.”

Harry regards her with a thoughtful air, his hand sliding from his mouth to his hair to tug on his styled curls before traveling back down to rest on the table. His voice comes out a tad deeper, a vein of sultriness running beneath it that she just barely detects. “Sei molto bella con quel vestito.”

One of the words tweaks Y/N’s memory from earlier, but she still traces a finger over Harry’s initial rings as she locks eyes with him expectantly. “What does that mean?”

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Harry peers at her through his thick lashes as he encircles his free hand around the stem of his water glass. “You look very beautiful in that dress.”

A pleasurable flush rolls through Y/N’s belly at the compliment. No matter how many times Harry pays her a positive comment, she somehow always still feels a rush with each word that falls from his soft lips. “Thank you.” She mumbles shyly, tucking her thumb between Harry’s ring and pinkie finger. “I mean— grazie.”

“Try saying it back to me.” Despite the encouraging words that are said under the guise of teaching, there’s an undercurrent of command that turns the satisfaction in Y/N’s tummy to anticipation. “Molto bella.”

The mortal’s eyes flicker between Harry’s own emerald irises and his mouth as he curls a ringed finger over her hand, stroking the icy digit over her heated skin. “Molto bella.” She repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fantastico, tesoro.” The praise slips easily from his lips as he lets himself bask in the warmth her flesh brings to his.

“‘Tesoro’,” Y/N repeats, a tinge of confusion settling onto her face. “What does that mean?”

“It’s, uh,” Harry scoffs to himself in realization, unaware he had even let the term fall from his mouth. “It— well, it means ‘treasure,’ but it’s kind of the Italian equivalent of ‘darling’.”

The vampire can hear the way Y/N’s heartbeat spikes, sending a new wave of blood to warm her cheeks. “That—” The human girl mimics the way he’d cleared his earlier as she reaches for her water glass. “That’s pretty.”

“It is, yeah. You’ll probably be hearing it often.” Harry continues to drag the pad of his finger down the ridges of his lover’s knuckles as a fond smile crescents his Cupid’s bow. “And here’s another one you’ll be hearing often— piegarsi.”

Y/N pauses with her water raised halfway to her lips. “And what does that one mean?”

Harry waits until her mouth has reached the rim of the glass and she’s taken a sip of ice water. “Bend over.”

The response is instantaneous, just as he’d imagined. The mortal chokes on her water, coughing up a storm as she quickly lowers the drink from her mouth, half bending over the table and yanking her hand from his as her cheeks light with fire. “Harry!” She gasps once she regains her breath, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else at the restaurant overheard his lewd statement.

“What?” He asks innocently, but quickly gives into snickering, his body curling over the table as he cackles. “I’m not wrong! You really will be hearing it often, so you should know what it means!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to say it in public!” Y/N exclaims hotly, shooting him a look of irritated disbelief that’s exaggerated to hide the boiling that’s working its way into her stomach.

Still chuckling every few moments, Harry reaches for her hand once again, interlocking their fingers and bringing her palm to his mouth. “Alright,” He kisses her heated palm while gazing at her through half lidded eyes. “Alright, I’m sorry. Mi dispiace, tesoro.”

Y/N purses her painted lips, but sighs in defeat after a few moments of Harry’s moony eyes boring into her own. “Fine. I forgive you. Ti perdono.”

Although the annoyance has faded from Y/N’s complexion, Harry still keeps her hand flushed to his lips, stamping kisses to a new area of skin with unpatterned frequency. He’s not certain if her warmth is just her or the residual embarrassment, but he doesn’t care. It’s just nice, he thinks, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at Y/N from across the table. It’s comfortable.

“I have your glasses of cabernet sauvignon, Mr. Styles.” Luca interrupts from beside Harry, who had been so focused on the feeling of Y/N skin against his that he hadn’t noticed the waiter’s return.

Harry gently lowers Y/N’s hand from his mouth, setting her palm down on the table with care. “Grazie.” Harry says casually, straightening his posture to allow Luca to set the glasses down.

Y/N does the same, offering the young server a thankful smile once again. “Grazie.” Her voice rings sweetly from behind her lips, her confidence more stable thanks to Harry’s miniature Rosetta Stone lecture.

“Prego, signorina.” Luca matches the Italian easily, his eyebrows raising in hopeful shock. “Parli anche italiano?” Do you speak Italian, too?

The human girl’s eyes flick to Harry as her mouth falls open without sound, and the immortal reads the distress signal easily.

“No, lei non—” He cuts himself off in the middle of the address to Luca when he remembers that Y/N doesn’t like being spoken for. Harry redirects his attention back to her questioning eyes. “I mean— he asked if you speak Italian.”

Y/N gives Harry an appreciative smile before turning back to Luca, the expression turning apologetic. “No, I don’t. I wish I did, though.”

“It’s a fairly easy language to learn.” Luca tucks his tray underneath his arm as he regards the girl timidly. “And your accent is wonderful already.”

Harry hides his smirk behind his wine glass, stifling the laugh that’s threatening to sound. The server must be entranced by her beauty, he thinks, because that’s the most blatant lie Harry has heard in a long time.

Y/N, however, accepts the compliment with ease. “Thank you. It’s not true, but I appreciate the effort to be kind.”

The tips of Luca’s ears redden as he laughs breathlessly. “Are you, um, ready to order?”

“Oh, uh—” Y/N drops her gaze to the unopened menu in front of her before offering an rueful glance at the waiter. “I still need a few minutes, I think.”

“That’s alright, take your time. I’ll be back shortly.” Luca assures her, turning to Harry and giving one last nod of acknowledgement before leaving them again.

Despite already having the menu of the restaurant memorized, Harry slides the leatherbound cover open, dragging a ringed finger down the smooth pages as he feigns searching for a dish. “You know…” He flits his gaze to Y/N’s face as an amused grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “That’s really not fair of you.”

Y/N looks up from her own opened menu the moment Harry speaks, a bemused shadow falling over her face. “What’s not fair of me?”

Harry reaches for his wine glass as he laughs gently, shaking his head before taking a small sip of the smooth cabernet. “Being so charming to Luca. The poor boy looks like he’s going to pass out each time you speak to him.”

Her cherry lips curve into an exasperated smile as she rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what you mean.” She states, turning her attention back down to the cursive menu.

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Harry replies dryly, quirking an eyebrow as he sets his beverage back down on the table. “So you’re not noticing how his eyes are glued to your mouth every time you say something?”

“Nope,” Y/N pops her lips on the last consonant sound of the word as she reaches for her own wine glass. “Because it’s not happening. We’re just talking, H. He’s the waiter; he has to look at me.”

“Right.” Harry drags the word out, completely unconvinced. His own eyes glue to Y/N’s lips as they wrap around the edge of her glass, his throat growing slightly parched as he studies the way they curve in a manner that he deems practically flawless. “So do you think the way he’s staring at your tits is also in his job description, then?”

Y/N snorts at the snarky remark, lowering her glass to rest just in front of her chest. “You’re the one who picked out a dress with such a low neckline.” She unwraps her index finger from the wine glass to point it at him in an accusatory manner. “Why did you get it, then, if you didn’t want my tits out on display?”

Harry takes a swig of his own wine as he fights back a laugh at her bold statement. “Let me fill you in on a little secret, mi amore.” He says, lowering his voice and setting down his delicate glass with a muted thud. “The main reason I got it…” The vampire watches the way Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels the snakeskin tip of his boot brush against the back of her bare calf beneath the table. “Is because I’m curious to see what it would look like as a crumpled heap at the bottom of my staircase.”

The toe of his boot travels higher up her leg, circling around the bend of her knee before just barely grazing the soft flesh of her lower outer thigh. Y/N does her best to control her breathing, but the effort is in vain when the cold metal zipper presses against her dimpled skin.

“Harry…” His name leaves her crimson lips in a warning tone as she glances around the restaurant, eyeing the closest couple five tables away.

“‘M excited to see it later, y’know? Been thinking about ripping it off ever since I zipped you into it.” Harry drags the toe of his boot back down her leg, coasting it lightly against her ribbon-wrapped ankle in small and concise motions. “But I suppose I’ll just have to be a bit more patient. At least I’ll be seeing you like that; poor Luca could only dream of it.”

The human girl clears her throat quietly, taking another measured sip of her wine as she wills herself to steady. “The only thing poor about Luca is that he’s going to come back to the table and I still won’t know what I want.” She shifts her attention back to the open menu, ignoring the eye roll she receives from her lover across the table as she looks over the Italian in front of her. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

“Let me help, cara— which means, ‘dear,’ by the way.” Harry says in an amused voice, dropping his gaze to the cursive menu. “Do you want fish? Pasta? Red meat? Chicken?”

“Maybe pasta.” Y/N murmurs in reply, running a finger down the booklet page as she reads over the Italian descriptions. Her eyes catch the prices next to dishes, and she nearly gasps, but bites back the sound of surprise at the last moment.

“Alright…” Scanning down the pasta list, Harry bookmarks a few dishes he thinks Y/N may like. “You’d enjoy the ‘Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe’, I think.” He muses, rubbing a finger over his chin in thought. “Or the ‘Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto’. That’s kind of like pasta— it’s a potato dumpling, and you can choose if you want a meat or gorgonzola sauce.”

“That sounds good.” Y/N finds the mentioned items on the menu, her eyes sweeping over the Italian descriptions to try and pick out the words Harry mentioned. “I think I’ll go with the last one, with the gorgonzola sauce.” Taking a sip of her wine to seal her decision, Y/N poses a question to Harry. “What are you thinking of having?”

“I’m not sure…” Harry lifts his shoulder in a careless shrug as he continues to scan the menu. “I have a few favourites, and those are always solid choices. The lamb is quite good here; I haven’t had that in a while.”

As Harry peruses his decisions, Y/N begins to chew on the inside of her cheek, narrowly avoiding her habit of biting her lips and ruining the raspberry lacquer she’d painted on earlier as an idea forms in her head.

“Harry,” She begins, waiting until he raises his jade eyes to meet hers before continuing. “When Luca comes back over…” The girl chooses her words carefully, doing her best to voice her question in the most understandable way. “Could you order for me?”

Just as she suspected he might, Harry rests his menu back down against the table, giving his whole attention to Y/N as his brows furrow. “You want me to order for you?” He asks, confusion threaded through his accent as his mind flips back to their first date, when Y/N had nearly skinned him alive for attempting to do just that. “Why?”

She shifts in her seat under his hot gaze, her own eyes dropping to her lap as her cheeks sear. “It’s— It’s in Italian, so it’ll probably be easier if you say it.”

Harry shakes his head in disagreement as he tries to reassure his date. “No, doll, it’s alright if you say it in English. Luca will get it. And if worse comes to worse—” He cracks a smile, tapping a bejeweled finger against the booklet. “Y’can just point. He’ll get the gist.”

Despite the solutions offered, Y/N continues to shift around, her foot bumping against Harry’s boot as a soft sigh falls from her lips. She’d hoped Harry would’ve just accepted the request on her first try, but he seems determined not to repeat his mistake from their first date, which means Y/N has to get a lot more honest.

“No, H, I want…” She purses her lips as she twists her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, gently swirling the dark liquid inside. “I want you to order for me.”

The smile on his face darkens into a befuddled expression. “I mean, I can,” Harry says slowly, closing the menu and sliding it onto the table as he appraises the girl across from him. “But I’m a little confused on your reasoning. Last time I tried to order for you, you said I was trying to make decisions for you—”

“And you were,” Y/N can’t help but to defend herself, flashing a stormy look at Harry from beneath her lashes. “That’s why I’m telling you what I’d like now.”

Harry’s mouth gapes open as he stares at Y/N with a blank expression. A scoffing laugh finally falls from his lips as he shakes his head again, reaching for his wine and bringing the glass to his lips. “You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, d’you know that?”

Y/N lets a beat of silence fall between them as she rethinks her question and how best to phrase it in a way that still lets her feel like she’s living in the twenty-first century. “I mean I— you said that it was polite, right? At that brunch. Your mom taught you it was a sign of respect.” Her eyes fall to the opal ring sitting on his pinky, sparkling in the candlelight like it always does.

Harry lowers his glass, watching Y/N with a guarded gaze. “Yeah.” He murmurs, licking his lips once as he places his cup back on the table. “She did, yeah.”

“And you’ve gone to a lot of trouble tonight— the dress, the reservation, everything— and I just— I wanted to—” The more Y/N tries to articulate her thoughts, the more tangled her thoughts become, and she sucks in a harsh breath of frustration. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Although Harry has a suspicion about her meaning, he doesn’t try to finish her sentence. The last thing he wants to do is make Y/N feel like he’s trying to speak over her. “It’s alright.” He says instead, snaking his hand across the table to weave her fingers through his. “Take your time, tesoro.”

Heeding his advice, Y/N takes a moment to just focus on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers wrapped around hers, and allows her thoughts to gather themselves together on their own. When she tries again, her speech is hesitant, but less frustrated than before.

“I think I… understand you more now.” She mumbles the words, keeping her eyes glued to the shining stones that adorn Harry’s rings. “When you do things that I’m not used to… I know you’re doing them out of kindness, and not because you think I’m incapable.” Raising her stare to meet Harry’s entrancing emerald eyes, Y/N takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve done a lot to make me comfortable, and I appreciate it, so… I want to do something for you. It’s no Gucci dress—” Y/N laughs breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again as her intent flickers away from Harry’s own for just a moment before— to his relief— returning. “— but you were taught it was a sign of respect, like opening a door, or pulling out a chair. So if you want to order for me… you can.” She finishes in a quiet voice. “If you’d like to.”

A slow smile spreads over Harry’s strawberry lips as Y/N wraps up her speech. “Really?” He asks, his voice hushed with delight. “And you won’t accuse me of treating you like you’re incapable?”

Y/N’s eyes flash to him in a darkened glare, but her tone holds a jesting bite. “Not unless you piss me off.”

A soft exhale of air leaves Harry’s nostrils, the beginnings of a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He quips in return, catching Luca’s eye over Y/N’s shoulder as the waiter approaches the table again.

Although his body is turned towards Harry, Luca’s eyes canvas Y/N once more, the action bolder this time as his irises spend longer resting on her cleavage after observing her tinted pout. The lengthened look grates against Harry’s nerves, and he clears his throat in a slightly irritated manner to call the young man’s attention back his way.

“Oh, uhm—” Luca’s ears redden as he turns back to Harry, clearing his throat as he steadies himself. “Sei pronto per ordinare, signor Styles?” Are you ready to order, Mr. Styles?

“Sì,” Harry replies curtly, tapping his thumb against Y/N’s soft hand. “Y/N vorrebbe gli Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto con la salsa al gorgonzola, e io prendo il filet mignon, cotto raro, per favore.” Y/N will have the Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto with the gorgonzola sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon, cooked rare, please. He says smoothly, and he can’t deny the satisfied pleasure that curls inside his belly when he sees the gentle eyes Y/N gives him across the table.

Luca nods once as he takes the menus from the two of them, careful to keep his eyes away from Y/N’s mouth as he gathers her leatherbound copy and scuttles off to submit their orders to the kitchen.

“Okay.” Y/N says reluctantly, squeezing Harry’s hand within her own with a sigh as she watches the waiter disappear. “I will admit, I did notice his eyes drifting a little low there.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Harry asks, eyes widening in dramatized disbelief. He wills himself to keep a triumphant grin off his face, but knows he doesn’t quite succeed. “Did you just admit I was right? Did that just happen?”

“Oh, shut up.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N shakes her head as she takes another bite of garlic bread, her tongue poking from her mouth to catch a crumb at the corner of her lip. “If you’re going to act like such a child, I’ll take it back.”

Harry brings her knuckles to his mouth, brushing them against his lips in a tender motion. “I’m just trying to savour the moment, angel.” His cool breath crawls over her skin, eliciting a shiver from the human girl that he adores. “Who knows when I’ll get to experience it again.”

“Never, if I have any say in it.”

“Should we ask Luca to weigh in on this little debate, too? You know, since he’s practically as acquainted with you as I am.”

“Bite me.”

The monster’s dimples wink at the irony of her insult, and his voice carries a knowing edge that only he can decipher. “Don’t I always?”

They fall into their usual rhythm after that, easily discussing what each of them had been up to throughout the week during their gaps away from the other. Those gaps, Harry realizes as he listens to a work story from Y/N, are becoming shorter and shorter. He’d swung by Y/N’s cafe for lunch on Thursday to order a mediocre at best sandwich, and indulge in a far from mediocre makeout session in the back of his car. And watching Y/N hurriedly tighten her ponytail while she stumbled away from his Cadillac, cheeks flaming as she nearly ran to the employee entrance around the back of the building before her break ended, had prompted Harry to call her that night for a long overdue phone sex session.

Even after they had both helped the other reach climax, and post-orgasm photos had been sent (Harry had received a picture of Y/N stretched out on her bed, her face visibly heated and chest sweaty as she wore nothing but his “enjoy health” t-shirt, and in return, he’d sent a snapshot of his cum-covered abdomen, fingers resting delicately at the edge of his butterfly tattoo), the vampire and human had stayed on the line as they both caught their breath. Harry had followed the nude photo with a picture of him posing with a glass of water and a thumbs up, smiling grandly amidst his colored cheeks and sweaty curls, captioning it “Make sure to hydrate after a workout!” The energy it took to take the self-timed photo was worth it when he’d heard Y/N’s laugh tumble out from the opposite end of the line.

It’s the same carefree laugh that she’s trying to stifle now, her hand pressed over her mouth and nose as her eyes send an apologetic glance at Luca setting her plate of gnocchi down in front of her.

“Thank you, Luca,” She manages to choke out, wiping her eyes with the edge of her thumb to stop the saltwater threatening to rush down her heated cheeks. “It looks delicious.”

Harry nods in agreement as the waiter sets his own dish in front of him, his mischievous smirk still shining at Y/N from across the table. “Grazie.” He says as he curls his lips around his newly topped off wine glass.

Y/N bites her tongue to hold back the continuous laughter that’s on the verge of bursting from her chest like a dam. With every moment Harry keeps his eyes locked on hers, the human girl has to press her lips harder and harder together, and barely manages to wait until Luca has left them again to release the wave of giggles that crest out of her chest.

“Something amusing?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he sets his glass down, hardly able to hold back his own laughter as couples seated away from them begin to take notice of the boisterous sounds.

“You—” Y/N sucks in a ragged breath, half snorting once more as she manages to calm herself enough to take a small sip of wine. The liquid soothes the raw ache in her throat that is practically raw from the convulsed snickers. “You did not say that to him!”

“I did.” Harry answers smugly, adjusting the napkin covering the light grey fabric stretched over his lap before picking up his knife and fork. “He was too certain that no girl had ever faked it with him just because of a leg shake. I couldn’t let him live in that delusion; it’d be a crime, really. Just plain cruel.”

“Oh, right, like telling your friend that all the girls he’s been with have been faking it isn’t cruel?” She gently sets down her wine glass at the edge of her plate as she voices the retort, shaking her head in disbelief. “Poor Niall.”

“Not Poor Niall! I was trying to help him!” Despite the claim, Harry can’t stop himself from chuckling out the words. “How’s he going to fix his ways if he doesn’t know anything is wrong?”

“Alright, so riddle me this, then, Dr. Phil.” Y/N picks up her fork, spearing a piece of gnocchi and holding the chunk above her plate as she issues her challenge to Harry. “How did you become the expert in whether or not a girl is faking it? Do you have a lot of experience with that?”

“Not in the slightest. I think you know that much.” Just as he did before, Harry begins to slide the tip of his boot up Y/N’s calf, relishing in the slight hitch in her breath and stutter of her heart. “If I’m an expert in anything, it’s how to make someone cum until their legs actually shake. That’s why I can tell the fake from the real.”

Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment as she forms a coherent reply. “I guess I do know that.” She relents, opening her eyes just in time to see the simper that’s growing again across Harry’s face as he continues to rub up and down her leg with his shoe. Y/N lifts her fork, carefully slipping the sauce-covered gnocchi into her mouth. “But Niall doesn’t— holy shit.” The mortal gasps as the flavours burst across her tongue, the perfect mix of savoury and salty and drenched in decadence.

“It’s good, innit?” Harry pokes his cheek with his tongue as he slices off a corner of his steak, checking the rarity of the meat before bringing it to his mouth. “There’s a reason this is my favourite restaurant, and it’s not just Vincenzo.”

“It’s fucking delicious.” Y/N can’t think to censor herself as she meticulously chews and swallows the bite, savouring every second before poking another gnocchi onto her fork. “I understand the price now. It’s still outrageous, but I get it.”

Harry watches the way Y/N’s lashes flutter as she chews her bites, and the satisfaction growing in his belly increases. “High quality is worth paying for.” He states, slicing off another portion of steak.

Y/N nods slowly, swallowing the food before pointing the prongs of her fork at Harry’s plate. “How’s your filet mignon?” She asks, spearing another bite of gnocchi onto the utensil. “Worth the price point?”

Dragging the bite on his fork through the sauce that’s pooled on his plate, Harry beckons her forward as he extends the piece towards her. “Open your mouth and find out.”

There’s something about the way that Y/N immediately obeys the command— setting down her own fork and leaning across the table to wrap her lips around Harry’s— that sends a shiver down his spine. With her mouth closed, she slides the cut of beef off the silverware and leans back in her seat, chewing thoughtfully with a contemplative look on her face.

A drop of sauce is smeared from the bite, dripping from the edge of her mouth, and although it goes unnoticed by Y/N, it’s all Harry can see as he watches her savor the bite of food. He leans forward more, collecting the droplet on the pad of his thumb, which he brings to his mouth and licks off casually before settling back in his chair.

“Like it, tesoro?” He asks, an expectant look glinting in his eye as he slices off another bite for himself.

Y/N cocks her head to the side as she swallows, trying her best to focus on the flavour and not the way Harry had been so careful not to smear her lipstick as he touched her. “I like the sauce. It’s sweet, but has a bit of a kick to it. The steak, however…” She wrinkles her nose the slightest bit. “It’s a little too rare for my taste, I think. I’m not really a fan of anything bloody.”

Harry curls his tongue inside his mouth as he allows himself a single laugh. “No?” He questions, spearing a piece of meat and sliding it past his lips. “I can’t say the same. I like my steaks cooked rare. The bloodier, the better.”

“I bet you’re one of those weirdos who orders blue steak, huh?” Y/N asks, taking a gulp of her wine to wash out the taste of the meat. “Like, still cold in the middle, and looking practically raw…”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Harry’s chuckles increase, and he has to hide them behind a false cough to stop himself from drawing more attention. “It tastes much better if the meal is warm.”

Although Y/N doesn’t grasp the full meaning behind his words— and thank God she doesn’t, Harry thinks, because she’d probably run screaming from the restaurant— she hums in acknowledgement as she swirls the wine around her glass.

“But you’re enjoying your meal, right?” Harry changes the subject swiftly, deciding he’s indulged his one-sided humour long enough. “I have no problem sending it back if it’s not to your liking.”

The human’s eyes widen as she swiftly sets down her glass, shaking her head at the question. “No, no, it’s delicious! Probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten, honestly.” She collects another bit on her fork, twirling the potato dumpling through the gorgonzola sauce before motioning to Harry. “Wanna try?”

When Harry nods in response, they slip back into their former position, both of them leaning forward in their seats to meet in the middle of the table. Y/N slips the fork into his mouth, feeling the resistance as Harry’s white teeth meet the strong metal of the cutlery.

Just as had happened to her a few moments prior, a small droplet of sauce gathers at the corner of Harry’s mouth as she pulls her fork away. Y/N collects the sauce with her thumb as Harry had as well, but before she can sit herself back in her chair, Harry captures her wrist within his cool hand.

Keeping his canopy green eyes locked with hers, the creature slips her thumb into his mouth, licking the remnants of the bite off the digit with his slick tongue. His boot continues its climb up her leg, just barely reaching her thigh again before traveling back down to plant itself firmly onto the floor of the restaurant.

A quiet gasp leaves Y/N’s mouth as Harry lulls his tongue around her thumb one last time, and the barely audible sound raises his strawberry lips into a hint of a grin as he extracts the finger from his mouth. With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, Harry brings her open palm forward and plants a delicate kiss to the center of her hand.

“That’s quite good.” Harry finally says nonchalantly, attentively setting Y/N’s hand back down on the table and releasing her wrist from his grasp. “I’ll have to try it the next time we come.”

Y/N struggles to regulate her breathing as she retracts her hand from the table, setting it down in her lap as her fingers involuntarily clench into her heated thigh. “Um, yeah.” She wisps, clearing her throat once as she reaches for a slice of garlic bread. “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s really good. The sauce is— it has a nice balance to it, I think, with the thyme…”

“I agree.” Harry wipes his wet finger off on the napkin laying over his thigh. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you, pet?”

“You would know.” Y/N huffs snidely, cheeks blazing as she reaches for her wine again to extract a heavy gulp of the liquor.

In the moments of silence that fall between them, Y/N allows herself to canvas the restaurant, observing the interactions of those around her. True to Vincenzo’s promise of a private spot, the couples nearest to them are all at least five tables away, and partially hidden from view because of the positioning of their corner booth. However, Y/N’s sharp eyes don’t miss how every formally-dressed staff member, from servers to busboys and hosts, cast their eyes in Harry’s direction each time they pass by. Some even whisper to their coworkers as they turn the corner, their gazes always lingering on Harry with a mix of awe and wonder.

“Have you noticed how all the staff here watch you?” Y/N asks as she catches the eye of a passing waitress, who offers her a tense smile before sliding her stare towards Harry.

“Do they?” Harry replies curiously, raising his wine glass to his lips as he lightly shrugs. “I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

“I think Vincenzo’s given them all the update on the prestigious British bachelor, Harry Styles.” Y/N pokes fun, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully as she contemplates Harry with an observant eye. “Or maybe they’ve all just noticed the ridiculous amount of designer labels you insist on wearing.” She teases him with a playful grin, tapping a finger against the Gucci cufflinks on his sleeves. “I feel a bit like a celebrity.”

A modest laugh breaks past Harry’s lips as he lowers the glass, keeping his ringed fingers twisted around the stem. “In my experience, I’ve found you’re treated best when you treat the staff best. I tip well, so I receive better service. When I receive better service, I tip more. It’s a bit of a cycle, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically, the tip of his boot once again exploring the soft skin of Y/N’s bare leg. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I thought I’d test the waters tonight and see how well you like the high life before I arrange anything more… extravagant.”

“More extravagant?” Y/N laughs at the idea, propping her elbow on the table and plopping her chin in her hand as her eyebrows raise. “What could possibly be more extravagant than a Gucci cocktail dress, Loubotin heels, and a fifty dollar pasta dish?”

The answer rolls off Harry’s tongue immediately, slathered in a jesting, matter-of-fact tone. “A trip to the Bahamas, obviously.”

Although Y/N’s eyes widen slightly at the comment, it’s not long before she giggles softly, the wine beginning to twist its way through her system. Harry can smell the way her lavender and honey scent is intertwined with the dark, fruity notes of the liquor, but even if he couldn’t, it would be obvious in the way she draws towards him with a tender smile on her face. Despite the dewy appearance of her skin amidst the lulled candlelight, it’s the genuine warmth behind Y/N’s eyes that makes Harry feel like her gaze could thaw the ice from his long-frozen limbs.

It’s that warmth that brings Harry to reach over the table after Luca has cleared their bare plates and refilled their glasses, dragging his hands across the linen tablecloth with his palms turned upwards. He just can’t ever seem to stifle the need to touch her.

The motion is a quiet question in itself, and Y/N gives the desired answer when she fills his empty grasp with her own palms, automatically tangling her bare fingers with Harry’s jeweled digits. For a moment, Harry just sits there, thumbing over her fragile knuckles in the way he’s grown so accustomed to doing, basking in the heat that congregates in his chest and gives him the feeling that he’s glowing. He almost hates to break the perfect silence between them, which is so understanding, but he’s been thinking about his words too carefully to swallow them back.

“Thank you for agreeing to let me take you out.” He says, his voice gentle and low, a far cry from his usual cocky drawl. “It’s…It’s been a really long time since I’ve done something like this with anyone, let alone had this much fun doing it.” He takes a quiet breath through barely parted lips. “It’s nice.”

His ears prick with the sound of Y/N’s hummingbird heartbeat thrumming in her chest, the pattern bringing an ache to his tummy in an entirely new way, but the ache is quickly soothed by the soft smile that adorns her crimson lips.

“It’s…It’s been a while for me, as well. Which you know.” She laughs airily, but is too entranced by the vivid color of Harry’s eyes to tear her gaze away. “I’m having fun, too. I’m glad— I mean—”

Harry continues to rub over her knuckles patiently, keeping his touch as gentle as she is, making sure to gift her an instance to collect her thoughts.

“I’ll admit, I was… worried at first. When we started to go on actual dates.” The mortal takes a deep breath through her nose, but it hardly calms her down as she inhales the vanilla and tobacco scent of Harry’s cologne. “We were doing so well with just sex, y’know? And I was worried that adding more would… ruin it.”

The faint grin playing on the edge of Harry’s mouth disappears, and a chill runs through his bones at the possibility of what they have dismantling at the seams. “But it hasn’t… Has it?”

The seconds Harry spends waiting for an answer is agony, but the relief is instantaneous when Y/N replies in a bashful voice. “No.” She whispers, her gaze faltering down to her lap before raising back to him. “It hasn’t.”

“I feel like…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, nearly forgetting to be mindful of his strength so as to not break his skin. “I feel like it’s made things better, even. Like… like we work better together, yeah?” He clears his throat gingerly as nerves begin to dip into his dormant veins. He knows he’s treading on dangerously thin ice, and he’s never been more at risk of plunging into the freezing depths below, but he can’t make himself return to shore. Not now. “Not that we weren’t working well before, because we were. We were working really well— incredibly well. But I just feel like tacking on this little bit of extra stuff makes everything more fulfilling.”

A wry smile breaks across Y/N’s face. “Right, because who doesn’t love getting wined and dined before getting their back done in?” She jokes easily, and Harry snorts in spite of himself, grateful for how she always manages to save him from making an ass of himself.

“I just really like spending time with you, I guess.” He squeezes her hands within his own before the sincere moment disappears. “It feels natural. Really natural.”

“It does. And while we’re confessing our innermost confessions over garlic bread…” The mortal purses her lips as a sparkle appears in her eyes, glinting at Harry like the North Star. “I want you to know how grateful I am for what we have. I was feeling really lonely and out of place when we met, and running into you…” Y/N hesitates for a fraction of a instant, just long enough for Harry’s own breathing to catch. “It really helped me get back on my feet. It’s just nice to have someone who I mesh with so well, especially after such a big move and everything, so…” A new wave of heat works its way over the apples of her cheeks. “I suppose this is a bit of a ‘thank you’. Thanks for coming up to me that night at the club.”

Harry’s lips quirk at the corners as the tender confession settles into his chest. “Thank you for letting me chat you up. It was a two way street, love. Although—” His signature smirk begins to make a reappearance. “It’s not like I had to try very hard— you practically drooled the second you laid your eyes on me.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open indignantly as she yanks her hands back from his, rolling her eyes heavily while smoothing the hem of her dress. “Alright, that’s enough. Moment over, dickhead. Go back to sipping your wine and looking hot in your suit in silence.”

Although Harry obeys her order and picks up his wine glass with nimble fingers, his eyes grow teasingly large over the rim, accent dripping with faux shock. “You think I’m hot?”

“I’d hope you know that,” Y/N says cooly as she grasps the stem of her own glass. “I don’t let just anyone choke me.”

It’s Harry’s turn to cough on his liquor as he registers the comment, and he struggles not to spill the dark liquid down the front of his brand new suit as he barks out a laugh.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” he says after he swallows the drink, setting his glass back down on the table firmly. “I don’t let just anyone use my jacuzzi whenever they want.”

“Right, right, because you allowing me to use your hot tub is equivalent to me letting you wrap your fingers around my throat.” Y/N snorts, drumming her digits against the table top. “Practically identical.”

Harry snakes his hand across the table and cards their grips once more, squeezing her fingers playfully as he taps against her knuckles. “It’s not like you complain while it’s happening.”

“Only because it’s hard to talk when my air flow is restricted.”

“Really? Because you still manage to moan just fine.”

Harry delights in the way her eyes hurriedly dash to the other diners, her heartbeat stuttering in her heaving chest. He likes that he can still get a rise out of her with his crude jokes, even after all he’s said to her.

“Christ, Harry, lower your voice! Don’t let anyone hear you!” Y/N protests, cupping a hand over her sizzling cheek.

“No one can hear me, love.” He chuckles lightly as he reassures her with another squeeze of her fingers. “S’why I always request a private table.”

“Oh, so you have a pattern, then?” She quirks an eyebrow at the comment. “Do you bring women here that often to discuss choking? So much that you need a private table?”

Although there’s a mocking air to her words, Harry’s laugh cuts off. “No. I don’t.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat as she raises her wine glass to her lips. “I don’t believe you. I think I’ll ask Vinzenco on our way out. He seems like an honest man.”

Cool relief flushes through Harry’s body, but he hides it behind an incredulous gasp. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re interested in him. Do you want Vincenzo to choke you instead?” His face breaks into a look of exaggerated disbelief tinged with fake disgust. “He’s married, you tramp!”

Y/N can’t help but laugh when Harry yanks his hand away from hers, pretending to wipe it on his napkin while gagging, as if touching her is a horrendous act.

“I hate you.” She giggles, shaking her head slowly.

“I promise you that no matter how much you hate me, Vincenzo’s wife would hate you tenfold.” Harry shakes out his hand before setting it back down on the table.

“Don’t worry.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the exaggeration. “I don’t plan on breaking up a marriage tonight.”

“How gracious of you.” Harry murmurs, but he leans forward with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shamelessly canvasses Y/N’s body. “You could, you know. Vincenzo is only a man. Look how you had Poor Luca drooling tonight. You in that dress…” He settles his eyes on her prominent cleavage. “Y’look like Aphrodite, almost.”

Despite the heat that flashes over Y/N’s entire body, she keeps her voice dry when she responds. “I don’t know about that; this isn’t much of a grecian look.”

“Well…” A grin creeps onto Harry’s face, igniting his jade irises with humour. “You look like Aphrodite if Aphrodite was a twenty-first century sugar baby.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open before she spits out an indignant reply. “I’m not a sugar baby!”

“Sorry, who bought you that dress?”

“That doesn’t count—”

“And who do you call ‘daddy’?”

Harry can hear the way blood rushes to her cheeks, and it sends a delicious shiver down his spine.

Y/N, however, glares up at him through her thick lashes, her hands twisting the cloth napkin in her lap. “You’re a prick.”

“I’m simply stating facts, darling.” Harry sighs lightly, ducking one of his hands underneath the table and reaching to give her bare knee a squeeze. He revels in the way she jumps at his touch. “And I’ve got videos of you whimpering that over and over to prove it.”

“If you keep this up,” Y/N says, forcing her voice to stay steady as she nods to his grasp on her skin. “You won’t be getting any more of them.”

“Is that so?” Harry’s hand travels further up her leg, the metal of his rings icy against the heated flesh of her inner thighs. “Guess you won’t be getting any more videos of me playing with myself either, then. Fair’s fair.”

The whimper that falls from Y/N’s lips is so quiet that if Harry were human, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it. “Harry—”

“You don’t like that, do you?” He taunts lowly, continuing to rub over her thigh as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “The idea of me taking that away? Of never seeing me lose myself for you on video ever again?”

Y/N clears her throat thickly. “N-No.”

“I didn’t think so.” With his free hand, Harry lifts his wine to his lips, taking a long sip as his darkened eyes stay locked to hers. “So you’d better behave for me then, hm?”

Despite the electrifying way her entire body is starting to fizzle, Y/N still manages to choke out an amused scoff. “You’re starting to sound like a cheap porno, H. Be careful.”

“Careful? You want to be careful?” Harry asks, eyebrows poised as he digs his fingertips into the meaty flesh of her thigh. “Alright.”

In one fast motion, Harry snakes his hand completely up Y/N’s dress to cup over her lace-covered cunt, running the pads of his fingers over the dampening cloth. He hooks one finger into the side of the lace and gives a sharp yank, and although Y/N’s not sure how he does it, or how Harry attained the sudden rush of strength needed to do so, she feels the delicate fabric rip right down the center.

Before she can even process what’s happened, the act is over as quickly as it started as Harry settles back into his seat, eyebrows cocked in a conceited fashion as he watches her assess the new issue.

“You’ll have to be careful now, won’t you, minx? Gonna have t’keep your legs closed like a proper good girl— which I know is hard for you whenever I’m around.” He teases, his hand still clenched under the table as the other raises his glass to his strawberry lips. “Otherwise we might have a little mishap, hm?”

Y/N’s breath stutters in her pounding chest as she clenches her thighs as tight as she can. “You didn’t.”

Raising his hand from beneath the table, Harry opens his palm for just a moment, flashing her the scrap of black lace that had once been her panties before coasting his hand beneath his jacket and tucking the article into his pocket. “Didn't I?”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, her voice dangerously low as she leans over the table.

“Yes?” He replies innocently, wrapping his hand firmly around his glass. “Something the matter?”

Y/N gapes at the man across from her in disbelief. “You’re such a dick, you know that?”

“I promise you, I’m well aware.” Harry laughs lightly as he polishes off the last of his wine. “But it’s not like you don’t like it. You wouldn’t bounce on my cock if you didn’t.”

Sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth, Y/N clenches the tight satin of her dress in her fists. “God, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Yeah?” Harry quirks an eyebrow with a cocky smirk. “Good luck trying to catch me without flashing your entire arse to the kitchen staff.”

“I swear on my life, I’m going to rip off your—”

“Ciao, Harry! Bella donna!” Vincenzo’s voice cuts over Y/N’s thinly-veiled threat as he approaches the table with arms wide and a smile pasted onto his face. “Come trovi tutto? Possiamo portarti dell'altro vino? La carta dei dolci?” How are you finding everything? Can we get you more wine? The dessert menu?

“È tutto delizioso, Vincenzo, grazie.” Everything is delicious, Vincenzo, thank you. Harry drawls, his grin growing as he turns to Y/N with a condescending tilt of his head. “What do you think, tesoro? Are you in the mood for dessert? Or have you had enough?”

Y/N’s mouth is too dry for her to answer, especially with the way Harry’s irises twinkle suggestively at his own words, so she finishes the last dregs of her wine before shaking her head tightly. “No— no dessert for me, thanks.”

Vincenzo heaves a dramatic gasp as he turns his full attention to her. “Bella donna, what is this? Surely you want to try our dessert? Even just some homemade gelato?”

“Oh, no, Vincenzo, thank you, but I don’t think I could squeeze any more food into my stomach.” Y/N fights to keep herself from sounding flustered, but she knows it’s a losing battle when she hears Harry mutter something about how wonderful she is at squeezing under his breath.

Vincenzo clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, twisting his astonished gaze back to Harry. “Harry, per favore, sicuramente puoi convincere il tuo appuntamento a mangiare un boccone di dessert? È sulla casa.” Harry, please, surely you can convince your date to have a bite of dessert? It’s on the house.

The vampire presses his tongue into his cheek as he appraises Y/N again, the clenching of her abdomen drawing his eye more than anything else. Harry uses the tip of his boot to once again trail up the back of her calf beneath the tablecloth, giving her a wicked grin. “You’re sure you don’t want anything else, tesoro?”

Y/N jerks her head once more as a shadow crosses over her eyes. “No, thank you.” She reiterates in a strained voice.

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Harry twists to face Vincenzo again, voice surrendered. “Grazie per l'offerta, Vincenzo, ma sembra che stiamo bene. Accettiamo solo il conto, per favore.” Thank you for the offer, Vincenzo, but it looks like we’re fine. We’ll just take the check, please.

The restaurant owner sighs in disappointment, but nods in acceptance. “Va bene, va bene, solo l'assegno. Ma la prossima volta che torni, mi amore,” Vincenzo shifts his attention back to Y/N, who meets his smile as best as she can. “Dovrai provare due dolci per compensare la mancanza di uno stasera, vero?” Okay, okay, just the check. But next time you come back, my love, you’ll have to try two desserts to make up for the lack of one tonight, yes?

Harry leans across the table and whispers the translation low in her ear, his cool breath sending a shiver down her spine as it rolls over her body.

“Yes, Vincenzo. Next time.” Y/N promises quickly, clasping her hands tightly around the hem of her tight dress as the thigh slit begins to ride up.

Vincenzo motions over his shoulder for Luca to bring the check, chatting happily to Harry in Italian throughout the whole transaction. Y/N stays quiet the entire time, instinctively hiding her boiling cheeks behind her hands each time one of them casts a glance her way. Despite the nerves wreaking havoc in her belly, Harry continues to make casual conversation as he swipes his credit card, laughing and joking with Vincenzo like he has all the time in the world. By the time the restaurant owner bids them both goodbye, Y/N’s certain she’s sweated well through the thin fabric of her dress from her nerves.

Harry, however, looks perfectly at ease as he tucks his wallet back into his suit jacket. “You handled that well, doll. ‘M proud of you.” He says easily, rubbing a finger down the condensation dotting his glass of ice water.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Y/N hisses at him, clenching her thighs together as another waiter passes dangerously close to their table. “How am I supposed to walk out of here without anyone noticing?”

“Like this.” Harry rises from the table and extends a hand to Y/N, who eyes it warily from her seated position. “C’mon, love, you’re going to have to trust me.” He goads her with a sigh, wiggling his fingers until Y/N gives in and settles her palm inside his.

Making sure his own body is hiding Y/N from the line of sight of anyone else, Harry helps pull his lover from her chair before removing his jacket with one swift motion. He settles the rich grey fabric over her bare shoulders, draping the article in such a way that it covers the deep thigh slit that exposes her bare skin.

“How’s that?” Harry asks lowly, voice tender as he fixes the collar of the jacket around Y/N’s delicate neck. “S’that better?”

The moment Harry’s familiar and intoxicating cologne fills her senses, all the irritation evaporates from Y/N’s veins, leaving behind only the quiet thrum of attraction that’s intensified by the man’s fragrance.

“Yeah.” She whispers, the cadence of her voice nearing shyness as Harry tugs a lock of hair from underneath the collar of the jacket. “It’s a bit better.”

“Good.” The vampire leans down and stamps his lips to the girl’s forehead, letting his mouth linger for a few seconds before straightening up. “I promise I won’t let anyone see anything. And even if someone does see something, as long as you’re with me, nobody will say a word.”

Y/N nods gently as Harry grasps her hand in his own to lead her out of the restaurant and back to his car. “Alright. I trust you.”

That warmth from earlier begins to spread through Harry’s chest again the moment she utters the words. “I’m glad to hear that.” He snakes his hand inside the jacket, brushing his fingertips against her breast before dipping his hand into the pocket. When he withdraws it, the lace of her ripped panties is visible for only a moment before he tucks it into the back of his slacks with a smirk. “These are mine now. A little spoil of war for my trophy case.”

Despite his protective stance around her as he begins to weave the two of them through tables, Y/N scoffs at the action. “I still can’t believe you did that, you asshole.”

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” Harry glances over his shoulder as he quirks an eyebrow teasingly. “Alright, then. I can just drop you back off at your apartment, if you’d like. Go back to my place alone tonight. Gonna have to unbutton my trousers on my own, and peel this nice shirt off by myself, and crawl in between my sheets rather than in between your thighs. Such a shame.”

Y/N can’t stop the whine that echoes the back of her throat. “No, H—”

“That’s what I thought.” Harry steps back from her just enough to tug open the glass front door of the restaurant, his eyes already settling on the valet. When he speaks, however, it’s just for her to hear, and her alone. It sends a current of anticipation through her veins as it washes across the shell of her ear, his breath smelling of sweet grapes and notes of cherry from their wine, thick with the tangy scent of liquor and cooler than usual from the chilled beverage. Despite that coldness, his next promise settles into her exposed core with a familiar heat that she knows only he can resolve.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet. It’s gonna be a long night.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #vampire!harry #vampire!harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #vampire au #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #one direction fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #ysijwa #writing

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papergirllife · 3 years

Text

This is part of the addiction collab hosted by @127-mile.

Pairing : Underground fighter Jaehyun x step sister reader

Warnings : Criminal activity, minor character death, step siblings crossing the line, suggestive content.

Wordcount : 15k+

Pain and the constant flirting with death is a monotony to Jeong Jaehyun, the adrenaline rush he gets from it ignites a flame inside him, the only way he feels alive is by being on the edge of a great death, but he knows that he won’t die in the ring he fights in at the infamous underground fight club in Seoul, as sadist as it sounds, the chances of his opponents dying at his feet is a much larger possibility. Jaehyun isn’t a man of morals, especially not after the incident that made him escape the states after years of living away from his mother and step father in Seoul, he thought he’d be living in Michigan for good after the many years he’d been there.

Things have been like this for the past year or so, until he follows his step sister out the house in the middle of the night one day, thinking he’d get to know what dirty secret she was hiding from her father and his mother, her step mother. In the pair’s eyes, you are nothing but perfect, the family’s treasured filial little girl. What he didn’t know, is that this night, would change him forever. He had never found a cure for his malicious addiction towards pain and danger, but she might just be a close second.

The sweat drips of his face as he takes another blow to his stomach from his opponent, the familiar ache in his abdomen rings from his head to his abdomen, yet he doesn't mind the pain, he just needs to wait for the right time, to let his opponent think that he's going to win, to have his ego swell up his head so that he wouldn't anticipate Jaehyun's next move.

Jaehyun levels his body downwards as if his body was responding to the pain, that to him, is nothing at all, in fact, he's addicted to it, knowing that he'll get the upper hand by just enduring a little bit of pain, and when his opponent doesn't expect it, he punches his opponent under the jaw with all his might, the familiar crunch of bones against his knuckles brings a maniac smile to his face as he watches his opponent fall to the ground after a slight lift off from the strength of the up thrust force from his fist. A loud thump could be heard when his opponent fell on the floor, and soon after, the countdown begins.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1... And you're out!" the referee shouts, blowing his whistle right after, the familiar chime that alerts Jaehyun of his victory.

Manipulation. It's something that's become a monotony in his life. He's the best fighter in Monster, the biggest underground fighting club in Seoul, yet there will always be new people challenging him for the title. Bunch of idiots filling up his bank account in attempt to steal his glory, he's grateful for them, in this regard.

His lips stretch into a cynical smile as he looks at his opponent on the ground, the money presented to him made him let out a piercing laugh, everyone thinks he's mad, but there's still people betting for his victory whenever he turns up for a fight, people would do anything against their principles for a little more money, but yet again, what principles would the people who come here to watch people getting beaten up have, betting on him yet they have disgusted expressions on their face, whispering about his mad aggression only a few feet away. Everyone is feared by him, yet they would do anything for a few extra pennies, let principles be damned. To Jaehyun, only one person is better than those lot, the girl with the platinum blonde hair who's always betting so much money on him, but doesn't collect her earnings. He could only pick up a few details of her before the hordes of people rush to collect their winnings of the night from the handlers Johnny and Lucas. The way she always wore the same black leather jacket and black baseball cap, her hand came up to adjust her cap, her wrist glinting, was it a Rolex or a Jaeger Lecoultre? It had minimal diamonds and a classic face. Classic, that's what he thinks of her as. She likes the fancy things that aren't over the top, yet that's also the way Jaehyun describes his black themed closet. Johnny, one of the handlers, approaches him. He once asked them who she was, but the only info they gave was that she was constantly betting on him with a large sum. Jaehyun had tried to follow her multiple times, but no matter how quick he collects his earnings, she would be gone by the time he’s out.

"Do you want me to convert it to a check for you?" Johnny asked, lifting up the bag to get Jaehyun’s attention.

It was a standard after fight procedure, to have a feel at the notes in your hands, and maybe a whiff of the scent of wealth before changing it to a check, nobody would be dumb enough to walk out of here with a bag full of cash. Jaehyun passes him back the bag of money to Johnny as he heads to shower off, his thoughts filled with that mysterious girl. Hopping onto his bike before taking off for the night, leaving behind his alter persona, Mr. J, his stage name, feared by all and defeated by none.

When he reached home, there she was again, Y/N, his little step sister, sitting in front of her laptop in her oversized sweater, her bedroom door slightly ajar, allowing him a clear view of her. She's always up late working for this small programming firm, diligent and filial as always, the family's little pride of joy, he wasn't jealous, in fact he admires her tolerance towards this perfect family. It might not seem perfect to others, since their parents were both divorcees before, but it was perfect enough for him to feel like a black sheep. He hasn't felt this way towards his family before, until that incident. He pushes his thoughts away as he utters a goodnight to her. Y/N returns one to him, her soft voice calming his nerves, but that is all she says, she never asks about how he's always back so late, or how he's covered in cuts and bruises, a little more than from the time when he left the house earlier. Jaehyun retreats to his room, crashing onto his bed for a well earned night’s sleep.

It's Chuseok dinner tonight, the whole family is having dinner together, something which Jaehyun wouldn't have chose to sit through if it wasn't his mom's nagging outside his bedroom door the whole afternoon. His mom is currently asking about your job again, you didn't like talking about your achievements at work, from the way you looked down whenever she complimented you, you've grown to be so shy after he left for the states. He finds you so endearing, and not in a brotherly manner either. He knew it was wrong, but the pull you had over him clouds the remaining morals he possesses. It was only when his mom shouted at him made his chain of unholy thoughts snap.

“And when are you going to get a job, Jaehyun? Two months you've been back and your still on your 'break'. Look how hardworking Y/N is, and she actually listens to us," his mother said as he glared at him, arms folded as if she’s actually expecting a clear answer from him.

He's only asking for one dinner from his mom to not compare you to him, and here she goes taking a jab at him once again.

"When I'm ready mom, I already told you, the states were a drain for me, I just want to relax and ease back into my life here before I get a job."

His mom was going to scold him from the looks of her open stretched mouth, before she was interrupted by his stepdad, a hand laid on top of her shoulder to stop her from lashing out on her son.

“If you needed time to recover from his dad, he will too. Let him have some time to sort out his feelings. The kid's seen enough for you not to shout at him for reacting normally," Jaehyun’s stepfather said in an assuring tone in hopes to calm his wife down before this dinner turns sour like the ones before.

His mom's gaze instantly softens as she has a memory jog of what she had been through before meeting his stepdad, those were hard times for her, leaving that bastard with young Jaehyun to start a clean slate. Yet the court cruelly allowed his father to have co custody over him, and as per his father's request to have him from the age of 13 to 18, then making him stay for university as well, thinking back, he should've just left even though his ass of a father agreed to pay for everything.

Jaehyun silently goes back to eating his dinner, his interest peeking up as he caught you looking at him silently with an unreadable expression. Was it worry? Curiosity? He had a desire to know, to understand the thoughts swimming through your head at this very moment. He held your gaze for a few seconds before you stopped, and much to Jaehyun’s relief, his stepdad had switched the topic before his mom could pin anything on him further, telling everyone about a class clown in his class he teaches.

It was 2 am and Jaehyun was laying in bed, music playing softly as he scrolled through the news on his phone, but his music session was interrupted by a sound coming from the hallway, he had his earphones on, but the break between songs gave him a chance to focus and catch the shadow of a frilly dress rush by the crack of his door, it could only be one person, Y/N, who owned dresses like this. Soon, the familiar tune of their front door opening rang. He silently follows you out, slipping out of the door before it shuts, he sees you waiting at the lift lobby of their floor, eyes looking around in worry. The lift arrives quickly at this odd hour, he rushes in right after you, his body immediately caging yours against the wall of the lift, making your eyes open as wide as saucers, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Where do you think you're going at such an hour baby sister?" Jaehyun asked in a menacing tone, the familiar one sided smirk gracing his face.

Jaehyun could see the fear in your eyes as you momentarily froze at such a close distance.

“And I thought you were our family's little angel, never involved in anything deemed shameful, yet here you are, caught sneaking out by your brother. What a pity." Jaehyun said before he tutted at you, a coy expression on his face.

Jaehyun leans back to the other side of the lift, his eyes scanning you up and down, taking in your pretty legs and adorable lips that were set in a slight pout.

“Let me come with, I want to see what my baby sister does for real fun. Is it a boy? A girl? Or both?" Jaehyun needs to know what the family’s precious pearl is hiding.

The way you shook your head as your eyes were avoiding his made the beast inside him threatening to break free. He tugs you over into his embrace with the ribbon from the bow of your dress. His chest rumbling in joy as he felt the curves of your body, and the way your eyes looked into his in awe before looking away from his intense gaze. His arms wrap around your waist, head placed on top of yours.

“I came out in a rush and forgot my jacket, you're fine with lending some warmth to your dear brother who's only in his pajama shirt, right? Like the good girl you are?" Jaehyun’s voice laced with a sweetness that could make any lady drop on their knees for him, and he knows it, just like being in the ring, toying with emotions is a game he aces at as well.

Jaehyun didn't receive an answer, just a shy little nod as permission, your eyes avoiding his trained gaze on you. He finds you so, so adorable now, but his thoughts linger somewhere darker, his need to corrupt you evident in his lustful eyes, pupils blown wide and dark, his hand holding onto your waist in a possessive manner.

Jaehyun could see the way you swallowed down your nervousness, fingers playing with the hem of your dress as you stared down onto your baby pink ballet flats. When the doors of the lift open to the ground level of the condominium, Jaehyun slings an arm over your shoulder and guided you out of the building.

"Where are you taking us, my dear baby sister?" Jaehyun asked in a hushed tone by your ear, stopping you in your tracks for a second as he let you lead him.

Jaehyun could see the way you shivered after he spoke into your ear, he adores how responsive you are to him, and he hasn't even touched you yet.

"J-just around the block," you stuttered.

Jaehyun wasn't expecting to see anyone or anything that would surprise him, you're most probably meeting your boyfriend or at most the wildest he would give you is directing him to the night club located a few blocks down the road. What he doesn't expect is to find you crouching down suddenly to feed some stray dogs at the alley in between your condo and the convenience store.

“This is what you do for fun, little sister? Feeding dogs?" Jaehyun deadpanned.

"Dad says I can't have any, and they lost their mother to a car accident a month ago, I just want to help them," you said as you reached into the pockets of your dress for more doggy sticks, looking even tinier than you did before, somewhat childlike to Jaehyun, given how pure of an action this is.

Jaehyun didn't know what came over him, but he crouched down next to you and asked for their names.

"The sister is Bella, the brother is Toto," you said before focusing back on your furry friends.

When the two of you were done, Jaehyun took your hand in his and dragged you to the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" you asked as you tried to keep up with Jaehyun, not used to walking at such a speed in your ballet flats, trying your best to not let them slip from your feet.

“You successfully snuck out of house and you're not going somewhere at least a mile away? The night is still young, Y/N. Let's go get ourselves a mini adventure," Jaehyun persuaded, his tone was rather cheerful, which would be foreign to you, given that Jaehyun mostly kept to himself at all times.

Jaehyun led you to his bike, his hands helping you up front and securing a helmet on top of your head. Your eyes saw the reflection of Jaehyun without a helmet on the rearview mirror, the one he gave you must've been his.

"What about you then?" you asked after you swiveled your head to check if he had somehow found another helmet.

“There aren't many cars at this time, and I trust my own skills. Don't worry, it's just a quick drive close by," Jaehyun reassured you as he started the engine of his bike.

When Jaehyun pressed on the accelerator, you weren't prepared for the jerk and lurched back, which is why he put you in front of him, other than the fact that he likes the feeling of your body against his of course. Jaehyun loves the feeling of being on the bike, the way the wind pierces his skin and the speed gives him the adrenaline kick just like his fights, but instead of being caged in a ring, he feels free.

The journey came to a halt when the two of you reached someone's house, a large landed property, which was a sign of wealth in a city like Seoul, Jaehyun guided you into the back door that leads to the big pool, all the lights in the house were off.

"Jaehyun, are you sure we're allowed here?" you asked in a worried tone as your eyes scan around for a presence.

"Chill, baby sis. This is my friend's place, he's okay with me coming here all the time," Jaehyun said as he lightly pushed your back, guiding you further into the estate.

Jaehyun started stripping right in front of you when he halted by the pool, which caused you turn around as an immediate response. Jaehyun let out a laugh at how you reacted, knowing that you’d be just like how he expected, shy and innocent.

“I still have clothes on, baby sister. Don't worry," Jaehyun chirped behind you.

Jaehyun was leaning against the rail, waiting for you to turn around, and when you did, albeit slowly, just in case, you immediately turned back.

"You said you had clothes on!" and he did, but only his underwear.

“I said some, and I'm not naked. Why are you making such a big deal?" Jaehyun teased.

Jaehyun saunters over to you, hands on your waist, pulling the bow free from your dress, then he leans down to your ear.

"Why don't we take a swim, little one?" Jaehyun asked in a hushed but persuasive tone.

Jaehyun then steps away to give you space and heads into the pool, your eyes wide like you're under his spell, silently pulling down your dress to reveal a simple pastel pink cotton set. Jaehyun loves how innocent you look, the swell of your curves just nice, your smooth baby like skin makes you look even younger than you are, Jaehyun stopped swimming to admire you from front to back as you joined him in the water, but not before testing the temperature of it with your feet first.

The two of you were genuinely swimming for the first fifteen minutes, until Jaehyun took a break to admire your figure swimming freely, he could see how you've relaxed a bit since the two of you had first gotten here. When you reached the end of the pool to take a breather, Jaehyun used quick strokes to get to you, stopping a mere millimeters away from your face, hands on the either side of you, leaning his weight onto the pool, his head cocked to side in great interest.

"You look beautiful."

Jaehyun has never said that to his flings, but he'll make an exception for his dear little sister, you did tolerate his annoying antics as a child. Jaehyun leans towards your face, his lips dangerously close.

"Jaehyun... We shouldn't, we're siblings," you protested weakly.

“Step siblings. We aren't related by blood, remember that, Y/N. I know you want me as much as I want you. I'm not blind, I've seen the way your eyes lingered when I walked around the house without a shirt after my shower, I've seen the way you reacted for the past hour towards my advances. Let yourself go, Y/N, do what you want for a change," there it was again, Jaehyun and his silver tongue.

Jaehyun suppressed the rumble in his chest when he felt your hesitant lips on his, the peach flavored lip balm igniting his taste buds, craving to taste more of you, his arms tracing your back towards your butt, giving it a light spank, a moan finally slipping out of your lips, breaking the heated session between the two of you.

"You like that, baby? You like how rough I treat you?" Jaehyun questioned, but it sounded more like a statement.

Jaehyun lifts you up from the pool and onto the edge as he opens up your thighs for him, sucking and biting onto the insides of your upper thighs, dangerously close to his destination. You had tangled your fingers into Jaehyun's wet hair, pulling at it when he spanked you again, your whines of his name driving him crazy.

Suddenly, someone who sounded like he was in his late forties, came out and shouted at the two of you for trespassing. Jaehyun quickly lifts himself up from the pool and carries you over his shoulder as he picks up all of your discarded clothes and quickly drives away. He could feel you shuddering from the cold after a while, and stops his bike to allow the two of you to get dressed, grateful that they weren’t any cars on the road at this time.

"Jaehyun! You said it belonged to your friend's!" you nagged as you tried to sound as mad as anyone half dressed and embarrassed could be.

“If I didn't say that, you wouldn't have gone in. Plus, I did it many times before without getting caught. This proves how loud you were, baby," Jaehyun teased, but it clearly was the truth.

Jaehyun made you shut your mouth in an instant after he mentioned how loud you were for him. It egged on his ego to see how shy you are now, just because he mentioned what happened minutes prior. Jaehyun lifted you up his bike once again to head back home, but not before giving your neck a kiss, he could see the way you were more relaxed after his little affection. He was going to have fun corrupting a sweet innocent girl like you, mind games are his favourite pass time.

When the two of you got back, both of you retreated into your respective rooms after saying goodnight. You and Jaehyun acted as if nothing happened the next day, Jaehyun going to the gym for most of the day, and you staying locked in your room.

It was only two nights later, after Jaehyun's next fight when the two of you were alone, Jaehyun got back from the fight with cuts on his arms, his opponent had worn old leather gloves that scratched him up and he wonders if the tears in the gloves were purposely used to hurt people, he could've called a time out, but he wasn't a pussy. He was running the scratches under cold water in the kitchen sink when he accidentally cursed aloud at the pain. That's when he heard footsteps coming out, fearing it to be his mom, he quickly closed the tap and dashed under the kitchen island. The footsteps were getting nearer, but instead of his mom's normal house slippers, ones decorated with bunny ears came into his view, followed by your head.

“The whole house could hear you, thank goodness they're fast asleep. Come out. I'll patch you up," you called out in a hushed tone before reaching a hand out to help him up.

Jaehyun followed you into your room, greeted by the desk lamp illuminating your closed laptop and the book shelf next to the desk, while the fairy lights casted a warm glow over your lilac sheets decorated with many cute plushies. That’s when he realised that he's never been into your room.

"Sit anywhere you like."

Jaehyun took a seat on your bed as you dug through your cabinets, coming out with bandages and ointment of all sorts. You took a seat on your study chair, wheeling to him, taking a closer look at his wounds.

"Did a cat attack you or something?"

Jaehyun sees you wheel back by kicking your legs cutely, hurrying into the bathroom and coming back out with a washcloth. Jaehyun scratches the back of his neck, thinking of how to answer you.

"I...

"I know, I don't go to these places but I know of their existence," you replied in a rather mature tone, which was shocking for Jaehyun, since you constantly acted like a child half the time, but not in a bratty way, just filial.

"Is that why you never asked me why I come home late at night with bruises?"

Jaehyun sees you nod as you started wiping his wounds gently, the blood going onto the clothe that will definitely leave stains.

"How are you going to explain the blood when you wash it?" Jaehyun questioned, worried that someone’s going to find out about his late night rendezvous.

"Menstrual cycle," you answered, as if was the most obvious thing in the world, which made Jaehyun feel like an idiot at that moment.

The way you're patching up his wounds was pulling at Jaehyun's heartstrings the wrong way, Jaehyun doesn't want to fall for anyone, and certainly not for his step sister. Once you were done, you were looking at him with those innocent doe eyes, Jaehyun couldn't really tell what was up with his attraction towards you, was it purely sexual? Was it affection? He pushed those thoughts away when he pulled you by the waist, his lips capturing yours in a frantic matter as his hands make way to under your nightgown to hold onto the flesh of your thighs. The roughness of his palms sending shivers up your spine. Jaehyun took this as a good sign and started toying at the waistband of your panties. He breaks off the kiss to let his lips travel southwards, his teeth nibbling at your mounds, what surprised him was the lack of bra.

“What happened to being my good girl? Why aren't you wearing a bra? Are you tempting me on purpose? Hm?" Jaehyun said after bouncing you on his lap slightly.

“I was going to sleep. Didn't know you'll need help."

The way you answered so breathlessly when he continued his ministrations on you only urged him to act on his desires further. He reached a hand up to pinch at your nipple, but your hand accidentally slipped and held onto his arm instead of his hair, which made him wince due to the fresh wound, and the heated session between the two of you was immediately ceased.

"Jaehyun, are you alright? We can do this another time. You should let your wounds heal first," you said in a worried tone before checking his arm once more.

Jaehyun was cursing at himself, but nodded at your suggestion, not wanting to feel anymore pain after that fight. Jaehyun pecked your lips one last time before bidding you goodnight and carried you off his lap.

"See you tomorrow, baby."

Jaehyun looks at his opponent straight in the eye, he wasn't supposed to fight tonight, but there was an empty spot and he wanted to make up for the off day he took to heal from the scratch wounds, he doesn’t mind though, his hands had been itching to punch someone or something for the past few days now, just like a junkie hooked on drugs, he’s hooked onto the feeling of hurting someone. His opponent tonight was twice his size, but according to Lucas, nowhere near his standards, since the standard earnings for this match is relatively lower from the ones he tends to fight in.

Jaehyun didn't even have to manipulate his opponent into thinking he was on the weaker scale, he took him down like the countless sandbags he broke in the gym, big but definitely does zero damage. Once the match was over, he spotted that girl again, ushering her way out of the crowd. Instead of following the usual procedures of collecting his earnings, Jaehyun made his way out of the club.

"Jae! Your earnings!" Johnny shouted, making a mistake of calling name by his name, thank goodness people can’t differentiate between Jae and J.

Jaehyun couldn't bother about the money now, he had to know who she was. He followed the streak of blonde hair into a car park nearby, which was empty since office workers are long gone by now. She made her way to a sleek black BMW i8, not what he had expected, but certainly unique compared to the Mercedes he keeps seeing at Gangnam District. However, before he could approach her, a hooded figure was behind her, a pocket knife produced from his right pocket. Right when Jaehyun was about to shout a warning at her, a flash of movement happened.

She turned around and kicked him squarely in the chest, he wasn't buff, and from what Jaehyun heard, that was a straight kick to the heart, she must be professionally trained. The figure fell down with his hand clenching his heart, he had a surprised expression, which was quickly replaced by a scowl, he definitely wasn't expecting that. She then kicked the pocket knife far away, her body slid down expertly with her handbag out reached, the huge steel chain of her handbag wrapped around the figure's neck once she kneeled down onto one of his arms, a huge crack resonating from the action.

“What kind of fucking psycho bitch are you?! I just wanted some money!"

She didn't reply, instead she dragged his body to a nearby pillar which had the emergency button for dire situations like this, she lifted him up and hit his head against the button. Immediately, the whole car park's alarm was triggered and soon after some guards rushed to see what happened. Once she saw the guards coming, she released the chains and threw him on the grown, Jaehyun could see the obvious frown on her face, but not any other feature due to the baseball cap she was wearing.

"You messed with the wrong bitch," her voice was as cold as ice.

When she opened her car trunk to retrieve something, Jaehyun approached her with his hands held high, he doesn’t want to trigger her any further, nor wish to fight a lady, especially not her, even if it’s just self defence.

"Miss?" Jaehyun called to her uncertainly.

When she looked back with her head held higher to see who it was, Jaehyun was floored. How could this be?

"Y/N? It was you all along? You're the girl with the blonde hair who always placed bets on me?" Jaehyun questioned, thinking that this must be some sort of big mistake.

You didn't know whether getting your latest Bottega Veneta ruined by some motherfucker was unluckier, or the fact that your step brother just found out about your secret, how could you not figure out it was his voice?

"Jaehyun, I... Let's talk, I'll take us somewhere," you said with uncertainty, but your eyes weren’t avoiding his strong gaze anymore, nothing like the little step sister he thought he once knew.

You didn't know what was Jaehyun thinking, other than the obvious disbelief on his face. The two of you were silent in the car ride, you didn't really know where to take him for a secluded and life altering conversation, other than the cliff which overlooks Seoul's skyline, you hope there aren't any couples here tonight.

"How long have you known about me going to Monster?" Jaehyun asked when he could no longer stand the questioning in his head, piercing the silence.

"Since the first time," you said, which made Jaehyun’s head jerk in surprise, but quickly composed himself to quickly solve this puzzle of mysteries.

"How did you know?"

“There are some things that I can tell just from my observation and just a bit of help from social networking. Like how I know you take a girl home after every match then leave in the middle of the night coming home with a scent of cheap perfume lingering in the air," you didn’t know why you wanted to add the last part, maybe you were a bit tired of playing the cat and mouse game with him when he has so many people lining up for him.

“You're not that clean either, are you? How did the money come about? And what would your dad think about this? Or my mom who thinks you're the most precious daughter in the world? What if I slipped up and accidentally told them about this little roleplay you have going on here?" Jaehyun taunted, a natural reaction to how you had threw around his private matters in such a snide manner.

"You wouldn't, because I know the reason why you came back to America so abruptly," you replied in a calm and cool tone, suppressing your anger.

Jaehyun's face instantly paled at the mention of his past.

"What do you mean?" Jaehyun asked in a rather hollow voice.

“Jeong Jaehyun, birthname Jeong Yoonoh, was born in Seoul, South Korea on 14th of February 1997. Your father is Jeong Eunsan who divorced your mother and moved to Connecticut on his own, he's an alcoholic and drug addict, he filed for a lawsuit to have you in his custody for five years for education reasons after he came clean from alcohol and drugs, the United States High Court approved of his appeal. So you left Seoul in 2010 and moved in with your father. But he got back on alcohol and drugs didn't he? That's why the two of you fought."

"How did you know all this?!"Jaehyun rounded on you from the passenger seat, seemingly wanting to hit something or someone for the frustration he’s feeling, but held himself back when he remembers it’s you, and nonetheless, a girl, he doesn’t hit girls. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, nearly black as his voice dips a lower intonation, the sight dangerous to anyone but you.

"I did some digging of my own," you replied calmly.

"Who are you? Are you even the baby sister I knew when I was a kid? Or the girl I took out for a ride just a few days ago? Who are you and what do you want from me?! And how are you filthy rich?! What do you even do for a living?! I feel like my whole life's a lie!" Jaehyun spats out, feeling like the ground underneath him shifted drastically, on the edge of loosing his footing, just like how he could barely comprehend what’s happening now.

“I don't want anything from you, Jaehyun. Some lies are said because they're easier to accept than the truth," you answered, hoping that this will be a suffice explanation to him, but knowing Jaehyun, you doubt it.

"I can't believe you lied to me, to our family, after all this time?!"

“Like you weren't planning to mess with me, seducing your little step sister, eager to expose my identity to my dad. A kettle calling a pot black, don’t you think? Do you enjoy inflicting pain upon others and yourself so much that you'll hurt anyone in your grasp? Your mom, your dad, the girls you slept with and left alone with broken hearts the next day, aren't those people enough for you? You think you're the only one who knows how to toy with people's hearts here, Jaehyun? What I'm doing to you now, is just a taste of your own medicine. You think I'm still that little naive 7 year old girl you had play dates with? You were gone for so long, things happen, and people change, and so did you Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's heart sank as he heard your piercing words he didn't mean to leave you as a child or become the monster he is today he didn't mean for any of this to happen, yet you lied to him after all this time the money, the fight club, your whole personality or what he thought it was all just a front.

His fingernails dug crescents into his palm as he took in all this information. For the first time, in so long, he was the one who was manipulated. Jeong Jaehyun defeated in his own game.

'Who is Y/N really? The girl with the frilly dresses who has her cute round glasses on whenever she's on her computer? Or the girl who sneaked out late at night in her leather jacket with all the money she wanted in the world?' Jaehyun thought to himself.

“Just tell me, how are you this rich? Where do you get all this money?" Jaehyun asked, not letting you off the hook, if it’s what he wants, you’ll give, it’s his consequent if the answer scarres him for life.

“Do you know how I played you so well, Jae? Because it's my job, I put up fake fronts for other people's real identities to be hidden. And you'd be surprised by how many people require these services from me. You think I'm the cruel one here? Open your eyes, pretty boy, it's a cruel world, and if you're not even half as evil as it is, then you'll naturally be the ones that are being deceived on your little fabricated rainbow bridge. I know what you did Jaehyun, I did some digging before you came back from the states, mom and dad bougt your little front, but I didn't. I was shocked when I made the discovery, just to let you know, he was pronounced dead by impact to his head. You and I both know what that means."

Jaehyun couldn't believe what he was hearing, he thought he had successfully left his past behind him. Only to have you uncover his crimes like popping a lid of a beer bottle, his hands are shaking from the shock of hearing you speak of what went down after he left his father.

“How am I still here then? Why isn't anyone cuffing me back?" Jaehyun questioned aloud, his mind completely mushed after hearing about your true profession and the truth of his sudden return from the states.

“I was there that same day to make amends of your faults, I was curious of how you were doing there. Only to find out that you weren't the same person anymore. They were worried every single day, I just wanted to make sure nothing happened to you, little did I know my skills would be needed there instead," you weren’t holding a grunge for what he’s became today, but till this day, it’s still hard to accept the fact that he was a whole different person entirely now.

"You cleaned up the body?" Jaehyun prodded further, hoping that you weren’t one of those cleaners for crimes.

“Do I look like I'll get my hands dirty? I was living there for two months just to observe, and I found out that there would be loan sharks asking for money everyday, not the most believable lot, carrying huge sticks and sometimes even knives, no? They even had criminal records beforehand. So I hacked into the security system and did some movie magic. The video of you going home and leaving with bloody hands was deleted and replaced with the video of the loan sharks looking for your father from the day before. And so the court was convinced that they were the killers given that they had existing brutality offences. And that's how I got you off the hook," you explained, somewhat proud that you could pull something off without any preparations at that time.

“Why did you help me? In America, the money I earn now, it's all your doing. Why?" Jaehyun questioned.

You didn't really know why either, you helped him escape his crime in America because you took pity on him, after all, he was in your life for a short period of time. But you couldn't really put a finger on why you wanted to help him here, other than the fact you did get money from his fights, albeit not that decent of an amount compared to your other earnings.

“Because my dad loves you, he wouldn't want anything to happen to you. If he knew, it would kill him, and I do appreciate your mom being in my life, this is the most I can do for them. As for the bets, it's just as form of gambling and quick cash, nothing to it."

Jaehyun hummed, his mind in deep thought.

"So is anything going to change between the two of us?" Jaehyun was directing the question to you as much as to himself.

You fingered the tiffany on your wrist, ignoring his line of sight.

"Nothing is going to change, I'll continue to bet on your fights at night, then I'll be your little sister in the morning who stays out of your way," you finally looked up after replying his question, an unreadable smile on your lips that leaves Jaehyun curious.

"Deal," it’s not like there’s any other better way to access the situation.

"I'll drive you back to the club to retrieve your bike."

You decided to crash at Irene and Seulgi's for the night, not knowing how to comprehend what just happened. However, when you got there, a man you didn't recognize was sitting on the couch. You quickly pulled your gun from the back of your pants, pointing at the back of his head.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" You questioned in a cold steely voice that you used only in missions you once particapated in.

When the man turned back, a handsome face greeted you, his brow quirked up in a questioning manner.

"I should be asking you that, little girl."

“I'm no little girl, answer the goddamn question!" you were loosing your cool, scared that something happened to Irene and Seulgi.

"Y/N! Put the gun down, that's Irene's boyfriend!" Seulgi said as she came out of her bedroom, hands flailing, not knowing whether to grab your gun or stand in front of the man.

"Seulgi? You know this man? What do you mean Irene's boyfriend? Why haven't I ever met him? you asked, lowering your gun slightly.

"I go to the toilet for one minute and I see my baby pointing a gun at my boyfriend that she's not supposed to know, just fucking great," Irene said before plopping down the sofa next to her boyfriend, hands reached up to massage her temples.

"So he's not a threat?"

"Not to us, you can say," Seulgi chipped in.

“I'll do the talking Seulgi ah, don't interrupt. Y/N, this is Junmyeon my boyfriend of three years. And Junmyeon, this is Y/N, she's like a sister to me, so don't you dare hurt a single strand of her hair.”

“Wait a minute. Junmyeon, as in Kim Junmyeon, EXO Suho, Kim Enterprise CEO? Head of criminal syndicate EXO Suho?" You spewed out, bewildered that the man of many identities, and many of them dangerous, was sitting on this very couch that you’re too familiar with.

“That's why I didn't want to let you know. I didn't want to rope you into any danger, you're so young Y/N, you shouldn't be involved with anyone who has any relations with a mafia leader," Irene explained in a disappointed tone, her head looking down in shame.

"Irene rejected him a few times because of your safety, and also Yeri's, but since she's at London, she's much safer," Seulgi supplied, hoping that telling you this would decrease the chances of you having an outburst of emotions, you must be facing some difficulties if you’re here at this hour.

You sat down on the couch, trying to take in all the information that's being thrown at you for the past 15 minutes or so, your brain trying to connect the dots and piece a proper response to this.

“Y/N ah, why are you here tonight? And why is your favorite bag in shreds? Did someone attack you?!" Irene quickly takes your face into her hands, checking for any injuries, then checking your hands, gasping at the slight scratch.

"What happened?!"

“Someone wanted to rob me on the way back after I came out from your fight club. In other words he's probably suffering from a rib damage, skull damage, et cetera," you replied in a monotonous way, tired from all the events of late.

"I’ve taught you well," Seulgi said with a proud smile on her face, she was, after all the one who taught you her vast knowledge of martial arts.

"Thanks Seulgi," you said, thinking back to the time when you first joined them, but your thoughts were cut short when your eyes laid back on the man in front of you.

"Anyways, tell me a bit about yourself, Junmyeon, since we're going to be stuck with each other until end of time, unless you deicide to cross Irene, then I'll have to feed your head to the hounds," you added the last part in a threatening tone.

“Feisty just like her mom. I'm Junmyeon of Kim Enterprise, the oldest brother of the four Kim brothers. And I'm also EXO's Suho, Seoul's largest illegal weapons manufacturer," Suho rattled off the facts that everyone in Seoul knows, but this isn’t going to cut if for you.

“I know that already. I did my research when I helped Kim Jongin transfer his dirty funds to the offshore accounts I set up for him. Tell me how your family started EXO," you suggested, always had an interest to how such a large scale syndicate started off.

“My great grandfather was part of a Japanese weapons manufacturing base, he was a spy for the Korean government many decades ago. He left the mission after he had successfully acquired enough knowledge on how to make their weapons, along with establishing connections inside so that he'll always receive updates. When the war was going on, he reported everything to the Korean government, then the war ended and he started his own business since that was the only knowledge he held worthy of putting bread on the table, and so the business has been going on ever since. Since I told you my origins, tell me yours, that is only fair," Junmyeon prompted.

“I met Irene when I was 14. I had no friends then, other than Yeri who was a year older than me. Irene spotted us exchanging a perfume bottle of this bitch who bullied us into a bottle full of onion juice, since she liked spraying it onto her face obnoxiously. Yeri caused a distraction while I hid underneath the stands, exchanging the bottles. She saw everything and offered us a job in her greatest money heist, I stole a key card while Yeri made a fuss about wanting to see her mom who doesn't even work there. After we pulled that off, Irene and Seulgi took us in, Irene teaching me her digital hacking skills and Seulgi teaching me her martial arts skills everyday after school. Then I branched out on my own after acquiring a different set of skills I learned on the dark web."

"Let me guess, the off shore accounts?"

"Bingo. I wanted to be independent too, can't always depend on Irene, and it proved me right, since she's probably going to get married and stuff soon,” you said, eyeing him expectantly.

"Hey, who said I was leaving you?" Irene complained, a hand slapping your head lightly before going back to your wounds.

"You'll have real babies to baby in the future, I'm excited," you said sincerely, knowing that a couple this good looking would have the most beautiful children in the world.

"To be off the hook?" Junmyeon quipped in.

"That as well," you said before bursting into laughter at Irene’s shocked expression.

"I can't believe my boyfriend and my baby is ganging up on me," Irene said in a huff.

"Seulgi's enjoying the show," you said after glancing at her gleeful expression.

"I live with this woman, I can't talk shit about her, so do please continue."

“I'm done patching you up Y/N, Seulgi prepare her room, she's gonna stay here tonight. And as for you mister, you better head home, don't keep your mom worried, I'll see you tomorrow,” Irene said before ushering a reluctant Junmyeon.

All of you said your goodbyes to Junmyeon, grateful that Irene knew you needed some time alone. You quickly washed up and changed into comfy pjs, Irene sitting on your bed waiting for you to talk. You crawled into bed, laying down your head onto her leg.

“I'll say it once, and I'll say it again. I'm really grateful for what you've given me, although illegal for most things, but I can't imagine life any other way. So please don't kill me because he found out."

"Who?! Jaehyun?!" Irene asked, immediately assuming the worst ‘he’ she could possibly think of.

"Yeah. He rushed out from the club, and followed me. He's not telling them anything, but we had a talk about his past and stuff."

"Was he shaken up?"

“He handled it as best as he could you can say, he's a fighter, not a killer. It's different to us compared to him," you guessed.

"Yeah. I'm sorry about the Junmyeon thing as well, I just wanted to keep you safe."

“It's fine. He's nice, for now. And I want you to be happy too," you said genuinely.

"Thank you. What about Jaehyun? What is he to you?" Irene asked, always had a hunch about your feelings.

"A friend."

"That's all?"

“I'm not going to fall for him when all he does is pick up girls after fights. What about the Kim brothers? Are they hot?" you asked, curious to see what else the family holds.

“Jongin's a player, but you already know that. Jongdae's married with a daughter, and Minseok is a mystery. But I don't want you marrying into a mafia family, Y/N. Don't make the mistakes I'm going to make, I want you to be safe," Irene lectured.

"I'm fine, I can protect myself perfectly well."

“I just want what's best for you. It's getting late, I'll make you a cup of tea in Bunny and Rabbit's take away cup tomorrow, okay? In case you get there after they wake up," Irene said, mindful of your parents.

You smiled at how thoughtful Irene is, always leaving her cafe's paper cups in her home as a decoy for you to use when you get back in the morning.

"Yeah. Goodnight mom."

“I'm your sister, Y/N ah, stop making me sound old. And Goodnight to you too."

“Here are two tickets for a cruise trip,” you said, handing the tickets to your dad.

Your dad’s eyes light up at your surprise, along with your step mother’s who stopped watching her latest drama, letting it run on the tv.

“What? How come?” Your dad asks as he reads the details of the tickets.

“My boss gave me a larger bonus this time around, so I decided to get you guys something, since dad would be off for summer holidays in a week’s time, it’s just in time to board the cruise,” you explained.

“Honey, you should spend your hard earned money on yourself.”

“It’s okay dad, I have enough money, don’t worry. I wanted to get you this, since you were so stressed about your students the other day. A change of scenery from the university would be good for you,” you said before taking a seat on the sofa across them.

“Y/N’s right, you deserve a holiday this summer. Thank you so much Y/N, you’ve always been such a good daughter to us,” your stepmom said, grateful that you never once shunned her off like most people she had read about would.

“No problem. It’s getting late, I’ll head to bed. Night dad, night mom,” you said before giving your dad a hug.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You got into your room and shut your door before texting Irene.

‘It worked, I can attend the gala with you.’

‘Great. Can’t wait to see you there.’

It was around 1 a.m., when someone interrupted you from your work by knocking lightly on your door. You got up to open it to reveal Jaehyun’s fluffy mob of hair poking into the small gap of your door.

“This is unexpected.”

“Can’t I come check in my little sister?” Jaehyun replied with a boyish smile.

“Right, very convincing,” you said, sarcasm evident.

You are skeptic of his motive, but nonetheless allowed him into your room before anyone comes into the hallway. Jaehyun laid down on your bed, his large frame taking up most of the space, so you opted sitting on your desk chair.

“What are you really here for?”

Jaehyun sat up from your bed, his dimples obvious because of his cheeky smile.

“My little sister truly knows me best, doesn’t she? I’ve been wondering why are you suddenly sending away your dad and my mom for two months straight?Definitely not because of some bonus you made up.”

“My step brother still knows me best, doesn’t he? There’s this gala hosted by Kim Industries, and my friend’s going, but she doesn’t know anyone there. Since I know some of the attendees, I volunteered to attend it with her,” you supplied, leaving out the part about Junmyeon.

“You’re going to a gala without a date?” Jaehyun asked like it was the most outrageous thing ever.

“I just thought of going alone,” just like back in junior high’s prom.

“Can I come?”

“You like galas?” you were surprised to say the least.

“Just because I fight for a living, doesn’t mean I can’t do elegance,” Jaehyun said in a defensive tone, deeming your shocked expression somewhat offensive.

“Sure, just don’t get bored and beg to go home,” knowing how impatient he is.

“As long as you get me a suit,” Jaehyun said before crashing onto your bed, he had taken a liking to lying down onto your fluffy sheets.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he takes in your dress for tonight’s gala.

Jaehyun stared at you with awe in his eyes as he does a once over, not the ones that he usually does that make him look like a predator eyeing its prey, but a look filled with slight admiration and wonder that would’ve made your blush obvious if it weren’t for the artificial blush on your cheeks.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Dior suites you.”

“Thank you.”

You were wearing an A line Louis Vuitton skater dress with a belt of the same brand to highlight the curve of your waist. You were wearing your usual red lip gloss that Jaehyun first caught eye of. Heels and bag that matches Jaehyun’s suit, and last but not least, a diamond necklace from Van Cleef and Arpel’s adorning your collar.

“Why are you driving?” Jaehyun complained whilst getting into the passenger seat of your car.

“Because this is my car, and you drive like a reckless mad man on your bike,” you deadpanned as you revved the engine to life.

“Fine, fair enough,” Jaehyun said in a sulking tone.

Jaehyun wanted to give a go at your car, but obviously you cherish it like your own bone and flesh, given its price, making Jaehyun grumble in the passenger seat.

The venue of the gala was the Kim family’s holiday estate up on a cliff, the location, based on your knowledge, costed a fortune that even you’ll have to save up from at least 20 jobs. You parked your car inside the estate’s huge underground parking space, next to cars that costed just as much, at least you don’t look like a fish among sharks here.

A servant guided you up to the center court of the estate, where everything is happening, a waiter immediately passing you and Jaehyun a flute of champagne.

“Do you always attend fancy parties?” Jaehyun asked as he takes in the scene.

“No, this is my first,” you said before taking a sip from the glass.

“Then how are you so calm?”

“I’ve been in enough life threatening situations that these parties don’t have an effect on me anymore,” you said as you scan the crowd for Irene.

“Sounds interesting, where do I sign up?”

“That adrenaline seeker inside you would kill you one day.”

“Can’t help it, I’m addicted to danger.”

“Y/N, you’re here,” Irene said after struggling through a crowd, Junmyeon following close by.

“Irene, Junmyeon. I know who are the best dressed couple tonight,” you said in awe at their matching dress and suit, looking like modern royalty.

“And you must be Jaehyun. I’m Irene, Y/N’s close friend. How nice to finally meet you,” Irene introduced herself before sticking a hand out for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Irene,” Jaehyun said as he shook her hand with a friendly smile.

“This is my boyfriend, Junmyeon,” Irene gestured at her beau.

The two men shook hands and gave each other polite smiles. Irene directed you and Jaehyun to your respective seats for dinner after Junmyeon excused himself to get ready for his speech. The three of you sat down at the table as dinner started. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, other than the applauses given to Junmyeon after his aspiring speech on how he would improve the company came to an end.

There were people at the table who questioned Irene of her background rather rudely but you didn’t take any drastic actions other than throwing back mildly sarcastic remarks because Irene kept a hand on your knee, squeezing your leg whenever you’re on the edge of crossing the line, with Junmyeon resisting to laugh at the such an amusing scene.

“You should’ve let Y/N continue, I love how she roasted Aunt Soohyun about her wig being bigger than her brain,” Junmyeon whispered.

“Junmyeon! Don’t encourage her.”

Jaehyun was mostly silent, until Junmyeon chatted him up about the recent football season. Jaehyun was surprisingly helpful, asking the waiter to refill your cup of water when you finished, reminding you that your lip gloss had faded significantly after you finished your meal. He even helped you hold your hair back as you had dinner.

After dinner, all of the guest started socialising, walking and talking freely. At one point when Jaehyun left your side for the washroom, a handsome man made strides towards your direction.

“Y/N. It’s been a long time,” the blonde male said.

“Kun. How long has it been? Two three years?”

“I suppose so, and you still look at beautiful as ever.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself too,” complimenting him back.

Qian Kun, the CEO of WayV, a communications company in China and Korea, as well as some other hidden companies that not everyone knows about, the reason he contacted you the first place years, and one of the very few customers you slept with.

“What brings you here tonight?”

“I’m friends with Irene.”

“What a small world, isn’t it? Junmyeon and her look so well together, imagine their kids.”

Kun was pointing at Junmyeon and Irene who were dancing flawlessly in the middle of the ballroom.

“They’ll make the Kardashians cower in shame.”

“May I have a dance, Y/N?” Kun asked when the last song came to a stop.

“Lead the way, Kun,” how could you say no to a handsome face like him?

He took you hand in his and guided you to the dance floor. When you placed your hands on his shoulder, you could feel that he had gotten much more fitter these years, muscles flexing at every tiny movement. His eyes never left yours, other than the little flickers down to your lips when he thought you weren’t looking.

“I missed you Y/N.”

Next thing you knew, Kun was kissing you with those plump lips of his. The two of you had danced to the side of the room, Kun broke free from the kiss and led you to an empty hallway where you kissed him back immediately. Kun’s hands wandered freely over your figure, one of his hand going under your skirt, the slight squeeze on your inner thigh making you moan into the kiss. Just when his hand was reaching higher, someone pulled him off you.

“What?”

“Who the fuck are you and why are you touching her?!”

Kun scowled at the sight of Jaehyun, laughing at his angry face.

“When did you get yourself this boy toy Y/N? I would be a much better candidate for you tonight, Y/N.”

“Get away from us!” Jaehyun hollers, his anger getting out of hand.

“My apologies, I didn’t know she was taken.”

Kun walked away, leaving you with a livid Jaehyun.

“What were you thinking Y/N?! Letting a stranger touch you like that!”

“Stop shouting! He’s not a stranger, he’s someone I used to know and it’s none of your business to care!”

You stormed out of the estate, heading to the garden which led to the edge of the cliff, the sight of the beautiful sky calming your nerves immediately. You heard footsteps following you, no doubt it was Jaehyun, wanting to shout in your ear furthermore.

“Y/N!”

“I don’t want to see you, Jae. Go back inside,” you said as you let your legs take you further out into the open.

But Jaehyun and his damned long legs caught up with you in no time, he held onto one of your arms, tugging you back to look at him. When your eyes landed on his apologetic face, your heartstrings tugged lightly against the anger in your mind, but you remained your cold composure, eyes narrowing at him.

“What was that huh, Jaehyun? You think you really are my brother or boyfriend? That you can boss me around as you please? What makes you think you can stop me from touching other men when you sleep with every other girl after each match? Why can’t I do the same thing as you? Say something! You have nothing to offer? What are you? Five? Cat caught your tongue so easily? Fuck you, Jeong Jaehyun, you don’t even have the guts to admit your feelings.”

You tugged your arm out of his grip, walking as quickly as you can to the edge of the cliff, taking off your heels. When you started walking to the end slowly, you were pulled back by Jaehyun, the two of you falling onto the soft grass.

“I admit it! I admit it! I love you, okay? Just don’t fucking jump off the cliff. What were you thinking?”

You sat up from his embrace, the cold of the night grazing your exposed skin immediately, the tears in the corner of his eyes caught you by surprise.

“You mean it?” You questioned, shock that he’d be so honest about his feelings so suddenly.

“Of course I mean it. God, you gave me a heart attack.”

Jaehyun pulled you into his arms once again, his head on your shoulder, his nose rubbing the curve of your neck as his hands hold you tight, not wanting you to leave.

“You’re addicted to the adrenaline rush and inflicting pain, just thought this combination would make you own up to your own feelings.”

“You planned this?! What if I didn’t stop you?!”

“I had faith in you.”

“You’re crazy. What did I do in my previous life to end up with a mad woman like you? And what do you mean I’m addicted to inflicting pain? I mean to some degree for adrenaline rush, but pain?” Jaehyun questioned acting out shockingly, hoping that his denial may be able to mask this issue of his, or more accurately put by you, one out of two of his addictions.

“Just admit it, no one other than you fights with such madness, Mr J, I can see it in your eyes after every one of your victories,” you rounded on him, eyes narrowing at his, purposely using his stage name instead.

“Fine, I might be addicted to the pain I receive as well as inflict on others physically, and maybe the girls I slept with, but that’s more of an after match celebratory thing and I wasn’t considerate of their feelings, but nonetheless, I never wanted to harm you, yes, I might have wanted to manipulate your innocence at first, but that was before I started having feelings for you, I meant it when I said I love you,” Jaehyun explained, pouring his whole heart out to you, his eyes silently pleading for your understanding.

“I guess I love you too, coward, now let’s get back inside, it’s getting too cold for my liking,” you said as you wore your heels.

“What do you mean you guess? Hey, wait up!” Jaehyun stared at your retreating figure, trying to decipher your words before jogging up to pester you further about it,

Although Jaehyun and you hadn’t spent that much time together, but the bond since you had as kids never really faded, things just felt like they fall into place whenever you’re with him, the beauty of the little pieces of emotions clicking together like an intricate puzzle, just like how his aggressiveness balances your cool and calm exterior.

Jaehyun and you have surprisingly got along well, he was more honest with you about his feelings and trauma towards his past. You suggested him to find professional help, but he didn’t want anyone suspecting him of killing his father and said that talking to you already helps a great deal. The two of you would talk about anything and everything on a Thursday night, a time where both of you would sit down and genuinely talk to each other over a bottle of wine as your parents still aren’t back from their trip yet.

“You can say anything you want, especially if there’s things going through your head. I don’t want you to bottle up your feelings anymore okay?”

“Okay,” Jaehyun said as he caressed the curve of your side gently as you leaned your body against his, his warmth seeping through even with the layers of clothing.

It hasn’t been an easy journey, being with Jaehyun, but all couples go through ups and downs together regardless, you didn’t care if it was relatively harder, with his anger management and trust issues, the happiness he has brought into your life has etched inside your heart like an anchor and its ship.

Jaehyun wanted you to stop bidding so much money on him after the two of you got together, but you didn’t want to stop, since this was the reason the two of you had bloom into lovers. You are a rather sentimental person towards particular milestones. The person you were years ago would’ve been in disbelief towards your change of attitude towards a relationship commitment.

Every night, you’d go to bed wishing that these beautiful moments wouldn’t ever cease into nothingness.

Monster is rather crowded tonight, the underground fighting club is getting more and more popular among the young in Seoul, which makes pending background checks on the attendees before matches rather hard for the staff of Monster. The pending invites take around 2 months per person. But the amount of new faces and old faces alike never made Jaehyun nervous, in fact he could spot a few banners with his stage name, Mr J scrawled messily among the club goers.

Jaehyun used to fight with turmoil in his head as he uses fighting as a form of therapy for his past traumas, but ever since you helped him through things, it has cleared his head of anger and finds it easier to focus on his opponents’ movements. Ever since then, he started calling you his lucky charm, if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have made such a large improvement on his skills.

The fight began as usual with you watching him from a nearby balcony on the second floor. His opponent was a man who’s around his strength and height. Jaehyun although changed his way of thinking during a match, hasn’t changed one bit of his favourite tactic, manipulation.

Jaehyun took a painful hit on his stomach from his opponent. Although he told you he won’t take pain as a form of stress relief anymore, he still takes it like a champ in order to take down his opponent. Right when he feigns hurt, hugging his stomach slightly, his opponent chooses to use a wide swing as his grand finale, planning to finish Jaehyun off. But because of Jaehyun’s quick eye and experience, Jaehyun immediately lifts his right arm up to punch the joint of his opponent’s elbow forcefully bending it to an upwards angle that definitely hurts a lot, the crack of the bone being dislocated loud even amongst the crowds’ cheer. What Jaehyun didn’t expect was that his opponent took a swing at him with his other hand even through the midst of all the pain he experienced from his injury Jaehyun inflicted upon, bruising the corner of Jaehyun’s eye.

Jaehyun could feel anger boiling up his chest as he charges at his opponent like a bull, throwing hits all over his opponent’s head as well as stomach. At first his opponent tried to stand up, but gave up when he moved and felt the pain of his injuries digging into his flesh, hitting the floor of the ring five times to admit his defeat.

Jaehyun pulled himself up when he heard the bell rang, waking him up from his haze of anger. He looked up, hoping to see you smile because of his victory, yet you had disappeared.

There was a slight error with the cameras for the live stream of the match for fans online, so Lucas went to get you to fix it before the club loses any earnings just because of a slight malfunction, forcing you to leave Jaehyun’s fight. When you were done fixing them, the walk towards your spot of the ring was rather long, so the match ended before you reached there.

Jaehyun’s left eye started to swollen from the hit he received from his opponent, making everything look blurry if he concentrated his sight on the left. Just as he was about to leave the ring, a girl got up and kissed him. He immediately pushed her away when he realised it wasn’t you, although a similar shade of platinum blonde.

“Jaehyun! Did you miss me? That was such a great match. Wanna hang out at my place after this?” The perky blonde chick suggested in a rather annoying voice, immediately getting on Jaehyun’s nerves, like the throbbing in his eye isn’t giving him a bad headache already.

“Who are you? And why the fuck did you kiss me?” Jaehyun questioned, anger laced in his voice.

“I’m Brittany, we met here, and fucked at a night club downtown, remember? Why don’t we do just that now, you loved it the last time,” she praticcaly purred at him, ridiculous.

“What the fuck?! Fuck off!”

When Jaehyun pushed the girl away, he could see you standing outside the ring, anger and disbelief written across your face. That’s when you took off right in front of him, running towards the exit faster than you’ve ever before.

“Jaehyun, who is she?!”

Jaehyun ignored the girl, and pushed past the masses of people, running into the carpark where you usually parked your car, but when he got there, you were already gone, only a familiar whiff of your perfume in the stale air left.

You were speeding way past the speed limit, but you didn’t care. Nothing matters when your heart feels like its been chewed and spat out like it was dirt. You didn’t cry, even though you want to. You can only hear the voices in your head taunting you for your foolishness.

‘You knew he was a player and still you fell for him.’

‘You should’ve seen it coming, just because you pour your heart out for him, doesn’t mean he’ll cherish it.’

‘You were just like him a few years ago, this is probably karma.’

You pulled into Irene and Seulgi’s place, a miracle that you arrived without a single crash. You were so glad that your parents’ cruise lasted until next month. You leant back into your seat, the stress and fatigue you felt for the past moments finally crashing onto you. That’s when you received a call from Jungwoo, the money launderer you worked with.

“Yo, Y/N. I got a job for you.”

You have to leave for Switzerland, where Jungwoo was based at and where you arrange off shore accounts. You had to meet with a client in Incheon to discuss the details of the deal before boarding your flight hours prior.

The client wasn’t a hard case, so you had time to kill before you need to board for your flight. So you typed out the details to Jungwoo in an encrypted message to speed things up when you got there, right when you’re done, it was time to board the plane. On the flight, you mostly slept and watched movies to pass time, trying to distract yourself from the constant ache in your heart that was starting to numb into emptiness. You remember a conversation you had with Jaehyun about Switzerland once.

“I really like the snow capped mountains and green hills there. It’s beautiful all year round,” Jaehyun said as he watched the tv play out an episode of some show on Discovery.

“I can take you there if you want to, since I’m so familiar of the country from all the jobs,” you offered.

“I’d love that. Spending time with you in a cabin with a beautiful winter scene right outside our window sounds like heaven to me.”

You hate how your mind just instantly clicks everything back to Jaehyun, you scooted lower into your seat of the taxi to avoid the once beautiful scenery now scarred in your memory.

“What brings you here days earlier than you should? Family problems? Not likely. Boy problems?” Jungwoo egged on as he takes in your rather disheleved look.

You only sighed in response, you loved Jungwoo with all your life, but the events from these past days made your patience run on thin ice.

“Nothing, Woo.”

“Come on, tell me. You already talked to the client and I looked through the files, nothing needs to be amended, so we have plenty of time,” Jungwoo said as he pops in a chocolate truffle in his mouth, all ears for the latest take on your personal life.

He was patting the seat next to him on the sofa, you plopped down reluctantly, not expecting an ambush this soon from him as it was already 2 a.m. Switzerland time.

“Remember Jaehyun?”

“The hot step brother that had you chasing his tail and fixing his shit in the states?” Jungwoo asked with a knowing smile.

“Yes, that one.”

“What happened? Not another crime I hope, the only thing illegal he does now is fighting at Irene noona’s club. Unless?”

“No, it has nothing to do with the law.”

“Then?” Jungwoo has his attention trained now, he didn’t even bother to reach for another chocolate.

“We fell in love.”

“Thought so, but something happened recently, I suppose?”

“Yeah, I caught him kissing another girl after his match when I walked away to fix something, you know, like last time, when he would sleep with girls after every match.”

“Honey, Y/N. Not every fuckboy is ‘fixable’ no matter how much care and affection you shove up his ass. That’s just how men work,” he said with a click of his tongue, thinking back to the problems he had with men.

“You’re a man.”

“I’m gay, we think differently, and I’m out of my hoe phase. Doyoung is so adorable, you can meet him after we settle the accounts tomorrow.”

“Sure, Woo. I’m gonna head to bed, night,” you said before leaving to Jungwoo’s guest room, which is more of your third home now.

“Night.”

After you were done with the job and checked to make sure you received the fees, you decided to stay a few more days with Jungwoo, meeting his boyfriend as well as taking road trips to different parts of Switzerland all over again, trying to forget about the ache in your heart. It was a few days later at a resort where Jungwoo cornered you at the pub, since he didn’t want to say anything in front of Doyoung, and that man was rather clingy at times, which was a perfect match for Jungwoo

“You know you’re welcomed to spend time with me, but don’t you think you should talk to him? Instead of spending lonely nights drinking different cocktails in different hotels? Hell, you’re not even looking at those hot dudes that were checking you out, usually you’ll take one back for the night. What happened to the old Y/N?” Jungwoo questioned.

“I’m still me, Woo. I’m just not feeling it I guess,” sleeping around after a heartbreak was one of your known as one of your coping mechanisms to Jungwoo, but this heartbreak feels closer to home than the others, which was a given.

“You know, you didn’t even give a chance the poor boy to explain himself before you hopped on a plane and travelled oceans away. It might be a misunderstanding, you never know. Girls in that club can be really crazy, drugs and alcohol, that chick might have mistook your man for someone else. Go home, Y/N. Talk it out, and if he really did that on purpose, well I know a few assassins in Seoul.”

“I don’t want to kill him, Woo,” you deadpanned before downing another shot.

“Just kidding, but I’m serious, take the next flight home, since we’re this near to the nearest airport.”

“Fine, okay,” you sighed.

“Good, now last one, no more alcohol for you tonight,” Jungwoo holds his own shot high for yours to clink.

Once you landed in Incheon, it was around half past ten at night, the duty free shops were starting to shutter after you checked out. You booked a cab and left the airport. Before reaching home, you received a call from Lucas, which was odd, since you told them not to contact you unless it was an emergency.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, thank god you picked up. Where are you?”

“I just landed and I’m reaching home. Why are you calling me?” you asked, checking the time on your watch to predict what problems they’re facing.

“It’s Jaehyun, he’s drunk and he got himself into a match.”

“Why did you let him?!” you questioned in disbelief, a hand reaching up to ruffle your hair, a habit you had whenever you needed to think up of a solution quickly.

“Well, the people were protesting because we didn’t let him fight for a few days already, since he was drunk as well, but the people demanded for winnings from his matches, and I don’t think I can hold off the people’s demands. They won’t listen to me or Johnny, and Jaehyun is being an ass here, insisting on fighting no matter what,” Lucas said over the line, the voices of the audience in the background, it sounded very pack tonight.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you said before hanging up.

You cursed under your breath, telling the driver to speed up. If you needed to save his ass, you can’t do it with your real identity.

When you reached the fight club, you ran as fast as you could to the front, the people giving you space to move willingly. They weren’t sure who you were, but from the way you ordered Lucas and Johnny around, you must hold power over this club. As you neared the ring, you could hear a gruff voice shouting over the cheers of the audience.

“You’re gonna die, Mr. J! I waited for this day long enough, sweet, sweet revenge!”

Jaehyun was lying on the ground, movements shaky as he tried to scoot away from his opponent as he prepares to strike one last punch on Jaehyun’s head, without thinking twice, you jumped into the ring as fast as your legs could take you, you slid down and tripped Jaehyun’s opponent by sliding a kick as hard as you could on both his legs, making the large burly man fall onto his knees.

“How dare you stop me from my victory?!”

“This match is unfair! Mr J is drunk! Leave at once!” You ordered.

“I don’t care, no matter how much you pay me, I’m going to settle this once and for all! And a little girl like you isn’t going to stop me! I’ll fight you if I have to!” Jaehyun’s opponent threatened.

“Bring it on, motherfucker,” you said before putting on the gloves that Johnny had thrown on your side of the ring, mouthing the word sorry before getting back to the monitors.

Jaehyun’s opponent charged at you, like a bull that was tempted by the colour red, his eyes wild in frenzy after almost defeating Jaehyun. You jumped as high as you could, legs pointing at him like an arrow, striking him down like a target dummy, taking advantage of his crouched position when he charged at you. You started punching his face as you held him down with your legs, constricting his hands, but unfortunately for you, the amount of muscles he had on his abdomen enabled him to sit up and slam you onto the ground.

You hissed in pain as you felt the pressure of the way he threw you down from that height. You quickly rolled over when he wanted to land a punch on you, the only upside about your opponent being large was that he was slow as well. So you jumped onto his back, your thighs choking him as you landed punch after punch on his head. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it up if you didn’t finish him once and for all, so you placed all your weight onto him as well as tipping your figure downwards, forcing him to fall back forwards, you used all your strength by rising up your feet slightly before stomping onto his stomach, making him lose his balance, the fall made the pain in his stomach increase tenfold as you had him sandwiched underneath the force from your feet and the hard floor. The sound of something cracking underneath your feet loud as the audience had silence themselves to take in the extraordinary fight in front of them, it must’ve been his ribs.

The man underneath you coughed out blood along with the words of surrender and medic. Once the coast was clear, you rushed down the ring where Jaehyun was, he was unconcious.

“What’s wrong with him?” you asked the medic attending to him.

“We think he had too many punches on his head, it’s best you send him to the hospital immediately Ms Y/N.”

“Johnny! Take him to my car!”

“Right away.”

You checked your limbs and your eye sight, your legs were a bit shaky, and you were littered with bruises, but you didn’t care as you ran to where your car was parked a few blocks down, Jaehyun in Johnny’s arms. Johnny placed Jaehyun in the backseat once you opened the car doors.

“I’ll take it from here, take care of the situation at the club, don’t let things get out of hand.”

“Okay, you’re sure you can drive?” Johnny asked one last time, he knows you’ve been in worse situations, but he didn’t want to lose his boss.

“Yeah,” you said before closing your door, your limbs going into autopilot to get the car started.

You sped as fast as you could, shifting gears every once in a while to make it to the hospital in record speed. You didn’t stop until you reached the hospital’s emergency drop off.

“Help! He’s heavily injured, someone tried to rape me and he fought the guy, but the guy hurt his head a few times before he gave up,” you said in a frantic tone, making the lie seem even more believable.

The nurse you were talking to quickly flagged down a team of medic, putting Jaehyun onto a stretcher and wheeling him into the hospital.

“Are you fine, miss? You look injured as well,” the nurse inquired when she took in some of your visible injuries.

“I’m fine, I need to park my car then I’ll get checked myself.”

“Very well.”

You quickly parked your car and retrieved your leather jacket from the trunk, not wanting to draw attention on yourself because of the bruises. You dashed to the reception desk, asking for Jaehyun’s whereabouts.

“He’s currently in Room 512 Level 3 receiving surgery, he’ll be out in 2 hours.”

“Thank you,” you breathed a sigh of relief.

“There you are! I’ll be tending to your wounds.”

Just your luck, the nurse from before cornered you once you turned back. Directing you to one of the emergency area.

“There are bruises all over your arms as well as behind your head, and these are the only ones I can see,” she said as she pressed gently onto the slight swell behind your head.

“I’m fine, miss, thank you so much,” you said as you sat up from the bed.

“Wait, at least let me check your eye sight. You might have damaged your brain from the injuries behind your head.”

You reluctantly sat back down, frustrated that you couldn’t be with Jaehyun. Once she was done, you rushed to the surgery room just as Jaehyun was being wheeled out.

“How is his condition, doctor?”

“He only had a gnash behind his head, fortunately missing his neck. He was unconscious mostly because of the hits he received on his head and the alcohol in his system. He should wake up tomorrow morning after the anaesthesia passes.”

“Thank you so much, doctor,” you said before bowing to him.

“You’re welcome.”

You followed the nurses who wheeled him in, tucking him in the blankets, since he was always sensitive of the cold.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow. I promise,” you said as you squeezed his hand before leaving his room.

When you got back to Irene’s condo, a collective gasp rang out as you took off your leather jacket.

“When Johnny said it was bad, he wasn’t lying,” Seulgi said as she poured a glass of water for you.

“The guy I took down was second to Jaehyun in the club, I think I did okay. I always got bruises from our jobs anyways,” you said before crashing onto the sofa, the familiar ache ringing out in your senses.

“Maybe you got a bit rusty,” Seulgi said as she passed you the glass.

“No I didn’t.”

Right after you finished your sentence, Seulgi threw a knife at you. You avoided the knife by moving your head at a speed that you were very much used to after the many training sessions as well as missions.

“Not bad.”

“Seulgi! What did I say about impaling knives on our walls?!” Irene complained, eyes widening at your wounds, but let out a sigh of relief when she could smell the medicine on your skin, but continued eyeing your wounds with worried eyes.

“I was just testing her, I’ll fix it tomorrow, promise,” she replied with a cheeky smile, hoping that she wouldn’t get an earful from Irene by looking cute.

“Y/N ah, there’s something Johnny sent me after you left for Switzerland.”

Irene handed you her laptop, a CCTV footage of the club showing up. It was taken from the camera that was right on top of the ring that had 360 degrees angle, just in case anyone played unfairly.

The video showed the night of the match right where you walked out from, you could see yourself run out of the scene. Followed by Jaehyun pushing the girl off him and seemingly shouting at her before rushing out to look for you.

“I think he wasn’t cheating on you, Y/N ah, he didn’t seem too happy about the girl,” Irene suggested.

“I might have jumped to conclusions too soon,” you said solemnly, realising that you have mistaken Jaehyun because of his past.

You had unconciously began twirling at the necklace on your neck, something you did whenever you held much uncertainty, which Irene noticed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, I would’ve freaked out if I were in your shoes as well,” Irene consoled.

“Yeah, I’m gonna head to bed, night,” more like lying on bed thinking about how you’re indirectly the cause of what happened tonight.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

Jaehyun was wincing when he opened his eyes, the white lights and the white ceiling blinding him temporarily. Where is he? When he tried sitting up, he could feel how sore his whole body was, what did he do after he got out of the pub? That’s when he felt it, your familiar touch and soothing voice.

“Hey... Take it easy.”

“Y/N? Y/N? You’re back,” he sat up abruptly to see if he was dreaming, but the pain that came with the rushed action was too painful to be just a gimmick in his head.

“I’m back.”

You were wearing your usual flowy dress again, delicate hands cutting up his favourite fruit, a peach. You had on the lilac scrunchie he had given you a few weeks after you guys were a couple, as well as the Bulgari ring he had gotten you after a month. You poured him a cup of water before feeding him little peach cubes, the necklace dangling on top of him, a familiar sight that comforts him.

“I’m sorry for taking off like that, I thought I wasn’t enough for you anymore and I just assumed the worst,” you said truthfully, knowing that he must’ve felt like shit when you were gone.

“I don’t blame you, I know my reputation isn’t the best, and only time will prove how much you mean to me, and I’m fine with that, I’m willing to wait for your trust, Y/N,” Jaehyun explained in a sincere tone, his way of forgiving you.

Jaehyun took your hand in his, his thumb tracing lines on your palm. His other hand cups your cheek, holding up your face to see you clearly for the first time in a while, that’s when he saw the slight bruise on your jaw.

“Y/N, what happened?” Jaehyun asked as he touched the bruise, wincing under the sudden pressure on your wound.

“You don’t remember what happened last night?”

“No. Did I hit you?!” Jaehyun said as his eyes were frantically scanning your whole body, only to find more bruises around your wrists, if he had done this, he’d hate himself for eternity.

“You joined a match against King Laz, the guy who hates your guts. I just landed from Switzerland last night, then I received a call saying you were drunk but you were in a fight, so I rushed there only to find you lying on the ground. He was going to finish you off, so the only logical thing I could think off was to fight for you, since he didn’t want to leave without defeating someone,” you explained recounting last night’s events.

“You fought against him?! Are you mad?!” Jaehyun questions, eyes going over all your injuries, worried about how painful they look.

“Oh come on, Jae. I’m a trained fighter, that fight was nothing,” you said dismissively.

“He’s a strong opponent, Y/N. No wonder you got so many bruises,” Jaehyun said as he hangs his head down, upset that you had to go through so much to save his sorry ass.

“It’s nothing, Jaehyun. It was just like every other mission I went through, nothing to be alarmed of. And these bruises are nothing, I get bruised easily. Don’t be so hung up over it, it’s already over, I kicked his butt and is now lying in bed with several broken ribs, so be quiet and eat your peach.”

“Several? Impressive. Thanks for the peach, baby, but I would much rather eat yours,” Jaehyun suggested, tongue in cheek with a playful smile gracing his lips.

“Sometimes I don’t know what I see in you,” you said as you popped another peach cube in his mouth.

“Shh... I know you love me, now give me a kiss for quick recovery,” Jaehyun said before his hand reaches for you.

“You’re such a dork, Jeong Jaehyun,” but you kissed him nonetheless, no matter if his lips were bruised or cut, you’ll always be there for him, for you are his cure to the monsters in his head, the poison and its cure.

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