#i mean at one point yes james films on his phone

[toomuchracket]

how about matty convincing d word girlie going to a football match with her?? (Maybe she doesn’t really like football that much, or even at all, idk?)

HA yeah ok so you and matty go for a little long weekend up the north-east to visit some of his family, and newcastle are playing at home on the saturday and before you go tim phones to say he's got tickets for all of you - you included. matty giggles when he tells you this, because any time he talks about football or watches it in the house your eyes just glaze over out of disinterest, despite your best efforts to pay attention, and he knows you'll wince at the thought of actually going to a match; you do, but quickly plaster on a hesitant smile and say "ok", and matty's like "you'll go? really?", and you're like "... yes. it would make you really happy, wouldn't it?", and matty kisses your head and says "it would, darlin', it would mean a lot to me if you were there", and you're like "so it's settled. i will go to the football". and matty's like "can you say that again? i need to film it and send it to your dad so he'll believe me when i tell him" - you point at him like "don't fucking push it, matthew", and matty laughs and takes your face in his hands to kiss you like "sorry, baby. thank you for doing this. i love you. it'll be fun", to which you're like "i love you too, and that's the only reason i'm ACTUALLY doing it. and i guess seeing your family will be fun, at least, lol". but as the weekend gets closer, you do actually start to get excited, just because matty's so hyped about taking his girl to see his team lmao (he is such a boy). he's like "try on one of my football tops to see if it fits, and you can wear it to the game. that would be cute", and you're a bit 😐 about the idea; that is, until you pull one of the black and white tops over your underwear and step into the living room to show matty, and he reacts by... literally pulling one of the sofa cushions over his lap and breathing heavily. your jaw drops like "babe you did not just get hard at the sight of me in a newcastle united shirt lmaoooooooo. it's that easy? wow", and matty groans into his hands like "shut up how else am i meant to react? the most beautiful woman on the planet, my beloved girlfriend, in MY football top? this is teenage wet dream material, sweetheart" - you go over to kiss him and say "well, if we have sex now with me wearing it, will that make it better or worse?", and matty thinks for a second like "better. i'll get it out of my system" lol.

and he's right, actually - a week later, when you appear in his cousin's kitchen with the same shirt visible under your coat, all matty thinks of is how cute you look lmao (but he does smirk a little bit when everyone says how sweet you are for wearing it, considering you did some arguably non-sweet things to him in it before lol). the actual day itself is quite nice; you all go for food and a couple of drinks before the game, during which you literally just share really cringe anecdotes about matty with his dad and brother, and then matty takes 948482 pics of you outside st james' park (and makes one his lockscreen) before you go in. he hugs you tightly before the game starts like "this is really special to me, sweetheart, thank you for doing this", and you're like "it's chill i actually am having fun lol". he stays holding you through the start of the game, too, because it's chilly, but pulls back to look at you in bewilderment when you hum along to the local hero theme as the players come onto the pitch; you're like "what? i've seen the film. it's good. so is the tune", and matty kisses you quickly like "you never fail to amaze me, honestly". anyway, the first half of the game is... kinda boring? nobody scores, there's not a lot of action, and the most exciting thing is you nearly burning your tongue on a bovril at half-time lol. it picks up in the second half, though - you spend the first few goal attempts looking and smiling at matty getting really into it, because he's so cute and animated, but then the tables turn and you catch him grinning at you when you swear at a near miss from newcastle. when they finally do score, you both cheer, and matty gets so hyped that he picks you up - well, he tries to, in the limited space between rows of seats lol. you have to ask him to clarify ref decisions at bits (fuck if i know what constitutes a yellow card btw), which he RELISHES doing, explaining them and kissing your cheek when you're like "ok cool. i see". in the end, newcastle win, and when the home support stands go into joyous uproar you're a part of it, hugging matty and tim and all the rest of the family as if you were an avid fan lmao; matty also probably tries to fully make out with you in excitement and just general happiness that you're with him, which you indulge in briefly before being like "come on, we need to move now so the people behind us can get out lol". but you continue the making out in the smoking area of the pub you all pile into to celebrate the win, matty like "this has been one of my favourite days ever, sweetheart. i'm so grateful for you, and even more in love with you, honestly" - you're like "i love you! and i really have enjoyed myself. don't think i could do it every week, in fairness, but i had fun. thanks for bringing me, baby". and matty's like "anytime, darlin'. and feel free to borrow the top anytime, too. in fact, i'd encourage it" lol <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #d word matty

[nancydrewwouldnever]

Advocate January 2009 Interview

Chris Evans: Not Another Gay Interview

Chris Evans is a serious actor, but that doesn’t mean he wants you to stop objectifying him.

By Brandon Voss

January 05 2009 12:00 AM EST

After working a whipped-cream bikini in the 2001 spoof Not Another Teen Movie, Chris Evans fried phone lines in Cellular and melted hearts as The Human Torch in the Fantastic Four films. Next seen as a telekinetic troublemaker in February’s sci-fi thriller Push, the 27-year-old revisits his steamiest photo shoot and outs his even hotter gay brother.

This may come as quite a shock, but gay men enjoy you. I was well aware of that. I remember my mother saying, “Chris, do you know you’re #2 on some gay list [AfterElton.com’s Hot 100]. Brad Pitt is #12!” I was like, “What?!” I couldn’t believe it.

That was 2007. I hate to break bad news, but you dropped to #8 in ’08. Aww, that’s outrageous! Who took my spot?

I forget, but Jake Gyllenhaal was #1 for both years. What? Jake? Unacceptable. [Laughs]

It couldn’t hurt to play a gay role next. I really wanted to be a part of Milk, but I lost out to James Franco. I guess if you’ve got to lose, he’s the guy to lose to. I did a movie called Fierce People where I played a sociopath who wasn’t gay, but he does rape a teenage boy. You come to find out he didn’t do it for sexual reasons; he just did it because he could. He really was a sick character.

I’ve actually got an idea for a gay musical sequel to Cellular called Blackberry Storm. You in? Absolutely. Sounds like a nailbiter.

I hear there might also be a queer subtext in Push. Yes, those with powers try to keep it under wraps. They’re being hunted by the government, so everyone’s trying to lay low. Now I understand the gay man’s struggle. [Laughs]

What’s the status of your Tennessee Williams film, The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond, about a 1920’s Memphis debutante? We took it to the Toronto Film Festival looking for distribution, and it does not look like that’s going to happen. I don’t know if there’s really a market for a Tennessee Williams film. It would’ve been a tough film to distribute and make money back, so it’s probably going to remain in limbo and possibly come out one day on DVD.

Do you blame Lindsay Lohan, who was originally set to star before Bryce Dallas Howard took over? [Laughs] No, not at all. To be honest, Bryce was phenomenal in the movie. It’s a shame that people won’t get to see her performance.

Let’s discuss your sexy, now-infamous 2004 Flaunt magazine photo shoot — and why you seem more hesitant to flaunt your physique. I really didn’t think twice about taking my shirt off at the time, but my current publicist would pull her hair out if I did that photo shoot today. If I got to a photo shoot and they said, “OK, we’re going to do some shirtless shots,” I’d say, “Fine. No big deal.” It never really occurred to me that that could be misinterpreted as a bad thing or as selling out.

Do you think those photos hurt you? I couldn’t care less, and I don’t think it makes one lick of difference. But I hired my publicist for her professional opinion, and she seems to think it’s a mistake. I have no problem taking my shirt off for a role if the part calls for it, but my publicist says, “When you’re promoting yourself, being you, there’s a way to keep it as classy as possible. Greasing yourself up and stripping down may not be the best way to do it.” To some degree, she may have a point. But at the end of the day, it didn’t bother me then and it doesn’t bother me now. Maybe I dropped to #8 because I haven’t had enough shirtless photo shoots lately. I’m blaming my publicist. [Laughs]

When you need an ego boost, do you ever watch the Chris Evans tribute videos on YouTube? No, I just call my mother. When you’re feeling depressed, you talk to her for 20 minutes and you think your shit doesn’t stink. And you can quote me on that.

I read on PerezHilton.com that your younger brother Scott is gay. Yes, I do have a gay brother. I’m down with the gays. Mostly I’m hanging out with him and his gay buddies, who are fucking hilarious. They’re the funniest people I know.

Do they take you to gay bars? They’ve invited me out to gay bars before, and I said, “Look, guys, I’ve got to draw the line there.” That’s where a photo will get taken, it will run in magazines, and before you know it, I’ll be living down the gay rumor for the rest of my life.

Does your brother look anything like you? He does, but he’s about an inch taller and about four shades tanner than I am. He’s a very fit young man. Believe me, he does quite well for himself.

How did he come out to you? He was really nervous. He came out to all of us very slowly. His first year at NYU, he came out to our mother and our sister, and then he came out to me a little later. I was driving him back to New York City for school. We spent the whole day together, got to the city, had some beers in my hotel room, got into a really great talk, and he came out. I was so glad that he did. That’s got to be a difficult transition, but I come from the most liberal household you have ever heard of. And for some reason, gay men are just drawn to my mother. She’s a cool chick. I think, like, six men have come out to her. I guess they just feel so comfortable with her, and before you know it, they’re coming out of the closet. I think my mother was praying for us to be gay, so at least she got one of us.

Growing up, when was the first time you realized that you weren’t gay? When I had a crush on my babysitter, who lived with us for a few years. I must’ve been 10 or 11. I was just head-over-heels in love with her. I thought she was the greatest thing in the world. Then I had a really big crush on Kim Cattrall in Mannequin. I was in love with her too.

In May 2008, you were photographed wearing a T-shirt with an image of two girls making out. Was that your way of showing support for gay marriage? My buddy owns a clothing line in L.A, and that’s one of the T-shirts that he makes. To be completely honest, I threw it on without really taking a close enough look at it. On that day I ended up getting photographed at a clothing store — which rarely happens to me — and then on the way home, I get in a car accident. So I’m dealing with police, the ambulance, taking down names and numbers, all while wearing a shirt with two women tonguing each other. It was a rough day. As for gay marriage, it’s mindboggling and appalling that human beings are being denied civil rights in this country. But time will heal all. I have to believe that in 10 years we won’t be having this conversation. We’ll be having another one, because we’ll always find someone to persecute.

2008 was arguably the Year of the Man-crush. Who was yours? My buddies always tell me that I have a man-crush on Brad Pitt. What can I say? The guy’s great. I think he’s a great fuckin’ actor, and he’s versatile as all hell. I’ve never seen a movie I didn’t like him in. So I guess he’s my man-crush.

When I interviewed Milo Ventimiglia for The Advocate, he told me about performing “I Will Survive” in drag for the short-lived 2000 TV series Opposite Sex. He failed to mention that you were one of his two backup dancers. [Laughs] I’ll tell you the worst part. Milo and Kyle [Howard] look like the ugliest transvestites in the world; meanwhile, I think I pass! I look like an alright-looking woman! It was horrible walking from the makeup trailer to the set. I was ogled, getting catcalls, and being sized-up. It was very demeaning. I could definitely relate to what women must go through.

Have you done drag since? No. Unless you want to count the blue tights in Fantastic Four.

By the way, “flame on!” was typically reserved for flamboyant homosexuals before you stole it as your Fantastic Four catchphrase. Sorry, guys. Well, you knocked me down to #8. I had to steal something.

#interview #2009 #advocate interview #chris evans #scott evans

[phantomchick]

Looking back on Batman (2022)

Enough time has passed now that my initial adrenaline rush )and then later afterglow) over Batman 2022 has resolved itself at least enough that I can look back on the film a bit more critically.

I enjoyed this movie, I enjoyed this Batman, but and this is a big but, this movie did not like Batman.

The thing about Batman is that he's a grim dark fantasy where a hero who's in pain can use that pain as a motivation to help people, to change things, to strive for a better Gotham because he just can't fucking accept the Gotham that allowed his parents to get killed while coming home from the movies, that kills so many other parents and children and sucks the people that remain into a mire of corruption and austerity. This is not that Batman, this is a Batman that's utterly oblivious to the problems with wealth inequality until the movie rubs in his face and even then has his inaction in his role of Bruce Wayne while letting his Batman role monopolise his every waking thought presented as his main problem. This is not a Batman that announces to a dinner party, “Ladies. Gentlemen. You have eaten well. You've eaten Gotham's wealth. Its spirit. Your feast is nearly over. From this moment on...none of you are safe.”. That attacks violent crime on two fronts by giving legitimate jobs to ex cons by day and solving kidnapping or murder cases by night.

And most crucially this isn't a Batman that ... succeeds. By that I mean yes he solves the grand mystery, yes he saves people in the flood, but the classic Batman would have saved that man he interrupts the bomb disposal squad to answer Riddler's phone call for. The classic Batman would have saved Falcone, evil doer that he is, not because he deserved to live but because Batman is a hyper competent hero who's comic gimmick was that he was quick witted enough to stay ahead of the crooks and always save the person in front of him as a result, perhaps it's only natural for that to be subverted with the Riddler as his enemy (a character invented with the intent of putting the detective hero to the test when it came to his cerebral limits) but because this is a stand alone film, which as the name says has this Batman stand alone with the contents as the only basis to judge him with it has the effect of making his presence as a hero less warranted. After all, does Batman's presence in this film really save anyone besides the flood victims and Selina?

Yes the only victims who really get killed are all bad people but... that's not the point of Batman, the point is that he saves everyone he can.

The film also does the whole 'batman creates his own villains and actively makes the city worse because he espouses vengeance and violence' thing which egh, slightly more palatable with the transition from vengeance to hope, but I really don't fucking like it all the same. And besides that I dislike the idea that vengeance can't be hopeful, that a man who lost everything in one terrifying night, who got no justice, whose loved ones and personal loss and whose innocence remain unavenged saying to himself "I am justice, I am vengeance, I am the night!" as a way of reclaiming everything that's happened to him and everything he wants to be for the people of Gotham whose cries go unanswered by corrupt law enforcement and an even more corrupt bureaucracy, is presented as invalid, as somehow immature. When Batman was always crafted as a mature hero in the mold of the Scarlet Pimpernel and Zorro and James Bond, of Sherlock Holmes! That was part of his central appeal! He's the cool mature down to earth, detective hero.

Here he is reduced to a naive rich boy who's so ignorant his main approach to crime is to inefficiently beat the shit out of whatever hoodlums he encounters and who literally doesn't have the idea of using his money to fix the poverty or corruption fuelling the crime until Riddler highlights what his parents wanted to do for the city by denigrating it + the politician lady who repeatedly points it out. It's a movie that loves Batman but also passionately declares the stupidity of Batman. Perhaps that's also inevitable because solving crime by beating it up while dressed as a Bat is well, silly, when you approach it with real world cynicism instead of the wish fulfillment, the fantasy of being rich and powerful and smart enough to actually do something about an entire city that's drowning in crime, that has been drowning, suffocating, for decades, and have a hope of succeeding. There is no fun of acting like an airhead so the other rich people and crooks will underestimate and look down on you like they look down on everyone in the city as you use your access to learn things people outside that circle of rich opportunists can't and then use it to reveal their crimes as a vigilante whose identity no one suspects. Instead we have a traumatised Bruce Wayne openly beg Don Falcone for information who indulges him because he owes his father that favour and Bruce Wayne isn't a threat, is it interesting pathos? Definitely! Is it dramatic and fun! Also yes! Is it traditional Batman/Bruce Wayne secret identity shenanigans? Well kind of in that it gets him the extra information but genuinely not so much because it's not really an act. Does it have to be traditional Batman? I really don't know. We can't ever create something refreshing like this movie was if we don't try to deviate from the norm and in that regard I think it deserves respect. And yet. There's a but.

This movie doesn't let Batman succeed at anything but the bare minimum as a vigilante but it does let him try his best, always and it lets him care, deeply. Which is enough that it pulls through as a good batman film. However for all the budget and clever characterisation I don't think it's a great Batman film. After all Batman is a superhero fantasy and in those, the good guys are allowed to save the day.

#and yet #batman 2022 #bruce wayne #meta #thoughts #personal #batman 2022 meta #batman #something about how he doesn't prevent the flood but does save some people in it could be a great metaphor #for how batman in the comics can't ever fix gotham (because then the comic would end) but he can save people who live there #but i don't actually think that's what they meant to do here #my main problem is the movie clearly doesn't approve of vigilantism and like that's fine but it's a movie about a superhero #and it never lets us really suspend our disbelief because it's too busy being cynical about the whole concept #and like maybe that too is refreshing in its way? the whole this is a stupid way to deal with crimes thing is true #but it also fails to acknowledge that #what other recourse is there? with a police force that's literally in the pocket of the mob #when you look at it like that batman becomes a much more understandable alternative course of action #and a vehicle of narrative catharsis for people who know the law isn't protecting them but still desire justice #desire that the criminals be they the rich defrauding them of what little money they have or the mob bosses actually will see consequences #the whole concept of vengeance is too readily dismissed as toxic and as diametric to hope imo #like yeah i'm all in on a redemptive justice system that actually helps people reform but the idea #that bad powerful people shouldnt be made to face consequences by batman if no one else (because cops and lawyers and politicians won't) #is dismissed soooooo readily to the point where bruce's initial stance on justice as vengeance is presented as two dimensional #something about that bothers me #and i think also gets to the core of batman as a character and to the core of why I can't fully vibe with this presentation of him #for all its many boons

[spacebarnes]

TOM AND Y/N BEING A GOOFY AND ADORABLE COUPLE FOR EIGHT MINUTES STRAIGHT.

SUMMARY: when a video has your name, it catches your full attention.

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: none, just fluff.

A/N: I saw this on youtube and immediately knew I had to do it with some of my favs, so this came out! I want to do it with Sebastian and even with some more, tell me if you want me to do it with someone! as I always say, english is not my first language so I hope this is good! take care of yourself pls! (not my gif)

the sun was beginning to disappear and the last rays of it filtered through the thin white curtains that the apartment had. it was a warm day, but it was beginning to get dark and the cold wind was beginning to appear.

Tom was on the Spider-Man 3 set and you were sitting on the couch with a big black blanket, a bag of jelly beans and the remote control in your hand pressing buttons while you were looking for what to watch on YouTube. a video appeared with the title "Tom and Y / N being a goofy and adorable couple for eight minutes straight." and without a doubt, you said to put it.

the first clip was a instastorie which was recorded by Chris Hemsworth on the set of Infinity War. first Chris's face would appear and then the camera would flip over to show Tom and you sitting side by side laughing at something that was showing up on your phone.

"what are you doing?" Mark Ruffalo's voice was heard from the side of the camera.

"I'm recording teenage love." Chris said and with his fingers he zoomed in on the screen making the camera get closer to you two. "teenage love, teenage love." he began to say the words with some melody, creating a rhythm.

°•

"stop recording me, Tom." you said while applying a little gloss to your lips, you had seen by the reflection of the mirror that Tom was recording.

"i can't, you look so gorgeous." he said without stopping recording, then he stood by your side and I wait for you to finish applying the gloss.

you closed the small container and settled down next to him, feeling how he passed his free hand around your waist. "damn, we look good." when you put your direct view in the mirror, you could see how good you two looked. Tom wore a black suit and a sky blue tie that matched your dress, while you carried a small bag and black heels to match it.

"we do, we do." agreed with you without stopping recording. "'key, let's do a little dance, go!" this took you by surprise and you made the first move that came to your mind, which was to clench your two fists and make circles with them at the height of your shoulders.

after a few seconds, the two of you started laughing and that story was posted on your boyfriend's instagram.

°•

since the quarantine had begun, the activity that the two of you did most was listening to new artists to discover new music.

Permanent Vacation by 5 Seconds Of Summer played in the background as you two danced and jumped non-stop. the smiles were not erased from your faces and that was a moment when everyone could tell that they were soulmates.

in a slip, you slipped and fell straight to the floor, causing Tom to stop dancing to quickly check if you were okay. "darling, are you okay?" He knelt before you and took your hand. "you are so dumb." he said with a smile as he helped you stand up.

"excuse me?"

°•

"so do you have any tradition with your family for Christmas?" Jimmy asked, putting his mug on his desk.

"with my family no, but with [Y/N] i do." when he answered and your name was named, the crowd started to make noise. "we wake up and the first thing that we do it's bake cakes." he said simply and a small smile formed on his face.

"cakes? tell us more." the interviewer encouraged him.

"so, we bake two cakes, one for the dinner with the family and other just for us." he explained with hand movements. "then we decorate it and finally we sit down to watch The Grinch while we eat the cake." the smile on his face grew bigger when he heard the "aw" from the entire audience.

"that's really sweet and sounds fun." Jimmy told him with a smile.

°•

the countless interviews Tom had to do since Spider-Man: Far From Home came out kept the two of you apart. actually now he was playing with his cast friends and he wasn't doing an interview, but there was a surprise for him.

you felt nervous after not having seen him for a few months, because even though they lived together, you had to fly to Canada to be with your family and not feel alone while he was filming.

"alright, so." Jacob switched cards so he could read the following sentence to Tom and Jake, who were wearing loud music headphones. "[Y/N] ...

"what?" Tom interrupted him not understanding what he was saying.

"are we sure that he is gonna understand?" Zendaya looked at the production and then went back to reading the card. "[Y/N] is here."

"who is here?" Jake asked and brought his hands to the sides of his ears to press the headphones further. "i don't get the name."

"[Y/N] is here!" Jacob yelled at them, hoping they could understand the sentence. you appeared in the room, but you stayed where the light was not so strong so that they could not see you and you waited for the producer's signal to appear.

"wait, what?" Tom asked again. "say it slow."

"oh my god." Zendaya rolled her eyes when she saw that he wasn't understanding. "your girlfriend it's here!"

"your girlfriend it's here!" Jake guessed for Tom and did a little victory dance before removing his headphones.

"you have a girlfriend, Jake? i didn't know that." the brunette said with surprise as he took off his headphones. immediately everyone started laughing and he looked at them without understanding what was happening. "i don't get it."

"who's gonna tell him?" Jacob asked and looked at the people behind the cameras.

"tell me what?" Holland asked not understanding what they meant. you started to move forward until everyone except Tom could see you.

"that i'm here, dumbass." you spoke and you saw how quickly your boyfriend's head turned to be able to see you with surprise.

"stop playing, are you a hologram?" he asked in disbelief as he got up from the chair so he could approach you and put his hands on his waist. "you're not."

"i'm not, i'm really here." you said and put your two hands on his cheeks and then get closer and be able to kiss him after so long apart.

°•

"can anyone tell him that Isaac Lahey is a character and does not exist in real life?" your voice was heard on the speaker of your phone while you were recording Tom, who had gotten up from the couch and was right now at the kitchen counter. "because Tom got jealous of him."

"you said that he is hot!" your boyfriend's scream was heard from the kitchen.

"so what? you think Lydia is pretty." you said with a tone of indignation without stopping recording.

"but i think that you are so much pretty than she." Tom's voice began to be heard closer, as did his footsteps.

"that doesn't justify you." you crossed your arms, causing your cell phone to shake a bit.

"that's not even the point! the point is, you said Isaac was hot." seconds later, he appeared with a bag of M&M's and a glass of milk. "you're cheating on me."

"I'm dating a five years old, just to all of you know." you rotated the camera and now you were recording yourself.

"i want the divorce." he said and stood in front of you to hand you the bag of M & M's you had asked for.

"we are not even married!"

°•

"you're currently dating Tom Holland, but we want to know how did the two of you met? because you are not in the Marvel movies." James asked and settled into his chair while you did the same.

"well, everybody thinks that we met at the Golden Globes." you started talking and your eyes brightened. "we actually met at the auditions of my first movie. Tom was there for the paper of my brother, but he didn't got it."

"you met at there? I really thought that the first time you met was at the Golden Gobles." the blond commented in great amazement.

"we didn't met there, but we took a selfie in there for the first time and we talked beyond a few lines of a script." you gave the data with a big smile and looked at the audience.

"and when did you fall in love for him?" he asked and this made the crowd make some noise that was combined with your laughter.

"you know, actually the first time that i saw him i was like 'damn, shawty', but i think it was in the moment that we were at a friend's party and he approached me and told me to go to another place with him because he was not comfortable and I was the only person who knew who would say yes. " and if you thought your smile couldn't get any bigger, the moment you remembered that moment, it did.

the video ended and just then the apartment door was opened, forcing you to take a look. "hey, darling." your boyfriend's voice sounded behind you.

"hi, baby." you said and felt how he hid his face in your neck, leaning his body on the edge of the chair.

"what are you watching?" he asked and pulled away from you, not before leaving a quick kiss on your neck.

"it was a video of us being the goofy and adorable couple of all times." you answered with a smile as you watched him take off his shoes and approach you to take a seat on the couch.

"and there are no more of those?" he asked and sat next to you and then wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head on your shoulder. you took control and pressed a button to see the video suggestions.

"well, here is this one" you said and put the video called 'Y/N and Tom being the sexiest couple in the whole fucking world'.

"oh, i see what people think of us." the brunette said when he saw the title of the video.

"what do you mean with that? of course we are the sexiest couple in the whole fucking world." you wrinkled your eyebrows and lowered your gaze a bit to connect with his.

"yes, we are." when he finished talking, he leaned to you so he can kiss you.

#fanfic #marvel #oneshot #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine

[missdawnandherdusk]

Love Story

Draco X Reader

Request: @dracofeltonmalfoy​: your heart breaks at seventeen when you realize that Draco doesn’t love you enough to not marry his betrothed, Astoria. It’s years later and though you’re still hesitant and bitter about what occurred, you still answer the call that Ginny makes to you to help Draco. 

A/n: Look at me posting!! And during midterm week no less!! Thank you so much for this request! (I promise I’m getting to the rest of them). And can I say that I am in love with grown up Draco? Like yes ma’am I’ll take them all. Maturity is attractive. Let me know what you think! I love y’all so much. 

“You don’t understand,” Draco paced the small room. “I have to marry her,”

“Sure,” I spat. “Marry Astoria. I don’t give a damn anymore Malfoy,” I hadn’t used his last name in such a malice tone in years. I could see the effect that it had on him, his face fell.

“Don’t say that,” He begged softly, “Please, I love you,”

“But not enough,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What happened to everything that we planned? All of the things you promised me? Where did that Draco go?” My voice became thick with tears. “No, you’re so paranoid about your reputation... I’m not waiting around for you to figure out who you want or who you want to follow. I don’t care.” A heavy silence and I had decided. “Have a nice life, Draco.”

“Y/n,” He called as I stood to leave.

“No,” I snapped. “Just... no. I deserve more than this.” 

“I know,” He confessed in a small voice.

That was the last time I spoke to Draco Malfoy in years. At first, I was okay with it. I felt free. I had moved on, found someone new that made what he did to me hurt a bit less. It wasn’t the same, nor what I felt when I was with Draco, but it was enough for the moment. He didn’t last long, and my heart still waited for Draco on some nights, but I had grown up. I had grown confident. I was independent. I didn’t need anyone to tell me they loved me because I loved me. And that was enough. I had healed from having to walk away or face being cut off forever.

I assumed that Draco was happy. His union with Astoria was in the paper. The invitation I received was burned. Why he’d think to invite me left me aggravated and loathing him more than before. But that night I was weak. I cried for Draco Malfoy that night. I almost went. But I refrained. I knew nothing would change even if I did go, so I’d rather be left wondering than left crushed.

The next time I saw Draco’s name in the paper, it was splashed across the front page. A scandal that Skeeter couldn’t wait to publish and get her hands on. Astoria Malfoy caught in an affair with Blaise Zabini. I saw Draco’s stoic face, and though the image moved, and the small child in his arms squirmed, he remained static. I threw the paper down because though it was just a photograph, his eyes still bore into mine, in the same pleading look that he gave me before I left him. I wonder if he knew that I see the photo.

I wonder if he knew that I still loved him even after all these years.

And I had no intention of crossing paths with him. Though I thought about it. A lot. And maybe I had actually written the letter before I burned it... but I decided that no. I was not interfering with his life.

I just never thought that he’d interfere with mine. Well, Harry interfered with my life. Well, Ginny did.

Ginny and I got lunch every once in a while, to catch up along with Hermione. Now that our Hogwarts days and the war was over, an amity fell between the three of us. And it was nice to see some old faces that didn’t cause my heart to rabbit trail into painful memories.

It was a phone call that I had gotten that interfered with my quaint Friday night. 

“Are you in town?” Ginny’s voice sounded strained and frantic.

“Yes, why?” I set down my book, standing.

“Can you come over? We... have a situation...” She voiced.

“What sort of situation?” I pressed, going looking for my shoes and cloak. “Harry just did a spell wrong and now he can’t speak English situation or Ron and Harry tried to do something stupid on their brooms and need medical attention sort of situation?” I teased lightly.

“It relates more to the former...” Ginny sounded almost hesitant to give me details. Her voice was suddenly far from the receiver and muffled. “No, Scorpius, put that down! Harry! No don’t encourage him!” That caught my attention.

“Ginny, what in Merlin’s name!?” I demanded.

“Please just get over here, you were better than we were at potions,”

“Ginny,” I baited.

“Thank you!” Was all she got out and I heard a crash before the line disconnected.

Utterly shocked and standing in deafening silence I let out a frustrated growl. After grabbing my carpet bag of miscellaneous counter curses, antidotes, and talismans I took the Floo network to the Potter’s.

And the sight before me was something that I would not have ever imagined. Draco was slung over Harry’s shoulder, looking intoxicated and completely out of it. Nothing like the cold refined man that I knew him to be. Then Scorpius was running around with Albus all trying to be corralled by James and Ginny while Lily laughed in the background, sitting on the counters.

Deciding that Harry could help with the children more than I could, I rushed to his side and took Draco off his hands, supporting him.

“What’s wrong with him?” I bit out, watching as Harry scooped up Albus as Ginny swooped in and caught Scorpius.

“Nothing, well, he’s been drugged but we’re sure it should wear off in a few hours.” Harry appeased, almost nonchalant.

“Drugged?” I demanded, leading Draco to a well-loved recliner.

“I’m finnnnne,” Draco slurred, his fine blond hair hanging into his eyes in a complete mess. “You have such pretty eyes Y/n,” Draco’s head lulled back against the recliner back as his half- opened eyes gazed into mine.

“Yeah, okay,” I smiled sweetly and gave an alarming look to Ginny—Harry having disappeared into the house with the three other children. “You’ve got to be bloody joking,” I hissed, nearing her.

“I know! Harry was filming him. You should have heard him on the way over. Wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Get him upstairs.” I begged, exasperated and rubbing my face. “I’m going to find Harry.”

“What? Why?” Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she set Scorpius down now that he was calmed with the lack of the other children.

“Because no one makes fun of Draco!” I shouted, not realizing the depth of my words, or how much I sounded like I did back at Hogwarts... when Draco loved me.

Ginny and I both seemed to grasp this as I went red and sighed, going to find Harry. After throwing his phone out the third-floor window, I headed back down a level to where Ginny had taken Draco to a spare room. I found Draco asleep in the bed and Ginny leaning against the doorjamb.

“He’s still asking for you,” Ginny muttered. “He wants to know where the ‘fairest maiden has gone and when will she return’” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, distressed. “How am I supposed to deal with him like this?”

“You probably know better than any of us.” Ginny pointed out. “Isn’t there a counter curse? Or something that you have or know?”

“In all my years I’ve seen nothing close to this. It’s like he’s drunk and on Veritaserum and Amorentia and believe me there is no legal potion out there with that sort of affect.”

“So... what do we do with him?” She asked.

“Wait it out? That’s all I know to do.” I paused. “I’ll stick around and make sure he doesn’t start to die or anything... but I can’t fix him,”

Ginny nodded and gave me a pity look. “Are you going to be okay?”

“That is not the question to ask right now,” I muttered, shrugging off my cloak. “Go on up to Harry and your little ones. Make sure Scorpius is alright, I’ll look after him,”

“If you need anything,” She baited.

“I’ll call,” I smiled.

Alone in the room, I sighed and stared at him before heading to the edge of the bed and sitting gently on the edge.

“Draco?” I asked softly, trying to hide the hurt that sparked in my chest. 

“Y/n, my fair maiden,” He slurred, trying to get up.

“No, no, you need to lie down,” I scolded, pushing him back down, pressing my hand to his forehead—he didn’t have a fever.

“As my lady commands.” He mumbled, causing me to withdraw my touch.

“Don’t.” I inhaled sharply. “You need to sleep Draco. You need to get better.”

“I’m already better with you here,” A dopey smile crossed his face.

“Oh my god Draco!” I snapped, standing, pacing the small room. “Stop saying things like that! You don’t mean them, and I don’t want to hear it!”

When I didn’t get a response from him, I looked over and he was fast asleep at an awkward angle. Sighing, I brushed the stray strands of silky hair from his face and slowly righted him, taking off his shoes and socks positioning him in the center of the bed. After I laid a blanket over him, I sat in the lone chair that was in his room and taking my book from my bag, started again.

It neared eleven at night, and he still hadn’t woken back up. My book finished, I sighed again and stood, stretching. Leaving his room, I saw Harry nodding off in his chair downstairs, Scorpius in his arms, also asleep.

“To bed with you,” I smiled, helping him up.

“Draco?”

“Still asleep.” I informed. “I’m gonna change and I’ll be back to watch him.” 

_______________________

Draco blinked, his head pounding, trying to keep up with the blurred image around him. The first thing he noticed was the blanket over him and his shoes were gone and that you were asleep in the chair next to his bed and this bed was most certainly not his—neither were you for that matter. His memory was fuzzy, and he didn’t remember much, and he didn’t like not remembering.

In an attempt to get up, he woke you, not sure why some part of him cared. He didn’t ask to be taken care of like a child. He processed that he was at the Potter’s for some godforsaken reason, and that you were next to him. Some part of him wished he was just having a really awful nightmare.

“Draco?” You asked sleepily.

Who else would it be?

“Yes,” He spoke quietly.

“Are you... you again?” You mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He snapped, defensive that you were there, or anywhere near him. The nightmare continued.

“You were drugged... were acting weird for a while... I had to throw Harry’s phone out a window.” Your words made some sense... except the last part.

“Why would you do that?” He mused, enjoying your half-asleep state.

“He recorded you... was making fun of you... wasn’t right...” You stretched and rubbed your face yawning.

“I see,” There was a pang in his heart at your words. Something reminiscent in them. Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare after all.

You nodded and stood, staggering slightly. “How long have you been there?”

“What time is it?” You asked weakly. 

“Five in the morning,”

“Mhmm... twelve hours? Finished my book.” You gestured vaguely and yawned again. “M’gonna head back home.”

You started to walk towards the door and almost fell. He was there to catch you though. Your hands clutched at his shirt, running the fabric through your fingertips.

“Okay, yeah. You’re going to stay right here,” Draco muttered. “Because I am not dragging you down those stairs or back home.”

“I’m fine, I’ll get Ginny to take me home,” You yawned gesturing vaguely, your eyes still didn’t open all the way.

“No, you’re not. You’re sleep deprived, and whereas I can handle it, you can’t.” However long he had been asleep—twelve hours apparently—had given him enough rest to be completely awake and alert.

“You’re bossy.”

He chuckled at your sleep ridden words and moved you to his bed, tucking you under the blanket he had been under. You smiled and inhaled them deeply, relaxing instantly. He wondered why you thought of him as a reason to relax.

When he got up to leave, your eyes opened partly.

“Where are you going? You need to rest more. You were drugged.” 

“I’ve dealt with worse drugs Y/n,”

“Mmm I don’t think you’ve ever been like that. I’ve seen you high and drunk and that was... something else.” You mumbled. “Please rest Draco. Stay with me and sleep.”

Your words were like daggers to his heart. Were you aware that you were saying them? Surely you couldn’t be, because surely you wouldn’t ever mean them. It had been too long since you ever murmured those words.

“Am I not allowed to find to where my son has gone?” He mused, knowing you’d let him go for that and then be too far into sleep to notice that he didn’t come back.

You hummed in agreement he supposed. Just as he went to close the door, he heard you jumbled words again.

“Why would you say that?” There was hurt and confusion in your tone. “Why would you...?”

Not knowing whatever that was about, Draco closed the door softly behind him and sighed. He felt disgusting. He wanted nothing more than a warm bath and some fresh clothes and for Merlin’s sake a comb. But those things would have to wait, because bright blue eyes blinked up in the early morning as they always did.

“Good morning my little birdie,” Draco smiled, pulling Scorpius into his arms. “Quite a change of scenery here isn’t it?” He mused, to a nodding giggling Scorpius.

“Draco, you’re awake,” The tired voice belonged to Ginny, who sounded surprised even in her weary state.

“I am,” A quiet pause. “Thank you... I’m not quite sure what happened last night but...”

“Do you have any memory at all?” Ginny asked, taking out a jar of applesauce, setting a bowl and spoon for Scorpius.

“I... no. I was at the Gala, next thing I know, I wake up and Y/n is asking if I’m me again,” Draco thanked her and began to spoon feed Scorpius the apple puree.

“Are you, you?” Ginny asked, leaning against the counter before setting off to brew a pot of coffee.

“Quite,” He clipped. “What does that even mean? What happened last night?”

Unbridled terror set in Draco’s chest as Ginny recounted the night back to him. The only thing that kept him from breaking something was the toddler in his arms, clinging to him.

“I... I was asking for Y/n?” Draco asked, his voice shaking.

“Honey, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say even intoxicated and drugged, you knew she’d be there for you,” Ginny raised her eyebrow at him. “You wanna explain that?”

Draco shot her a cold look and went back to aiding Scorpius eat. Maybe that had been why you asked why he would say something like that... and that was a valid and honest question: why would he? He had gotten over you. That was that. He moved on.

Not that he loved Astoria. No, he could never see her as more than someone who drove you away from him. And perhaps that was the reason behind her affair. Maybe it was because she knew that he didn’t love her, and she didn’t love him. Some part of him wished that she had just been honest with him... then it wouldn’t be such gossip in the Wizarding World. They could have divorced and gone on their own ways. But perhaps not. The marriage was arranged. It would take more than a divorce to end it. Perhaps the scandal was for the best after all.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I have to go,” Draco said softly. 

“Draco,” Ginny chided. “You can’t just leave her here,”

“I can do as I please,” Draco snapped harshly before remembering himself. “Thank you, once more,”

Draco only hesitated when he went to fetch his shoes from the spare room, and caught sight of you sleeping soundly, a soft smile on your face. Something in his chest distorted a bit more.

_________________________

I woke in the late morning, semi remembering why I was at Ginny’s, then it all came flooding back. I didn’t even have to ask where Draco had gone because I knew he had gone. I knew he’d leave at the first chance he’d get.

Apologizing and thanking Ginny, I headed back home to shower and don clean clothes. Ginny gave me a worried look and said to call if I needed anything. I assured her I was fine and wasn’t going to have an emotional breakdown. Crying while I showered meant nothing.

I was fine.

Monday at work, Harry found me in the staff room fixing a cup of tea.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” Harry nudged my shoulder as we stood at the mini coffee bar, not even having to specify who he thought I should speak to.

“I’m not gonna follow him around like a lost puppy Harry, I’m done with that.” I shifted the weight on my feet. “He’s grown, he can handle himself,”

“Well I get that, but you can... act human at least. You’re shutting him out completely.” Harry pointed out. “And I don’t think either of you want that,”

“I wouldn’t know what he wanted,” I sighed in vain. “It’s not that easy Harry,” I pressed, cradling my mug in my hands. “I haven’t worried about him before, why should I now?”

“Because when he was drugged all he could do was ask for you and you dropped everything to make sure he was alright and slept in a chair for a night to keep an eye on him?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“And maybe it was the drug and maybe I’m a decent person,” I refuted.

“All I’m saying I’ve been his work partner for a better half of five years and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s shutting everyone else out since the affair... everyone but you,” Harry’s green eyes reaffirmed his words.

I stared at my tea and didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to believe Harry’s words. I didn’t want to entertain the idea that maybe there was something left between Draco and I. But no matter how much I didn’t want to, I still thought about it all day during work, despite my best efforts.

How fitting it was that it was raining as I stepped onto the London street. Typical of London, no doubt, but it seemed as a sign all the same. Going to cast a shielding charm I froze when I saw in my peripheral pale skin and near white hair. I tried not to pay him any mind, but it seemed that whatever intentions I had were stopped by the words Harry had said earlier. My eyes wandered out to the city streets as rain started to fall slightly harder.

“Y/n?” Draco called my attention, his use of my name barely having any life in it.

“Yes?” I tore my attention away from the view.

“It’s raining,”

“Stellar observation,” I commented, remembering my shielding charm, creating an umbrella over me.

“Perhaps you would like to get out of it?” His voice was hesitant. “I suppose I do owe you for Friday night,”

That caught my attention and I finally turned to look at him. His was reserved, guarded. Yet there was something in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. A hope. A wish. A fantasy that I had written myself out of.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I finally whispered.

A sad sort of smile played at his lips. His eyes still didn’t leave mine as if we were transfixed on another, the stars wishing us to remain connected.

Screw the stars.

“Have a nice evening,” I ushered out before Apparating back home.

It was that night that I gave in. For the first time in almost ten years I gave in. There was a small fabric box tucked into my closet, collecting dust. Green and black with silver engravings. Tears streaming down my face, I sat on my bedroom floor and opened it.

It was every letter he wrote me. I should have burned them long ago, but I never did.

~

My Dearest, Y/n,

In the midst of this darkness, you are the only light I need. I’d face a world full of demons for the sake of you, my angel. I know it is dark now, and this path isn’t ideal, but I will fight for you, I will fight with you. Stand by my side my dearest angel. Be the fairytale maiden in this narrative and let me be your hero. I’ll never leave you, my love. And when morning light comes, I shall be in your arms again and my world will be complete.

Look after my heart, I’ve left it with you, 

Your Draco

~

My Beloved, Y/n,

Do you know what my paradise would be? You and me, away from it all. Free and able to love and live freely. Rainy days and warm cups of tea. Even without a fire to keep us warm, the warmth of your smile will keep me from freezing even on the coldest night. And though it may be nothing more than you reading a book or watching the sun rise, you’d be my goddess, the reason I existed, the one that I praised and prayed to each morning and evening. My paradise would be you and I, in a heaven of our own when I could worship you in every way, in every language known to man.

Your Draco

~

My Darling, Y/n,

How this summer grows longer with every day that passes. I wish that I weren’t away in Paris having to accompany my parents. I’d much rather be in your arms. And each night I watch the stars and the moon, knowing that you are doing the same. We are watching the same moon after all, no matter how far apart we are. That gives me more hope that you are true, and not a dream that I’ve let run wild.

And just as the night that I could not see the moon because of the clouds, I know that even now, though I do not see you, I know you are still there and that you still love me. You are my moon, my darling. You are my stars, my night sky. You hold every bit of majesty and wonder as they do.

I shall be back soon my love, 

Your Draco

~

Though the pile of unread letters was still tall, my vision was blurred by tears and heart wrenching sobs that broke from my chest. Hugging my knees and hiding my face in my arms, I wept. For the first time in years, I let myself mourn Draco Malfoy. For the love that I had for him. For the love that we shared. For the boy I knew in Hogwarts and for the man I resented. For the Draco Malfoy that called to me while drugged and inebriated. For the Draco Malfoy who had tried to make amends. For the Draco Malfoy I had turned down.

I mourned the girl in the mirror as well. For her broken jaded heart. For the years she spent alone and in denial. I mourned the girl who would still do anything for him if he’d only ask. I mourned the girl who was tired of trying to be strong on her own. I mourned the girl who craved companionship even though she was confident in herself.

I cried for the lovers in the letters. I held them close to my chest and cried. Tears dripped off of my cheeks and onto the faded aged parchment. Senseless words left my lips as I tried to rationalize these emotions. As I tried to make sense of this feeling—something that I had neglected for too long.

The hour was late as my fire burned lower and lower in my hearth. I sat curled up under a blanket on the floor with a mug of tea. Watching the flames, I let myself reminisce about the past. About Draco. About what could have been. A small smile lingered on my lips as gentle tears fell occasionally.

The rest of the week, I didn’t run into Draco. Not that I sought him out. Or that our departments ever crossed. Or that I cared.

I did however run into a former Malfoy in Diagon Alley a week after having to babysit Draco. 

“Astoria,” my voice was calm and gentle as rage lurked beneath.

“Y/n,” she seemed almost happy to see me as she came forward to hug me. My cold step back stopped her, her eyes finding my judgemental gaze. Her demeanor changed. 

“Of all the people I know, I thought you’d understand,” her voice was guarded and hurt.

“Thought I’d understand?” I nearly gasped, surprised at my anger towards her. “I know Draco like I know my own mind. I hope you’re happy because you’ll never find someone that trusting and kind again.” Our glares combatted another as tension grew between us.

“You walked out on him same as I did.” She accused. “Who do you think had to pick him up from that?” Her words were sharp as I took a breath in.

“I walked away because he had to marry you!” I snarled. “I’d never walk out on him if I had another choice!” We were starting to draw attention of passersby. I didn’t really care. “I chose his happiness over mine,”

“Oh really?” She didn’t seem convinced.

“I chose your happiness over mine, even.” I realized. “He had to get married. He had to marry rich. A pureblood. Someone his parents approved of. He desperately wanted their approval...” my voice fell as the memories came flooding back. “That made him happy back then, doing what he thought was right...”

“You should be thanking me then!” Astoria exasperated. “I gave him his happiness!”

“Are you serious?” I demanded. “You broke his heart! You left him with a child alone! You publicly humiliated him! In clearing your name from the Malfoy’s you’ve ruined his life! And you think he’s happy now!?”

“How about we ask him?” She countered; her gaze fixed on someone in the distance.

I whirled around, meeting curious jaded blue eyes as he strolled down the lane. 

“Draco,” The soft gasp left my lips.

“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice was calm despite the firmness it held as he addressed me, not Astoria.

“Nothing,” I answered softly. “It’s nothing,”

“Sure, defend his honor and call it nothing,” Astoria sneered.

“You don’t get to talk,” I snapped, turning back to her. “You’ve done enough.”

“Y/n,” Draco chided softly, taking a place beside me. “I can handle this,”

“Draco,” I argued, looking up at him only to be silenced by a steady pleasing gaze from his eyes.

“Astoria,” He finally greeted, and I could see his guard go up. There was a warning in his single word and something passed between them.

“Draco,” She nodded then turned to leave without another word. He went to leave as well, and I caught his arm.

“Draco, hang on,” I called.

As he faced me, a sadness lingered in his eyes. I wondered about Harry’s words and how he was shutting everyone out. Everyone but me.

“If that offer is still open...” I tested. “I’d love to get out of the rain with you,”

Calculations ran through his eyes and I could see each one. For a moment I thought my request was a lost cause. That he was about to turn me down as I turned him down not a few days ago. Our eyes locked and the stars seemed to draw us back together. Now... now I felt something different. Something new in my heart towards Draco. It wasn’t what it had been before, but something morphed, changed, unyielding.

“Alright,” He nodded with a sigh.

“If you don’t want to... you don’t owe me anything Draco,” I rushed out, taking a small step back.

“Publicly defending my honor might count for something,” He mused softly. “Shall we?”

“I think I mentioned tea,” A soft chuckle left my lips as we entered Florean Fortescue Ice Cream Parlor.

“This is a favorite of Scorpius’,” Draco murmured. “I’ve grown accustomed to it...” He paused. “You used to like it as well,” A small smirk lingered on his face. “Has that changed?”

“No,” I admitted, flushing a bit pink.

“Butter pecan, waffle cone?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Waffle bowl,” I amended. “I’m not a child,”

“Oh, I’m sure,” He let out a soft laugh and ordered for the two of us. He hadn’t changed either, he still chose mint chocolate chip in a sugar cone.

“So, where’s Scorpius, he’s not old enough for Hogwarts, is he?” I asked as we sat at a small table outside.

“Merlin, no,” Draco chuckled. “He’ll be six in January, and at the moment he’s with my mother. She watches him while I’m away at work,” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“How’s he doing with—um...” I asked timidly,

Draco’s smile sobered as his gaze dropped to the table to the used napkins that had gotten the stickiness off of our hands and left colorful wrappings from the cones.

“Or not,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t my place,”

“Still the apologetic I see,” A sad sort of smile hit his lips. “And he’s taking it hard... harder than I am, I think. I knew she didn’t love me... I don’t think he ever understood it all...”

“I’m so sorry,” I offered.

He shot me an amused look.

“I mean it,” I insisted. “It’s not fair for either of you...” 

“Thank you,” Genuine gratitude held in his voice.

“Oi, Malfoy! Lunch ended twenty minutes ago!”

I heard a familiar voice and turned to see Harry walk into the small shop. As soon as Harry saw me sitting across from Draco, his demeanor changed and a grin grew on his face as if to say: ‘I told you so,’ but to which one of us I wasn’t sure.

“Hi Y/n,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Not a word, Potter,” Draco and I said simultaneously before catching the other’s gaze. Harry and I began to laugh, and I heard the gentle sound of Draco’s true laughter—something he rarely did, even when I knew him, but I cherished the sound all the same.

“I’m glad you two got to catch up, I am, but Draco, Mulligan has my arse because you’re missing,” Harry air-quoted the last word.

Sighing, Draco stood. “Y/n,” Was all he said as a goodbye before he and Harry set off.

I sat and stared at the empty space he left for a while, wondering what was going on between us. Was something going on between us? My heart said yes but my mind said no. I had forfeited the right to have anything with him. I walked away.

But still I wondered.

The next morning my phone kept chiming. Again, and again it wouldn’t stop with notifications and calls. I groaned and grabbed it off my beside table and squinted at it. A lot of the notifications were from friends and people I rarely talked too. One of them was from Ginny. I opened that one.

“How was your date?” It read and showed a picture of Draco and me at the ice cream parlor yesterday. We looked happy. The headline read:

Malfoy Moving On? Head Auror Caught with Old Classmate Sweetheart After Scandal

Then it dawned on me. This made the news. National news.

Scrolling through my phone, I found a number that I had but never called before. I had gotten it from Harry and Ginny long ago for emergences if Harry got injured on a case. I don’t think he knows I have it.

“Hello? Auror Malfoy,” A slightly tired voice answered, and it drew a smile on my lips before I remembered why I called.

“Draco,” I began, not knowing how to start this conversation.

“Y/n? How did you get my number?” In his weariness his tone was a lot harsher and blunt. His words stung.

“Harry gave it to me in case I needed it if something went wrong on one of your cases,” I explained softly. “I can delete it if you want... I was just wondering if you’ve seen this morning’s paper yet,”

“I have not,” He replied.

“Oh,” Anxiety grew in my chest. “Call me when you do?” I squeaked out. “Or don’t. Yeah, bye,” I quickly hung up and screamed at the ceiling, throwing my phone across the room. “Stupid Draco Malfoy!” I shouted at no one. Staring at the ceiling I wasn’t aware of how long I sat there.

Then my phone started ringing across the room. Of course, it was Draco.

“Hello?” I answered timidly.

“When can you be at the Manor? We need to talk,” Nothing scared me more than those four words.

“I—uh... half an hour?” I fumbled for words. “Draco—” The line disconnected. “Draco!” I yelled in frustration.

My body trembled as I got ready, knowing that that last time we had “talked” had ended our relationship and set us on different paths. I hoped to the stars that that wouldn’t happen again. I... I liked having Draco in my life. I wanted to be there for him, because according to Harry, I was the only one he would let in. Then there was the matter of whatever happened the night he was wasted and calling for me.

Taking the Floo network, I stepped into Malfoy Manor—a place I hadn’t been in over ten years. Draco was waiting for me in the grand foyer, appearing quite unkept, his hair a rumpled mess and his dress shirt still untucked, the tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Hello,” I offered softly.

He hummed a greeting and motioned for me to follow him. I thought that I was going to throw up with the amount of anxiety bubbling in my stomach. I didn’t like this at all.

Leading me into the grand kitchen he nodded to the island bar where two mugs of tea had been set out. My heart panged as I looked at the warm liquid that held the right hue of creaminess and I wondered if Draco remembered how I took my tea after all this time.

“I’m having Mulligan and Granger take care of it,” was all he said as he took a careful sip of his tea, his gaze fixed upon the newspaper on the counter before us.

“Take care of it?” I pressed, frowning.

“The photos. The newspapers.” He filled in.

“No, I get that,” I almost rolled my eyes, “But why? It’s just gossip...” 

“Why?” Draco almost snapped. I looked to my tea ashamed. He took a breath. 

“Do you regret it? Yesterday?” I barely spoke.

“Why would I?” He acted if I were the insane one here, “We went out. We enjoyed each other’s company. It was fine.”

“Then why would you tell Mulligan to— “

“I didn’t.” He stopped me. “He told me he was doing it. He was supposed to have stopped it from ever happening.”

“You knew. You knew this was going to happen,”

“Yes, or something like it, and I tried to stop it. The press has been... unforgiving of my name and business as of late and I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it,”

I nodded and looked down till I heard him sigh.

“Especially not you,” He tacked on.

“What?” My sleep deprived brain was trying to catch up.

Draco pursed his lips and stared at the photo of us smiling at another on the front page.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that I have forfeited the right to ask anything of you or hope to include you into my life in any way,” Melancholy riddled his words and my heart fell as I yearned to reach out for him.

“So, you’ve been avoiding me?” I didn’t understand the frustration I felt. “I... You—God above Draco.” I hissed. “Why don’t you let my make that choice myself? I forfeited that right just as much as you did,”

“I don’t see how,”

“I walked away from you... I made that choice.” 

“But did you have a choice?” Draco countered softly.

I didn’t have a response for that. Not a good one that I could defend well. Sure, I could claim I did and that I made the choice... but back then, our hands were tied. There was fear and war and uncertainty, and perhaps I didn’t have a choice after all.

He spoke before I had the chance to form a sound argument.

“As you know work with Harry as well.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“And that a week ago Friday was a bit of a disaster for the both of us,”

“Wouldn’t be one of my least favorite nights, but a disaster... sure.” I drawled, raising an eyebrow. He ignored my taunt and pressed on.

“Harry suggested that I take you out to make it up to you. Hence the invitation that one day and then our date yesterday,” His explanation made me pause.

“That was a date?” I asked, anxiety growing in my chest of where this could go.

“I mean... it fit all the perimeters of a date.” He was testing the waters as much as I was.

I let out a short laugh.

“I suppose it did,” I nodded to the paper in front of us.

“He also said that perhaps I shouldn’t have to be inebriated to figure out and express my emotions toward you—or anyone for that matter,” He tacked on, a mumbled mess.

“I... you—”

“You asked me why I would say something like what I said,” Draco gave, pressing on, not giving me a moment to process. “I doubt you remember it—you were half awake—but... No matter how much I’ve lost the right and privilege, I want you in my life, Y/n. Apart of it, if you’re willing,”

They talked about time freezing around you and how everything comes into focus. And that there are moments when all of the heartache and pain will one day count for something, and perhaps this was it. This was that moment. That point that I could make all of the pain and tears mean something beautiful. Something not quite new, but no longer old and forgotten.

“I... I want you in my life too,” I whispered the confession. “It’s... it’s really nice... to have you back,” My gaze dropped to the counter and the tea in my hands as guilt pierced through me.

“Can... can you ever forgive me? For all the hurt and pain I’ve caused you? Have I done too much that there’s no hope?”

“I... I never blamed you.” I admitted. “Or if I did, I don’t now. But Draco, we’re both different people now. I... I need your patience. Because as much as I want to say yes, I... I don’t know. I don’t know what hurts are going to come back up or what scars might reopen... If you’re willing to deal with that...”

“If you’re willing to deal with the rumors and gossip and stuffy life that I lead... I’ll wait a thousand lifetimes for you to be ready again,”

________________________

The kindness and forgiveness in your eyes brought him back. Way back. To the Yule Ball when you had been introduced to him. It was a dance of formalities and posture. He knew that you were a bit of a flirt, but after spending time with you, he could see that your bright over-friendly personality earned you such a reputation.

When Draco was younger, when he was at Hogwarts, when you were by his side, he thought he knew three things that would never change.

The first was that he was a Malfoy. He had to marry rich, marry whoever his parents picked out for him. There was no debate about that. It was the way things were. Keep the pureblood line going and the wealth in the family, if not expound upon it. He was the only son of his parents and it was his duty to carry the name on, carry it higher. He was a Malfoy.

The second was that as soon as he saw your face, that all changed. There was no one quite like you. He had never met anyone who matched him heart and mind and yet somehow you were kind and gentle at the same time. Your intelligent eyes that made him forget his name. He knew there would never be a day that he didn’t love you. That freedom you gave. He loved you.

And thirdly: he was betrothed to Astoria Greengrass.

That was about a decade ago. Now, only one of those things held true. Blinking away the memories and thoughts, he met your intelligent determined eyes once more. Everything came crashing down around him. The truth.

Draco didn’t have to marry rich. He had and the girl he married had an affair with another man and he was free from the obligation. He was no longer engaged to Astoria. He no longer had to entertain her listless petty stories or her frivolous shallow needs. He had a son. That kept the family name going, that kept the pureblood line alive.

But Draco still loved you.

And God damn him if he wouldn’t find every way to express that to you.

Maybe that was the reason behind his further actions. It was the reasoning behind why he reached out to you, stroking your face softly as he did long ago. He caressed your cheek as if it were precious marble, a sculpture given to him by the gods.

And for the first time in ten years, Draco didn’t have to fantasize what it would be like to kiss you again. He didn’t have to desperately cling to how your lips felt against his. He didn’t have to deny how much he missed you.

Frozen under his touch, Draco worried that perhaps this was something he should regret. That he should stop. That he should deny still.

But your hand came up slowly, not to push him away but to hold him close as he held you, cradling his face as if he were the most precious thing to you. Your fingers curled into his hair, causing the butterflies in his chest to set flight. Your soft sounds were met with his steady purrs.

His tongue danced with yours in a forgotten waltz. Even after all this time you still tasted the same: sweet, alluring, and faintly like chai.

But you pulled away all too soon for his liking.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Malfoy,” A smile curled on your lips.

“‘Til death do we part,” He jested lightly, earning a slight giggle from you as you pulled away and rebalanced yourself on the barstool.

“So... are we doing this? Like actually doing this?” You asked, fear lurking in your voice.

“I will do everything I can to make this right. To do this properly. To give you what you deserve,” He couldn’t quite understand why you laughed this time.

“I know you love your rules and traditions, but Draco I don’t need any of that and I don’t want any of that. I just want you. To get to know you again. To get to know Scorpius. I want my friend back,”

The desperate plea in your voice mirrored in your eyes and maybe he understood you a bit better and maybe himself, because he wanted that as well. He wanted you in his life. Woven into it. And possibly the first step to having that, was to get to know you again.

So, he would wait. He would learn. And he would love you till his dying day. 

“That would be enough,” Draco smiled softly and took your hand into his.

A few months of dates and quiet nights and lunches together in the break room and the rumors in the papers seemed to fade and the shock value seemed to wane to others. But Draco was still amazed that you decided to stay by his side. That you let him back into your narrative. That you completely adored Scorpius more than his own mother ever did.

As you crouched beside Scorpius and a peacock on the Manor grounds as the three of you took an evening stroll, the smile you gave him made him believe that the past ten years were nothing but a terrible dream. A trial to prove that he had earned this reward.

Though you had asked for patience, it turned out that he needed some as well. Draco had no idea how deep seeded the betrayal from Astoria and his supposed best friend affected him. There were times that he grew angrier than he meant to. There were times he was harsher than he wanted to be. There were times he was more distant than he needed to be. There were times that he was more reckless than he should be.

And there were times when something lingered in your eyes that he didn’t quite enjoy. Fear, or hesitancy. There were new boundaries that you had, and he had learned to respect. You weren’t the same girl he knew at Hogwarts. You were independent, confident, self-made, but still kind and gentle. You didn’t depend on him for everything. You didn’t lean into every touch. You didn’t smile at every jest. His perspective of you changed, and he loved every change made.

A weekend when Scorpius had gone to his parent’s house in Paris for a weekend was the night that Draco truly felt alone for the first time in a long time—since you had been back in his life. As the hour grew later, he paced his study, debating on going to see you, knowing well you’d still be awake.

As the ghosts of his past came to life and overpowered your gentle voice in his mind, Draco was decided. Drawing his wand, he apparated straight to you.

“What in Merlin’s name!?” You demanded, wand drawn, looking frantic, only relaxing when you saw that it was him.

“I... couldn’t sleep. Everything is...” His voice was small, like a frightened child.

You lowered your wand as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. Running a hand through your hair you sighed softly. He knew he was asking a lot—too much even. It had been a boundary of yours. You weren’t ready to sleep with him—innocently, not sensually—yet.

“Well, come on then,” You smiled softy, sliding over in your bed. “Just like old times,” His memory flickered back to the sleepless nights in the dorms at Hogwarts behind drawn drapes.

“This isn’t me trying—” Draco started, not wanting to push your boundary. He’d sleep on the couch for Merlin’s sake. He just wanted to be near someone who cared for him.

“I know,” You replied softly, reading him like an open book, as you were always able to. 

“And I don’t—”

You rose from your bed, going over to him.

“Still trust me?” You whispered, your hands running up his arms, earning a shudder from him.

Draco nodded; his gaze transfixed on you. He knew what the question meant. It had been a routine of yours at Hogwarts. When he couldn’t seem to get a grip on the day and came to you at night, you were always there to care for him.

And you were there now.

Slowly you unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it to the floor. Going over to your dresser, you pulled out one a shirt that he recognized as his and placed it in his hands. He gripped the fabric tightly.

“You kept this?” His eyebrow furrowed.

A shrug left your shoulders as you neared your dresser again, opening another drawer. “Cotton or fleece?” The question was soft.

“Cotton,”

“I have flannel?” You offered, pulling out a pair of plaid sweats.

“That’ll do,” Draco smiled as you handed him the pants; he gripped them tightly as well.

“You’re safe,” You encouraged, stroking his cheek. “No one’s going to hurt you. No one expects anything of you. You’re alright here... You’re with me,”

“You knew I was coming,” It wasn’t an accusation.

“Eventually, yes. You hate nights alone.” The warmth of your eyes was intoxicating. 

“I prefer it when you’re here,” He admitted.

“Then go change and we can get some sleep, yeah?”

That night had been quiet. It had taken some time, but eventually you laid in his arms, holding onto him as he held onto you. Silent tears fell for the both of you—of fear and acceptance and a new beginning. A step forward.

..........

Draco paced the floor, keeping a close watch to his temper as you arrived, looking confused and worried. And with the scarce information that he gave to you, it was well placed. Without a word—fearing that it might not be a kind one— he led you into the den, to where Scorpius was sitting on the couch, looking guilty and repentant.

“Scorpius,” Draco’s voice was concise and controlled. “Would you care to explain exactly what you told me to Miss Y/n?”

Some anger leaked through. A gentle hand on his shoulder reminded him to find calmness. A gentle smile on your face appeased and welcomed Scorpius as he began to speak.

“I... well... mother left. And papa had these letters... I found them and...I didn’t know who she was... but I thought—” the young boy stammered. “Father always has potions on hand down in his study... I thought that—if I just... he could be happy again,” Scorpius’ voice broke as he started to cry.

Your face crumpled softly, and Draco could see that you yearned to reach out to Scorpius and gather him into your arms but you refrained.

“So, you’re the one who drugged Draco,” You understood his son’s words, not nearly as upset as Draco had been because something else held your attention. “You kept my letters?” You seemed baffled. “All this time?”

Draco scoffed and his face remained stoic, but his cheeks tinged pink, affirming what you had said. And possibly it was the right thing to call you over to deal with this because with calmness and kindness that he never could find, you reprimanded Scorpius.

“Do you understand how dangerous that was?” You scolded. “Potions are not something to be played with or mixed. You could have really hurt your father.”

“I know,” Scorpius cried out, tears falling. “But—he... I thought I could get some answers. Find out who he loved—”

Your eyes met his with wonder and curiosity. There was no escaping that one. Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to avoid it.

“Okay,” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, his face folded into a pained expression. “We’ll talk about this later young man, now go start your studies.”

“Yes sir,” Scorpius nodded and disappeared into the house.

“Draco don’t be hard on him,” You pleaded, reaching out to him. “He’s just a kid,”

“I know,” Draco sighed, taking your hands. “That’s why I called you. I knew you’d handle it better than I ever could.”

“I’m not his mother, Draco,” You reminded him softly. “I don’t have authority here,”

Draco held his tongue before he really did ask you to be Scorpius’ mother but Merlin he wanted to. And maybe you could see that in his eyes because you looked down, flushing.

“He does seem truly sorry,” You changed the topic quickly before something was confessed after all.

“I think so,” Draco looked to the door from Scorpius had exited. Sighing softly, a hopeless chuckle left his lips. “As livid I am that he got into my stuff, and that I was drugged by a six- year-old, it brought me back to you,”

“I suppose it did,” You smiled. “As long as he promises to keep from your stuff, and to come to talk to you instead of taking matters into his own hands... I don’t see any harm.”

Draco nodded and pulled you into his arms, finding comfort in your solace and steady compassion.

“So...” You drawled, pulling away from him. “You kept my letters?” A mischievous smirk fell upon your face as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” He admitted, defeated. “I know, I know. It’s wrong and—” You burst out laughing, causing him to pause.

“I kept yours too,” Beaming at him, you reached up and stroked his cheek. “Granted I didn’t read them until again the day we got caught in the rain...”

Draco chuckled softly and drew you in for a kiss, marveled that you were even standing in front of him.

______________________________

There was a day that Draco did ask me. Another four words that made my heart soar and want to scream from the rooftops that he was truly mine. It had taken some time, make no mistake. It was redefining what it meant to be married and figuring out what it meant to marry for love and not advantage, but we made it. There was love, patience, and a strong foundation.

“Ginny, I can’t do this,” I whispered, tearing my eyes away from the mirror. “I... I’m not a wife... I—”

“Hush,” She ordered and fixed a hair that was out of place. “You’re the perfect one for him,” 

“But... me? Getting married? I can’t.”

“You love him, don’t you?” She tested, and I nodded, not trusting my voice. “And you can’t see a day without him in your future?” I nodded again, fighting back tears.

Ginny’s face softened. “I know,” She took my hand. “It’s a lot and it’s scary sometimes, but you deserve this. You deserve a happily ever after with a man who is willing to do what it takes to give it to you,”

I looked down at the floral lace of my dress, blinking away the moisture in my eyes. 

“Maybe you’re right...” I murmured.

“Of course, I am,” She smiled and picked up my bouquet, offering it to me.

Cannon in D began, and the door opened. My veil hid the water in my eyes and the fear on my face. Fears that faded when I saw him at the end of the aisle. He looked just as nervous as I did. It made me smile. It was so like him to be nervous about this. I almost laughed.

I took Harry’s elbow and inhaled deeply.

“You look beautiful,” He murmured.

“Thank you,” I mumbled back as we made our way down the aisle.

Harry placed my hand into Draco’s, and I felt secure. I felt safe and sure of my future. My eyes darted to Scorpius who I had seen grown up the past couple of years. He waved to me and I giggled before turning back to Draco.

There were tears in his eyes as he beamed down at me, our vows exchanged, and rings placed. 

“Don’t you cry,” I scolded quietly. “Because then I’ll start crying,”

“I’ve waited so long for this day,” He defended. “I’m allowed to cry,”

I laughed as my husband leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, sealing our promise to each other.

.

masterlist

.

more like this:

beautifully beastly

together in paris

.

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[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Come When You Call, Pt 3

"Did you know I used to play the piano?"

They're inside now, chased inside by the heavy summer heat. Lena's curled sideways on the couch, her feet in James' lap as he leafs through a book he's already read before. The question comes low and uninvited, offered apropo of nothing beyond Lena's deep thought.

James lifts his head, scanning his memory for any mention of the piano, or any instrument. He finds none.

"No, I didn't."

Now that he thinks about it, he has little information stored away about Lena's life before she came to National City. It was a part of her life she seemed content to leave in the past, and James was happy to let her. He'd been glad to have any part of her she was willing to share at all.

Lena nods. Her fingers trace the knitted pattern of the blanket pooled across her knees, her gaze fixed on the tip of her finger. "Used to fence too."

"Yeah?" he asks. He nudges her playfully. "Were you any good?"

He knows she must have been-- Lena isn't the person to do anything halfway. His suspicions are confirmed when Lena nods, mitigating her hubris with a slanted shrug. "Almost made the Olympics one year."

"Holy shit." James pats her shin with a smile. "You know, I might have a trophy somewhere around here for peewee football."

Lena laughs, and a weight lifts from James' chest at the genuine sound of it. Her smile brightens her entire face, and James can't help but grin.

"I would have liked to see that," Lena says.

Suddenly, James remembers the box he'd shoved into his bedroom closet. "I might just have the next best thing. Hang on."

He scoots out from under her and disappears, returning with a pile of photo albums in his arms.

"I dunno if you know this," he says, "but this house used to be my gran's. And one thing about gran is that she never threw away anything."

"Oh, no way," Lena chirps, sitting up to receive the first album with both hands. By the time James sits next to her, she's already got it open to the first page, where James sees his infant self yawning from inside a blue hospital blanket.

"Gran also liked to document everything," James explains. He taps the picture next to it, where his grandmother held him close to her chest with happy tears in her eyes. "This is probably only going to get us to about middle school."

Lena beams as they peruse the entire album, and James narrates what he can remember about each photo. His dad shows up in a few of them, which almost makes James' throat lock up with emotion, but talking about him feels natural with Lena. She drinks in every picture, every memory he shares with quiet appreciation.

"We never had anything like this," she says softly, running her fingers over the film trapping the photos to the page.

"That's a shame," James says. "It'd be a kick to see little Lena."

"I mean, we had the official portraits, and there's various press photos I'm sure you could find if you really wanted to. But memories like these?" She gazes at the photos, tracing the curve of Kelly's three-year old chin. "I don't know if there was anything worth documenting, come to think of it."

Not for the first time, James' heart goes out to the girl Lena used to be. Before he can say anything, Lena clears her throat.

"I used to wonder if my mother ever took photos like this, before she--" Lena cuts herself off. Her eyes darken for a brief moment, before she lifts her chin with a deep breath. "If she did, I never saw them. I didn't even have a picture of her, let alone myself."

James can't speak for a long moment. When he lost his dad, he'd at least had his photos-- those of him and those taken by him, each preserving different pieces of his father. He couldn't imagine trying to grieve without them.

"I'm so sorry, Lena..."

"I'm the one who's sorry." She looks up from the album and meets his gaze, her eyes focusing on him with familiar intensity. "The way I ended things between us... you deserved better than that."

James swallows, unprepared for the sudden turn. "I appreciate that..."

"And I should have kept in touch when you left," she continues. She swallows thickly. "I wasn't sure you'd want to hear from me."

"Me either." The confession comes low and soft from James' chest. He'd thought of calling Lena probably a dozen times, but talked himself out of every single one, certain that she'd want nothing to do with him.

Lena's hand settles on his knee. Her touch is warm, and singular in its rarity. For all that she craved physical intimacy, she rarely initiated it. She does so now, meeting his gaze once more. Suddenly, they seem unfathomably close.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, James."

James' hand lifts from where it rests against the back of the couch, his fingers gingerly brushing the hair from her face.

"Lena, I--"

Suddenly, the phone in James' pocket rings, launching into a jaunty jingle. Coming back to themselves, they both disengage-- James to fish out his phone and Lena to return her focus to the album still in her lap.

James clears his throat when he sees the caller id. "Kelly, hi."

"Hey, is Lena there?"

"Yeah, just a sec." Tapping the screen, he holds the phone between them. "You're on speaker," he says loudly.

"Lena?"

"I'm here. What's wrong?"

"Nothing yet," comes the reply, huffing through the phone. "No movement from Lex at this point. We're probably going to have to wait for Supergirl and the others to get back before we're able to wrap things up. But I'm not calling about that."

Lena's brow furrows, silence hanging poignantly until Kelly continues.

"I wanted to check on you, see how you're doing."

"O-oh." Lena's stutter belies her surprise, as does the flush that creeps up her neck. James bites back a smile. "I'm okay."

"And James has been behaving himself?"

"Hey!" James squawks indignantly, earning an unexpected giggle from Lena. "I'm right here, you know."

Kelly doesn't relent. "And are you behaving yourself?"

James scoffs good naturedly, leaving Lena to come to his rescue.

"Yes, he's been the perfect gentleman," she says, patting his knee. "I couldn't have asked for a better host."

"Good," Kelly declares. "If he steps out of line, just let me know and I'll come kick his butt."

Rolling his eyes, James stands to grab a drink, but as he does he gives Lena's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She flashes a smile at him, bright and beautiful, before she takes the phone off speaker and places it to her ear.

He takes his time in the kitchen, giving them room to have a conversation without him. He wonders if either of realize that Kelly's just disproven one of Lena's fears the night before. Though she might not believe it right now, Lena does have people who care about her. Kelly is just the start.

#guardiancorp #tender moments continue #god i love these two #why didnt they ask me to write their break up?? #ugh it could have been so juicy #but nooooo.... #oh and kelly and lena are def friends #ive decided #ofc kelly is checking in on her just cuz #shes missing her friend ok

[onlydreamofmysoul]

The Prince and The Pornstars

Chapter Four

Chapter four here we go! This chapter was weird because I knew exactly what I wanted for all the chapters after this one, but the issue was getting through this first! However then I had a brainwave and yay here we are!

Happy New Year my lovely, lovely people!!!

Credit for characters of course to the incomparable @lumosinlove

Finn

“I’m telling you June, I think I’m going crazy.”

June looked up at him skeptically over her coffee. “So you have a new job.”

“Yes.”’

“Working for pornstars.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re attracted to two of them.”

“So it would seem.”

“Who also happen to be a couple.”

“That would be correct.”

June tipped her head towards him. “I’ve gotta say Finn, when I said you needed to get out there, I did not see this coming.”

Finn nearly spat out a mouthful of his own caffeine hit. “It’s not like I did it on purpose!” He groaned, that aching feeling in his chest even more prominent now that he was actually acknowledging it. “And what am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can ask them out I mean for start that’s probably sexual harassment or something, like you know what I do for them.”

“So why not wait until you’re a proper makeup artist and you know, not doing that anymore.”

Finn bit his lip helplessly. “Because I want them now.” He groaned, dragging out the last word pathetically. “But it’s not like I could even be with them either way - they’re with each other!” He met June’s eyes. “And it’s not like they’re just messing around June, they’re properly in love. You should see the way they look at each other.”

“The way you want them to look at you?”

Finn flushed. “You know what? We’re moving on from me. How’s that girl you’ve been pining after for months? What’s her name again? Oh yes, Heather.” Finn teased, knowing exactly what her name was. He had heard about very little except the woman since she and June had met. 

The little bell above the door chimed and Finn looked up out of habit, ever curious to the goings on in the world. June was saying something back to him, undoubtedly sarcastic, undoubtedly evasive, but Finn could no longer hear her. No, instead all he could focus on was the fact that Leo and Logan had just walked in. 

He gripped June’s arm and she started at him confused but he still wasn’t looking at them. Leo had gone straight to the counter to order but Logan was looking around for a table and spotted them. Finn smiled weakly and June turned around to see what was going on. 

Logan seemed frozen for a minute, but gathered himself and walked over. “Hey Finn.”

“Logan, hi.”

June’s eyebrows rose comically. “Logan, really? Interesting.” She turned to Logan and held out her hand. “I’m June, it’s lovely to meet you.”

Logan shook her hand, blinking. “Yeah, you too.”

Finn gestured to the empty chairs around them. “Do you wanna join us?”

Logan bit his lip, hesitant. “Are you sure? We wouldn’t want to disturb.”

June jumped in before Finn could say anything. “Of course not, grab a seat.”

Logan did so, sliding in next to them and Finn couldn’t help but laugh at Leo’s face when he finally arrived and realised who they had run into. Finn introduced him to June and they chatted for a bit, about everything and nothing at all.

“So, we go onto set and literally everyone except James is stark naked, right?” Leo was saying, in stitches laughing. “And James is like ‘wait, what’s going on?’ except no one ever acknowledges it, we just pretend nothing is happening.”

“All because he tried, and failed to prank you one time?” June asked, tears of laughter forming in her eyes. 

Leo nodded earnestly, “We take these things very seriously.”

“Attends attends,” Logan added, still wheezing a little, “You’re forgetting the best part.”

“Oh my god, what’s the best part?”

“After lunch, James came back naked as the day he was born, and we had all put our clothes back on.”

The table broke into a fresh round of laughter, the patrons of the coffee shop looking at them disdainfully.

“Even Lily?” Finn asked. 

“Oh, especially Lily.” Leo was saying. “They may be married, but he tried to trick her too. She was going to take him down.” They all chuckled again and June checked her phone as she finished her second round of coffee.

“I think we’d all better get going before we’re all late for work.”

They gathered up and Finn agreed to walk with Leo and Finn. June was going in the other direction so when they made it outside the door he kissed her on the cheek goodbye.

“Text me later, yeah?” She said, giving him a quick half-hug. 

“Yeah of course, love you.”

“Love you too! Have a good day!”

“So… June seems great.” Leo hedged after they had walked a bit, keeping a relatively fast pace to ensure they made it on time. 

“Oh yeah, she’s the best.” Finn agreed, and it was true, he and June had been best friends for years. 

“We’re having a little party next week.” Logan said. “If you wanted to come? You could bring June too of course.”

Finn couldn’t help but feel a burst of confusion at the ‘of course’ but he figured that was for Future Finn to work out. For now, he had an invitation to accept. 

“Yeah, I’d love to! I mean, I’ll have to check with June of course, but I’m in. Thanks guys.”

They arrived at their building, walking straight in. The guy at the desk greeted them hello, even knowing Finn’s name at this point. They walked through the lobby and in the double doors, waving to everyone they came across. Leo and Logan both went to their respective dressing rooms and Finn kept going until he reached the makeup department. For the first time since he’d been here, Celeste wasn’t there before him, so he set to work organising the stockroom a little until she arrived and told him what needs to go where. And then of course, what sets and with whom he’d be working with that day. 

He organised peacefully for a minute before his mind inevitably went to the same place it seemed to always go nowadays. Which was to say he was most certainly not thinking about Leo and Logan.

Nope. Not at all.

Not one single bit.

(Okay maybe a little.)

(A little meaning a whole lot).

He sighed and tilted his head back, staring up at the fluorescent lights for a minute. It was like he had said to June - he was not going to do this. He was not going to start crushing on his co-workers. He was not going to start crushing on his co-workers who were in a committed relationship with each other. 

Never mind the whole fact that Finn worked for them. He couldn’t just start liking them this way. It felt morally wrong.

(But it also felt so, so right. Emotions like this - they could make you believe in fate).

He came out of the stockroom to find Celeste bustling around in a hurry. 

“Well, well, well,” Finn teased, “Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Désolée,” Celeste said, beginning to apologise before she turned around and realised Finn was only playing with her. “Oh you are wicked O’Hara. I could have you fired you know.”

“You could,” Finn mused, pushing himself off the door frame where he had been leaning. “But you won’t. Now, what do you need me to do?”

Finn headed down the corridor, delivering costumes, sniggering when he handed in James’ one, much to the other man’s confusion, then he continued making his rounds. He gave Logan and Noelle identical maid outfits (for different films of course. Leo wasn’t the only one Logan didn’t work with) and currently, neither of them were the wiser. Finn could have told them... But he figured it would be far more entertaining for them to figure out on their own. 

It was going to be busy today; he was working with Logan first, then Leo and he would be going back and forth between the two sets as the other ‘rookie’, Ollie was out sick today. Everyone here had great fun with ‘O’Hara and ‘O. Halla’, the two fluffers. He went to Logan’s set, smiling at everyone before going directly to Logan, there would be no chit-chat today, it was straight to business as Finn was needed elsewhere. He was glad they had all been able to talk this morning instead, he would have missed his little updates on their lives.

“Back again, are we?” Logan teased, raising his eyebrow as he lay back on the futon that would be starring in today's filming. He untied his robe and tucked an arm underneath his head, looking at Finn through lowered lashes. Cocky. 

Finn gave him a look that made sure Logan knew with no uncertainty that Finn was aware of his every movement, before looking him right in the eye as he took Logan’s cock in his hand. Logan gasped and Finn steadied his hips with his free hand as he stroked him quickly. One thing he would never not love about Logan was how incredibly responsive he was. Every single thing Finn did was reflected in some way. The stutter of his hips when he circled his thumb over the head. The intake of breath when Finn’s fingers would accidently brush that damned tattoo. The flash in those green eyes when Finn would bite his own lip. 

Logan was hard and ready in no time and Finn rose, throwing him a playful wink before waltzing out of the room. 

“He’s all yours, boys.” He called to the producers and laughed a little as he left the room. He had made a vow to himself before he went on set today - he would not fucking blush. It would seem that so far, he had succeeded. 

Leo was always a little harder to judge than Logan, but Finn was learning quickly. He liked when Finn’s hand might slip lower and tease his balls. He wasn’t as affected by a little scrape of Finn’s nails. Finn was getting good though, he was learning their bodies, almost as well as he knew his own. Leo always almost came undone when Finn would twist his wrist, hand curled around his tip. Finn had to control himself when he made that discovery. That was what always did it for him too.

Sometimes at night, Finn's mind would slip to them. Then he would feel guilty and think about something else, anything else. Porn was ruined for him now, although he had to admit, it had never done all that much for him in the first place. He always ended up thinking about Leo and Logan again, but never from what he saw on set. No, Finn’s active imagination would slip to what they might be like by themselves, what they might be like with Finn. His orgasms would always come with the crashing reality that his dreams would never come to be. 

“Me and Lo, it’s for us. It’s not something anyone else gets to see.”

Finn sighed and gritted his jaw as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to June.

Fancy going to a party next week?

Would this happen to be a pornstar party?

… Maybe 

Yeah I’m in.

Oh, and Finn?

Yeah?

You’re so fucked.

Finn rested his head back on the wall behind him. Yeah, yeah he was.

#the prince and the pornstars #tpatp #the prince and the pornstars chapter 4 #coast to coast lumosinlove #lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #finn o'hara #Leo knut #logan tremblay #o'knutzy #celeste dumais #James Potter #Lily Evans #18+

[simplyclary]

Ewan McGregor: My Serotonin Booster

[P.S: Upon the time of writing, I have yet to watch most of his films including The Island, Beginners, Salmon Fishing in the Yemen, Trainspotting along with some of his series/documentaries including Fargo, Long Way Round and Long Way Up]

I have known many celebrities who has given me happiness these past few years, but it was during quarantine when I needed someone the most. Don’t get me wrong though, many of the people whom I discovered during the start of quarantine still provides me happiness until now, the only difference being that there is a specific someone who really provides me the dose of serotonin that I really hunt and yearn for, that specific someone being Scottish actor Ewan McGregor.

Before I get to the cheesy part (I guess), let me narrate the timeline on how I found my happiness in him.

I first saw him as the debonair bronze candelabra Lumiere who sang the iconic song “Be Our Guest” in 2017’s live-action Beauty and the Beast. I instantly found Lumiere charming and cute in that film and him being head over heels in love for Plumette (played by the gorgeous Gugu Mbatha-Raw) is so cute and adorable, not gonna lie. Also, a moving candelabra singing and dancing in the middle of your dinner table is such a cute visualization, don’t you think?

A year later, Ewan then brought me back to childhood nostalgia through the lens of Christopher Robin, where he played the titular character. Seeing that film for the first time and watching him interact with Pooh, Piglet, Tigger and the other characters in the Hundred-Acre Wood has awakened the child in me. I honestly melt everytime I hear Pooh’s voice (voiced by Jim Cummings) since that voice was what made Pooh one of the cutest bears in the world of cartoons. Also if you observe in the film, there was a scene where he (Christopher) twirled his umbrella like a lightsaber when trying to "kill" a “Heffalump”. That scene kinda made me giggle and also made me think if it was just Ewan’s muscle memory or not.

Fast forward 3 years later to the current year of 2021, I have made a galactic discovery through Star Wars (yes, I know, I’m so late to the rave but hey, better late than never, right?) and through this galactic discovery, I met the sassiest, kindest, strongest and iconic Jedi warrior Obi-Wan Kenobi. I honestly applaud both Ewan and Sir Alec Guinness for their portrayals of the live-action versions of Obi-Wan as well as James Arnold Taylor and Stephen Stanton who voiced Obi-Wan in the animated series The Clone Wars and Rebels.

Now, believe me when I say that I fell in love with the animated Obi-Wan first because of The Clone Wars. Falling in love with the animated version then made me fall for the live-action version which Ewan portrayed flawlessly. It was really obvious in Ewan’s performance as Obi-Wan how much he paid homage to the Obi-Wan of Sir Alec Guinness and I really admired that. Plus, the iconic (and meme-worthy) lines are utterly unforgettable and it made me so happy to hear that he’s coming back as Obi-Wan in his own series on 2022. It was honestly through the character of Obi-Wan where I really started to love Ewan and because of this, I started to dig and binge some of his past and recent work.

Now armed with the yearning to look for and watch more of his movies, I scoured the internet and I found Birds of Prey among the list of his movies. First of all, I was utterly surprised when I found out he was involved in an all-female movie, but I was even more surprised when I found out that he was playing Roman Sionis, a.k.a Black Mask, who is the main villain in the movie. Truth be told, I have a history of loving villainous characters and he was no different. I honestly found him convincing as a villain, egotistical at best and was kind of saddened when he *spoiler alert* died at the end. I was hoping he would come back in a somewhat miraculous way, but I could accept if that’s how his story ends.

After watching Birds of Prey and witnessing him play a villain, I delved into the world of fashion design through the lens of Halston which is a Netflix series about Roy Halston, a famous fashion designer back in the 70s. Ewan played Halston flawlessly, and while some scenes made me cover my eyes because of explicit content, I still enjoyed the show overall not only because of Ewan but because I got to understand what Halston was really like behind the curtain, if you’d like.

Now, I am not the biggest horror movie fan but I faced my fear when I met Doctor Sleep himself, Danny Torrance. Considering that this is the sequel to “The Shining” which is deemed the scariest horror film ever made, I braced myself for it to be horrifying and I would be jumping out of my skin while watching it, and I did in several scenes. I applaud Ewan for playing the grown-up version of Danny and making me understand his story through this film.

After that horror experience, I decided to watch something that speaks to my heart and that is a movie with music, and Moulin Rouge was the perfect one. Now, this movie is highly recommended for every Ewan McGregor fan, because he showcases both his acting chops and his powerful vocals in this movie. I instantly fell in love with the penniless writer Christian, his sweet smile, kind spirit and utter obsession with the idea of love. Also, those songs he sang with Satine (played by the angelic soul that is Nicole Kidman) are automatic auditions to my playlist. Also, that drama at the end when Satine died and Christian was grieving, it made me tear up indeed.

After drama comes more drama, I went into a real-life story and that is The Impossible where he played Henry who is the husband to Maria (played by Naomi Watts) and father to 3 kids, one of them being my favorite Spiderman Tom Holland. Believe me when I say that the movie pulled at my heartstrings, especially after the tsunami hit and the family got separated as well as the scene where Henry (Ewan) was at this one camp and he was speaking on the phone while crying. I really felt the “dad” emotions there, knowing that he is a dad in real-life. This movie, even though you are a fan of Ewan and Tom, is not for the faint of heart.

The latest addition to my list is the knight-in-shining armor that is Elmont from Jack the Giant Slayer. He is a feisty one, let me tell you that. He does not give up easily and boy, does he look hot with that crossbow. Anyways, him as Elmont was a fantastic casting, showcasing the selfless persona of a knight who was willing to protect his kingdom above all else. The mini swordfights in between serve as bonuses.

Please do know that I will be watching more of his work as the days progress, but while writing this, this is all that I have seen.

Finally, I’m done with that lengthy timeline narration and now, onto the chessy-ish part, because it depends on perception if you are willing to think of my love for him as obsession or just dedication.

For the most part, I can’t really describe how happy he makes me. It’s as simple as me hearing him talk in interviews with that lovely Scottish accent of his, hearing him sing covers of songs and seeing his pictures on Pinterest (I have about a hundred of him on a board on the app, along with a few Star Wars characters) and the internet in general or it’s as bizarre as me smiling when I see a photo of him with a silver hoop piercing on his left ear or as scenic (I don’t even know if that’s the right word) as when I see a clip/GIF of him running his hand through his hair. I don’t really know and therefore can’t describe what is this feeling I feel when I see him.

Recently, I’ve been binge-watching his interviews on Graham Norton, Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Kimmel and other outlets and I can’t help but smile amidst him repeating stories and saying the same spiels and all, there’s just something about his presence that makes me feel happy. I’ve also been listening to his covers of songs and him playing the guitar and I melt. I mean, even with his mundane fashion sense, his charisma just stands out for me. Also, his point of views on career and why he chooses the projects that he does is inspirational. I just love, adore and admire him, amidst all the controversy (which I’m not gonna go deep into because that’s all in the past) that happened.

At the end of the day, all I can takeaway from all of these, is that Ewan really makes me happy. With his expressive blue eyes, charming smile, melodic voice, and sweet personality, he can easily lift up my spirits as high as the galaxies can reach. If only I could tell him all of these, but I would just faint and stutter if I were to see him face-to-face. But seriously, given the chance to speak with him, I would tell him how much he means to me and how much brighter the world is because of him.

I’ll just end this lengthy narration with a line from “Your Song”, which is originally sang by Elton John and Ewan sang it beautifully in Moulin Rouge and is now one of my favorite songs.

“How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world”

#ewan mcgregor #obi wan kenobi #star wars

[theodorecanaryhood]

TikTok

Reader doing tiktok trends on Dick and Jason

'Walk out naked' challenge: Dick

Dick is sitting on the couch watching his current favourite TV show, you found it hard to get his attention so thought you'd try the challenge on him.

You walk out into the living room with just a towel on,

'Dick' you say, Dick turns to face you as you drop the towel on the floor. Dick pauses the screen and rushes over to you, picking you up.

Jason:

Jason was so addicted to his video game for some reason, you couldn't even get him to eat anything even though he must've been starved.

You walked out with just a towel on and he instantly saw you, you dropped the towel on the floor.

'Oh my' Jason said as he pretend fainted on the floor, making you laugh. Jason then stood up, paused his game and threw you on the couch.

'Call him by another name' challenge: Dick

You were showing Dick how to do a dance routine, Dick kept messing around trying to be funny.

'No James. I mean Dick' you said smiling, Dick just looked at you wide eyed.

'Who?' Dick asked, you just started laughing

'What?' You asked trying to act innocent, Dick just stared at you until you couldn't hold your laughter in anymore.

He soon clocked on it was a prank and laughed with you.

Jason:

You were trying to show Jason how to cook something, started filming on TikTok and stood in front of Jason.

'So I'm here with Noah, I mean Jason and...' Jason stopped you by placing his hand around your neck mockingly while you both laughed.

He clocked on pretty quick to what you were doing, walking over to your still recording phone.

'Fuck you Noah' Jason laughed as he flipped the bird.

'Send them a dirty text in front of family' challenge: Dick

Dick was sitting with his Brothers and Alfred when his phone pinged. He looked at the screen and began to blush, Dick then leaned back in his chair smiling.

Jason:

Jason was sitting with the Outlaws when his phone went, he went wide eyed and blushed. Looking at you as he started to mouth 'now?' To you.

'Wap dance' in front of boyfriend: Dick

You got as far as 'grab a bucket and a mop' before Dick joined in with you to do the routine.

He eventually let you do it properly for him and let you film it, he liked it and even did it himself later.

Jason:

This guy right here, would never let you do anything too sexy if it wasn't for him. As soon as you started he picked you up and carried you away so the camera couldn't see you.

After much begging, he let you do it, so long as he could sit in the background of the video and watch you. When you got near the end, Jason stood up and started throwing money on you while you broke out laughing.

'Hit him with a bag' challenge: Dick

Dick was sat in the drivers seat as you was going through your purse.

'Oh it's in my bag' you exclaim as you reach over to the back seat, grabbing your bag and swinging it right for the back of Dick's head.

'Babe, you good?' He barks at you as you sit clueless,

'What happened?' You ask innocently,

'You just hit me over the head' Dick points to your bag.

'Sorry' you say, as you lean to put your bag back, hitting him again.

'Babe' Dick shouts as you burst out laughing, Dick sees that you're filming and starts to laugh too.

Jason:

Jason is sat in the passenger seat scrolling through his phone, waiting patiently for you to start the engine.

'I need my bag real quick' you say reaching to the backseat to grab it, swinging over Jason's head as he sits shocked you just whacked him.

Jason doesn't say anything, just shakes his head at you as you rummage through your bag 'looking' for something, you lean lean over to put it back, hitting Jason in the face with it.

'Doll hit me again with that thing and I'll throw it out the window' Jason says, as you burst out laughing.

Yes I did this before, but I didn't like the first one so I deleted it!!

#red hood #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #gotham #jason todd #dick grayson #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing the series #nightwing #batfamily

[bluesfortheredj]

Forever starts now - BH.

Ben’s eyes are locked on the ceiling above him as his limber fingers fidget with the hem of his vest while he sits nervously on the sofa; one of his legs unable to stop bouncing up and down anxiously. Outside in the street you shrug your coat higher up your neck as the rain begins to seep inside your jacket, and you quickly press the doorbell again to try and hurry the man inside up; it was freezing and your hair was now absolutely drenched with thick strands of it stuck to your cheeks and neck.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter, hopping from one foot to the other.

Finally the door opens to reveal the slightly dishevelled looking guy in one of his workout vests with his blonde locks messily pushed back from his forehead after what you assume was a quick run on his treadmill. His free hand rests on his hip and he gives you a wonky smile as he takes in your appearance.

“You look wet,” he smirks.

“I’m absolutely soaked,” you huff.

“Better come in then.”

He steps to the side to allow you entry and shuts the door as soon as you’re safely out of the way, then you slip your boots off and hang your coat up before he gestures to the lounge where you flop down onto the soft couch with a sigh.

“So what brings you out in the pouring rain?”

“Did you really expect me to stay at home after hearing that voicemail?”

“Ah.”

“Yeah… just tell me one thing; do you mean it?”

His expression turns serious and he takes your icy hands in his before looking directly into your eyes to confirm his sincerity, “of course I mean it. I know what you stand to lose, you know what I’ve sacrificed already as well, and I wouldn’t have done any of this if I wasn’t completely sure about being with you.”

“Well that’s a relief,” you chuckle, “because-”

A bang from upstairs interrupts your sentence and the two of you both look up at the ceiling at exactly the same time, just as there’s a shuffling on the floor. You soon turn your attention back to Ben and snatch your hands away from his before covering your mouth with them at the sight of his suddenly panicked expression. His face reddens as his eyes flick from your gaze to the white expanse above you both, and he shakes his head as he brings his hands up either side of his face in surrender before gently bringing them down to his thighs as if pushing something away.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, “I… I’ve just… you’ve got someone here.”

You slowly rise from the sofa while he mirrors your actions with his arms open and palms flat almost like he was trying to calm a frightened animal, but you soon move past him to the hallway where he attempts to get a grip on one of your arms; failing as you wriggle out of his grasp each time.

“No,” you snap, pointing your finger at him with a shaking hand, “no.”

“(Y/N), please, it’s not what you think, I-”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you even dare.”

Your eyes are narrowed at him as you pull your boots on along with your coat, then you back up to the door and exit just in time to hide your tears from him. The rain disguises the stream of misery that pours over your cheeks as you scuttle down the road as fast as your feet will take you, and yet when you reach the corner of the street you can’t help but look back to see if he was daring to follow you or if the other person had left. Neither sight greeted you, and with one last forceful sniff you turn away and continue your journey back home with a renewed determination as you pull your phone out and delete the voicemail you’d travelled half way across London for; all you could hear in his voice now was empty promises.

This wasn’t what was meant to happen, you’d come to tell him that you were going to break up with your boyfriend so you could be with him, that it was him you were in love with and not James. This didn’t happen in the films you’d seen, they’d lied to you, this was meant to be the most romantic part of the film where the two main characters kiss while getting soaked by the rain, neither of them giving a damn about the weather as they finally get together after a couple of hours of back and forth about whether it would happen or not. Reality sucked.

“Where have you been?!” James asks with genuine concern as you finally get home.

“Out,” you shrug, peeling your sodden clothes from your body as you avoid all eye contact with him.

“You’re wringing wet,” he sighs, attempting to help, “you need to get warmed up else you’ll catch a chill.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I’ll run you a hot bath.”

“James, would you just please leave it?!” you snap, “I’m not a fucking child,” urgh, you sound like a complete bitch.

He backs off, finally getting the message that he so frequently ignored, and you hang your coat up before shutting yourself away in the bathroom and letting your body shake with sobs as the sound of the water running from the shower head covers the noise of your heartbreak. You felt awful of course, mere feet away from your boyfriend while you cried over another man; it was a truly horrible act and you were just as upset with yourself as you were with Ben in all honesty. The only redeeming factor that you had was the fact you hadn’t physically cheated, but you are sure that emotionally cheating is equally as bad if not worse being as your love had now completely faded for the man outside the bathroom door with whom you’d spent the best part of three years with and had shared in the highs and lows of your life. It was quite the situation you had gotten yourself in to, and all you could feel for James now was utter contempt; the things that had only slightly bothered you about him before now absolutely unbearable. There’s a knock at the bathroom door just as you take a look at your phone to see ten missed calls from Ben, and you let out a weak questioning ‘yes’.

“It’s Ben,” James states, “he says he can’t get through to you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I lost my phone,” you lie through the door, “I’m fine.”

There’s a mumbling as James relays the information you’d just given him, then you quickly undress and try to wash the truth of the matter off of yourself.

“I know you, (Y/N),” James says quietly when you reluctantly join him on the sofa in the lounge, “something’s not been right for a long time.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath, ready for confession, “you’re right…”

“I don’t know how you found out, but-”

You do a double take at James and his unexpected admission, “wait, what?”

“I… I’m in love with someone else.”

Your chest stills as you hold your breath, wondering whether to come clean about your own feelings for someone else but James continues talking before you get a chance, and you decide to keep everything to yourself, especially after the disaster earlier.

“I’m so sorry but you know things between us haven’t been great for a while and it just sort of happened… I promise I haven’t cheated on you, I-”

“It’s okay,” you smile as you place a hand on his arm to calm him down, “it’s absolutely fine, and I know you’d never cheat, you’re not the type of guy to do that.”

“Are you okay?” James frowns; confused at how calm you’re being.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “I can’t deny that things haven’t been the same between us for months. I’m glad you’ve found someone who deserves you in their life though. Truth is, I don’t. You’re too kind and caring for someone like me; I’ve been horrid to you the last few weeks and I’m deeply sorry about that.”

“No, no, I shouldn’t have been so overbearing and clingy, I know I can be annoying and-”

“James, seriously, just stop. We’ll take the blame 50/50 yeah? You don’t need to try and persuade me that it’s you’re fault because it’s not; we’re equally to blame and that’s that.”

“Fine,” he chuckles, “we’ll share it. I am sorry though, I didn’t mean to fall for someone else.”

“Don’t be sorry that you’ve found happiness! These things just happen sometimes,” you shrug, wishing that your gamble on love had paid off as well as James’, “listen, I’ll pay rent for the rest of the month but I’ll move out by the end of the week okay?”

“So soon?”

“Why delay anything for longer than we have to?” you smile, “a new start is exciting right?”

“Well, yeah, but where will you go?”

“You seriously need to stop worrying about me. I’ll move back to my parents’ house; it’ll be nice to not be directly inside the city, you know I’ve never completely warmed to living in London.”

You’d be away from everything and everyone, and right now that’s what you desperately needed. You wonder whether you’d walked in on Ben and his ex, or whether it was someone else, someone you’d maybe met before or maybe not at all… your thoughts were torturing you now. Did it matter who it was upstairs? Sort of. It mattered to you. You needed to know whether it was just sex or something more. But it wouldn’t matter if you moved away though, and he wouldn’t matter either hopefully. Out of sight, out of mind.

James agrees to your terms and sure enough by the end of the week you’re saying your goodbyes, packing up your car and returning home for the first time in years. It didn’t feel like a step backwards, it felt like a new beginning, and although your parents were hot on questioning you about what had gone on between you and James, you simply explained that the two of you had fallen out of love and you were taking the opportunity to get out of living in London. The commute to work wasn’t so bad, and to be honest you’d spent the length of your journey getting from one side of London to the other before, so considering you were travelling in from the outskirts it wasn’t too much of a difference overall. It can be tough when you see how well James and his new girlfriend are getting along on social media but only because you imagined that you’d be in the same position with the person you were still harbouring feelings for. Out of sight, but not so much out of mind apparently.

“Hello,” you sigh in defeat, finally answering a call from Ben after three weeks of ignoring him.

You were on the train home from work and completely exhausted after a long week, so this was a fragile moment for you anyway and that’s the only reason you didn’t reject the call. Well, that’s what you were telling yourself anyway.

“Finally!” he exhales, “I went to see you and James said you had moved out after you two broke up, then I went to everyone we know and they wouldn’t tell me anything!”

“Well I did ask them not to, so it’s good to know they took that seriously.”

“(Y/N), please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Don’t do- are you joking?! Fucking hell Ben, I went to yours that night ready to start a new life with you and you had someone upstairs already! I mean, fuck, you don’t waste time do you?! And now you’re asking me to not cut you off ever again?!”

“I didn’t mean that… don’t hang up, please. I didn’t mean…” he pauses to groan, “can we meet up?”

“I don’t live in London any more and only travel in for work, so I don’t think so.”

“I’ll come to you then. You must be at your parents’ house, right?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Just give me five minutes, please. I’m literally begging you. Five minutes.”

You rest your head against the window of the train as you allow yourself to give him five minutes of your precious time, “fine,” you breathe.

“Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Fine.”

“I’ll see you then. I love you.”

“I will be setting a timer for the five minutes,” you state before hanging up.

You can’t help but laugh at the whole situation as you put your phone away; it was almost as if you were floating in mid-air after going from one stable relationship to the prospect of another one to now absolutely nothing. Maybe you deserved it after the lying and deceit you subject James to, but then again so did he in the end. Maybe it was something you’d done in a past life that now cursed your current one; never to be happy and in love again. In all honesty, you were worried. Worried that you’d see Ben’s face and feel completely powerless as all of your feelings came rushing to the surface again. It was easy to appear defiant and angry when it was through a phone, but seeing him in person, being the presence of the one you truly loved, well, that was a whole different matter and you were terrified of falling into his arms within a matter of seconds.

A coffee shop in town is your chosen point to meet and you get there early to practise your stony, unimpressed expression that you planned on wearing for the entire five minutes, then you put your phone on the table when you see him queueing to get a drink, ready to bring up the timer. It was funny how serious you were about timing him, but you couldn’t let it show that you were amused by the stubbornness you had within you. He sits down with a coffee for him and a tea for you, then you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Ready?” you ask, your finger hovering over the start button.

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Ready?”

“I guess.”

You hit the button and the seconds begin to tick as Ben eyes the screen nervously before lifting his gaze to meet yours.

“Right… well… it wasn’t what it seemed that night. Sarah was picking up some of her stuff that she’d left and when she knew it was you there she purposely dropped some of her shit on the floor to make you think that she was there for other reasons. She knew it would look bad, especially as I’d literally stopped a workout to let her in and I was sweating like a maniac. She then came downstairs after you’d left and made one last attempt at trying to win me back which then prevented me from following you, and by the time I chucked her out you were completely out of sight and I had no idea what to do because I didn’t want to turn up at your place and cause a rift between you and James. But then you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls so I had to ring James, and then you went and disappeared for three weeks and I’ve been going out of my mind with worry! James told me what went on between the two of you so I was frankly quite confused that you didn’t think to tell me because now there’s nothing standing in the way of us being together, and I love you, I just really fucking love you.”

You glance down to your phone, “and you only took three minutes.”

“Rest assured, that’s the only time I’ll be taking three minutes for anything.”

You manage to stifle a laugh at his comment as you bring your tea cup up to your mouth to hide the hint of smile that had crept across your lips unintentionally, then take a sip of drink.

“So…?” he prompts.

“Were you tempted?” you ask.

“To what?”

“Give in to her advances?”

“No! Never. Not even when she kissed me.”

You bring your cup up to your lips again and raise an eyebrow at him, “she kissed you?”

“I was being polite and went to kiss her cheek but she turned at the last second to try it on with me. Needless to say she was not happy when I pushed her away.”

“Bitchy move.”

“To say the least! I was fuming with her after she pulled that stunt upstairs when you were there.”

“Hmm,” you hum, “did the job, didn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. If you’d given me the chance to explain then and there we could be happily shacked up together by now.”

“I panicked! What else was I meant to think?! We were literally ending parts of our lives to begin another with each other, so second guessing yourself for an easier life wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing for me to think would it?”

“Okay, I get it. What now though?” he asks as he finally takes a sip of his drink.

He runs a hand through his short blonde locks nervously once his drink is safely back on the table, then he looks up at you with that innocent smile of his while his eyes plead to your better nature. Neither of you had gone into this without fully understanding what it could do to your lives, and you were both ready to end relationships to be with one another, him already having done so, so surely this should have been an easy answer.

“Well that depends… have you changed your mind since-”

“No! I want you,” he frowns earnestly as his arms slides across the table at speed so he can take your hand between his warm digits, “I’ve waited so long for this… we’ve waited so long for this. I want my life with you to start now; not a second later than it has to.”

You nod your head at his words and bring your free hand to rest on one of his wrists before giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I was really hoping you’d say that,” you sigh in sheer relief.

“So we’re finally doing this?”

You nod in response, the feel of his hand tightening around yours signifying the start of your long awaited relationship, and he scrapes his chair across the floor towards you so he can press the first of many kisses to your face. The two of you may have been sat in the middle of a coffee shop but it was as if you were in your own little world at last, and nothing could burst that bubble.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fluff

[samthemarvelfan]

You Found Me: One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: A bit of angst and then the squishiest fluff. Mama likes her happy endings, y’all ;)

A/N: I wrote this in an hour and i have no idea where this idea came from lol enjoy! <3

The metal of the chair was as cold as the room. They liked to keep it cold to help him acclimate to being thawed out.

Again.

He sat with perfect posture and waited. What was he waiting for? He didn’t know. He never knew, he wasn’t the one in charge here.

“Soldat.”

He was greeted by a Doctor—at least he looked like a doctor...had the lab coat and everything.

The doctor held a folder out to the him. “Extraction. No witnesses. Eliminate as needed and return to base. Understood?”

Soldat nodded. “Understood.”

He walked with a purpose. He walked like he knew where he was going; like he’d been here before.

The streets were flooded with people. Why wouldn’t they be? It was high-noon on a warm autumn day in New York City.

He didn’t have to look unassuming here, the people didn’t care. He liked that about this place, no one bothered anyone else unless they had a good reason.

And even then, they often didn’t.

About two blocks from the park, the wind shifted, blowing East. Normal, expected; especially with the seasons changing. On his next inhale, he caught the scent of something mouthwatering. Something savory—no, sweet. Buttery too, something he could practically taste on his tongue. Something almost familiar.

He ignored it though, of course he did. His mind and body were on autopilot at this point. Sanction. Extract. Eliminate if necessary.

He looked at the sign that showed the location he was in the park, he was here. Right on to of it—on top of her.

Scanning the field, he spotted her immediately. She was stood on the bridge above the tunnel connecting the two sides of the park. Not an easy escape if she tried it. She’d hit water if she ran left, and the busy New York streets if she ran right.

She’s never going to see it coming...see him.

He rounded the bridge on the city side. If she ran, he’d rather the water be an ally in eliminating the target, instead of the messiness of a car.

Her back was to him while she talked on the phone. She was so unassuming, smiling even, then she laughed.

He froze. Soldat froze. It was like the air had been snatched from his lungs. She laughed again, and suddenly time stood still. His brain fogged with different images. All accompanied by that sound, by that laugh.

He stumbled. The Winter Soldier actually stumbled. “No.” He groaned, closing his eyes tightly and rubbing them with his palms. Another image, accompanied by a feeling. Warmth, elation, safety. Still faceless, but all real and true.

“I’m gonna go, I’ll see you tonight.” He heard her say into the phone. “I love you.”

His heart pounded. Loud, rhythmic thumping in his chest and ears. Another picture floats into his mind...

It’s you.

It comes in flashes at first, like the shuttering of an old film. In a bed, with him. You’re saying the exact same words while you stroke his beard. “I love you, Bucky. I love you.”

Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky? He thinks.

He’s a few steps from you now, four at most. Then he smells something else, something he recognizes immediately—it’s you.

Another chord struck within him, another memory invading the assassins mind.

“James, I cant do this anymore! You leave for days on end, and I never know if I’ll see you again.” You cried.

“Sugar, I’ll always come home to you. I promise.” He reaches for you and pulled you in closed, inhaling your scent.

“What if you don’t? What if they find you?” Tears coat your cheeks.

He shook his head, “No one can keep me from you. No one, I’ll always come back, I’ll always find you.”

You sniffle agains his chest, tightening your grip on him like you’re afraid he’ll float away. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, doll. You won’t.”

He shakes his head. “Stop it.” He curses to himself, but it was too late. You’d heard him.

It’s was like everything moved in slow motion. You turned around, eyes wide, like you were staring at a ghost.

“J-J...Bucky?” You call, almost in disbelief at your own words.

He was frozen, you—whoever you were, weren’t supposed to know him. He doesn’t even know himself, why would you?

“No.” He said roughly.

You shook your head and looked down. “They got you. They got you and now you’re here for me.”

“Yes.” What more could he say? 

You look back to him, piercing eyes boring into his, “Will it hurt?”

The soldier looked confused, “Will what hurt?” He asks.

You sniffled, “When you kill me, James.”

A punch to the gut. That’s what your words felt like...why? Why did they feel this way? You were a target, a mission. Just another mission.

He swallowed hard. “No.”

And he means it. It will be quick, he’d make sure of it. You weren’t made for suffering, and by the circles under your eyes, you’d been suffering enough.

You nod, accepting your fate, and close your eyes. Bucky takes a step towards you.

“Now, Tony! Now!” You shout, eyes still closed.

Before he knew what was happening, he was grabbing at the sharp pain stinging in his neck.

The last thing he saw was your face, then the world went black.

The beeping wakes him.

Looking down, Bucky sees the wires and tubes connected to the machine next to him.

A hospital. He thinks.

Scooting back, he groans as the muscles that surely haven’t been used for a while protest, and ache.

He tossed his head back against the pillow.

Remember. Remember something...anything.

“You’re awake.”

The melody of your voice brings an immediate calm to him. He sits up, ignoring the pain.

“Relax, you must be hurting. Here,” you held out the cup, “Drink this, it’ll help.”

He looked from you to the mug for a moment, hesitating.

You sigh, putting it in his nightstand, then placing a hand over his. “You’re safe here, Bucky. I promise.”

And he believes you.

“Wh-where am I?” He asks, a voice sounding like he’s swallowed gravel.

You once again hand him the mug, and he sips it eagerly. Tea. He thought. I like tea.

“You’re at a facility in Upstate New York.” You said calmly.

“Why...how did I get here?” He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

“You needed help. You were being held hostage by HYDRA. Tony...Tony Stark helped me find you. He helped me save you, Buck.”

Stark. Stark. Stark...Howard Stark. December...cold. A crash, the accident...the blood.

“No one here is going to hurt you. They’re helping you, I swear it. They’ve been helping me look for you for the last five years, they never stopped.” Your voice was shaking now. “Dr. Banner developed something, you’ve been sedated for about a week. He’s hoping it will fill the gaps in your memory. A serum of sorts.”

Great. Bucky thinks, Just what I need, another serum.

“And you?” He asked softly, not wanting to upset you more. “Who are you?”

You let out a defeated sigh, he watched you, seeing the pain on your face. Before you could speak, he cut you off.

“I know you, or...my mind knows you. My body. I have all these memories filled with your face. Who are you...to me?”

You look a bit more relieved. “I...I’m...it’s hard to explain—“

James put his hand over yours this time. “Try me, Doll.”

Doll. It came out so naturally, and without inhibitions that it didn’t take a brainiac to know who you were. Not wholly, but he felt it.

He saw the goosebumps on your skin, “I’ve loved you forever, James Buchanan Barnes. There was a time you loved me, too.”

Bucky felt a warmth spread through his chest. It climbed his throat, invading his brain and bursting into fireworks of memories. All vivid and sparkling and bright.

Your name comes out as a whisper at first; so soft you truly didn’t know if you’d imagined it.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, that’s me, baby. That’s me.” You sit next to him, and cup his face in your hands.

He closed his eyes tightly, willing the information to show up.

“Sokovia...they got me in Sokovia. I didn’t...I didn’t keep my promise.” James felt his throat tighten.

“Wh-what promise?” You asked. He opened his eyes and saw the tears pooling in yours.

“I didn’t come home to you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sugar.” James cried. For the first time in years, he was crying...feeling.

He knew he loved you. That much was clear. His mind was still in shambles and he knew that too.

“Yes you did. You found me again, I’ve been on HYDRA’s radar for years trying to get them to send you after me. I knew you were coming for me, so I had everything on standby waiting to get you out of there.” You were proud of yourself, he heard it in your voice. Hell, he was proud of you too.

Bucky sniffled, “My girl took down HYDRA. Damn, I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” He laughed.

Your hand cupped his cheek, the warms bringing so much comfort to him. “I love you, Buck.”

Bucky cupped your face in return, “I love you, too.”

He was nervous, but he leaned in anyway. The kiss was soft and gentle. The feeling of the two of you melding into one was more familiar than anything.

When you pulled away, Bucky kissed your closed eyes. Something he remembers doing a thousand times before.

“What do we do now?” He asked.

“Steve’s on his way. I have a feeling we’re going on a bit of a trip.” You say smiling.

Bucky smiles, grateful he remembers Steve. “A trip? Where to, Doll?”

You smirk and kiss his nose. “To see another old friend of yours—in Wakanda.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

[taleasnewastime]

Text back

Jungkook x reader genre: fluff word count: 1.6k

a/n: I was texting a guy a while ago and I remember whenever I opened up my messages to reply to a friend I would go onto my messages with him and see whether he had been online as he hadn’t replied to me. My heart sank every time I saw that he had been online and had seemingly not bothered to reply. I thought fuck you and gave up on him. This is based off that feeling.

“I can see he’s been online since I sent him a message,” you say staring at the screen, reading last seen today at 12:43, yet your message sent at 9:03 remains unread. “But he’s not read or replied to it,” you pout, finally looking up from your phone.  

Jungkook sighs putting down his own phone to look at you.  

“Maybe he’s just busy? It’s been what, 3 hours, he’s probably just working,” he reasons.

“It’s been nearly 4 hours,” you correct him. “And he’s been online so could have replied, but has instead chosen to ignore me.”

“If it was anyone else you wouldn’t even care,” he rolls his eyes.  

“But that’s the point, it’s not anyone else, it’s James,” there’s slight desperation in your voice as if you’re trying to convince Jungkook of something.  

“You’ve been checking it every 5 minutes. He’ll reply at some point, until then just put your phone away and stop thinking about it.”  

You groan at his valid reasoning, not wanting to stop staring at the screen. Though if James did reply you would still not open his message and would try to hold out from replying for as long as possible. Though you would never admit this to Jungkook already knowing what response you would get.

Getting up from his seat and before you can do anything to stop him, Jungkook rips the phone from your hands and puts it in his back pocket.  

“Hey,” you continue to pout at him.

He holds out his hand for you to take, pulling you up so you’re stood beside him. “You can have it back after we’ve gone and bought some snacks for the film we’re going to watch,” he says. “Well maybe you can have it back after the film. I don’t want you staring at your phone throughout the film.”

“You’ll still stare at your phone,” you grumble as you shuffle towards the door, thinking he hadn’t heard only to receive a light smack on your arm.  

“I’ll put my phone away too,” he compromises.

Giving him a small sarcastic smile, you rub the spot on your arm that he hit in mock hurt. Giving you another roll of his eyes, he ignores you heading to put his shoes on.  

Heading to the shop to buy snacks actually helps. Laughing with Jungkook about nothing and everything you almost forget about your phone, almost forget that there could be a message sat waiting to be read. Instead, you fall into the easiness that if your friendship with Jungkook.  

It’s only when you’re sat on the sofa, with popcorn in your hand 20 minutes into the film, that your mind wonders to your phone. Without the distraction of Jungkook you can’t help but think about it.  

Almost itching to get it back, you look over to the man that currently held the device hostage. He seemed unaware of your gaze as you plot the best way to get it back. You could just ask him, but he was unlikely to say yes. You could go for the element of surprise try and grab it, but he would be too quick for you, would easily over power you. You could try and tickle him, he would be pretty immobile then, but how would you get the phone while also tickling him? You could just scoot a bit closer and -  

“You know if it was me, I would have text back immediately,” Jungkook rips you from your thoughts, his eyes pointing straight forward, not looking at you as you stare straight at him.  

“Yeah, you’re a fast replier. It’s not a competition,” you roll your eyes at him, turning back to the film having realised you’ve been caught you shove more popcorn in your mouth.  

“I don’t mean it like that,” he says.  

You turn back to look at him, his eyes still not looking at you, and you notice the slight redness of his cheeks. “How do you mean it then?” You question.  

“If I liked you,” he says it slowly. “I wouldn’t make you wait hours for a reply from me if I liked you.”

“Well, whoever you choose to date is very lucky,” you say sarcastically, eyes returning once again to the film.  

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you, eyes finally breaking from the screen to look at you. “I mean, is he really worth this? You moping around waiting for a text? He must think highly of himself if he thinks that’s going to make you want him. What did you even message in the first place? How are you? Oh what a riveting reply is he going to come up with? Great thanks, you? No wonder you can hardly contain yourself,” his voice is thick with sarcasm, almost anger and you wonder what’s gotten into him.  

“Well, it’s working isn’t it?” You snap slightly at him, his words hitting true and causing you to take the anger you hold for James out on him. “Like you said, I am moping around waiting for his text,” you shove more popcorn in your mouth, crewing extra hard to relieve some of your pent-up anger. “And I’m glad you think so highly of me, thinking all I would have said was, how are you?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says it softer, realising he hit a nerve.  

“How did you mean it, Jungkook?”  

“I just,” he stutters slightly, pausing to gather his thoughts. “He’s a dick. And I am just struggling to see how you can still be into him when he treats you like this?”  

You sigh at his words, eyes dropping to Jungkooks lap. “I don’t know either,” you admit. “Those sorts of guys just attract me I guess.”  

“Jesus,” Jungkook sighs.  

“What now?” You snap slightly, though less harsh than earlier.  

“You can choose who you want to date Y/N. You get to choose not to go out with dicks like James.”

“Yes, but who else is there. I don’t exactly see a line of people waiting to ask me out.”  

“I mean I know plenty of guys who would happily take you out on a date,” he shrugs, cheeks tinting ever pinker as he pretends to focus on the TV.  

You scrunch your face up not believing his words. “Who? Name one person.”  

You watch as he fiddles with one of the rings on his finger, obviously nervous as he brings himself to look at you. You wonder what has come over him as he takes his time to reply. Figuring that you’ve caught him out in a lie and he’s desperately trying to go through every person he knows to come up with some form of answer. The silence goes on a second past awkward and you decide to save him.  

“See, you can’t even think of one person,” you head drops down so that you look at your lap.  

“Hey, no, I can think of a hundred guys,” Jungkook panics as he realises what you must be thinking.  

“And yet you can’t name a single one of them,” you look up at him and give him a small smile, feeling slightly bad that you had put him in this predicament in the first place. It wasn’t his fault you were feeling like this. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t take it personally. I have long come to terms with the fact that I am going to live a long and lonely life and I don’t need you to -”

“Me,” Jungkook has to slightly shout over you to get you to stop talking.  

Your face scrunches up into confusion again, unsure what he is saying.  

“Me,” he says it at a more normal level this time. “I’d date you.”

“You don’t have to say this to make me feel better,” you say though you feel your face heat up.  

“I mean it,” he says and reaches across the sofa so that he can take your hand in his.  

Looking down you see how small your hand looks in his. Feel how soft and warm his skin feels against yours. You look back up at him, confusion still in your eyes.  

“Forget about James,” he says. “Let me take you out on a date.”

Heart beating, you worry it might escape your chest. You are sure that Jungkook can feel the effects of your pulse quickening just by holding your hand, and your face continues to heat at the thought.  

“You’re not joking?” You say, insecure and worried this is all a joke and just an attempt to make you feel better.  

“I’ve wanted to take you out for a while, but I’ve always chickened out of asking you,” he says and you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “Please go on a date with me?”  

You already know your answer. Knew it as soon as he asked. Knew it weeks ago before he had even asked you. But yet you sit almost in a trance, unable to say the one word that is screaming to get out of you.  

“I promise I’ll text you straight back after our date.”

Those few words are enough to pull you back to reality. Kneeling up on the sofa so you can push yourself into him, you cause him to fall backwards as you wrap yourself in his arms.

“Yes,” you say into his ear, in case your actions weren’t answer enough, James long forgotten.  

#jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fics #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x you #jungkook/reader #bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts imagine

[lilacharry]

Tongue Tied

Inspired by true events

“Y/N,” James seemed to bark, snapping Y/N back into reality. She had been sat recording some material for a popular late night talk show and the group had veered into unknown territory for her. Something about the discomfort of one of the other guests having to shoot a very intimate scene in front of their partner’s spouse. Y/N had never been put in such a situation and felt it would have been better to remain quiet on her end of the couch.

“Yes!” She laughed, startled at the sudden call of her name.

“I’ve heard that you throw massive, major parties,” James smiled, his cards covering his mouth as he leaned back into his seat.

“Kind of,” Y/N answered with suspicion, eyeing the audience, “I mean, they’re not that big-”

“No, they’re massive! We had Derek on a few months ago and he said that you have a venue with three different rooms just for different genres of music,” James spoke feverishly, his hands outstretched.

“I mean,” Y/N trailed as she shuffled in her seat, “yeah... but he’s making it seem a lot bigger than it is-”

“I have never been so offended in my life to not have received an invitation,” James threw his hands up.

“You would come?” Y/N laughed, clasping her hands in front of her crossed legs.

“You say that like it’s absurd? Have you got something against fuller bodied men dancing the night away? Do you think I’ll embarrass you?” James jokingly scoffed.

“I didn’t get an invitation, either,” Harry piped from the other end of the couch, raising his index finger.

That was one voice Y/N had been trying to ignore the entire night. She had been a fan ever since she was younger and had done a good job of avoiding meeting the celebrity at other gatherings. She had not been sure how she would act if she ever had the opportunity to properly meet him and decided on playing it safe by actively avoiding events and locations she knew he frequented. That was until one of the producers on the Late Late show had lied to her about Harry’s presence on the show that particular night.

Everyone seemed to know of Y/N’s plans to avoid Harry Styles and took great joy in trying to get the two in a room. Judging by how flustered Y/N would even get when the young man’s name was brought up, everybody thought it would be a delight to surprise her with his presence. She had done a wonderful job of wising up to everybody’s intentions, so far. She had started to decline last minute invitations for random parties from her close friends ever since that one incident. She had had a little wine in her system and been grinding on one of her gyrating friends one night—as a joke—when someone had started recording on their phone. It was when she went to look up from her friend pretending to spank her, to see Harry enter the party. The video was quite amusing, seeing her eyes widen in fear as she’s filmed booking it out of frame. Since then, whenever she would decline sudden invitations to gatherings, she would wake up to see that he had attended said event the next morning while scrolling through her social media feed. She knew why her friend, Florence, would try to arrange last minute brunches with her as Y/N knew Florence’s boyfriend was great friends with Harry and had shared in Florence’s attempts to get her to meet him. She had gone about two years of avoiding the male, but, alas, here she was two cushions over from him. She blamed her sudden bout of placidity on the fact that she didn’t want to say or do anything embarrassing in front of him, but James had kept poking fun at her and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“Then is it just against the British, Y/N?” James scowled.

“Well, most people that come out are either very Hispanic or love latin music and are, like, professional dancers,” Y/N’s face burned as she explained.

“What? Do we not look like professionals?” James egged her on.

“No, I’m sure you’re great dancers. But, it’s also back in San Francisco,” Y/N reasoned with a little shrug of her shoulders, “you would make the trip out?”

“Invite us, and you’ll find out,” James commented with a little giggle, “no, seriously, though, do you really need three different rooms?”

“Well, if people prefer one specific genre it’s kinda nice,” Y/N explained.

“Like what?” Harry asked, trying to make eye contact with the woman that had been avoiding his gaze since the beginning of the show.

“Eh, last time we had one for salsa, bachata, and tropical, and the main room had food and, like... I don’t mean to sound crass, but like... white people music,” Y/N grimaced at the term, “I’m sorry! I don’t know how else to describe it. They also play other music, but more like music that you can kind of... I don’t know...”

“That’s very offensive, Y/N,” James gawked before laughing out.

“Like top 40!” Harry came to Y/N’s rescue.

“Yes, like top 40!” Y/N laughed, and Harry smiled at her nose scrunching in the process.

“So there were four rooms, in total?” James suddenly realized.

“Yes, but it sounds bigger than it really is,” Y/N shook her head, .

“Oh, stop minimizing the party you didn’t invite us to,” James narrowed his eyes at Y/N.

“I’ll make sure to invite you to the next one; we have great food, too,” Y/N leaned back in her seat, uncomfortable with being called out for something she didn’t know she had done wrong.

“I hate that that’s where your mind automatically went,” James feigned offense. In all reality, James knew how timid Y/N was being and the reasoning behind it. He knew her character and knew she would never say anything to offend him, but he was enjoying taking advantage of the situation.

“No! That’s not what I meant,” Y/N’s eyes seemed to bug out of her skull.

“And for your information, I’m quite the athlete when it comes to dancing,” James turned his nose up at Y/N.

“Athlete? What all do you know how to dance?” Harry rolled his eyes as he reached for his drink that had been set on the coffee table in front of them.

“I can absolutely murder the dance floor whenever white people music comes on,” James earned a laugh from the audience, “Y/N what are you best at? Or do you know all of the ones you mentioned?”

“Sort of,” Y/N smiled and shrugged, “I’m better at others, but nothing too fancy. I know, like, the basics of a lot of them just because my mom knew so much and taught me, growing up.”

“Here at Late, Late, we do not tolerate liars,” James began before turning to the monitor behind him, “and Derek sent us this and I’d like to see what you have to say.”

A clip came on where Y/N had been shown being led by one of her companions around a dance floor, making Y/N laugh out.

“Explain that, Y/N!” James pointed at the monitor, “’nothing too fancy’—that’s professional. What’s that, then? Bit of salsa?”

“Yes... but I’m actually not that good at it,” Y/N explained.

“I hate you,” James teased, “could you teach us something?”

“Sure... Now?” Y/N questioned, raising her brows.

“Yeah, you know just something quick and very complex,” James laughed as Y/N looked over to a producer that had been waving at the group to start wrapping up, “eh... our producers are waving at us. Can we do a little something when we come back?”

“I’ll teach you when you come to the next one,” Y/N offered after they got a negative response from one of the producers.

“I’m already looking forward to it,” James responded before turning to outstretch his hand to Harry, “will you be my date?”

“If I’m invited, yes!” Harry grabbed a hold of James’ hand before the two turned to look at Y/N.

“Of course! Did you want one, as well?” Y/N quickly diverted attention to the long forgotten third guest who had been seated between her and Harry.

The rest of the show went along smoothly enough; with Y/N staying somewhat reserved and not making even more of a complete fool of herself. The show had soon wrapped and she was soon caught in a storm of questions and demands from her team as they swept her away from set. She tried to politely excuse herself with one last general farewell, but was enamored with how Harry had reached out to shake her hand and tell her it had been nice to meet her. She felt light headed as she was urged to continue away to the room that had been assigned to her, backstage.

+ + +

“Was that really so bad, now?” Martin, the producer that had invited her onto the show, came walking into her dressing room as Y/N and her team had started to pack up.

“I made a complete and utter fool of myself,” Y/N cried out, covering her face with her palms, “I actually said white people music!”

“He knew you didn’t mean it like that,” Martin brushed off her embarrassment as he leaned in the doorframe.

“I can’t believe you did that to me; I’m just thankful I didn’t pass out,” Y/N remarked as her hands dropped to her side before she reached out to grab a hold of one of her bags.

“He thought you were lovely,” Martin rolled his eyes, “and he’s really looking forward to that invitation, Y/N.”

“What makes you say that?” Y/N furrowed her brows as more people seemed to shuffle out of the room.

“I heard him ask James to let him know if you ended up sending the invitation, since you didn’t take his number,” Martin grinned as he crossed his arms over his chest, “even after James told him he wouldn’t want to make the trip out there. Said he’s genuinely curious as to how such a gathering would go, but I think he’s just taken a liking to you.”

“How? I barely spoke the entire time we were in the same room,” Y/N huffed out.

“Dunno; maybe he knows you’re a fan and wants to make your wildest dreams come true,” Martin wiggled his brows at her, earning a scoff from Y/N.

“Can we talk about this nonsense later?” Y/N widened her eyes before going to wrap her arm around Martin.

“Fine; was nice seeing you,” Martin hugged her back, “let me know when the next shin-dig is so I can tell your boyfriend.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N laughed as she made her way to the hallway.

+ + +

A few weeks later, Y/N’s phone had startled her when it rang out in the middle of a dinner she had planned with some friends. Upon glancing at the device, she found Martin’s name at the top of the message, but thought nothing of it and forgot of its existence—she didn’t like having her phone out at dinner, in the first place. It wasn’t until the next morning when she had unlocked her phone to find the message:

H is asking if there’s any word on that party ... What shall I tell him?

Under the first message was:

I’ll give him your number ???

Y/N chewed on her lower lip as she wondered if Martin had already gone through with giving Harry her number and if there were any negatives to his suggestion. She didn't see why not...

Morning! Sorry; just saw your message! Yeah; go ahead! ☺️

She sent the message and hoped she wouldn’t make even more of a complete fool of herself. It wasn’t too long before Martin sent her a screenshot of what appeared to be his messages with Harry:

Ask her!! 628-555-0890

Hey! Thanks mate! Do you think it okay, though? Not creepy, or anything?

jfc these things used to be so simple; she won’t bite

Y/N laughed out at the screenshot before she got a notification from an unknown number:

Hello! How are you? Martin gave me your number, I hope that’s okay.

And then immediately seconds after:

Sorry, this is Harry.

Y/N could not help but gush at the message and had a sudden realization that Harry Styles had just messaged her—HARRY STYLES HAD JUST MESSAGED HER. It wasn’t long before she started getting into her own head. She thought she wasn’t interesting enough to respond with something smart or enticing and wished he really hadn’t messaged her, in the first place. She had no idea how to respond to that... He didn’t give her much to go off... She started panicking.

Hi ☺️ I’m doing well! How’ve you been? Of course, I told him to ☺️ I haven’t gotten around to planning the next gathering, yet, but I’ll definitely let you know when we start looking into it ☺️

Three smiley faces were too much, wasn’t it? She didn’t know... She decided to keep the one at the end in and blindly pressed the blue send button. God, she hoped that wasn’t too short or long. She really wished Martin hadn’t put her in such a situation... She found herself laughing at the memory of Kim Kardashian crying about Kourtney knowing she felt uncomfortable in certain situations and putting her in them, anyways. This guy knew Kendall Jenner intimately... God, Y/N really wished Martin hadn’t done this to her.

Okay—sorry, hope I'm not coming off as a creep. Just knew I would forget if I didn’t get your number from Martin. I’m actually really curious to see what it looks like.

Y/N sighed out, not knowing if she should respond. There was nothing more to say... right? They weren’t best friends so that she could send something else about her day to him. At least he had left it open, so she could potentially try to strike up a conversation... but she was so bad at these things. She would surely end up coming off as the creepy one.

Well, I’m glad you reminded him, then! We'll have good music and the food’s always amazing; definitely bring comfortable and/or stretchy pants 😂

She was annoyed at how fast she just sent the message. Wasn’t there a rule to these things to ensure you didn’t look desperate? There came a lull in the time that Harry took to respond to her. She loathed how many times she checked that her ringer was on and pressed her lock button to ensure she hadn’t missed any notifications. It wasn’t until later that afternoon when another notification from Harry came through her device.

Haha will do, looking forward to it

She scrunched her nose at the message. She had been too weird; she was sure of it. This is why you shouldn’t meet your heroes—sure there’s a chance they’ll be absolute rubbish people but it’s worse when you end up being the rubbish person, isn’t it? She didn’t save his number and left the chain of messages at that. Maybe she would put an end to such gatherings so she never had to speak to him again.

+ + +

“Okay, so we have about 250 people on the list right now,” Jamie, one of Y/N’s assistants spoke between sips of her iced coffee, “are there any other people I should add?”

“Everything else was approved? The venue’s available that day?” Y/N asked as she picked at the manicure she had gotten earlier that week.

“Yep, Magno said he clears any events on days the boss throws one of her big shin digs,” Jamie laughed at the memory of Y/N’s uncle.

“And the caterers agreed to the price?” Y/N choked out as she looked up from her hands.

“Yes... What’s up with you? You’re never this careful with this stuff,” Jamie noted with a furrow of her brows, “what’s going on?”

“No, I’m just making sure that there’ll be an actual party in a few days,” Y/N cleared her throat as she straightened in her chair.

“Who’re you waiting last minute to invite?” Jamie questioned, her tone accusing. There had, on occasion, been one or two people that had gotten absolutely smashed at one of Y/N’s parties and her method to ensure they didn’t ruin an upcoming event with drunken slurs or fights with other guests was inviting them day of said event.

“Nobody,” Y/N laughed as she looked back to her twiddling fingers.

“Wait a second,” Jaime narrowed her eyes as her fingers went to frantically type at the keys of her computer, “I just control effed this mother for Harry and nothing came up... You’re procrastinating inviting the love of your life to this thing? What the hell?”

“Don’t call him that,” Y/N laughed. She really wished she hadn’t made such a promise on national television. It was all that had flooded her social media feed for the first few days after the incident, and every now and then she would be questioned about when the next party was and if she had invited Harry and James.

“This thing is in three days; even if you invited him now, it’ll be a miracle he doesn’t have anything going on... Is he even in La La Land?” Jamie shook her head at Y/N.

“I don’t know,” Y/N sighed as she stretched her legs out, in front of her seated body, “I just don’t want to embarrass myself in front of him.”

“Look, you already embarrassed yourself back on the show and he still wants the invitation? Doesn’t he deserve more than three days notice?” Jamie pressed.

“Fine; you invite him,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to wish you didn’t allow me access to your iCloud sign on,” Jamie smirked before her fingers went to type at her keys once more.

“Jaime... What... What does that mean, what are you doing?” Y/N fearfully questioned as she rose from her seat and ran over to where her assistant sat typing on her computer.

“God, bring stretchy pants? Not okay, Y/N,” Jaime acknowledged as Y/N peered over her shoulder to see her assistant had already logged into Y/N’s iMessage account and had pulled up her conversation with Harry, “I’m going to put ‘Hey, Harry; hope you've been well! Just wanted to let you know the next get together is going to be on Friday. Hope you can make it. Blushing, smiley face emoji...’ Sweet and simple. Yes?”

“I mean,” Y/N droned before earning a glare from Jaime, “okay, fine.”

About fifteen minutes later, Jaime squealed with delight at the notification that had popped up in the right corner of her computer.

Nice! I’ll be in town this weekend! What’s the physical address?

“Ooh! This is so cute,” Jamie gushed as she went to respond to his message.

“I’m going to embarrass myself,” Y/N kept repeating.

“You already have and he’s still coming back for more. I don’t want to hear it,” Jaime rolled her eyes as she sat back and watched the little gray bubble pop up, insinuating Harry’s typing.

Thank you! I’ll be seeing you! Take care x

“He signed off with an x, Y/N,” Jamie squealed as her hands went to squeeze Y/N’s sides.

“I know,” Y/N whined.

“What are you going to wear?” Jaime turned to look at an already very distraught Y/N.

+ + +

Harry was nervous, which had become something of a rarity, anymore. He had consulted one of his friends—one that had been well known in the fashion industry—about what he would wear for the evening. He wanted to look nice... but not like he tried to look a certain way. He was embarrassed for such a thought process and thought it ridiculous that he cared so much about the clothing he had on his body for the night. He knew there were more important things to worry about in the world but, in his defense, he had never felt this way before.

It all had to do with this one girl. About a year previously, he had begun to see her all over his Instagram feed. A few of his friends had recently befriended her and she seemed to suddenly appear in a variety of their posts. At first, he found it a little odd that there was someone so involved with his friends that he didn’t know or hadn’t heard of. He hadn’t thought much about it the first few weeks she had popped up in said photos. He had seen her hair or profile floating in the background of some of his bandmates’ posts, her laugh recorded as she filmed some of his companions videos, and this majestic and oddly captivating smile popping up in a dozen other photos. That was what had first drawn him in, if he was being completely honest. He thought her lips were a peculiar shape; but in a good way. They were a nice contrast to the sculpted ones that seemed to crowd his social media feeds. Harry was not one to judge others for their decision to change their features. He figured if something bothered somebody so much, they were entitled to change what they needed to feel better about themselves. Hers, in particular, though... Well, nobody could achieve the naturally round shape by means of filler, he thought.

He was absolutely enticed by a video in particular where Alexa, one of his close friends, had filmed while approaching her as she stood, arranging flowers in a vase. It seemed to be in somebody’s grand foyer, but Harry wasn’t as interested in all the grandeur that had surrounded her. He was ashamed to say he had studied the video for a lot longer than he would have liked to. Her hair looked like it had been held together by one of those silk scarves he had seen tied on various overpriced bags. She bore an oversized tee shirt as she worked in her space of plant clippings and, what seemed to be, forgotten stems. She spoke of line, or dimension, or something but all he could focus on was the way her lips curved when her joke about sunflowers being flowers for sons failed.

“That was so bad, oh my God,” came her laugh as she shook her head and went back to whatever she had originally intended to explain. He noticed she liked to use her hands while she articulated her thought process.

Another one of the many videos in existence had played a recording of her singing "I Just Called To Say I Love You” to one of their friends as a voicemail. Harry couldn’t believe the emotion it stirred inside of him. It was the most endearing little voice that hardly broke, and the little giggle at the end pulled at his heartstrings and he wasn’t sure why. There was this thought nagging at the back of his mind that he could get really invested in this girl if he allowed himself.

One day, he had to go against his better judgement and had tapped on her handle in one of the many tagged photos he had seen. Her profile popped up so easily and he knew he was doomed. One shot was of her sprawled across a bed, her bare legs kicked up against the headboard, feet covered in red fuzzy slippers as she seemingly read John Boyne’s The Heart's Invisible Furies. He had done little research on the book before he got a confirmation e-mail on his purchase.

Another image depicted her sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by a sea of various sized and shaped seashells. He couldn't help but smile at at the image of her in jeans, topless while holding up two shells over either side of her chest. She had captioned it “What the shell?”. It wasn’t funny; but he found himself eventually laughing at the caption.

It was a real slippery slope that he had fallen down. He knew better than to poke around in somebody’s social media accounts, yet there he was—laughing and gushing at the dozens of photos she had posted. There weren’t many likes on the photos and her follower count was nothing to boast about. He wondered what she did for work... There was nothing written in the little biography section and he wouldn’t allow himself to look her up on any other forms of media. He wondered how she had met so many of the people he knew.

“She was working with one of those self-help magazine column things,” Alexa had informed him over brunch one sunny afternoon.

“S'very LA,” Harry chuckled to himself, and he wasn’t sure why, but he felt badly after the words came out of his mouth.

“No, she’s not like that. She refuses to move out here; lives in San Francisco—says it gives her less anxiety,” Alexa explained as she took a bite of her veggie burger, “anyways, I guess she was working on writing or producing some documentary series with some director—Larraín, I think—and I guess he liked her so much he offered her a big gig in one of his films a couple years back.”

“Ah,” came Harry’s understanding nod. He had never heard of the man, but was surprised to hear such a drastic change of careers.

“Guess she’s a bit of a fan,” Alexa shrugged as she looked around the restaurant they had been seated at, “Florence keeps trying to get you two in the same room. You saw that video Maggie posted of Florence’s shin dig a few months ago?”

“Yeah! Got all spooked or summat,” Harry furrowed his brows as he shoveled some of the rice he had ordered earlier into his mouth.

“Well, I guess,” Alexa stopped as her eyes widened and her lips curved into a grin, “someone’s been cyber stalking.”

“Ah, s’nothing,” Harry’s cheeks burned as he reached for his water.

“Anyways, no, I guess she was mortified because you walked in,” Alexa burst into laughter.

“Me?” Harry gasped, pointing at himself in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Alexa continued to chortle before coughing into her fist, “m’telling you; she’s quite a fan.”

“Huh,” came Harry’s response as he took a drink from his water, “s’interesting.”

It hadn’t been long before he had joined in on everybody’s attempts to get into the same room as the female. Eventually, he had found out through James Corden that a producer on his show was great friends with Y/N, and the rest had been history.

He felt ridiculous as he stood in front of his mirror staring at the clothing that had been sent to him earlier that day. He groaned as he forcefully shedded the blazer from his shoulders and went in search for something more casual.

+ + +

It had already been a pretty long morning for Y/N. She had been waken at six in the morning by Jamie claiming one of the vendors fell through and was demanding a larger sum of money if Y/N really wanted them to serve food at her gathering. A groggy eyed Y/N had wandered into her study to find the contract she had drawn up with the business and had gotten them on the phone within thirty minutes bringing up the terms of contingencies the two had agreed upon. It had taken a bit of haggling on both ends, but Y/N finally got the company to agree to their original terms. It was ten by the time Y/N had just started to fall asleep when Benny, one of the decorators, had messaged Y/N about a missing table. From then on, it seemed one miniature disaster occurred one after the other. Never in the time Y/N had held such events had so many things gone wrong last minute. Thankfully, she was able to resolve most of the pop up problems, but by the time Y/N was supposed to be getting ready for the night, she felt as though she could drop at any given moment with how exhausted she felt. She had jumped back into bed and set an alarm for a thirty minute snooze, but even that had been interrupted by Jamie calling her to open her front door. The designer of the outfit Y/N agreed to wear for the night had mixed up her measurements and the fit was all out of proportions. So, Y/N and Jamie had frantically started going through her closet to see what possible contenders there were for the night. Naturally, Jamie had wanted Y/N to wear her most revealing dress, but Y/N wouldn’t allow it. She insisted that such an outfit wouldn't allow her to dance as comfortably as something a little more sensible. The two compromised as Y/N finally settled for a calf length, flowy dress that was low cut and had cut outs around her midsection.

Thankfully, Y/N had made it to the venue on time to help set up, iced soy latte in hand—Jamie had insisted on the way over when she saw Y/N nodding off in the passenger seat. Magno had chewed Y/N out for having come in so early, again. He always told her they had things handled so she could literally “roll up with everybody else.” Y/N usually always replied how she liked to see everything set up before people arrived, anyways, so it was usually, really no bother. This particular day, though, she really wished she had taken her uncle up on such an offer.

The sun had started to set when people started flooding in. Y/N didn’t know how to act. Usually, she would already be pulling people into rooms and forcing them to dance with her, whether they liked it or not. She would circle around greeting friends and their plus ones, telling them what her favorite foods to order were and what drinks to try at the bar. With Harry coming, though, Y/N had to fight the urge to plant herself at the entrance just to catch a glimpse of him. Honestly speaking, despite her best efforts to speak with everyone who participated in her festivities, there were nights when a friend would message her the next day saying that they were sorry they weren't able to talk to her and to plan something in the future. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case with Harry, but the more people that started showing up, the more she had begun to be pulled every which way by her guests. Jamie had assured her that she would be on the look out for the male, but Y/N had thought that a little unfair and told Jamie not to worry about it and to enjoy herself, instead.

“Y/N! Odie wants you to head back to the kitchen for something special,” Jamie had come up behind Y/N while she stood chatting with some companions.

“Hm? Oh, okay,” Y/N seemed flustered as Jamie grabbed a hold of her hand and pulled her away from her friends, “what? Did he walk in?”

“Hm? Oh,” Jamie nervously chuckled to herself as the two continued walking towards the back of the venue, “eh... no... Odie really does have something for you, but I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

“He’s not coming,” Y/N sighed before shaking her head, “it’s really better that he doesn’t. I’d make a fool of myself.”

“Oh my God, stop being so dramatic,” Jamie began before the two were interrupted by one of Y/N’s acquaintances.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” came Daphne’s frantic chants as Y/N and Jamie turned to face the young woman, “you have to come with me right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Y/N furrowed her brow, thinking something else had gone wrong.

“Mikka just spotted him at the back entrance; come on,” Daphne grabbed a hold of Y/N’s forearm before pulling her towards the direction she had come from.

“Wait,” Jamie pulled Y/N the other way.

“Jamie!” Y/N yelped from being caught in the middle of such a tug of war.

“Sorry,” Jamie laughed before gaining her composure, “I feel like going over there now makes her look desperate.”

“What? No way!” Daphne rolled her eyes.

“It makes it seem like she had people watching for him,” Jamie reasoned.

“I mean, I kinda did,” Y/N shrugged.

“It does not! It’s polite to greet your guests,” Daphne argued.

“Yeah, but not the moment they step foot into the party! Shouldn’t he seek her out?” Jamie tried to dispute.

“He already has by coming in the first place,” Daphne narrowed her eyes and shook her head. The two friends had started going back and forth on what would be considered appropriate while Y/N’s head started to throb with all the decision making she had already had to do throughout the day, and the blasting music in the background. It was when Y/N looked up from rubbing her sinuses when she felt her heart skip a beat. Just a few feet away was Harry, stood speaking with some woman she didn’t recognize. In perfect Harry fashion, he looked jaw droopingly gorgeous. Y/N was sure if any other man on the planet had attempted to sport his outfit, they would have looked ridiculous. However, as always, Harry could pull anything off. She suddenly remembered the subject matter her friends were currently debating and hoped to God the music was too loud for him to overhear them.

“You guys,” Y/N interjected before the two females neared Y/N to better hear the words she spoke, “don’t look; he’s right there.”

“Oh, my God,” Daphne gasped as she immediately looked over to where Y/N had nodded.

“She literally said not to look,” Jamie scolded before rolling her eyes.

“I can’t help it; he’s the literal love of my life,” Daphne seemed to sob, “Y/N, you'd better go over there before he gets mobbed... by me.”

“Daphne’s right, go say hi,” Jamie nodded.

“But,” Y/N tried to buy some time before her friends pushed her away from them, closer to where Harry stood. Y/N tried to recover her balance on her heels from the push as she looked over her shoulder to see them giving her encouraging smiles and a thumbs up. God, she hoped he didn’t see that. As she approached the couple ahead, she couldn’t help but feel the lightest tinge of jealousy creeping over her at the woman that stood so closely to him. Then she started to feel as though she would be interrupting an intimate chat if she were to just walk up to the pair to say hello. She decided against greeting him as she tried to find the nearest person to glob onto before actually catching his eye. The way he smiled at her made her face burn and she knew she would have to think of something intelligent or interesting to say—quick. She watched as he said something to the woman he was with before she nodded and left him. This was sure to mean that she could approach him... right?

“Hi!” Was all Y/N could muster as she smiled at Harry. She wasn’t sure if she should go for the hug or handshake, and so there was this awkward carrying on where Harry had gone in for the embrace while Y/N stuck out her arm. Then came the same predicament only with the two swapping actions. Harry finally grabbed Y/N’s hand in his own hands to greet her.

“Sorry; didn’t want to interrupt over there,” Harry nodded over to where Daphne and Jamie were not even attempting to hide the fact that they were trying to eavesdrop on the two.

“Oh, no! That’s fine; they were just telling me whether or not I should head over here and whether it would make me look desperate,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Desperate?” Harry cocked his head, his lips grinning.

“They like to overanalyze everything; they think just because you’re here tonight, you want to get in my pants or something,” Y/N laughed before realizing what she had just said and really wishing she hadn’t come in so early. She must have been delirious; she could get real open and chatty when she was exhausted. All Harry could do was laugh.

“Sorry, must be a little delirious or something. I haven’t even had a lick to drink tonight,” Y/N nervously laughed.

“S’fine! Sorry, I was late! I forgot what traffic can be like over here on the weekend,” Harry rolled his eyes, “but thank you for inviting me!”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Y/N anxiously laughed, “James didn’t want to come?”

“No, s’too much of a scrooge,” Harry laughed, “you look great!”

“Please! Look at you,” Y/N beamed as she gave him a once over.

“Eh,” Harry shrugged his shoulders, rolling his eyes, “they’re not stretchy pants, was afraid I’d overdressed.”

“Oh, my god! I can’t believe I said that. No, Latinos live for this kind of stuff; it’s like their Paris Fashion Week, so you might be a little underdressed, if anything,” Y/N joked as her wrist went to nudge at Harry’s arm.

“Is that what it is?” Harry laughed as he looked around at all the people that had started looking their way.

“Yeah,” Y/N noticed the eyes that had gravitated their way, “have you gotten anything to eat or drink, yet?”

“No! Didn’t know what to get; there’s so much,” Harry shook his head as his brows raised on his forehead.

“S’not much of a time without a drink! C’mon, let’s get you something yummy,” Y/N smiled as she took hold of Harry’s hand before looking behind her to see her friends still staring at them. She mouthed that the two were headed to the kitchen. The two nodded and shoed them away. It was when Harry had caught up to Y/N’s pace that she had realized she was still holding onto Harry’s hand.

“S’really big!” Harry shouted over the music as Y/N let go of his hand, making Harry look down at the loss of contact. He had debated reaching out for it once more, but thought it ridiculous.

“A lot of people couldn’t make it,” Y/N laughed as they neared the kitchen.

“What?” Harry gaped as he followed. There were fewer people the further they had gotten from where they had met and he felt like Y/N could hear him without having to yell.

“I mean,” Y/N shrugged as her name was suddenly called out and she looked around to wave back at whoever had called her name, “I kinda copied the idea from an event we had back home, and they had twice as many rooms.”

“Twice?” Harry marveled at the girl walking beside him.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, smiling at the memory, “it was nice, though! All the vendors in town would pitch in and serve, and even though there were twice as many people, everybody knew each other. Newcomers always came back the next year, and it was just a nice little event everybody looked forward to every year, you know?”

“I’d have liked to see that,” Harry shook his head as the two finally entered the kitchen. Y/N was about to respond but was interrupted.

“Y/N!” Came a shout from somewhere in the back, making Y/N pick up her pace towards the man that had caught sight of her.

“Odie!” Y/N gasped as she spread her arms open to the man before he took her in his arms and leaned back to pick her up from the ground.

“You’ve come to say hello to your amiguinho?” Odie widened his eyes at Y/N.

“Claro!” Y/N’s smile radiated her familiarity with the man before going to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Ah, meu bem, have you brought me someone to cook for?” Odie asked, the sound of Y/N’s heels landing back on firm ground as he looked around her body at Harry.

“Oh, Odie, this is my friend Harry,” Y/N looked back and signaled for Harry to come closer, “Harry this is Odie.”

“Nice to meet you, Sir Styles,” Odie’s eyes squinted as he smiled at the young man as he stuck out his hand for Harry to take.

“Nice to meet you, Odie,” Harry reciprocated his smile.

“O que ele disse?” Odie furrowed his brows at Y/N.

“Ah, you’ll have to speak up, Harry. Ele é surdo,” Y/N spoke up to Odie, laughing when he elbowed her side, “he can’t hear very well out of his left ear on account of always yelling at people.”

“Feh,” Odie swiped a palm through the air, “makes a good chef.”

“Excuses,” Y/N narrowed her eyes and shook her head, “Jamie said you had something for me.”

“Sim! Vem, vem, vem,” Odie ushered the two over to another section of his kitchen, cursing a few people that had not moved out of his way. Y/N had apologized to those he cursed as she trailed behind Odie. She spoke so softly, if he hadn't been trying, Harry wouldn’t have known she was apologizing.

“I know you couldn’t have them last time, but I finally worked out how to make it sem laticínios,” Odie paused as he turned to the couple behind him, “no dairy.”

“Pasteis de nata?” Y/N gasped as her eyes fell to where a pan of pastries on the counter.

“Sim! Yes,” Odie’s eyes shrank as he gave her his biggest smile, “tente! Try! Please.”

“Odie, obrigado! It smelled absolutely celestial last time, my mouth was watering. I almost threw away cinco anos de veganismo to taste it,” Y/N explained as she reached to grab two of the pastries from the pan before handing the other to Harry.

“What is it? Paste de,” Harry paused as he looked between Y/N and Odie for the answer.

“Pasteis de nata,” Odie answered, as Y/N had already popped the pastry into her mouth, laughing because she couldn’t speak with her mouth so full.

“Pasteis de nata,” Harry repeated before Odie nodded with glee.

“Try!” Odie insisted before Harry went to taste the food.

“Oh, Odie,” Y/N moaned, her eyes rolling, “you’ve outdone yourself! Está perfeito! Que gostoso! E a receita?”

“É um segredo,” Odie shook his head, “you ever want; avise-se me! Call me!”

“S’delicious,” Harry gaped as he went in for another bite.

“I know,” Odie grinned, crossing his arms over her chest, “your new boyfriend?”

“Hm? Oh, no,” Y/N quickly interjected, shaking her head, “actually, can we take one for his date?”

At this point, somebody had called for Odie somewhere within the kitchen and he had cursed under his breath before turning back to Y/N.

“Meu bem, sempre um prazer. Pleasure, pleasure,” Odie gave Y/N another smile as he went to sandwich her hand in his own, “you’ll come and visit, soon?”

“Of course,” Y/N nodded as she laid her free hand on top of his, “muito obrigado por ter vindo.”

“Ah, your Portuguese está melhorando,” Odie shook his head at Y/N, “much better, meu bem. Harry! Foi um prazer conhece-lo; lovely to meet you. Conte-me, what’s your favorite food?”

“Eh,” Harry chuckled, trying to think of something, “eh, I’ll eat pretty much anything, so long as it’s not meat.”

“Okay,” Odie nodded, pensively before being yelled at once more for assistance, “Aff! Okay, I’ll make something and send out! Até logo!”

“Até logo! Thank you,” Y/N smiled as he sent a wave their way before rushing away. Y/N grabbed another small pastry and halved it to share with Harry.

“Date?” Harry scrunched his nose as he turned to look at Y/N, who had already taken a bite from her half.

“Yeah,” Y/N innocently nodded, her hand going to cover her mouth full, looking up to see Harry’s confused features, “the woman... you were speaking to? Before?”

“Oh,” Harry finally spoke after a few moments of trying to remember who he had been speaking to beforehand, “oh, no, that was just someone that just came up to me... you don’t know who it was?”

“No,” Y/N laughed at his expression, clutching her stomach as she did so, “sometimes people bring their friends that I’m not that acquainted with.”

“Ah,” Harry frowned as he put his hand on his hip, “s’that not scare you?”

“Not really,” Y/N shook her head, “it hasn’t been a problem, so far.”

“Well, wish I would’ve known that,” Harry commented with a little shrug of his shoulders.

“Why? Nobody ever asks, they just bring them,” Y/N took another bite from the dish Odie had made for her.

“Hate showing up to places alone,” Harry explained as he looked down at the half of the pastry Y/N had given him, “didn’t want anyone to think they had to entertain me.”

“Ugh, I know,” Y/N squinted and smiled as she bumped his hand with the back of her palm, “sorry, hope you don’t mind my company?”

“No, of course not,” Harry quickly shook his head before a silence came over the two.

“What? You don’t like it?” Y/N nodded toward the pastry he had been holding while blankly looking at her.

“No, s’great,” Harry smiled as he went to take a bite, “think it may be one of the best sweets I’ve ever had... What was it? That he was speaking?”

“Português,” Harry finding it endearing how easily the accent rolled off her tongue, “it’s a beautiful language, no?”

“Yeah... And you speak it?” Harry questioned as he watched her finish her half of the pastry. “No... at least not fluently. Well, it’s pretty close to Spanish, but m’learning little by little,” Y/N shrugged as she rubbed her hands together to rid them of crumbs, “hate him having to speak another language on my account, he tries so hard. Figured I could put some effort in, as well.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, knowingly, “s’cool.”

“You want some actual food, now? I’m already getting a tummy ache with all the junk food I’ve consumed today,” Y/N smiled up at him as he took another bite of the dessert. He laughed as he raised a fist to cover his mouth.

“Sure,” came his muffled response before Y/N nodded for him to follow her. They had made their way to another room where there were a few people jotting down orders and giving people estimates of how long it would take for them to get their food.

“What do you recommend?” Harry asked as the two looked at the various options on various panels of food.

“Everything,” Y/N sighed as her eyes seemed to look for something in particular, “do you like hispanic food?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged before Y/N turned to look at him.

“How much spice can you handle?” Y/N questioned, raising her brows at the male.

“Oh,” Harry laughed, “eh... a good amount, I guess?”

“Okay,” Y/N turned back to the menu, “the jackfruit tacos are al pastor and can be quite spicy, so is the pozole... eh, they do a great tamale with mole sauce on top. The pasteles are pretty good... Mmm, there’s a few curry dishes and Odie’s been trying his hand at a few Asian inspired dishes.”

“‘ve got just about everything, don’t you?” Harry wondered, shaking his head. “I don’t know, now. Everything sounds good.”

“How hungry are you?” Y/N asked, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

+ + +

“This is fucking delicious,” Harry groaned out. He had just tasted the tamale Y/N had ordered earlier. It was not the first time he had uttered those words throughout the night. Y/N had ordered them “a little bit of everything” and he was surprised at how much of it the two were able to put away. Within twenty minutes, a platter had been served to them with small servings of various foods. Y/N had told him she had wanted to show him something and had taken all she could in her arms before he had taken the rest in his own. She had led him up a dark flight of stairs before kicking open a door that revealed the venue’s rooftop. The two had taken a seat on the edge of a skylight, the twinkling lights of San Francisco providing enough light for them to see what they were eating—the Golden Gate Bridge was somewhere off in the distance of the fog.

“Feel like you’ve said that about all of it,” Y/N laughed as she reached for the drink she had set in front of her criss crossed legs earlier. Harry had tried what she had called Ponche—a drink infused with cinnamon, apple, and various other fruits. It had proven to be too sweet for him, so Y/N had happily agreed to finish it.

“It just keeps getting better, though,” Harry attempted to explain, “and just when I think that I’ve tried the best, I’ll go back for something else and that’s great, too... How’d you get so many vendors, anyway? I saw one actually came in from LA.”

“Yeah,” Y/N smiled before Harry squints at her.

“You must be something to have people come out so far,” Harry commented with a shake of his head, “even restaurants have a limit to how much money gets shoved at them before they refuse such a long distance to travel.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Y/N shook her head and shrugged as he watched her arm poke from his blazer to grab more food. He had noticed the goosebumps poke through her skin when they first started setting up and had debated offering her his jacket. He liked Y/N. He thought she was sweet and nice to talk to but he didn’t want to be too, as he found Y/N liked to say, cheesy. He had offered, anyways, and the item had been graciously refused by Y/N.

“Then you’ll be cold, and what’s the good in that,” Y/N scrunched her nose, “I’m used to it, anyways.”

Harry would not have it and had made a great show of taking his blazer off before wrapping her in the remnant warmth of his own body. She had laughed (he realized he really liked the sound) and thanked him. It was then that Jamie had interrupted the two, apologetically delivering a sushi roll Odie had sent up before hurrying away—Y/N had rolled her eyes as she called out to her that she was welcome to stay. Jamie had refused and wished them a great rest of their night. As for the sushi roll, Harry had fallen in love. It had tempura carrots and sweet potato with cucumber and Harry was over the moon with the little sweet sauce that had been drizzled over it.

“I hope I don’t sound presumptuous, but you were a fan?” Harry asked as he reached for the Jamaica Y/N had urged him to try. It was a red hibiscus juice that was too bitter for his tongue at the first sip, but it had started to grow on him.

“Oh my gosh, yes,” Y/N furrowed her brows, “I’m surprised I didn’t pass out on the show.”

“Really?” Harry’s brows raised as he sat the cup back down in front of him.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” Y/N asked, cocking her head at him. She had grown suspicious that people had told him of her attempts to avoid him. She was sure Florence had outed her. “Dunno why, but I can’t peg you as the type,” Harry shook his head.

“Well, what's the type?” Y/N inquired as she popped another bit of tamale into her mouth. He had long been in awe of how she had substituted her fork for chop sticks.

“You know what I mean,” Harry sighed as he leaned back on his hands, his legs outstretched, “you were so calm on the show. Could’ve fooled me... Who was your favorite?”

“Oh my God, I’m not telling you that,” Y/N refused as she tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“Must have been me then,” Harry narrowed his eyes at Y/N and nodded as he pursed his lips at her.

“Wow,” Y/N gaped as she turned to look at his snickering features, “a little full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I mean, is there any other reason why you wouldn’t answer the question, Y/N?” Harry shrugged as he turned to look at Y/N. He liked how he looked with his blazer over her shoulders. It almost looked as if it was intentionally a part of her outfit.

“What if it’s one of the other boys and I just don’t want to risk you running off to tell them?” Y/N shook her head as she watched him pop a plantain into his mouth.

“Then Florence must have been lying when she told me you used to have posters of me up on your walls,” Harry shrugged, nonchalantly.

“Oh my God,” Y/N cried out, her hands going to cover her face before they dropped to reveal her annoyed features, “first of all, it was one and I only put it up as a joke.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Harry laughed as the two reached for the last samosa. Harry tsked and Y/N squinted over at him.

“Don’t think just because you were a little fan, I’m just going to let you have it,” Harry shook his head.

“I will physically fight you,” Y/N shook her head.

“Jesus, give a boy a chance, won’t you?” Harry widened his eyes as he went to cough into his elbow.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Y/N offered with a shake of her head.

“Okay,” Harry shrugged as he turned his body to face her, which she reciprocated. The two chanted the necessary words before Y/N’s hand landed as rock and Harry’s as paper.

“Ah,” Harry cheered as his larger palm went to cover Y/N’s fist, “best two out of three?” “Okay,” Y/N responded, closing her eyes before the two commenced with their antics. Y/N had won the second round, and for the third, Harry had used “fire,” which had started a bit of an argument.

“No, no. It’s called ‘rock, paper, scissors,’ Harry,” Y/N shook her head as she watched him rub his hands on his thighs.

“It’s fire! It beats everything,” Harry chuckled as he went to grab the samosa.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N playfully argued, “if that’s the case then I want another round where we’re using made up rules, that way I can use the water balloon thing.”

“Okay, Phoebe Buffay,” Harry muttered before giving the samosa to Y/N.

“Here,” Y/N chortled as she tore the turnover in half and handed one of the two to Harry, to which they tapped the two together in cheers.

“What’ve you been listening to lately? I feel like I’ve been listening to the same three songs for the past few months, and it’s getting pretty bleak,” Y/N stated as she looked on toward the city lights.

“Ooh, well I’ve kind of rediscovered my love for the lyricism of some of Joni Mitchell’s-” Harry began before Y/N tensed.

“Joni Mitchell?” Y/N’s brows had furrowed.

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he turned his head to look at her. There was an awkward pause where Y/N seemed to be mulling something over.

“Didn’t she... didn’t she do blackface on one of her album covers?” Y/N asked after swallowing her food, brushing some crumbs from her lap.

“Eh,” Harry didn’t know how to answer the question, “she said that she really identified with-”

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “I... I don’t know... I just feel like that’s not a good enough reason. She hasn’t experienced what they’ve experienced. I think... I think that’s kind of unfair of her to say.”

“Uh,” Harry trailed as he tried to think of what to respond before shaking his head, “no, that... that makes sense.”

There was a moment of silence where Harry wondered if he had just messed everything up.

“I’m sorry, I,” Y/N began before Harry went to fervently shake his head.

“No,” Harry voiced, “you’re completely right. I just... I guess I never thought about it like that, but thank you for bringing it to my attention. I never want to support someone... someone that isn’t... well, considerate, I suppose.”

“No,” Y/N also shook her head, “I haven’t read much more about it. Maybe she apologized... or something. Sometimes I overreact-”

“You didn’t,” Harry assured, his hand going to cover Y/N’s and Y/N couldn’t help but sigh a breath of relief. Her last boyfriend had always gotten so angry when she spoke about such things. It was a breath of fresh air to be heard by someone she admired so much.

“I liked putting a donation box at the front,” Harry quickly changed the subject, “s’a good idea.”

“Right?” Y/N raised her brows and nodded. “Wish I could take credit for it; but Jamie was the one that had suggested it.”

“Jamie seems real nice,” Harry commented as he went in for another bite of samosa.

“Yeah, she’s sweet,” Y/N smiled. The two sat in a comfortable silence where they listened as the song playing beneath them had changed.

“See,” Harry nudged her arm, “what’s this? I can never differentiate between different genres... is that not tasteful to say?”

“No, not at all,” Y/N shook her head, “I had trouble with it when I was younger. This sounds like it’s cumbia.”

“And how’s it danced? How is it different than, like, salsa?” Harry asked, going for the Jamaica, again.

“Mm,” Y/N hummed as she finished chewing and swallowing, “salsa tends to be more front and back, while cumbia is more to the sides, but there’s a few different ways to dance it.”

“Will you teach me?” Harry asked as he set down the cup of red liquid to his side.

“Yeah, sure!” Y/N smiled as she set down what was left of her samosa and slipping Harry’s blazer from her shoulders. “D’ya mind terribly if I lay it on the glass, here? S’okay if you do! Can put it back on. Don’t wanna get it dirty.”

“No, it’s fine!” Harry nodded before the two pushed up from their seat.

“Okay so you can do a simple two steps to either side like this,” Y/N began.

“Okay, but y’can’t poke fun at me, because I know I’ll look ridiculous,” Harry seemed to pout, his hands at his hips.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Y/N almost seemed to scorn before grabbing his hands and urging him to follow her steps, “there you go!”

“Yeah?” Harry asked as he stepped back to look at her feet. “You said there were a few ways; which do you prefer?”

“That I prefer? Mm, you almost want to think like your skipping,” Y/N explained as she crossed one foot over the other, “and then you kick this one out.”

“So you cross this one,” Harry followed as he looked at his own feet before looking to Y/N for further instruction.

“Yeah, and then kick that one out,” Y/N pointed to one of his legs before he followed her direction, “yep, just like that. Then you do the same on the other side. Mm-hm.”

“Just like that?” Harry asked as he carried out a slightly faster pace.

“Yeah! You’ve got it,” Y/N beamed before her hands went to bump his arms up, “and you’ve gotta move those arms. It’s like fifty percent of looking like you know what you’re doing.”

Harry laughed before inquiring on turns, which Y/N roughly helped him get an idea of how to lead a turn. It took a while but Harry was a fast learner. Before too long he was comfortably leading her in a turn, but was confused when Y/N started laughing.

“What? What’d I do?” Harry asked as he searched her features for an answer.

“No, nothing,” Y/N calmed from her previous fit of laughter, “this song’s just funny. He’s talking about marrying a fish, or mermaid, I guess.”

“A mermaid?” Harry cracked a smile at the explanation.

“Yeah, and they have a baby with the face of an angel but the tail of a fish,” Y/N snickers, “but soldiers came one day and accused him of eating her for breakfast. Sorry, it’s not even funny, I don’t know why I’m laughing so much.”

“Of eating her?” Harry gaped before laughing along with Y/N, as his hold on her slips. “What have you got me dancing to, Y/N?”

“Some sick, true crime episode, apparently,” Y/N laughs before Harry grabbed Y/N’s hand.

“I can do a bit of salsa,” Harry smiled with excitement, “and by a bit, I mean a teeny tiny bit.”

“Okay, let’s see it,” Y/N responded as Harry had tried to get her into a ballroom hold, “oh, damn.”

“What?” Harry laughed down at Y/N.

“This is, like, a hold,” Y/N widened her eyes, a soft smile forming amidst her features.

“What’d you mean?” Harry inquired, confused by her phrasing.

“No, it��s just, I’ve never been in, like, a ballroom hold for salsa,” Y/N shrugged, “that’s professional ish.”

“Stop,” Harry rolled his eyes, “how’d you dance it, then?”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that, I’ve just never seen it danced like that, but you learn something new everyday,” Y/N reasoned before bouncing in place.

“Now, I’m embarrassed,” Harry huffed out a laugh, “all I know is you go back and forth.”

“No! M’sorry! Didn’t mean anything by it,” Y/N pleaded, pouting out her bottom lip.

“Oy vey,” Harry rolled his eyes, “you asked for it.”

“What do you mean? S’not bad! It’s a basic salsa step, that’s all you need,” Y/N shrugged as he led her in the little step he knew.

“Yeah, but you were doing way more in that video James showed,” Harry responded.

“Yeah, but that’s a bunch of fluff, mostly for show,” Y/N pursed her lips and shook her head before Harry attempted a turn. It was the wrong way, but Y/N wouldn't call him out on it.

“Sorry m’not a better dancer,” Harry feigned a whimper.

“Me, too,” Y/N joked as Harry gaped at her.

“Hey,” Harry droned out, his features showing a bit of offense as he furrowed his brows at her.

“M’only kidding,” Y/N giggled.

“I’m really trying,” Harry whimpered out, once again, feigning offense.

“Alright, then. I already said you’re a fine dancer, no?” Y/N teased, making Harry's eyes widen in surprise.

“Okay, little Miss Show Off, what else can you show me?” Harry asked.

“You’ve got a real mean streak, you know that?” Y/N replied.

“I’m a dream,” Harry said in a matter of factly tone. Neither had noticed that they had started simply swaying back and forth. The music had changed to something quite slow, and Y/N assumed they had wandered over another room. Y/N had gotten distracted by the view of the city before she turned to see Harry staring at her, a little smile taking over his features. Y/N had a moment where she believed she had to have been stuck in some sort of fever dream.

“What else did you wanna learn?” Y/N stammered, breaking eye contact with Harry.

“Eh, this is quite nice,” Harry shrugged as he pulled Y/N a little closer, “like dancing white people music with you.”

“Please,” Y/N cringed, shaking her head as she fought the urge to laugh, “I can’t believe I said that.”

“I thought it was funny,” Harry shrugged as he went to carefully dip Y/N

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would say I’m living an actual sappy, cheesy, fan fiction moment,” Y/N teased as Harry held her body up with a palm to her back.

“I cannot believe you’ve read that smut,” Harry shook his head, mockingly disapproval.

“Why would you jump to that conclusion? I could have been into that cottagecore stuff,” Y/N defended.

“What the fuck is cottagecore? What? Is it people that like to have sex in miniature cottages,” Harry furrowed his brows before yanking Y/N’s body back up to him, where the two were forced to bump noses. This had caused the two to burst into a fit of giggles, Harry reaching out to grab a hold of Y/N’s shoulders and ducking his head to make sure Y/N was alright.

+ + +

“S’this it?” Harry seemed to whisper as he had pulled up to Y/N’s home, her looking out the passenger window to see the familiar sight of her home.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed as her fingers went to press on the little button that would release the buckle of her seatbelt. Harry and Y/N had stayed on the rooftop for a while longer than either had anticipated. So, when Jamie’s sleepy features had appeared, inquiring as to how the two were, Y/N had jumped up, slipping Harry’s blazer off her shoulders as she tried saying she was ready to leave.

“Sorry, guys, ’ve just had a long day,” Jamie hung her head, apologetically, before going to look at Harry, “you can always talk to her tomorrow.”

“Jamie,” Y/N nervously chuckled as she began folding Harry’s blazer to return to him.

“S’fine,” Harry waved away her attempts to return the piece of clothing, “you can give it to me the next time I see you.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N smiled as she hesitantly unfolded the blazer to slip back into, chuckling as she did so, “still warm.”

“Or you could drive her home,” Jamie droned, making Y/N’s eyes widen as her head whipped around to glare at Jamie, “you know... so you guys can keep talking. I didn’t want to interrupt your invigorating conversation about... what was it? Volcanoes on the moon?”

“They were a real thing,” Harry insisted, making Y/N smile and narrow her eyes at him, “but, yeah, if you want to head home now, I can drive her a little later.”

“See?” Jamie raised her eyebrows at Y/N before sticking her tongue out at her.

“Okay, well,” Y/N paused as she looked back at Harry, “only if you're sure.”

“Of course,” Harry seemed to sing along.

So, Jamie had made her way back to her vehicle as Harry and Y/N remained on the rooftop, continuing their random subjects of discussions. It hadn’t been long before Y/N had let out a yawn, and Harry insisted that he take her home before she fell asleep on the roof. It was a comfortable ride where Y/N would pipe up with random facts about her hometown as the passed different locations. Harry found it impossible when Y/N had told him the fortune cookie had been invented in San Francisco, but the way she spoke could definitely make him believe anything. He liked seeing her so animated about such random topics.

“Are you staying in town tonight? I really hope you’re not making the trip back tonight—even a flight’s like two hours, no?” Y/N cocked her head at Harry as he knuckled at his eye, one of his rings catching the moonlight and shining in Y/N’s eye.

“No,” Harry shook his head, “staying at a friend’s house and driving back tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Y/N nodded her head. She was a little disappointed. In all honesty, if he had said any different, she most likely would have tripped over her hormones to offer for him to spend the night at hers.

“S’fine, really. S’cold out,” Harry spoke lowly and held his palm out in protest as he saw her begin to peel off his blazer, once more.

“It’s not that far of a walk, really,” the apples of Y/N’s cheeks were prominent with the smile she gave him, “thanks... well, it was nice seeing you tonight.”

“It was nice seeing you, thank you for inviting me. I’ve not forgotten our dim sum date at that one place,” Harry pointed a finger at Y/N, accusingly, narrowing his eyes at her.

“No, of course not,” Y/N laughed off his casual use of the term “date,” as she felt her face heat up, “let me know when you’re in town, again.”

“No, you let me know when you’re available,” Harry shook his head as he looked out his windshield.

“Oh, so the ball’s in my court, now?” Y/N teased with a nod of her head.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “don’t get me wrong, s’a lovely town... but I don’t come here very often. Don’t know many people, here.”

“Oh, well, if L.A.’s easier,” Y/N began, before Harry chuckled.

“S’not what I meant. I know L.A. makes you nervous,” Harry shook his head at her, knowingly.

“I don’t know why,” Y/N scoffed, “I have to work there so often, but I just hate it. It doesn’t really feel like home, you know? Like I know a lot of people, but it’s not like they’re... I don’t know.”

“No, I get it,” Harry’s lips barely curved into a knowing smile, “d’ya mind terribly if I did something?”

“What?” Y/N questioned before Harry reached over to grab the side of her face in one of his warm palms before he carefully leaned in to connect their lips. She let out an odd noise, it was somewhere between a squeak of surprise and the beginning of sentence. Though it had taken her by surprise, she couldn’t help but smile at the taste of the sweet Jamaica he had slowly started warming up to. He had been the one to pull away, his eyes still closed when she opened hers.

“Sorry,” Harry dimpled, shaking his head, and at this proximity, Y/N could see the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, “was that okay?”

“Yeah,” Y/N beamed as he finally opened his green eyes to stare into hers, both trying to read emotion on the other’s expression, “was lovely.”

“Yeah,” Harry slowly blinked at Y/N.

+ + +

The next day, ordinarily, would not have been anything special for Y/N. She had worked for a few hours and then had gotten to spend some time with some friends before returning to her home to tidy up. What had been different, though, and what had made all she encountered ask her why she seemed so happy that particular day had everything to do with Harry.

She had waken up to someone at her front door. It had scared her, at first. She hadn’t been expecting anybody so early. She had grabbed a sweater and slid her arms through the sleeves as she bounced down the stairs, brows furrowed as she ran her fingers through her hair, her fingers catching on the knots that had formed overnight. She had unlocked her phone to see who was standing at her doorstep, but had been confused as she saw an empty frame. She debated whether it was worth opening the door to check if whoever had rang the doorbell had rushed away. Something compelled her to do so, anyways. The door had swung open and something on her stoop’s little table captured her attention. There, on the little table, were white lilies wrapped in some brown paper, a little cup of hot liquid, and a small, familiar pastry bag. She knew who it was from judging by the little cup of hot chocolate she had told Harry about the night before. She looked up in time to see a car that resembled the one she rode in the night previously turn around her block.

Later that day, while she had been sorting through her Excel bill sheet on her laptop, her phone had rang out, making her look at the top corner of her screen for the message that had come through.

How was your morning?

Y/N smiled as she set her laptop aside and grabbed her phone. She hadn’t set Harry’s contact information up in her laptop, so it had read his phone number instead of the name she had assigned him in her phone’s contacts. A feeling stirred inside of her as she had the sudden urge to see his face. She wondered if it would be too much to FaceTime him... She had a habit of moving things along too quickly and falling too hard, too fast in the past. They had only just met, but he had been the one to bring her breakfast that morning, afterall...

😂 Was that you? Didn’t want to assume...

She bit her lip in anticipation as she watched the little gray bubble appear and disappear a few times. She was thankful she had disabled her read receipts in the past when the next message swooped in.

Good Gravy Miss Daisy. Hard one to woo, aren’t you, mate?

... don’t like that I used that phrase... please ignore :/

Y/N laughed out at the message that had come directly after the first. She could not believe he had actually took the time to type out the emoticon instead of just using the built in keyboard on his phone for emojis.

I wasn’t about to make an entire fool of myself! If I had thanked you earlier and it wasn’t you, I would have been mortified, you noodle!

A few moments went by, and nothing. Not even the little bubble she had seen the previous time. She had decided to lock her phone and get back to the task she had been doing, picking up her computer and setting it on her lap. She had gone through a few more bills before she looked down at her silent phone to her right. She frowned as her hands went to tie her hair up in a ponytail. She had just pulled the elastic off of her wrist to complete her ponytail when both her phone and her computer rang out. She instantly recognized the sound before she even saw the application pop up on her computer. She yelped out as she quickly tore out the elastic from her hair, and grimaced. She had probably damaged a few strands of hair for being so aggressive, but there was no way the ponytail had been as neat as she would want if she were to FaceTime with Harry. She knew she looked disheveled. She had been out and about with makeup all day. She knew the liner she had put on earlier that morning had probably smudged and transferred onto her lower lash line. She knew the lipstick she had rubbed onto her lips had probably left remnants in the cracks of her lips. She would have wanted a little more notice to be able to look presentable, at the very least. But if she had fixed all the things she had wanted, she would have missed her opportunity to accept Harry’s call. So, she figured letting her hair down would be good enough. It wasn’t long before she had clicked on the “Accept” button and had waited for the call to connect. The little sound that signaled a connection rang out and Harry’s features popped up on her little computer screen. Y/N wanted to squeal at how adorable the young man looked. He was in a gray hoodie, but his little curls poked out of the pulled hood. His lips seemed to glow compared to his puffy and soft, pale features—as if he might have just woken from a deep slumber.

“Sorry!” Harry seemed to be laughing, “is it too late? Figured you were responding to my messages...”

“No! No, I was just doing some... work,” Y/N shook her head as she made herself more comfortable on her couch.

“Oh, okay, good,” Harry nodded as he rubbed at his face, “and why’d you call me a noodle? What does that mean?”

“What? You’ve never been called a noodle?” Harry smiled at the laugh he had become so familiar with the previous day.

“Can’t say that I have,” Harry furrowed his brows.

“Ugh, that was like eighty percent of my childhood entertainment,” Y/N sighed as she tried not to look up at the little frame that showed what she looked like. She hoped she didn’t look too messy. “But thank you for breakfast! It was delicious.”

“What breakfast?” Harry furrowed his brows at her. Y/N widened her eyes at her screen. He had asked if she had gotten anything special earlier that morning. How could he not have left those flowers and food at her stoop? Who else would it have-

“M’joking,” Harry rolled his eyes, “sheesh.”

“I’m sorry! It’s been a long day... But thanks, just the same. And for the lilies! They were lovely. They definitely brightened up my office this morning. How’d you know they’re my absolute favorite?” Y/N narrowed her eyes at her computer screen that had displayed his features.

“Lucky guess,” Harry shrugged his shoulders through the lie. He had wanted to say that he knew, but knew that would most likely make Y/N feel compelled to ask how he had known if the subject hadn't been breached the previous day. He didn’t feel like explaining how he had basically been cyber stalking her a few months previous.

“Meanwhile, that bakery... you may’ve turned me onto something,” Harry widened his eyes.

“Did you actually go in?” Y/N questioned, her brows raising out of shock.

“Yeah,” Harry slowly responded, narrowing his eyes, “wait, why?”

“I mean,” Y/N laughed, “I just can’t imagine you... walking into a panaderia on Mission.”

“Why?” Harry seemed to pout.

“No reason,” Y/N shrugged, clearly finding the idea amusing, for some reason, “did you get what I was saying about the smell being other worldly, though?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded, defeated, “you’re right... it smells a lot warmer... or maybe sweeter? It just might be better than any other bakery I’ve stepped into.”

“It’s all the extra cholesterol they put into their bread,” Y/N joked, “did you get anything for yourself?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded, lifting his chin as he spoke, “eh, I got one of those pink concha things and the hot chocolate? The ch... champ... champ-”

“Champurrado?” Y/N smiled, thinking it absolutely endearing at how hard he was trying to pronounce the term.

“That’s it!” Harry smiled.

“So, what’d you think?” Y/N pressed.

“Eh, was too sweet for me,” Harry grimaced, his dimple making an appearance as he pursed his lips, “but I feel like if I hadn’t gotten it with coconut milk, I would get the appeal.”

“Coconut milk? No, way! You’ve gotta try the almond milk!” Y/N widened her eyes.

“I know, you told me last night, but I usually prefer coconut milk,” Harry commented, “suppose that’s what I get for not listening to you.”

“I may not know a lot, but I know my plant alternative milks,” Y/N perked up, “how bad was the aftermath of the concha?”

“God awful,” Harry scoffed, “I made the mistake of trying to eat it on the way home and it was everywhere. There’s still sugar all over my floor mats and the passenger seat.”

“Oh, no,” Y/N burst into laughter, “m’sorry!”

“Don’t be,” Harry calmed from his own laughter, “was worth it, all the same.”

“You’ll have to get something different, next time. There’s one with pumpkin filling that’s,” Y/N kissed her fingers, making Harry laugh out.

“I have to slow down,” Harry shook his head, “m’getting pudgy.”

“Nonsense, bread goes straight to the heart,” Y/N made a face as though what Harry said could never be imaginable, “besides, pumpkin’s healthy. There’ve actually been studies that it can help boost your immune system!”

“Okay, then, it’s settled,” Harry shrugged, “I’m only eating bread for the rest of my life, so long as it’s stuffed with pumpkin.”

“Sounds like an absolute dream; sign me up,” Y/N sighed out.

“How was your day? What did you do? Anything interesting?” Harry questioned.

“It was fine,” Y/N shrugged, “work and then dinner with friends. Nothing too crazy.”

“Anyone I know?” Harry wanted to take it back as soon as he the words escaped his mouth. He felt it a bit too intrusive, given the little that they knew of one another. He wondered if he had made things awkward, but Y/N seemed unfazed.

“Mm,” she she seemed to think of the answer, “I don’t think so. Not unless you know Michelle Kelvin?”

“Is she related to Maisie?” Harry wrinkled his nose at his screen.

“Yes! They’re second cousins... twice removed... or something weird,” Y/N laughed with a shake of her head, “but yeah! She was supposed to come with us, but couldn’t last minute.”

“She’s cool,” Harry smiled.

“She really is. She always remembers my birthday and sends me a little care package every year around Thanksgiving,” Y/N made that expression he noticed she did a lot. It was whenever she was endeared by something, she would pout out her lower lip, but looked as though she were smiling. He had looked over at his image to see he looked absolutely smitten with whatever it was he was speaking to and wanted to wipe the look off his stupid face.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded his head as he suddenly felt his cheeks start to burn, and he hoped it didn’t translate through to her screen, “she’s nice.”

“I wish I could be more thoughtful,” Y/N shook her head and Harry bit his tongue. He had wanted to comment on how she really was, based off of the stories he had heard from mutual friends. Rob had told him of his wife falling in love with this rare album that she couldn’t find anywhere, and after mentioning it once to Y/N, had found it in the mail a week later with a thank you note from Y/N for dinner. Another one of many anecdotes was how she had volunteered to pick up one his friend’s daughters from school when they couldn’t find anyone else and had brought chocolates and violets for the little girl because her name was Violet. It was after this encounter that Violet would fervently continue to ask for Y/N as a babysitter.

“How was the drive back?” Y/N had interrupted his silence.

“Was fine; got home earlier than expected,” Harry features brightened as his brows momentarily rose, “was able to watch that documentary with the pig thing.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” Y/N laughed, remembering how flabbergasted Harry been when she had told him of a documentary that had explained how researchers were working on facial recognition with pigs the night before.

“Freaky,” Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, “and those birds!”

“I know,” Y/N’s eyes widened as she gaped, "it’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah! Like, who came up with that? Who was like, let me make some animals that know the weather better than these dense humans,” Harry continued to marvel, and all Y/N could really focus on was how grateful she was to be able to see this side of Harry. She had always dreamed up this imaginary persona that she felt matched up with what interviews and social media had portrayed of the male. But she had made up her mind that she liked this version much better.

+ + +

Y/N had gotten to Magda’s house pretty early—about 6 AM, to be exact. It had been tradition for about two years, now. Y/N had met Magda at a local bookstore when Magda had approached Y/N, asking about what the kids these days were reading. They had instantly bonded over their love and appreciation for classic novels—Jane Austen’s Emma, in particular. Ever since, the two had kept in close contact and Magda had become a sort of adoptive grandmother to Y/N. It had been when Y/N had voiced her yearning for some traditionally homemade tamales that Magda had voiced her proficiency in cooking the dish and had offered to make Y/N a batch as long as she brought over spirits and a good movie. It had become a monthly event, and this time, a newcomer was to be involved.

“So,” Magda beamed as she ferociously scrubbed at a big pot she kept hidden away until moments such as these, “what’s he like?”

“Harry?” Y/N raised her brows as she pulled apart some jackfruit.

“Yes,” Magda encouraged.

“He’s nice,” Y/N nodded and looked up to see Magda knowingly grinning, “s’pretty wonderful, actually.”

“Oh,” Magda gently nodded.

“He’s... I don’t know... thoughtful? Is it foolish to think that’s such a unique feature in a man?” Y/N shook her head.

“It’s a bit disappointing that more men aren’t described in such a way,” Magda shrugged and looked up as she twisted the handle of her faucet.

“That’s true,” Y/N nodded, vacantly looking ahead, “it’s just that... he makes me feel... heard?”

“Unheard of,” Magda teased.

“I know, right,” Y/N laughed, “but he looks into your eyes when you’re talking and... I don’t know... he makes you feel like you’re the only person he’d want to be talking to and as if... what you say actually matters to him. And it’s not just me! He does it with everyone I’ve seen him around... He’s very validating and surprisingly open minded.”

“You’re pretty open minded,” Magda noted.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “not as much as he is, I don’t think. He’s so accepting so long as there’s a good means to an end... if that makes sense. I don’t know, perhaps it’s just the fact that I’ve admired him for so long.”

Magda was about to respond when a knock came at the front door.

“Come in,” the two sang out in chorus before the sound of the doorknob being turned and the sound of the door being pushed open alarmed the two to Harry’s arrival.

“S’this a no shoes household?” Harry asked as he waited at the entrance for a response.

“It’s a whatever you prefer house,” Magda laughed as she looked over at Y/N, “s’very considerate.”

“I told you,” Y/N mumbled as she straightened in her chair.

“Thank you for asking, lovey,” Magda beamed as Harry quietly made his way into the kitchen.

“Oh, s’no problem,” Harry piped up as Y/N turned to smile at him from her stool set at the kitchen island. “Hi,” came Y/N’s greeting before Harry went to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Morning,” Harry almost seemed to mumble as he grinned down at her before remembering the two weren’t alone, “you must be-”

“Magda,” the older woman rubbed her palms on the little apron Y/N had gifted her about a year previously, “so nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” Harry approached where the woman stood before extending his hand.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” Magda shook her head, “we love having new friends over and cooking for them. It’s such a nice way to show your appreciation for someone, you know?”

Y/N felt her cheeks burn as she knew Magda most likely meant nothing by the statement, but it somehow felt too intimate for Harry to know she appreciated him.

“Completely agree,” Harry nodded his head, still holding onto Magda’s hands.

“Oh, honey, you were right,” Magda called over her shoulder to a clueless Y/N.

“About what?” Y/N scrunched her nose.

“He does make you feel heard,” Magda actually giggled, making Y/N softly chuckle behind the two.

“She’s talking about me? What else has she said?” Harry raised his brows before smirking over at Y/N.

“Magda, did you see where I put the peppers?” Y/N pretended not to hear him as she feigned searching for what she had requested.

“Don’t want you thinking I’m only here to freeload your food. What can I do to help?” Harry turned back to meet Magda’s already adoring gaze.

“Y/N,” Magda gasped before turning to see Y/N’s confused features, “marry this man.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Y/N stated after her initial shock and embarrassment, “you two would be a much lovelier little couple.”

“Oh, hush,” Magda rolled her eyes as she pushed past Harry to grab a hold of the peppers Y/N had supposedly misplaced, “here are your precious missing peppers.”

In no time at all, Magda and Harry had finished making the maza. Magda made a big deal out of how big Harry’s hands were, saying that he was born to knead the dough-like substance that would carry the faux meat they made their tamales with. This, of course, had elicited a small anecdote of how Harry had once worked in a bakery when he was younger, back home. The two had then proceeded to bond over missing their respective homelands and it wasn’t long before Harry was inviting Magda over whenever she felt like a visit and vice versa.

“So, I’ve seen some with like... a different wrapper? Like paper, almost?” Harry furrowed his brows.

“Those are made with corn husks,” Y/N nodded her head as the three worked on loading the ingredients of a tamale into a banana leaf.

“Ah,” Harry seemed to nod in realization, “so how different will these taste? Will they taste like banana?”

“No,” Magda responded with a shake of her head, “it just makes it more... more...”

“Succulent?” Y/N voiced.

“Yes,” Magda nodded, “tender. I tend to think the corn husk tamales can get a little dry, so I like using the banana leaf to give it a little kick.”

“Huh,” Harry nodded, “how many are we shooting for?”

“A lot,” Magda laughed, “we’ll be here all day, lovey. We don’t expect you to hang around all day with us.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry shrugged with a little smile on his face.

“Well, be warned, this one likes making hundreds to give to the friendly... and not so friendly,” Magda grinned as she elbowed Y/N.

“Oh my gosh, don’t bring that up or he’ll never come back here, again,” Y/N tried to refrain her laughter.

“What? Why?” Harry furrowed his brows as he looked between the two laughing friends.

“Y/N likes to go around town to give some to people in need of a good meal,” Magda beamed over at her long time friend, “but this one time-”

“You can’t let this change the way you see San Francisco, though,” Y/N pleaded as she stopped her handwork to look over at an already amused Harry.

“No, of course, not! Harry’s a good boy; he wouldn’t think of it,” Magda shook her head before proceeding, “anyways, nothing bad has really come from it... except for this one time. This one man that was sleeping on the sidewalk and this one goes up to hand him a few tamales when he wakes up, screaming! He had a syringe in one of his hands and charged at her. So this one starts running, and he ended up chasing her to the car!”

“What?” Harry’s eyes bulged out of his skull upon hearing this tale, searching both the female’s features for some sort of validation.

“He couldn’t really run... so I wouldn’t say he chased me, exactly,” Y/N frowned.

“No, honey; he chased you,” Magda shook her head, “but, anyways, she’s not allowed to approach strangers alone, now. We have another good boy that accompanies us when we want to distribute these bad boys around town.”

“You still go?” Harry gaped, ignoring the tinge of jealousy that had bubbled up within him as he wondered who would accompany the two and if he thought the world of Y/N like he did.

“Oh, yeah,” Magda assuredly nodded.

“That’s wild,” Harry shook his head. It was another one of those moments. Another moment where he could feel his heart swell with an emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint for Y/N. He wanted to say it was admiration, because what else could it be after such a story. Somewhere deep inside, he knew better.

Harry had kept his promise, he had stayed pretty much all day. He had helped the two make enough tamales to last a lifetime, or in this case, enough to feed the entire city. When it came time to try them, Y/N had nervously told him it was okay if he didn’t like them while Magda assured him that he would love them and was right. He could not believe the texture and taste that he had earlier been wary about. Magda was insistent on replacing each tamale that he consumed, which had proven detrimental to his physical comfort. After about four, he started to feel pretty weighed down. Luckily, to wash it all down, Magda had made a pitcherful of Jamaica because she knew how much Y/N liked it. Harry’s features had brightened so much that it sent Magda into a fit of laughter at the mention of the beverage. It had been a nice little end to their day—to enjoy the labors of their hard work.

Magda had loaded a few dozen tamales into some cute little Tupperware with ducks on them and had instructed him on the ease of freezing the dish if he wanted to save them for a later date. He knew this wouldn’t be necessary, as he knew he would be attempting to act in Magda’s and Y/N’s image and distribute them. It was after Magda had hugged and kissed him on the cheek that he was led out to the front of the house by Y/N.

“Thank you for coming today,” he was met with Y/N’s sleepy smile as he turned from stepping through the front door and down a step, “hope we didn’t work you too hard.”

“Not at all,” Harry shook his head as he went to hug Y/N’s abdomen, “liked it. I think Magda may be the love of my life.”

“Mine, too,” Y/N’s smile deepened.

“You sure you don't want a ride home?” Harry inquired, pouting out his bottom lip the way she had a few nights previously.

“Nah,” Y/N shook her head with a shrug of her shoulders, “thank you. You know the offer still stands if you’re too tired to drive. Believe me, Magda will be more than happy to have you stay here tonight.”

“I think I’m okay,” Harry stated with a little nod of his head, “have to feed Matt’s cat.”

“Right,” Y/N shook her head, “forgot.”

“Get some sleep,” Harry pulled Y/N in to kiss the wrinkle between her brows away, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

All Y/N could do was nod in her tired state.

“Yeah?” Harry seemed to bump his body into her own to get a response.

“Yeah,” Y/N laughed.

“Good,” Harry dimpled with satisfaction before going to press his lips to Y/N’s.

+ + +

“What are you doing?” Came the voice on Y/N’s speaker. She had been thrown across her couch, making endless loops with some yarn and two knitting needles.

“Knitting, watching Princess Diaries, and mourning the death of my youth,” Y/N rambled, as she ended one row of stitches to look over at her television screen.

“Oy. The first or second one?” Harry questioned as Y/N went back to her stitches.

“The one with Chris Pine,” Y/N wiggled her brows to herself.

“Ooh, what a dreamboat,” Harry sang out, making Y/N laugh out.

“He is quite nice to look at,” Y/N commented with a sigh.

“I suppose—if you’re into that tall dark and handsome type,” Harry quickly snapped, Y/N’s brows furrowing. Was there a tinge of jealousy in his tone?

“I mean,” Y/N reasoned, “I guess I kinda am.”

“Well,” Harry cleared his throat, “just feel like you wouldn’t have much in common with him.”

“Why? I think we’d make a good match,” Y/N frowned as she paused her actions once more.

“He’s an old man! Already has salt n’pepper hair,” Harry rebuked.

“S’kinda hot, though,” Y/N shrugged to herself.

“You little weirdo. What are you doing this Saturday? Thought we could go get some dim sum,” Harry suggested.

“Eh,” Y/N sucked in her lips as she seriously considered canceling her plans to hang out with Harry, “I have a wedding thing this weekend. Starts on Thursday; s’one of those three day weddings with the bachelorette party, rehearsal dinner, yada yada yada.”

“Oh,” came a pause from Harry’s end, “that sounds fun. S’it in town?”

“No; it’s in L.A.,” Y/N explained, “are you free on Sunday?”

“Oh... yeah,” Harry’s tone sounded odd but she didn’t want to question it; she felt it too soon in their relationship (if you could even call it that) to inquire, “yeah, d’you wanna try something here?”

“Yeah, what would you recommend?” Y/N asked as she finished another row of stitches.

“There’s this great sushi place in Malibu, if you’re up for that,” Harry suggested, “or there’s a good Indian place around the corner.”

“Ooh, you said sushi and my mouth already started watering,” Y/N laughed.

“Sushi it is, then,” Harry chimed.

+ + +

Y/N had been pretty tuckered out as she sat at a little round table, alone, watching everybody around her seeming to be having the time of their lives. Her feet had started aching from the heels she had slipped into at the beginning of the day, her hair had long sagged in the deliberately messy bun she had styled her hair in, and her chest had expanded and collapsed pretty jaggedly as she caught her breath from her friend, Angie, twirling her around the dance floor. It was when she was laughing at the drunken groom trying to lead his bride in a simple turn that she noticed her phone light up her open clutch. Normally, she wouldn’t have checked the notification, but something told her it may be the boy she had been talking to as of late.

She had posted a photo much earlier of the bride placing her veil over Y/N as she was digging into her pasta entree, snapped by the same Angie that had been twirling her earlier. Y/N found Harry had reacted to the photo and sent a message.

That looks fucking amazing. How do you feel about pasta instead, tomorrow??

p.s. you look really pretty 

Y/N couldn’t help the huge smile that came across her features as she peered down at the message. She had been typing out a little response when somebody had plopped down next to her.

“What happened to no phones?” Alex, one of Y/N’s oldest companions narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’m just checking in on something,” Y/N laughed as she hastened typing out her message.

“Absolutely not,” Alex grabbed a hold of Y/N’s phone and tucked it in his pocket.

“Alex!” Y/N gasped as she plunged for the device.

“You're missing Michael trying to seduce Paul,” Alex nodded towards some of their friends laughing at a slightly tipsy male.

“What else is new?” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Last year he tried that with you and was horrified when you actually locked lips.”

“Somehow that boy forgets that I’m a raging homosexual every year, and I’m sick of it,” Alex shook his head, “I will give this back to you if you come shake what the good Lord gave you for an entire song.”

“Alex,” Y/N started before he gave her a glare.

“We haven’t danced one song together and you’ll be heading home soon, I know it,” Alex pouted.

“Okay,” Y/N gave in, knowing she could finish her message to Harry afterwards.

“C’mon, girl,” Alex reached out his hands for Y/N to take. She could only laugh as he led her over to the dance floor before he had dropped into a squat to one of the last notes of a Saweetie song before a salsa blasted over the speakers.

“Aw,” Alex groaned before he stood to his full height.

“You said,” Y/N began, more teasing, if anything.

“I know what I said,” Alex rolled his eyes as he proceeded to take Y/N’s hands, once more, before leading her into a turn. It wasn’t long before Michael, another companion, had whipped out his phone and had gone around tormenting people with his flash video recording. A few dancing couples had shoved their hands in front of the camera lens before he had approached Alex and Y/N. Alex had seen the camera pointed at them and had pulled Y/N to him before he had dipped Y/N and pulled her back up, before going to peck at Y/N’s lips. Y/N had thought nothing of the video as she laughed and went to hug Alex as he shouted something at Michael’s giggling features. The two had known each other for years and a peck here and there was the norm between the two companions. Y/N had not thought of any repercussion. She did not think there might have been a certain male laying in his bed, the glow of his phone’s screen illuminating his smiling features as he opened one of his friend’s Instagram stories to see the girl he had been talking to being pulled to some man’s chest before locking lips with him. She had not thought of how his little smile would fade as he kept tapping on the left side of his screen to replay the video—to replay the way she smiled and hugged onto the strange male’s body. No, Y/N hadn’t thought very much of how that might look.

+ + +

The next morning, Y/N was surprised to not hear from Harry. She had started getting ready, however, knowing Harry would eventually message her with an address, because he had promised to do so earlier that week. She had finished slipping on her shoes when she went to check her empty lock screen. The place they had settled on was about forty minutes away, and if she was to make the time they had initially agreed upon, she would have to leave any minute. She decided to send Harry the following:

Morning, sunshine! ☀️ We still meeting up for lunch?

She figured she could start on her journey. Even if Harry cancelled, which she didn’t foresee, she could just enjoy the drive, maybe get some coffee... She had been about fifteen minutes into her drive when her phone rang out. The message read out went something along the lines of:

Hey, something came up last minute. Can’t meet today, rain check?

Y/N couldn’t help but instantly feel a little blue as she responded.

Of course; hope everything is okay. Take care!

Harry did not respond to this message and Y/N thought it a little odd, but figured whatever had come up must have been important. Y/N had driven past Malibu and caught sight of a cafe on her way back. She figured she deserved a treat and had decided to pull in for some coffee and maybe dessert if they had anything good. She had been quickly seated and had been browsing the small menu when the sound of another party was alerted with the ding of the bell attached to the front door. Y/N had looked up out of habit and had thought nothing of the couple that had entered before she glanced back at the menu before realizing why one of them had looked so familiar. Trailing behind a pretty looking woman was the person she had originally had plans with that morning—one Mr. Harry Styles. Y/N hastily went to raise her menu to cover her face, praying that he hadn’t seen her. She couldn’t help but peek over the top of the menu as she watched the two follow a waiter to the outdoor seating just in front of her. Of all the coincidental instances she had encountered in her life, she couldn’t think of one more embarrassing than the one she sat in. Her shock and horror had slowly started to morph into discontent as she watched the two speak. It was clear that the female had more than platonic interests in Harry by the way she leaned forward, hanging onto every word that came from his lips... the same ones that had been pressed to hers not that long ago. She could not believe her eyes, and she suddenly felt as if she was going to be ill.

“Good morning! How are you?” Y/N’s view of Harry and his companion was suddenly interrupted by a tall woman that had stepped in front of Y/N’s seat.

“Oh, eh,” Y/N glanced at the menu, wondering how rude it would be to excuse herself. She had considered staying and watching the two, but she felt that would be an enormous invasion of Harry’s privacy... that and she couldn’t stand the idea of him seeing her—alone, at that. “I’m so sorry, I... I have to go.”

“Oh,” the waitress stepped back as she watched Y/N collect her things, “is anything wrong?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N sent a glance out to the terrace where Harry sat intently watching his companion speak, “s’nothing, sorry, thank you so much for your time and help.”

+ + +

Y/N hadn’t been back to the house she had been staying at for very long. She had arrived and had marched straight to the living room where she allowed herself to plop down to lay on the carpeted floor. As she stared up at the ceiling, she wondered why such a string of events had bothered her so much. She told herself again and again how she wasn’t jealous but peeved at the principle of canceling on her to see someone else... but she knew the green eyed monster was involved. She had absolutely no right to be jealous. She and Harry had just met, and he was allowed to see other people if he wanted to. It wasn’t as if she had committed to only seeing him, either. Nobody had asked her, but she was free to see other people. Oh, but she couldn’t get over how much she hurt over seeing him with someone else. It was something different to know he was seeing other people, but to actually see it? She felt positively icky. She had grabbed her phone in attempt to distract herself when she noticed a message that had been delivered a little while ago, most likely a few minutes after leaving the cafe.

Was that you?

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she stared at the message from the person that had been tying her stomach in knots. She locked her phone and laid the phone on her abdomen, not knowing if she wanted to reply. She almost never wanted to speak to him, again... but she knew she had no valid reason for it.

Where?

She had decided to play ignorant, as she wished he would leave her alone; at least for the time being. Didn’t he have that woman to entertain himself with?

Are you still in town? Fancy a visit?

Y/N couldn’t muster the energy for a visit. She couldn’t imagine how she could possibly refrain from asking who he had been with. So, she did something she wouldn’t normally do.

Did whoever came up get resolved? I’m actually heading back home today and I need to pack 😕 rain check?

Y/N wasn’t one to be petty or passive aggressive, but something about the situation had just rubbed her the wrong way. She had almost hoped that perhaps her message had deterred Harry’s friendship, and that she would never see him again. She wasn’t surprised when she did not receive a reply from the male and had went about her day, just a little bit more melancholy than she usually would have been leaving town.

+ + +

A few months had come and gone, and Harry would have liked to say that Y/N had become a distant memory, but that was nowhere near the case. He thought more about her than he would like to admit. He knew he had struck a nerve when he had gotten her last message, and had become slightly infuriated by it. How could she have been so snappy when he had been the one to reach out after she had been out locking lips with some random bloke? Sure, she had seen him out with one of the women that his friends had been trying to set him up with, but he had asked to see her, damn it. Wasn’t that enough of a gesture? He had been out with a few different people since, in attempts to forget the female, but it was all to no avail. How could anybody compare to the strange little person he had eaten so much food with on a rooftop all that time ago?

Nevertheless, he had continued seeing her in his friends’ posts. She looked good, as usual. Something so simply classic about the clothes she wore and her disposition in each snapshot. He had noticed in the past that she would never pose smiling, but as of late, she had smiled in almost all the photos he saw of her. He wasn’t sure why such a small detail had resonated with him. She had cut her hair and lightened it since the last time he had seen her. He wanted to believe she had done so because of him. He had read something about women changing their hair after meaningful relationships, but he didn’t want to flatter himself. It had been when he had been visiting an old friend and sipping on a glass of sauvignon blanc—it hadn’t been that good if he was being honest—that his friend had really thrown him for a loop.

“Have you seen this?” Andrew nodded at the title of the film he had landed on. Harry usually never had his phone out when visiting good friends, but he had been waiting on a message from his sister. He had looked up from his messages to find, to his surprise, Y/N’s face staring back at him.

“S’this new?” Harry mumbled, still staring at Y/N’s features. She had been looking straight into the camera when the photo had been taken, and from the look of her surroundings, it looked like some sort of 60s mystery film.

“Says it was released this year,” Andrew shrugged, “don’t you know her or something?”

“Not really,” Harry cleared his throat, “looks stupid.”

“Stupid?” Andrew furrowed his brows at Harry.

“What?” Harry glared over at him.

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word,” Andrew grinned.

“Well, it does, doesn’t it?” Harry nervously laughed, feeling a tinge of guilt creep over him.

“S’got that guy from X-Men in it... Think she looks nice,” Andrew shrugged as he took a drink from his glass, “wouldn’t mind if I made a pass?”

“A pass,” Harry scrunched his nose, “won’t get very far with that kind of thinking.”

“Alright, mate,” Andrew rolled his eyes as he continued scrolling through the streaming service, “I get it.”

“Well, there’s nothing to get,” Harry shook his head, “didn’t mean anything by it; go for it.”

+ + +

“Magda?” Y/N had called from the older woman’s kitchen. She had let herself in with the key that Magda had made for her and had worried when she could’t find the lady on the lower level of her home. “M’up here, lovey,” Magda hollered from the second floor of her home.

“Sorry, m’late,” Y/N vocalized as she treaded up the stairs before finding Magda sat on the floor, kneeled atop a gargantuan white canvas with paint splatters here and there. There was the outline of a young woman’s face ever so slightly traced out from what Y/N could see.

“No, no, honey! You're fine,” Magda shook her head as she looked up from the piece, making Y/N smile at some stray smeared paint across the older woman’s forehead, “eh... the books are over there on that chair over there, if you want to take ‘em today.”

“Oh, thanks,” Y/N glanced over her shoulder before going to look back at the painting, “this is huge.”

“Uh, yeah,” Magda seemed to nervously chuckle as she wiped her hands on her overalls. Y/N noticed the elder was avoiding making eye contact with her as she kept looking down at the painting or at her hands.

“Who’s it for? You never do projects this big unless someone’s hanging it in the Guggenheim or donating a pretty penny,” Y/N commented as she walked around the canvas edges to get to the chair Magda had pointed out earlier. All Magda could do was offer another nervous chuckle as she went to push some straggle hairs from her face. Y/N could sense the awkward air between her and the woman she came to trust like she trusted her own mother.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” Y/N shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn out of an embarrassment she couldn’t pinpoint.

“No,” Magda went to shake her own head as she let out a heavy sigh, “no. You’re not prying, honey. I’m the one that’s making the situation awkward... Um... It’s... it’s for Harry.”

Y/N could not find words at the mention of his name. She didn’t know why she felt so bothered... so betrayed. There was no reason that Magda could not speak to Harry. She really didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding Y/N’s broken communication with him. All Magda knew was that they weren’t speaking, and Y/N knew it was silly to feel so deeply about her contact with the person that had wounded her pride a while back... but Magda was family. Shouldn’t that count for something? Y/N sure wouldn’t be friendly with somebody Magda had shunned, which would be impossible because Magda didn’t believe in holding grudges.

“Oh,” Y/N finally choked out, nodding her head as she broke eye contact with Magda to pick up the books that had been set on the chair she had been earlier directed towards.

“If this bothers you, honey,” Magda began.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling as she sighed out, “it doesn’t. I’m being silly.”

“It’s just... he came by last week to make tamales,” Magda began, making Y/N’s head jerk up to meet her gaze, “he said he knew you were taking that trip and wanted to ensure that we didn’t break tradition. And he got a glance of some of the work I did when I was younger and he begged for me to make him something and that he’d pay whatever I asked, and I said I would do it if he donated to this stem cell research fund I’ve been working with, and he said he’d be thrilled, and I just couldn’t say no to such a generous donation and-”

“You don’t have to... justify it,” Y/N shook her head, “I’m sorry. I... I’m just being... childish, and... I guess I’m still sore at him for being so... I don’t know. I’m just happy you got such a big donation.”

“Look, he didn’t tell me what happened,” Magda shrugged her shoulders after a pause came between them, “but whatever it was... he’s moved past it.”

“That’s good,” Y/N tightly smiled as she opened the book that was on the top of the stack.

“If you don’t want me to do it,” Magda offered before Y/N shook her head once more.

“Do it,” Y/N nodded, “please. Don’t pay any attention to me; I’m just being... it doesn’t matter. I think you should do it.”

“Are you sure?” Magda pressed, her eyes searching for her answer in Y/N’s eyes.

“Of course,” Y/N nodded.

+ + +

Y/N had had a few. She wasn’t stumbling or slurring her words, but she was feeling quite toasty. She had been invited to some party, some celebration for someone she didn’t know and had been delighted for some excuse to get all gussied up and have drinks with some friends... Friends that had disappeared about thirty minutes after their first drink, but that was no worry. Y/N had soon found some drunken girl that had globbed onto her after claiming she looked better than Naomi Campbell did on the 1995 Chanel spring runway. It hadn’t taken too long for the two to find a permanent dancing partner in each other as the two had clasped hands as they sang along to almost all the songs that had blasted over the speakers. They had just finished shouting lyrics to one another before the girl yelled something about having to go back to her friends.

“You should come with me, I have this really cute friend who’s single and ready to fuck whoever crosses his path,” Glenda, Y/N’s new drunken friend, droned.

“Okay, but food first! I’m starved! You want anything?” Y/N yelled over the music before Glenda asked for a shot before pointing to where a group of her friends were sat. Y/N didn’t think much as she loaded her plate with the cucumber salad she had been eyeing all night. There hadn’t been too much food for her, most all dishes had featured some animal product, but she wasn’t one to complain too much about it. She debated whether she should make her way back to the table she had originally been sat at to see if any of her friends were there, but she liked meeting new people and had a strange goal for taking the opportunity to make new friends. So, she had forced herself over to where the girl had plopped down, Glenda’s eyes lighting up at the sight of the shot glass in Y/N’s other hand.

“Thanks, girl!” Glenda beamed as Y/N handed her the glass.

“How’s the cucumber salad?” Came a familiar tone from the other side of the table. Y/N wished she had just gone to sit alone at the table she had originally been sat at, even if that meant she would be alone.

“Hey, Harry,” Y/N smiled as she shoveled a fork full of cucumber into her mouth.

“This is my friend I was telling you about,” Glenda grabbed at Y/N’s arm with excitement, wiggling her eyebrows, suggestively.

“Ah,” Y/N laughed, remembering Glenda’s words about her cute, promiscuous friend.

“What were you telling her?” Harry’s words were drowned out by the man next to him rising to make his way over to where Y/N had been.

“M’Andrew,” the man stuck his hand out for Y/N to take.

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N smiled as she juggled to hold her cucumber salad bowl in one hand and shake the male’s with her other, “Y/N.”

“We were just talking about you the other day,” Andrew leaned closer to Y/N’s ear.

“Really? Why?” Y/N furrowed her brows.

“Your movie came up while we were browsing on Netflix,” Andrew smiled, “and Harry, here, had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“That’s nice,” Y/N smiled at Harry before turning back to speak to the male that had approached her.

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. He had legitimately thought Andrew was kidding that day; he didn’t think he would have to sit and watch his friend talk up the girl that he had been so invested in a few months previously. He did tell him to “go for it,” but it still felt wrong. He hated the way she smiled at him and seemed to tune out everyone else to pay attention to what he had to say. Harry knew Andrew, he didn’t have much interesting to say. He hated how sour his mood had suddenly become as he watched them over the rim of the glass he had raised to his lips. He knew it was unhealthy, but he couldn’t help but to start comparing himself to Andrew. He was a little taller than he was, but wasn’t that nice... He had to refrain his jaw from dropping as Andrew extended his open palm for Y/N to take before Andrew led her to the dance floor. He had lost visual on them and he couldn’t help what happened next.

“Glenda,” Harry seemed to bark.

“Yeah?” She innocently responded, furrowing her brows at Harry’s fixated features. He had nodded towards the crowd of people dancing, causing Glenda to squeal with delight. None of their friends had danced with her all night, or had danced, period. Harry didn’t get why they would go to a party just to sit and try to talk over loud music, as he usually enjoyed dancing around a few bodies after a few drinks and had even taken Glenda out a for a few songs, but he had lost interest pretty quickly on the dance floor as a pretty girl had been sat back with his friends. In any event, it was with great force that Glenda had pulled his arm as she led him to the dance floor where a bunch of bodies had been dancing to a Drake song. It was coincidental that Glenda had led him to where Y/N and Andrew had been dancing. Y/N had noticed him, but Harry acted the ignorant. He couldn’t help but become distracted by Glenda when she had started spanking him before he turned to dance along to the music with her. It was a bit hard for Harry to watch what was happening with Y/N and Andrew as they had been dancing behind him. He had tried turning Glenda so that he could get a better view, but it had not worked as she would shimmy back to their original positions. He would occasionally make a big show of making a turn, but it was more purposeful than anybody could really know. A song Harry didn’t recognize came on and Glenda screamed and pointed behind Harry, at who he had assumed was Y/N. Harry hoped to God he wouldn’t turn around to see anything too jarring between her and Andrew; he didn’t think he could handle that. Thankfully, though, Glenda had pushed past him as she went to grind on Y/N’s tummy, making him laugh as Y/N had raised her bowl and kept eating her cucumber salad and allowing Glenda to keep grinding on her. If Y/N hadn't been involved, Harry might have gone back to the table and people watched. However, Y/N was involved, and she was giggly and cute, and he had missed her. So, he stayed and danced alongside Andrew before Glenda stopped grinding her rear on Y/N and turned to look at Harry, a grin playing at her features. He knew she would try to do the same to him, and he couldn’t have that in front of Y/N. So, he took the initiative to turn and rub his back on Glenda, earning a few cat calls from her as she grabbed a hold of his hips and tried to shake them. All Harry could do was laugh as he turned back around to grab her hands so he could turn her.

“Wait, I’m gonna puke!” Glenda sobbed as she grabbed on Harry’s forearm.

“Oh, no,” Harry frowned as his arm slipped around her back, trying to support her as her fist went to her mouth.

“I’ll take care of it,” Andrew rolled his eyes as he grabbed a hold of Harry’s shoulder as he spoke into his ear, “this one hasn’t stopped looking at you.”

“Maybe I should take her,” Y/N yelled, as she went to grab at Glenda.

“No, s’okay! You stay and dance with Harry,” Andrew shouted as he took a hold of a woozy Glenda.

“It’s fine, I can take her,” Y/N shook her head.

“I’m gonna take her outside for some fresh air,” Andrew explained. Y/N looked over at Harry, and he somehow knew she was worried about Glenda’s safety with the male she had just met. Harry knew even with his reassurance, Y/N would still have been worried.

“I’ll take her, s’fine,” Harry yelled as he grabbed a hold of Glenda’s arm and started for the door.

“M’sorry,” Glenda continually apologized as the two made their way out of the building.

“S’okay,” Harry rubbed at the female’s back as the two stepped out into the breezy night air. It wasn’t long before Glenda had retched into a nearby shrub, Harry holding her hair for her as he tried not to look at the sick coming out of her mouth.

“Oh, good!” Came a voice from behind him, making him look over to see Y/N hurrying toward them with Abby, one of the friends he had been sat with.

“I’ll take her home,” Abby sighed once the two met Harry, “I’m tired, anyways.”

“Glenda, I have your jumper,” Y/N commented as she held out the sweater in front of her, “ooh, s’cute.”

“Thanks,” Glenda laughed as she stood to her full height, fisting the corner of her mouth before Y/N helped her into the piece of clothing.

“C’mon, Glen,” Abby rolled her eyes as Harry passed Glenda to Abby.

“Can you get her to the car?” Y/N doubtfully asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” Abbie nodded, “this happens every weekend. I would have a gold medal if it was a sport in the Olympics.” “Oh, okay, then,” Y/N smiled as she rubbed Glenda’s arm, “s’nice meeting you.”

“You too, girl,” Glenda lazily smiled, “did I get any puke on you this time, Abby?”

“No,” Abby sighed as she looked down at her heels, “not yet.”

“You okay to drive?” Harry inquired.

“I’ve been dry for a year, now,” Abby furrowed her brows at Harry.

“S’right, sorry,” Harry shook his head, wearily.

“S’alright. Well, was nice meeting you, Y/N. We’ll do this again, yeah? Well, hopefully not the whole puking thing,” Abby laughed.

“Of course,” Y/N smiled as her fingers went to tuck her hair behind her ear, Abby and Glenda turning to make their way to their car.

“You two have a good night,” Abby sang before continuing to lead Glenda to her car. 

There came a moment where Harry and Y/N stood still, Y/N watching Glenda and Abby as Harry watched Y/N. After watching her sigh, Harry had been caught staring as she turned to look up at him.

“What?” She innocently questioned.

“You hungry?” He asked, his mouth only slightly smiling at her.

+ + +

“Here ya go,” a tall brunette waiter had set two waters and laminated menus on the table Harry and Y/N had been seated at before turning on his heel to leave the two.

“How’d you know about this place?” Harry asked as he picked up one of the menus and glanced over the options.

“Oh, uh, my dad and I used to come here every year for one of his work meetings,” Y/N answered.

“For his work meetings?” Harry’s brows pressed towards his hairline.

“Yeah; he was in this like... society of engineers... Basically a bunch of geeks getting together every few months to talk about quantum physics or something along those lines... We’d always get in so late on the first day and we’d be starving, but there were never a lot of places open. This place always was, though,” Y/N smiled as she looked around the room, “we would never run out of conversation here, even though we had spent the entire day in silence on the way up here. S’weird. Haven’t been here in a while.”

“Why not? Does your father live far away? You don’t bring him here anymore?” Harry innocently asked.

“It’d be kind of hard for him since he’s passed away,” Y/N smiled. If it had been anyone else, Harry would have thought the comment a bit snippy. For some reason, he felt she was trying to make a joke of it. For his sake; he didn’t know.

“Oh, m’sorry,” Harry offered his condolences before being met by a short pause.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that,” Y/N’s smile softened before she shook her head and went to look at the menu to change the subject, “they have excellent spring rolls here.”

“Sorry to say it, but I can’t stand them,” Harry narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

“Oh, me, either,” Y/N laughed as she put her menu down, “I ate too many once and threw them up. I can’t eat them, but I appreciate them.”

“Ah, that’s valid. I just hate basil,” Harry shrugged as he stole another glance at her. He felt nervous, all of a sudden. He hadn’t felt nervous on the drive over, or when Y/N had to scoot closer to him while waiting to be seated because the entrance was small and a couple needed more space to exit the establishment. He hadn't been nervous when he got the chance to catch a whiff of her hair to find though she changed her hair, she still used the shampoo that left it smelling so nice. “You’ve changed your hair.”

“Hm? Oh,” Y/N pursed her lips as her palms went to flatten her hair, “yeah... it looks weird.”

“I like it,” Harry commented, without looking up from his menu.

“These bangs are a bit much,” Y/N sighed out as she allowed her elbows onto the edge of the table, her chin going to rest in the palm of her hand.

“I think it looks great,” Harry furrowed his brows.

“M’not... fishing for compliments or anything,” Y/N shook her head.

“Know that,” Harry nodded, “just think you look really good.”

“Oh,” Y/N’s lips barely smiled, “thanks.”

“What else do you recommend, because everything looks good to a person that hasn’t eaten since breakfast,” Harry sighed.

“Their burger’s scrummy,” Y/N suggested, “you can get either fries or these really great avocado fries... they also have this amazing pad thai.”

“Pad thai and burgers? Am I wrong to be a little nervous?” Harry looked up at Y/N, doubtfully.

“I mean, yeah,” Y/N laughed before shrugging her shoulders, “but I think great things come from things that make you nervous.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry sucked in his lips, “but if it’s not, you owe me another dinner date.”

“Oh, this isn’t a dinner date,” Y/N shook her head.

“It isn’t?” Harry questioned from behind his menu.

“No, at least, not like that,” Y/N shook her head as she went to sip from the water that had been set before them earlier.

“Like what?” Harry cocked his head at Y/N.

“You know,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“No, I don’t know. Clue me in,” Harry stated before grabbing his own glass and sipping water from it. For some reason, Y/N could not take the way he peered at her over the rim of his glass and had to break eye contact—such an innocent thing felt much too intimate.

“Never mind,” Y/N shook her head.

“No, now I want to know,” Harry smirked, “now that I think about it, Andrew did say something about you not being able to take your eyes off of me tonight.”

“Oh, did he?” Y/N’s brows rose, her lips curling into a smile.

“I mean, my arse does look really good in these pants,” Harry spoke before shaking his head and bursting into laughter, “please forget that I said that.”

“No,” Y/N laughed, “that will live rent free in my mind forever.”

“Fine with me,” Harry calmed from his fit of laughter, “so long as you tell me what you meant before.”

The two were interrupted when the handsome waiter from before came by to take their order. Harry fought the jealousy that started creeping in when the waiter started blatantly flirting with Y/N in front of him. He had no right to be jealous about someone that didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t long before he had finally left them with one last "my dear” being thrown at Y/N.

“So?” Harry pressed. “What?” Y/N asked out of confusion as to what Harry was referring to.

“What’d you mean? Why isn’t this a date?” Harry questioned.

“Oh, sorry to disappoint, but that topic is closed, my friend,” Y/N emphasized, hoping he would get the hint.

“Friend?” Harry’s teasing mood turned somber.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, trying to hide her own disappointment.

“Alright, then,” Harry sighed in defeat as he twiddled his fingers, “how’d you know Glenda?”

“I don’t,” Y/N shook her head as she looked up from her clasped hands before her.

“Then how,” Harry trailed off, his brows pinched together.

“We only just met tonight,” Y/N explained.

“Huh,” Harry voiced with a slow nod of his head, “so, what’d she tell you about me?”

“Why’d you wanna know?” Y/N knowingly grinned and Harry knew he was done for.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged as his gaze dropped back down to his glass, “was just curious.”

“Alright, then,” Y/N sighed, looking up to the ceiling as if doing so would help her recall what Glenda had said any better, “said you were really cute.”

“That’s not so bad,” Harry breathed out a sigh.

“You sound relieved,” Y/N commented, narrowing her eyes at the male.

“Do I?” Harry innocently questioned.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded.

“Hm,” Harry’s brows rose and fell as he went to take another drink from his water.

“’Course she also told me you were ready to fuck whoever crossed your path,” Y/N nonchalantly spoke, resulting in Harry choking on his sip of water. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh out as she reached for a napkin to hand him.

“She did no such thing,” Harry’s response was muffled as he wiped his mouth.

“I know what I heard,” Y/N spoke with a nod of her head, “and she specifically said-”

“I got it the first time, thanks,” Harry interrupted, his skin turning crimson red.

“Oh, there’s no shame in it,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “must be fun.”

“M’not like that, usually... you know that,” Harry furrowed his brows.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s laughter softened, “also said you were single.”

“What happened to friends, huh?” Harry grinned.

“I,” Y/N’s jaw dropped before laughing out, “I was just saying. I was trying to distract from your embarrassing ass comment.”

“Uh huh, okay. Sure,” Harry narrowed his eyes at Y/N, “what about Andrew?”

“What about him?” Y/N’s laughter converted into a small smile as she looked at her finger running across the table.

“What’d you think of him?” Harry was met by a shrug from Y/N. “Don’t seem too impressed.”

“He’s nice, but I didn’t really get to talk to him that much,” Y/N explained.

“Ah,” Harry nodded, “well, don’t think you’d like him very much for too long.”

“Why?” Y/N questioned, furrowing her brows.

“He’s no good at it,” Harry shrugged, nonchalantly.

“At what?” Y/N inquired, still clueless.

“At crocheting scarves for his nan, what else?” Harry rolled his eyes, Y/N still not understanding. “At it, Y/N.”

“Oh,” Y/N finally seemed to understand as her furrowed brows softened before her features scrunched up once more, “oh. Well, that’s crap. He’s kinda cute.”

“Well,” Harry shook his head, “all I’ve heard are complaints.”

“Unless you’ve bedded him, I don’t think you have the right to say,” Y/N cocked her head at Harry.

“Who says I haven’t?” Harry questioned.

“Mm, I don’t see him being your type,” Y/N scrunched her nose.

“My type? Who’d you think my type is?” Harry asked, hoping she would say something along the lines of herself.

“Hm,” Y/N closed one eye as the other looked up, “either a real man’s man, like a logger or something... or an old, handsome sugar daddy type.”

Harry couldn’t help the laugh that had come from his belly at her words.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Y/N smiled, knowingly.

+ + +

It hadn’t been too late by the time Y/N had trudged through her front door, Harry trailing behind. She was happy to be home. Even with the short amount of time she was away, she missed her little home and the scent of potpourri mixed with the remnant aroma of that one Apple Toddy candle that never seemed to burn out. She had dropped her bag on the little bench she had by the door before bending over to undo the straps of her shoes.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Y/N spoke as she peered up at Harry to find him taking in his surroundings.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled as he looked down to see her pull off her heels and throw them beneath the little bench she had stopped by. After finishing his meal and having to voice how much he liked it to a knowing Y/N, Y/N had asked where Harry was staying. He had said he was staying at a friend’s house over an hour away, and Y/N couldn’t let him drive such a long distance so late in the night. It didn’t have to take much convincing for Harry to accept the offer, as he had wondered what the inside of her home looked like ever since dropping her off so many nights previously. 

“Lucky for you,” Y/N sighed out as she walked up the stairs that led to the main level of the home, “I bought a pajama set that was grossly mislabeled online; I think it’d fit you just fine!”

“Okay,” Harry laughed as he wondered where to put his shoes. She had tossed hers underneath that little bench, but there was a door to the side, which he assumed was a closet.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked from above.

“Eh,” Harry cleared his throat, “s’it matter where I put m’shoes?”

“Oh, no,” Y/N shook her head, “wherever’s fine.”

“Okay,” Harry said under his breath as Y/N disappeared out of sight. As Harry treaded up the steep stairs to the upper level, he was overwhelmed with the scent of cinnamon... maybe vanilla. He had smelled something wonderful upon entering her home, but it became much more warmer and sweeter when he stepped foot on the last step. He instantly thought he liked the layout of the small little home. Off to his right, there was a little living room that led out through siding doors onto a spectacular little balcony with a view of the city’s night lights twinkling in the distance. Straight ahead seemed to be a dark kitchen. To his left, a hallway was illuminated by a few plug in night lights. He thought better than to invite himself into her bedroom and had furthered into the living room. He had been peering down at a rug that he wished he could rub his bare toes against when nearing footsteps had made him turn to see Y/N approaching him.

“They’ve been tucked away for a while, but,” Y/N voiced as she looked up from the pajamas she held. Harry wondered why she had stopped in her tracks while Y/N thought how surreal it was to see Harry stood in the middle of her living room, toeing at the rug she had just purchased. “They should be pretty comfortable... at least it felt soft when I last tried it on.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled as he approached her, his hands going to take the pajamas from her hands. It was when he noticed her looking intently at his face that he worried something was wrong. Had she suddenly felt uncomfortable with him in her house? God, he hoped he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. “S’everything alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Y/N spoke softly as she seemed to snap out of whatever trance she had been in, “sorry.”

“What for?” Harry’s eyes seemed to search her own for the answer.

“I don’t know,” she smiled and shook her head. Her senses were suddenly overcrowded by what she assumed was his cologne—something between vanilla and ginger.

“Where can I change?” Harry asked as he looked behind her, towards the hallway she had come from.

“Uh,” Y/N shook her head once more, trying to regain her focus, “first door on the left.”

“Alright, thanks,” Harry smiled as his finger tips went to brush at her hand. The simple touch seemed to stay constant even when he passed her to retreat into the room she had instructed him to. She wondered if maybe he would just stay in her spare bedroom after changing into the pajamas she had provided. She padded into her kitchen to pour a glass of water as she looked out into the sea of yellow dots through her kitchen window. She had been slowly sipping on the liquid when she heard Harry approach her.

“Sleepy?” Harry asked as he lingered in the threshold separating the kitchen from the other rooms.

“Not really,” she lied.

+ + +

“Who’s Fabio?” Harry asked, pulling out another one of Y/N’s vinyls from the stand that also held her record player. Y/N had been laid out on the couch, her legs thrown up, over the side as she threw her head back to see what Harry had been talking about.

“That’s Antonio Solis, you boob,” Y/N gasped as she flipped over to her belly.

“Who’s he?” Harry scrunched his nose as he turned the record cover back around to take a better look.

“He’s, like, a totally famous artist,” Y/N explained, “well, he was in a really famous band—that’s them. The Bukis.”

“What does that mean in Spanish?” Harry asked, looking up from his place seated on top of a throw blanket Y/N had tossed to him so that he wouldn’t have to sit directly on her cold, hard wood floor.

“I don’t really know,” Y/N furrowed her brows, “I don’t know if it means anything, actually.”

“Are they any good?” Harry inquired, raising the record.

“They’re famous for a reason, Harry,” Y/N teased, “you can put it on, if you want.”

“What’s your favorite side?” Harry asked as he rose to his knees. They had first  listened to a man named Joao Gilberto who Y/N had marveled at him for not knowing. He was able to recognize one song as “that song they always play in the elevator,” which had caused Y/N to gasp out in horror before laughing out one of those laughs he had missed so much. The kind that wasn’t inhibited by self-consciousness or restraint. It was goofy, but so endearing, somehow. Then, Harry had recognized a Van Morrison album and had replaced the record. They had listened to a few more as Harry read out some of the record’s liner notes.

“B,” Y/N responded, resting her chin on her crossed arms before her. It still hadn’t set in as she watched Harry struggled to remove the previous record and replace it with the new one. The way his fingers moved did something for her. She wasn’t sure if it was the sight of his bigger hands doing something her smaller ones usually did or if it was the nice contrast of his sun kissed skin to his various colored rings on each of his knuckles. Y/N hated the other odd string of thoughts that ran through her mind. All she could think of was if she had been murdered a few months previously, investigators would not have found Harry Styles’ prints in her home... What in God’s name compelled her to think such morbid thoughts? She continued to watch as Harry released the needle and sat back on his heels, listening to the first few notes of a song she remembered from her childhood.

“Groovy,” Harry commented after a few lyrics passed before he started dancing, pretty goofily if Y/N had any say in it. He had struggled to push up to his full height as he started dancing towards Y/N reaching out his hands for her to grab. She hesitated, knowing full well how dancing with this little foolish boy would affect her once again. She couldn’t help herself, though, as behind her speculative gaze there was nothing but admiration. She had reached her hand out and had been pulled from her couch to dance around her living room quiet sloppily.

“What are they saying?” Harry asked as he went to turn her.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as the two continued to listen to the song.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Eh... he’s saying how he fell in love with someone while they were dancing,” Y/N shook her head, “as much as it may seem, I’m not trying to say anything, here.”

“Shame,” Harry raised his brows before he suddenly stopped dancing with Y/N. She was left standing in the middle of her living room as she watched Harry walk over to kneel before her record player. His hands had stopped the record and taken it from the record player.

“What?” Y/N asked, furrowing her brows as she set her fists on her hips.

“S’nothing,” Harry shook his head.

“Yeah?” Y/N pressed.

“S’really nothing,” Harry sighed.

A few awkward moments passed between the two before Harry turned to peer over at Y/N, 

“Why’d you chat me up all those months ago just to go plant one on somebody else on an Instagram story?” Harry asked, the hurt showing on his somber expression.

“What?” Y/N huffed in disbelief. He must have been out of his wits drunk.

“So you’re denying it?” Harry narrowed his eyes at Y/N.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N offered, “when did this happen?”

“At that one wedding,” Harry explained. It took Y/N a moment before she remembered what Harry had perceived to be a risky moment between her and a young man.

“Are you talking about Alex?” Y/N couldn’t help the laughter that came with such a question.

“I... I don’t know. He was tall and you were dancing, and he,” Harry started before Y/N shook her head at him.

“He’s a very good friend,” Y/N stated, “nothing more.”

“Hm,” Harry still did not look convinced.

“He’s also finds men very attractive,” Y/N added.

“Ah,” Harry’s features showed his embarrassment as his tone turned slightly red, “I feel very foolish, all of a sudden.”

“Jumping to conclusions’ll do that to you,” Y/N shrugged before a pillow was thrown her way.

“You hurt my damn feelings,” Harry laughed as his hands went to cover his face.

“Why?” Y/N huffed to which Harry raised his head to look at her in bewilderment.

“I knew it,” Harry gaped.

“What?” Y/N’s brows pinched together.

“You’re an alien from Mars,” Harry nodded.

“What?” Y/N scrunched her nose at him.

“You act as if nobody has ever taken an interest in you,” Harry shook his head in bewilderment at Y/N.

“Oh, God. Well, I’m not very good at these things; if you haven’t noticed. I tend to read things wrong and make too much of things, and overcomplicate them, and then things inevitably get awkward,” Y/N suddenly stopped speaking, “I’m rambling... sorry... I’m sorry I made you feel so badly.”

“Me, too,” Harry voiced and it wasn't long before Y/N got up to pad over to where Harry had been sat to kneel in front of him. Her hands showed hesitation before they went to grab a hold of either side of his face and he couldn’t help but melt into her touch.

“Hi,” she almost seemed to whisper, her teeth going to bite at her bottom lip as she smiled at him.

“Hi,” he lowly responded, sleepily smiling back at her. Being at this proximity, Harry thought her eyes seemed to go on forever. There was a little glint to them, and he swore some film director out there somewhere was looking for someone with eyes half as breathtaking as hers.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N repeated but Harry could only shrug his shoulders in response as the scent of her perfume wafting through his nostrils. God, she smelled so nice.

“Would you mind terribly if I did something?” She continued to speak softly.

“Hey,” Harry pouted, “s’my line.”

Y/N’s smile deepened before Harry pushed forward to kiss her lips. Harry couldn’t help it as his arms went to encircle her torso, her elbows going to rest on his shoulders. Harry thought his heart would come up into her mouth, it was beating so hard and so fast. If it weren’t so creepy, he wanted so badly to open his eyes to see her in that exact moment—to see if she was just as in love with kissing his lips as he was with hers. He wanted her closer but didn’t know how to ask for more contact. With others, it had all come so naturally. With Y/N... well, she was different. All of a sudden, he didn’t want to rush things and he didn’t know how much he could take of her soft lips caressing his own.

“D’ya want this?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. All Y/N did was hum a response and Harry moved his head so that Y/N could nip down the side of his neck, sending chills down his entire being.

“Baby,” Harry mumbled into Y/N’s hair as he forced his eyes open, kissing the side of her head, “answer me?”

“What?” Y/N hesitantly pulled away.

“I mean,” Harry puffed out a sigh, “is this... are we going too fast?”

“Too fast?” Y/N’s brows raised out of confusion.

“Yeah,” Harry trailed as he tried to read her emotion.

“Uh,” Y/N laughed, “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you... or anything.”

“No,” Harry fervently shook his head as he went to rub at her bare arm, “just don’t wanna rush things.”

“I don’t,” Y/N seemed to cut off her own train of thought, “I’m sorry; if you don’t want me, that’s... fine.”

“No, I,” Harry quickly shook his head as Y/N sat on her heels, “of course I want you. I just... I don’t want... I... I tend to... rush things or... I start things too intimate at first and then a relationship follows... but you’re... I don’t know. I don’t want to start like that... at least not with you... I just... I really like you. And... I don’t wanna mess it up... You know?”

Y/N seemed to be trying to figure out whether or not she believed Harry.

“This is usually the part where,” Harry grinned after audibly gulping, “you tell me if you like me... too?”

Traces of a smile grew upon her features before she rolled her eyes, ”I mean, don’t let it go to your head.”

“I will let it go to my head,” Harry smiled as he leaned forward on his hands to extend his neck for her to kiss him, “I can feel my head expanding with it, now.”

“Harry,” Y/N pouted as her hands went to caress each side of his head.

“Y/N,” Harry reciprocated her tone.

“I kinda want to rush things,” Y/N scrunched up her nose.

“Yeah?” Harry seemed to tease, flashing another one of those grins where Y/N couldn’t discern sleep or want.

All Y/N could do was nod before pressing her lips on Harry’s, his tongue going to prod between her lips. His mouth was pleasantly warm for her. It wasn’t long before Y/N ended up on her back, Harry’s presence overwhelming her on the rug in the middle of her living room floor.

“Taste so sweet,” Harry mumbled in between Y/N’s kisses. Y/N only hummed as her fingers went to comb through the hair at the back of his neck.

“A date,” he suddenly pulled away as he looked down at Y/N’s eyelids as she recovered from the loss of contact.

“What?” She furrowed her brows.

“I want a real first date before we go any further,” Harry stated.

“Are you serious?” Y/N furrowed her brows up at him.

“Those are my terms,” Harry nodded, kissing Y/N’s nose in the process, “take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

+ + +

“How’d I look?” Y/N asked as her hands went to run over her legs once more, smoothing out the fabric of the dress Harry had sneakily watched her wiggle into earlier that afternoon from her bedroom.

“Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular,” Harry and Y/N both shared a fit of laughter, Y/N’s hand going to cover Harry’s larger one before he went to grasp at her fidgeting hands, “no, you look great, you look great. More importantly, how’d I look? I’m the one meeting your friends and family as a first date.”

“You’ve never looked bad a day in your life,” Y/N rolled her eyes as she shifted her weight onto the foot further away from Harry. The two hadn’t had much time to schedule a first date since that night the two shared in Y/N’s home. Their schedules just hadn’t matched up and Y/N decided to suggest the night of her next big soiree as a first date. Harry was reluctant; stating how much he had been wanting to “wine and dine” Y/N. The two both understood how needy the other was for intimate contact, however, and had agreed on the event as a sort of first date.

“Really know how to stroke a boy’s ego,” Harry smiled as he couldn’t help but drape his arms around Y/N’s waist. Harry liked the amount of skin that had been on display. It was a little more than he was used to and he hoped Y/N had done it with intent—with him in mind.

“Are you sure this looks okay? It’s not too tight around my butt?” Y/N craned her neck in attempt to peep a glance at her backside.

“Oh, it looks just fine,” Harry teased as his hands had slipped a little to rest hazardously above the asset they were discussing. 

“Oof, m’shaking in me knickers,” Y/N laughed as she went to peck at Harry’s lips, Harry catching another just as she leaned away at the call of her name.

“Y/N, if you’re done trying to taste your boyfriend’s stomach, Odie’s here,” Jamie called out, a grin pulling at the corners of her lips that had been painted a deep shade of purple as she looked ahead at the sight of Harry’s back and Y/N stood in front of him.

“Oh, uh,” Y/N was going to correct Jamie but was suddenly stopped at the surprising sensation of Harry’s hands squeezing her bum before patting it and rising from his seat.

“Yes, how is the old chap?” Harry wondered aloud, grabbing a hold of Y/N’s hand to lead her out of their nook, as if nothing had happened. The pair had snuck into the kitchen to greet the cook. It hadn’t been long that the two had been chatting with the elder that Harry had to excuse himself to take care of the spilled soup stain on his button up he had caused while trying to slurp Odie’s dish when he barked at someone to find them a spoon. Y/N had stayed behind, scorning Odie for his temper when the two were interrupted.

“Baby,” Greta called, and Y/N immediately recognized the voice.

“Mami!” Y/N beamed as she left Odie’s side to go envelop her mother in an embrace. “You made it!”

“Of course; I told you I would, mamas,” came Y/N’s mother’s response.

“I know,” Y/N pulled away to get a better look at her mother, “but I feel like something always comes up.”

“Well, not this time around,” Greta shook her head as her hands went to push her daughter’s hair off her shoulder, “so... where’s the new boyfriend?”

“Oh my gosh,” Y/N’s eyes seemed to pop out of her head, they bulged so much, “you cannot call him that.”

“Why not?” Y/N’s mother scrunched her nose the same way her daughter would when she was confused.

“Because we haven’t had that talk, yet,” Y/N explained.

“Odie,” Y/N’s mother furrowed her brows over to the cook her daughter had created an odd friendship with.

“I’m already planning the wedding cake, Mami,” Odie grinned.

“I can’t with you two,” Y/N laughed, shaking her head as her hand slipped to intertwine her fingers with her mother’s, “come meet him?”

“Honey, that’s a big part of why I’m here,” Greta responded, “if he thinks I’m gonna take it easy on him just because he’s a big Hollywood star, he’s got another thing coming. You are my most precious thing in this world and-”

“Mom,” Y/N laughed as she squeezed her mother’s hand, “it doesn’t have to be this serious. I don’t even know if this is going to be a long term thing. I just... we haven’t gotten to spend a lot of time together lately and he was willing to come tonight, despite having to meet my family... Can you just... be nice to him? I really like him.”

“You deserve more than you understand, mija,” Greta went to cup her daughter’s cheek, “but, fine, yes. I’ll be nice... but not too nice.”

“Oh my goodness. Odie, nos veremos?” Y/N turned to Odie, signaling their departure.

“Sim, meus amores. Go, enjoy,” Odie nodded before turning back to his kitchen, “onde está aquela colher maldita?”

They had looked in the all the different rooms of the gathering, but it took an unusually long time to find the male. When they did, Y/N and Greta could not help the laughter that ensued. In the middle of the dance floor, Harry seemed to be having the time of his life dancing with one of the elders in Y/N’s family. She was a distant aunt—twice removed or something along those lines. She was a short, little thing standing at about four feet and eleven inches. It was quite comical, the foot height difference between the two as the elder seemed to lead Harry in a few turns here and there.

“Mira tu novio, hija,” Elena called out to Y/N once she noticed her laughing off to the side, “sabe bailar.”

Harry furrowed his brows as he looked back to Y/N to see what the older woman had said.

“She says you know how to dance,” Y/N translated over the music, the end of her laughter ending in a few huffs before Harry’s gaze shifted to the woman that stood next to her. Y/N watched as he neared his lips to the elder’s ear before Elena smiled and nodded, patting his back before she urged him towards Y/N and her mother.

“Sorry,” Harry laughed as he approached the two, Elena on his arm.

“Tan amable, Y/N,” Elena gushed up at Harry, “me miro bailando sola y me invito a bailar.”

Harry’s features contorted as he glanced at Y/N for translation. All Y/N could do is pout her bottom lip at the thought of Harry asking her lone aunt to dance.

“What a gentleman,” Greta raised her brows as Elena parted from the group, giving Harry a little squeeze before excusing herself, “s’nice to meet you, Harry.”

“I would say it was nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Y/L/N, but that couldn’t be true, right? Look too young to be this one’s mum,” Harry nodded as he went to cup Y/N’s mothers palm between his own.

“Oh, my God,” Greta let out a giggle that Y/N couldn’t help but furrow her eyebrows. Y/N couldn’t believe how her mother had already started falling under Harry’s spell.

“Honestly, are you her sister?” Harry continued.

“No,” she chortled, shaking her head, “I’m the mom.”

The mom? Her mother had graduated top of her class both in high school and after completing her master’s degree... What kind of response was that? Y/N crossed her arms as she watched her mother giggle like a school girl.

“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” Harry shrugged before he went on to flatter the older woman. It wasn’t long before Harry had noticed Greta’s toe tapping to the beat of the music playing behind them and had offered his hand to take her out to dance.

“You’ll have to teach me how to dance this,” Harry explained as he glanced at Y/N, “your daughter tried showing me, but I’ve got two left feet.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Greta shook her head as she rolled her eyes at her daughter, “besides, she’s not as nice a teacher as I am.”

“What was that, mom?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, grinning at the two before her mother turned to laugh at her.

“Nothing!” Y/N’s mother snickered as Harry went to twirl the woman.

Harry had spent the better half of the evening endearing Y/N’s friends and family—her mother especially. Greta had fallen in love with the young male. She went around doting on him like she would a son. After failing to get her daughter to fix Harry a plate, she took it upon herself to retrieve food from the kitchen for him. Since then, Y/N had felt pretty unessential. It was a different feeling, to sit back and watch someone she had started developing such serious emotions for go around and enchanting the people she was so close to. She couldn’t quite pin the feeling, at first. Pretty soon, though, she felt pathetic for feeling such a way. It was odd to feel jealous of the time her loved ones had monopolized with Harry. She had blamed it on the fact that she had entered the party thinking it would be a traditional one on one date with Harry—the one he had requested to begin with. Perhaps this was why he had been hesitant to count such a gathering as a first date.

In any event, Y/N had decided it wouldn’t be such a good look for Harry to look over from the little crowd of her relations he had attracted to see her pouting at a nearby table. She had removed herself from pouting in the corner and had treaded up the stairs to step into the night San Franciscan air. She normally wasn’t like this at one of her parties. A prior longtime boyfriend had frequented these events and they never had this problem. He would sit, drink, and smoke with his group of invited friends while Y/N would habitat the dance floor with a constant group of individuals. He would usually go home earlier than she would, but they would always end up sleeping next to one another at the end of the night. She never felt jealousy towards his friends for occupying his time... She wondered why it was so different with Harry. Sure, it was a different relationship (if you could call it that) with a different person; but she didn’t think that should change the way she felt about him spending time with her people.

“Hey,” a voice from behind Y/N’s seated body had frightened her as she quickly turned to see Harry’s head poking out from the door that led to the stairwell, “what’re you doin’ up here? It’s freezing.”

“Oh, uh,” Y/N smiled as she turned back to the scene she had been staring at, “watching lights.”

“The main character, are we?” Harry teased, frowning when Y/N didn’t laugh. It had been something she liked to use as a punchline so many times before and once he had started using the phrase, she always seemed to get a big kick out of the phrase. He wasn’t sure why it had tickled her fancy so much—something about hearing him specifically saying it, she had once said.

“You feeling okay?” Harry gently inquired as his hands went to rub at Y/N’s tense neck before being shrugged off by Y/N.

“Yeah,” she replied, still not looking up from staring out in front of her.

“Okay,” Harry sighed as his fingers went to bunch up the fabric of his pants before he sat down, “that’s a lie... C’mon, what’s wrong? Tired?”

“No,” she shook her head before tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Okay,” Harry went to look at the city lights, “have I done something to offend you? Something I said?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Stop that,” Harry nudged her lip. It had been a conversation they had just had—Y/N pleading with him to help her stop her bad habit of picking at her lips with her teeth, “look, I’m no mind reader but I know there’s something bothering you... We were having such a lovely time...”

“You spent all night charming everybody’s pants off,” Y/N softly stated.

“And?” Harry shook his head, starting to become a little frustrated. He had never tried so hard to read her mind before... or anyone else’s, for that matter. There was a long pause between them before Harry’s elbow nudged Y/N’s side.

“Do you not want me? I mean, shouldn’t you be trying to charm my pants off?” Y/N huffed. Harry huffed out a breath before he shook his head, staring straight ahead. 

“What?” Y/N asked.

“Baby,” Harry huffed as he turned to face Y/N, his hands reaching out to snake under Y/N’s chin so they could gently grasp the sides of her neck, his thumbs going to push her hair from her face.

“What?” Y/N shook her head as he looked at her under those lashes she had come to be so fond of.

“I couldn’t want you any more than you could possibly know tonight,” Harry replied before his lips were on her and it seemed like a ton of bricks were lifted from Y/N’s shoulders. Harry got chills as he still hadn’t gotten used to how soft her lips were against his own. She tasted like the bubble gum she had been chewing earlier, and he wondered if there would ever be a time when he would tire of the smell of her perfume. Y/N’s hands warmed Harry’s cheeks as he helped hoist her from her seated position next to him so that she could straddle his thighs a little more comfortably. Previous times her lips had met Harry’s were tender and their almost languid. This time was a little different—it was needier and the way Harry rubbed up and down Y/N’s arms had given her goosebumps. His larger hands had slipped down to rub at the bare thighs that had poked out from her bunched up dress. She couldn't help but shiver as the harsh callouses of his fingertips ghosted up and down her skin.

“Looked so good all night, baby,” Harry mumbled between kisses, “d’you wear the tightest dress you could find on purpose? Hm? ... And how’d you know my favorite color on you was blue?”

All he got in response was a little murmur he couldn't quite make out, but he didn’t mind. He liked how she licked at his mouth too much to get huffy puffy over a response that never came. Things had escalated pretty quickly from there—he could soon feel the heat of her where he wanted her the most and he didn’t know how much he could take of their clothing being in the way. There had been one or two purposeful movements of Y/N’s hips before Harry felt Y/N’s hands start to trail between them.

“What’re you doing?” Harry feigned ignorance as Y/N could feel the smile on his lips growing. All Y/N could do was whine at his statement before Harry’s hands had to stop her own.

“As pretty as you look on me out here, can’t do this out here,” Harry shook his head as his thumb went to brush some of Y/N’s hair from between her lips before he couldn’t help but run his thumb over her lips, “least not the first time.”

“Buzzkill,” Y/N frowned before her lips opened to allow Harry’s thumb to lay on her tongue before she briskly sucked on his thumb.

“What would you say to leavin’ the party a little early,” Harry voiced as he felt Y/N’s tongue on his thumb.

“Yes, please,” came Y/N’s muffled response before Harry pulled his thumb from Y/N’s mouth.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes, then,” Harry cooed at Y/N before pressing a kiss to her nose and helping her dismount his lap.

+ + +

[A/N: For all my Latinx Harries out there. I have been working on this since about the very ending of last year and so many things in this blurb have manifested (e.g. Harry + Florence Pugh + Chris Pine working together; people knitting A LOT in lock down). I’m convinced I’m psychic. I hope you are all doing well/safe. Please, remember to wear your masks, socially distance, and treat people w/ kindness. :)}

#harry styles #harry #styles #imagine #harry imagine #harry styles imagine #blurb #writing #harry writing #latinx #latin #harry styles writing

[ohsnapcracklepopfriends]

To be named GGMU fic: Part three - Drunk Mancs and Karaoke Don't Mix

After way too long, I'm back with another instalment of my GGMU fic (three parts down, four to go). Sorry, it took so long, life has been insanely hectic. I just wrote this in an hour of power writing, I hope you like it. Part one and part two if you haven't read them <3

Christmas parties at Sky were generally a disaster. Not only did they usually involve a room full of people all too competitive for their own good, there was usually the presence of both alcohol and cell phones which were a dangerous combination. All of this was worse to witness sober. Jamie had made the terrible decision of being the designated driver. Gary had one rule that he’d made clear to Jamie when they first started going out together: do not put drunk Gary in a cab. Gary’s a handsy drunk with zero self-control. They both know sitting in the back of a cab with drunk Gary was a recipe for a traumatized cabbie and a couple of disastrous news articles in the morning. So Jamie had agreed to drive, and that was fine. He was fine with it, truly. Jamie watched as Gary danced around in the bar they had rented out, jumping around freely while Graeme looked on with his disapproving grimace. Jamie wished he could be dancing with him, blaming it on the alcohol.

Jamie took a sip of his apple juice--which was fucking good, okay? Back off. He swished it around in his mouth, pretending it was something stronger. He swallowed and looked up. Gary was still jumping around without a care in the world. Jamie could tell he was really drunk. Gary was a total lightweight and he’d probably had about four beers to get to this point. Jamie chuckled to himself, thinking back to the nights they’d shared together when they first started dating. They’d spent quite a few nights on the floor of Gary’s living room with a bottle of wine and a bag of crisps. Jamie treasured those nights. He treasured the moments where Gary was buzzing and less scared of his emotions, letting them just enjoy their time together without Gary’s mind spinning.

Gary looked in Jamie’s direction. His face lit up when he saw Jamie leaning against the counter. He scrambled over until he stood right up against Jamie’s shoes.

“Did you see Redders?” Gary asked in a rush. Jamie laughed at the big goofy smile on his lips. He did, in fact, see Redders. Redders had taken to the small stage in the corner after his third pint. He’d been singing away at the top of his lungs--very poorly, Jamie might add--for the past hour or so.

“I want to sing, James. Come sing with me.” He tugged at Jamie’s arm. Jamie had fallen for this trap before. Last year he’d made the mistake of joining Gary for some drunk karaoke and ended up trending on Twitter. Jamie was not a singer for a reason.

“I’m sure Redders will sing with you” Jamie offered. Gary pouted. Gary was one of those people who were easy to imagine as a child. He could see a younger Gary in the way he acted when he was tired, grumpy, stubborn, and bleary-eyed. He could see a younger Gary in the way he giggled at Jamie’s jokes. He could see a younger Gary in the way he pouted during times like this, trying to sway Jamie to agree with him. It worked more than Jamie liked to admit.

“I’ll come and watch you?” Jamie tried to bargain again. Gary nodded this time and dragged Jamie towards the stage. Jamie happily let himself be pulled along. Gary’s hand was warm and sweaty where it was clutching at Jamie’s, but Jamie didn’t mind. After playing football for that long, he couldn’t be bothered by sweat anymore. After one testimonial match, Jamie found he actually liked Gary sweaty: he liked to lick beads of sweat off of Gary’s furrowed brows and watch him shutter--but that’s a story for another time.

Jamie wished they could stay like this, Gary holding his hand tightly, tugging insistently on it every few seconds, but all too soon, they found themselves at the stage. Gary dropped his hand and hopped up onto the small, wooden platform. Redders was still on the stage, red-faced and (poorly) belting the ending to Tainted Love. The stage was so small that the two men took up most of the space. Gary reached behind Redders to grab the second microphone. He grabbed Redders by the shoulder and whispered in his ear. Redders’ amused smile made Jamie nervous: what the hell did this drunk idiot have in mind?

Redders jumped off the stage with far too much grace for someone as injury prone and drunk as Jamie knew he was. He ran over to the karaoke machine and picked their song before scurrying back onto the stage to join Gary. Jamie was confused when the guitar started and he couldn’t place it.

“I got chills--” Redders started to sing and realization set into Jamie’s mind. Oh dear god, he thought, they’re doing Grease. “--It’s electrifying!” Jamie groaned. He couldn’t help himself. There was no way this wouldn’t somehow end up on Twitter. He knew sober Gary would not find this nearly as funny if it made headlines. Jamie started scanning the crowd for people with their phones out. Thankfully, most people had either gone home or were drowning themselves at the bar, after all, what was free booze for? Jamie noticed Geoff filming out of the corner of his eye. He practically ran over to him.

“You better shape up!” Gary starting singing now. He was by no means an angel, if Jamie was honest he was pretty fucking terrible. But like everything Gary did, he sang with a fiery passion and excitement that just made it utterly endearing. Jamie loved it when Gary sang.

“Give me that,” Jamie grabbed Geoff’s phone from his hands, which was pretty easy considering how sloshed he was. He barely even protested as Jamie deleted the videos and shut off his phone because Jamie was smart and knew Geoff was too far gone to figure out how to turn it back on.

“--tooooooo my heart I must be trueeeeeeee,” Gary was dancing around on the stage and Jamie couldn’t help but take a moment to stop worrying and just admire the carefree smile of his boyfriend, so blissfully happy as he made a fool out of himself in front of all of their colleagues. Jamie noticed that Gary was staring at him. Gary then brought his hand up to point directly at him.

“You’re the one that I want! Oh! Oh! Oh! Jamie!” Oh no. Oh no. This was a complete disaster. Jamie couldn’t stop himself, he jumped up on the stage. The limited space meant he had to stand pressed against Gary. Gary just smiled up at him and shoved his microphone up to Jamie’s lips. And as much as he hated it, Jamie could never deny him anything.

“Oh yes indeed,” Jamie half-sang, half spoke. It was awkward and hard to listen to even to his own ears, but Gary beamed at him and Jamie felt a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

And then he remembered why he got up here in the first place: not to sing, not to smile at Gary like a big, lovesick dork--no, he was here to put an end to this. He was here to take Gary home safely before any further disaster could strike just like he’d promised.

“If you’re filled with affection--” Redders started to sing again. Jamie used this opportunity to make their escape. He pried the microphone from Gary’s hands before placing it gently on the stage. He put his arm around Gary’s middle and firmly led him off the stage.

“Where are we going?” Gary asked. He was looking up at Jamie from where he was tucked against Jamie’s side. Jamie knew it was probably too intimate a position for them to hold in public but he found he was too exhausted to care.

“We’re going home, love,” Jamie said softly against Gary’s ear. Gary gave him a wicked grin and started to worm his fingers under Jamie’s jacket. Jamie pushed his arm away holding it against Gary’s side. This was not the time or place.

“You’re going to make me wait for it?” Gary asked. “That’s okay. It’ll be better when you fuck me later. I’ll be so ready. I’ll be begging for you.” Jamie let out a long breath. Fuck. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, they were out of the bar, walking down the street towards Jamie’s car. On the bright side, no one was close enough to hear Gary being far too drunk to care that he’s being far too loud. However, anyone could be on the street: reporters, idiots with cameras, though now Jamie is realizing that those are kind of the same thing. Jamie’s kidding, of course. He guessed he was kind of a journalist himself now. He generally thought of journalists as no-life drama vultures for the Daily Mail or worse The S*n.

Jamie was pretty used to wrangling drunk Gary into vehicles against his will, but this time was different. Gary was usually uncooperative just for the sake of being uncooperative. This trait just worsened after a few pints. That night Gary was shockingly content, though. He wasn’t argumentative or difficult, he was sweet and happy. He leaned into Jamie’s side on their walk and looked up at him like he just signed Messi for Man United (which Jamie couldn’t do obviously, and even if he could, he wouldn’t). When it came time to get into Jamie’s car, Gary went without complaint, let alone their usual wrestling match. Jamie was honestly getting kind of worried.

“Are you high?” He asked as he put the car in reverse. Jamie had never known Gary to smoke but he figured it was a possible explanation for his strange behaviour. Gary hummed in confusion.

“What?” He asked. Gary’s face was smushed against the passenger window, fogging up the glass with every breath.

“Are you okay?” Jamie rephrased his question for Gary’s scrambled brain, “you seem weird.”

“I’m not weird, James,” he said, his words even more drawn out than usual, “I’m happy.” He started humming something under his breath but it was so quiet that Jamie could not make it out over the engine. “Singing makes me happy, Jamie,” Gary said and Jamie knew. Gary was generally not as public of a singer as he had been that night, but he always loved singing. He sang in the shower, something that Jamie found entirely endearing. Jamie loved waking up in the morning to the sound of water and Gary’s slow voice. Jamie remembered Gary doing karaoke all the way back in their England days. He and Crouchy were always the most enthusiastic, though Jamie would never have guessed that until he saw it with his own eyes.

“I know,” Jamie said, “it makes me happy, too.” It was probably a little too honest but Jamie knew Gary wouldn’t notice. Even if he did notice, he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

“Do you want me to sing to you?” And yet again, Jamie just couldn’t say no to Gary. Jamie expected more of what he’d heard at the pub: some eighties songs, maybe an NSYNC song or two (Redders loved NSYNC). He didn’t expect Gary to start happily singing Glory Glory Man United in his fucking car.

“Gary, what the hell?” Jamie protested but Gary just shushed him and kept singing. Jamie could hear his feet tapping against the mat of the car. And right when Jamie was about to smack Gary in the head, he realized something: Gary was drunk. Now obviously it didn’t take a genius to figure that out: he’d been steadily drinking since the party began and you could see the drunkenness in his red, flushed ears. But Jamie realized that Gary’s drunk brain was prone to forgetting basic, fundamental information. Like, for example, that Jamie was a Scouser.

Jamie figured that in Gary’s drunk brain, he wanted to sing a song to make Jamie happy. But like he’d forgotten that Tracey played netball on New Year the year before or that he was a right-back on one especially wild Wednesday night, he had forgotten that the song that brought his manc heart so much joy, did not spark the same happy memories for his boyfriend. He wasn’t trying to get on Jamie’s nerves and that knowledge comforted Jamie enough not to reach over and strangle him. So Jamie just let him sing and quietly suffered as he drove along. He tried to tamp down the simmering irritation the song automatically sparked in the pit of his stomach.

Mercifully for Jamie, Gary drifted off in the passenger’s seat less than ten minutes into their drive. Jamie instead drove the rest of the way to the sound of Gary’s loud snores.

#carraville #jamie carragher #gary neville #my fic

[etoileholland]

wrapped in red | chapter 1; oh holy night, I’m alone tonight

Tom Holland x reader series

summary; two Christmases ago, while you were working your usual seasonal job at a holiday gift wrapping shop, Tom came rushing in at the last second to have some last minute presents wrapped. As time went on, he quickly became enchanted by you, and was soon wrapped up in your life, and you his. However, things would take a turn for the worst when someone from your past emerges, causing your relationship to unravel. Could it be salvaged, or was this romance destined to live in Christmas past?

this story will contain; fluff, with some angst sprinkled in

warnings for this chapter; none

word count; 3.2k

a/n; here it is! I’m beyond excited for this series to debut, I’ve poured a lot out into this series as a whole so I really hope you enjoy ❤ if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming chapters please let me know!

Christmas: a day that’s usually associated with love, cheer, and magic. A day that’s loved by many people all around the world, a day that brings people together, a day wrapped with hope.

Christmas used to be one of your least favourite holidays, until very recently, that is. For you, Christmas was filled with awkward and tense family dinners, with loneliness, underlying anger, and hopelessness.

Until one unsuspecting Christmas, two years ago.

//Two year ago//

You were working your seasonal job at a gift wrapping shop on Oxford Street. It was a fairly easy job, with little to no stress. That is, except for the occasional client who would complain about the prices. Other than that, it was a pretty nice job. The hours were flexible, and your boss allowed you to do coursework when there were no customers in the shop, which was nice since you were in your second year of university.

Today was Christmas, and just like last Christmas, you were working alone tonight. It was fairly slow today, with only the occasional last minute shopper popping in since everyone was at home celebrating with their loved ones. And since you were the only person who didn’t have a family, you had to work. It’s pretty depressing when you sit and think about it, but it’s true, you didn’t have a family like your boss and coworkers do.

You only had about ten minutes left until closing time, so to pass the time, and to take your mind off the fact that you were completely and utterly alone, you were sitting at your workstation, reading your favourite book. You were so engrossed in your make believe world when you heard the bell above the door ring, signaling that a customer had entered the store.

Sitting up in your seat, you closed your book and pushed it to the side. You looked up to see a boy rush in, a boy that seemed around your age. His cheeks were slightly frostbitten, and there were small snowflakes sprinkled on his hair. He was carrying a tall brown paper bag in one hand, his phone in the other. He knocked the snow off his shoes on the doormat, and when he was finished, swiftly walked over to you. When your eyes met, he gave you a small yet rushed smile. 

“Hi,” he let out an exhale, shaking the rest of the snow off his coat, “Is it too late for me to have a few things wrapped?” He set the bag on the counter carefully. “I just got off a flight back here from Spain and I bought these presents before the flight since it was laid over, but I was in such a rush I forgot to buy wrapping paper and no one else is open to wrap gifts and I’m under a tight time constraint.” He spoke so quickly that he was out of breath, his face turning redder by the second. “Can you please help me?” He looked at you with pleading eyes, and a small quiver in his voice. You could tell that it seemed he was on the verge of tears, “Please?”

Sliding the bag closer to you, so that you could peer inside, you mentally counted how many items needed to be wrapped. There seemed to be around ten things inside the bag, which would take some time, but it could be done. You looked up at the boy, who was looking back at you with pleading eyes.

“Of course I can help you, that’s what I’m here for.” You smiled at the boy, and a smile beamed across his face.

“Really?” He asked, “it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you?”

You shook your head. “No, I promise not at all.” Taking the gifts out of the bag, you carefully laid them all out on the counter. There was something that was wrapped in a leather casing, two matching knitted jumpers, a book of piano sheet music, a cookbook, a small jumper that was either for a small child or a dog, a pair of AirPods, and lastly a vintage camera. He seemed to have good taste in gifts, for each item seemed handpicked, even though he said he was in a rush when he bought them.

“Not to pressure you,” he spoke up quietly, “but about how long do you think it’ll take you to wrap those?”

You pondered his question for a second, taking into account the multiple items he brought in. “So, this may take a little bit of time, maybe about 30 minutes?” You estimated, and judging from his facial expression, he seemed happy with the time frame.

“That’s fantastic, now as long as the London traffic isn’t too bad then I should make it home in plenty of time.”

You quickly glanced up at the clock on the wall, the time being five minutes after five. “By the time I’m done, I think you’ll have just missed the rush hour, so you should be good.”

“Thank you.” He flashed a quick smile at you. “And what time do you close?”

We already did, you thought to yourself. Since you didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was keeping you late, you instead said, “at 6, so don’t worry.” You gave him a reassuring, and hopefully, a convincing smile. When he smiled back, you knew that he believed you. Getting out of your chair and pointing to the wall that was lined with various gift wrap, you asked him which colours he would like.

“Red and gold, please.” He pointed to the crimson red colour, and the gold foiled paper. “Those two right there are my favourites.” Tearing off large sheets of paper, and grabbing a few varying sizes to accommodate each gift, you walked back over to your table, laying out the pieces of gift wrap.

“Do you have a preference for which gifts to be wrapped in a certain colour?” You asked, to which he nodded his head no.

Picking a piece at random to wrap first, you grabbed the gift that looked the most intriguing to you. It was a thin leather case, with two things etched into the leather, the word “Omega” and the numbers “007”. The case was heavier than it looked, and by the looks of it, seemed quite expensive. “It’s a watch.” He spoke up, “it’s for my mate Harrison. He loves James Bond, and watches, so when I heard that Omega released a limited edition James Bond collection, I knew I had to buy him one.” He held out his hand, palm faced up. Realising that he wanted you to hand it back to him, you placed it gently in his hands. You watched him open the leather bound case carefully, and you gasped when you saw the watch. It must’ve cost him a fortune, you thought. 

“I picked the watch that was designed after the one that James Bond wore in ‘No Time to Die’, since Harrison pointed out how cool the watch looked when he watched the film.” He closed the case, and handed it back to you so that you could wrap it. “I hope he’ll love it.” The boy added.

“He’ll definitely love it, I don’t see why he wouldn't.” You grabbed a piece of the gold gift wrap, and placed the gift on top of it. “The gold will go best with this, and it’ll also go with the theme, you know, like maybe an homage to the film ‘Goldfinger’.” As you wrapped the gift, you saw that Tom was watching your movements. He almost seemed entranced watching you wrap the gift up, his eyes wide. Even though your reference wasn’t totally correct, he half smiled anyway.

“I just realised, I completely forgot to get your name.” He looked up at your face, his brown eyes meeting yours. “I’m Tom.”

“Y/N.” You answered, giving him a small smile before resuming wrapping the gift. After a minute, the present was perfectly wrapped.

“Would you like a bow on it?” You asked, and Tom nodded his head yes.

“Yes please,” you reached underneath your workstation and pulled out a box of assorted ribbons.

“What colour?”

“Red for the gold packages, and gold ribbon for the red packages please.”

“Okay.” You held up a spool of velvet red ribbon, and he nodded his head in approval. You cut off a piece and wrapped it around the present, and finished it off with a bow.

“It’s beautiful, thank you Y/N.”

You looked up at Tom, who was beaming at you. “You’re welcome.”

The next gift you grabbed were the two matching jumpers that were folded loosely. Taking a second to fold them neater, you set them back on the table.

“Could you please wrap them in red paper?” He asked, and you hummed in agreement.

“Those are for my mum and dad, it’s been a tradition for me to buy them matching jumpers each year. It’s a funny story really.” He spoke, letting out a small laugh. “One year, I didn’t know what to get them, and the store I bought them at had a buy one get one free sale, and since that was the only design they had I bought two of them.” He smiled as he spoke, reminiscing about the memory.

As you wrapped the gifts, he told you who each present was for, as if you were familiar with the people he was describing. In a way, you were getting to know who each person was, the people who were near to his heart, without having met them. Hearing these stories made you feel close to Tom, even though you had just met.

“I bought the AirPods for my mate Tuwaine because he always steals mine.”

“Sounds like something my friend would do.” You joked, making him laugh at the comment.

“The cookbook is for my little brother Sam, since he loves to cook.” Tom stated, “He makes a mean shepherd’s pie, you should try it one day.”

You listened to him speak and tell stories of the person’s whose gift you were wrapping. Listening to him talk about his family made you feel less alone about the fact that your family was away this Christmas, only god knows where. You didn’t care though, you haven’t seen them since you were ten anyway.

“Can I try?” He asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was pointing to the red paper that was laying on the table. Pushing the gift wrap towards him, you watched as he wrapped, well more like attempted to wrap a present.

“It’s bloody awful, innut?” He asked, laughing while doing so. To put it nicely, it looked like a five year old did it, but it wasn’t the worst you’ve seen.

“I think it looks cute.” You said, “it’s the thought that counts.”

“You’re too nice.” He placed the present next to the other ones that you had perfectly wrapped. “Thank goodness I’m not the one working here, otherwise people would hate me and would demand a refund.”

“You’re just being too hard on yourself, it looks alright. Although it takes a lot of practice to get this good.” You playfully boasted, ending the sentence with a wink.

“Have you been doing this a long time?” He tilted his head up to look at you, and when his brown eyes met yours, you almost forgot what he has just asked you.

“Um, this is my second year doing this, but last year this location was in a mall, instead of here.”

“Ah, I see.” He answered softly. You were nearly done with wrapping his presents, and although you had just met this boy, you didn’t want this to end. Sure, he was keeping you late, but it’s not like you had somewhere else to be. You were intentionally wrapping the presents just a little bit slower than you usually do, not too much as to keep him later than he wanted to, but just enough to talk to him a little bit longer than you would’ve normally.

“That’s a vintage Polaroid camera.” Tom spoke up, pointing to the only present that was unwrapped. “My little brother Harry, who’s Sam’s twin by the way, loves photography. He’s been going on for ages saying that he wants this exact camera.”

You listened to Tom as you wrapped the box carefully, mentally cherishing the last few minutes you’ll get to spend with Tom.

From the sights of it, Tom was a lot calmer now that he’s spent the hour talking to you. When he first came in, he was beyond flustered, and his gaze was fixed to the clock on the wall. Now, he hasn’t looked at the clock since he first came in, almost as if he doesn’t have anywhere pressing to be.

When you finally finished, it was 5:54pm. As you gently placed the gifts into the brown paper bag that Tom had originally brought the gifts in, you quickly glanced up to see Tom looking back at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Y/N, thank you so much for helping me out. Really, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” He placed his hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “And you finished in the nick of time, right before closing.”

Before you could stop yourself, your brows furrowed in confusion. You had forgot that you told him that you closed at 6 instead of 5, but you didn’t have to say anything, since your look of confusion gave you away.

“Don’t tell me, you were closed when I rushed in here.” He said remorsefully, as his hand played with one of the buttons on his coat. “Why didn’t you tell me I was keeping you late?”

You paused for a second to think of the best way to word what you wanted to say. “Well, I promise it wasn’t a problem. I don’t really have anywhere else to be anyway, and I could see just how badly you needed something good to happen today.” You shuffled over to where your jacket was hanging up, along with your bag. “I really wanted to help you out.”

Tom began to pull out his wallet when he asked, “how much will all this cost? I’m not very good at math, but looking at the prices-”

“It’s free.” You interjected.

“No, it’s not.” You watched as he pulled out a few £20 notes. “Would like 4 of these-”

You waved your hand in front of you. “Consider it my Christmas gift to you.”

“But-”

“Merry Christmas Tom.” You walked past him to close the shop up, closing the blinds and putting all the supplies away. When you finished, you carefully picked up the bag of Tom’s presents and handed it to him.

“You’re an angel, like my Christmas angel.” He stated. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, his pupils slightly dilated. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smiled softly at him. “It was no problem, now you should get going so you can be with your family.” You took a step over to the door, opening it for Tom and you to leave. The snow had let up a little bit, as it was now a small flurry. Tom stepped past you, standing as you locked the door behind you both.

“So,” Tom spoke up, “how are you going to get home?” There was some concern in his voice, and although he didn’t explicitly say it, you knew that he already cared about you.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk home. I live about five minutes away from here.”

He turned his head to look over at you, his eyes searching your face to see if you were joking. When he realised that you were telling the truth, he shook his head. “I can’t let you walk home alone Y/N. It's cold, and dark out, and it’s dangerous for you to walk home alone.”

“I promise I’m fine, I’ve walked home alone from here many a time, it’s really just a short walk.”

“I can’t, not in good conscience at least. I want to walk you home.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tom just shook his head. “I want to walk you home, I mean it.”

“I’ll be okay, you need to get home to be with your family tonight. I don’t have anyone to come home to.” When you said it out loud, you realised how depressing it sounded. At least I’ll be able to drink away my sorrows tonight, you thought.

Tom turned his head to look over at you, and then straight ahead. “I don’t feel good about you being alone on Christmas.” He was silent for a second, when suddenly a thought popped into his head. His heart began to race, and even though it was freezing out, his cheeks felt warm. “Why don’t you spend Christmas with me and my family tonight?”

You stopped walking, and placed your hand on top of his arm. When you saw his face turn red, you took your hand and placed it in your coat pocket. “Oh, no, no, no. I am not crashing your Christmas dinner.”

He let out a small laugh. “You wouldn’t be crashing it, darling. I invited you, there’s clearly a difference.”

You had to admit that him calling you darling made your heart race, you could get used to him saying that. “But your family won’t be expecting me, and what if your family gets mad because there’s not enough food for another person and-”

“It’ll be fine.” He took his free hand out of his coat pocket and grabbed your hand. “I already called an Uber and from the looks of it, I believe it’s already here.” He pointed to the car that was parked by the curb, the Uber logo visible in the window.

You stopped in your tracks again. “But I don’t know your family, what if you guys are like, I don’t know, murderers?”

Tom snorted out a laugh. “Trust me love, if I was a murderer, I would’ve killed you a long time ago. After all, it was just the two of us alone in the shop for a whole hour.” He was still holding your hand, shifting it so he could lace his fingers with yours. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the car, and when you were close enough, Tom opened the door for you. You buckled in the seatbelt, and a second later Tom was in the car doing the same.

“Merry Christmas Tom.” You looked up at him, smiling.

“Merry Christmas to you too Y/N.” He answered as he reached for your hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Maybe this Christmas won’t be as terrible as the others, you thought. Maybe things will be alright, you thought as you looked out the car window.

additional a/n; chapter two will be posted next week on 11/27! 

series taglist + regular taglist: @scarletxwidow​ @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @lmaotshollandd​ @musicalkeys​ @calltothewild​ @finelinesupremacy​ @quaksonhehe​ @geminiparkers​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​  @imperfxctly-me @wunder-13 @weirdowithnobeardo

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