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nationalharryleague · 3 years

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Saturday Morning

Summary: Y/N and Harry spend a lovely Saturday in bed.

Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF and a “Two for the Show” extra!!

Word Count: 2.5K!

A/N: Two for the Show is by far my favorite and the most popular fic I’ve ever written and I just missed my babies so much I had to write an extra for them!! I owe my heart to my loves S @tobesolonely and Nat @harrystylescherry for reading this for me and reassuring me when I needed it!! I am very rusty so please be nice! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I really want to hear what you have to say about this one!!! Also hi soph <3 @theharriediaries

**Read Two for the Show first**

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Saturday mornings had always been Y/N’s favorite.

When she was little, she always woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen up the hall (courtesy of her father being an early riser who always got a bit bored in the mornings). As she got older, she spent them sleeping in and trying to recharge from long days at school, basking in whatever peace she could get before exiting her room into the chaos of her loving--but crowded--household. When she got to college, Saturday mornings were reserved for dealing with hangovers, and once she moved to LA and her career began to take off, it was the only time she had for herself in her busy schedule.

Her love for Saturdays had only grown since she had moved in with Harry.

They always woke up slowly, basking in the quiet of their bedroom and the soft glow created by the light that streamed through the small crack in their blackout curtains. The pair were often a tangle of limbs by the morning, pressed together as close as they possibly could get, both of them feeling at their most relaxed when they could feel their partner’s heartbeat against their own. Sometimes someone woke up with an elbow to the ribs, but most of the time Y/N’s cheek was pressed up against Harry’s shoulder, her face buried into his neck, with his arm draped around her waist and tightly holding her to him like she might roll away in the middle of the night.

That morning she woke up to Harry’s curls tickling her nose. He had been growing them out slightly, letting them fall to a middle part that gently flicked out at the bottom. It reminded her of when he had hosted SNL a few years prior and she adored it. It was just the right length to sink her fingers into and hold on to him. But she did not appreciate it pulling her out of her beauty sleep.

She had wiggled away from the wispy hairs, trying to get her face away from the tickling strands when she felt Harry’s hands clamp down on her waist, refusing to let his girl slip away from his grasp.

“Stay,” he rasped, clearly still half asleep and mumbling in a way she knew no one else could have understood. “You’re warm.”

“I’m not leaving,” she murmured, maneuvering her way onto her other side and pressing her back against his chest. “Just adjusting.”

“But I like holding you that way.”

“Hold me this way.”

“Yes, sir,” he smirked against the back of her neck, delicately placing a few kisses to her skin while he was there. “You just wanted to be the little spoon.”

A sleepy but mischievous smile crawled onto her lips as she snuggled further into her pillow, eyes still closed in hopes of keeping the day away just a little bit longer. “Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it?”

The second his hands moved to her waist she knew what was about to happen. A squeal left her lips as his fingers began to move rapidly at her sides, pulling loud and boisterous laughter from her chest. Sleep was a dream of the past now, but she was sure she wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

When Harry was gone--either on tour, work trips, or the occasional solo visit to see his family--she missed him like crazy. She still remembers the empty heartache she felt when he had gone on the next leg of the tour without her when they were still brand new. She had to be in LA for her now exploding career (thanks Harry), but daily phone calls and incessant texting could only do so much when the person she was quickly falling in love with--for real this time--was on another continent. By some miracle, she had made him feel the same way about her as she did him through a screen.

She always felt like he had taken a piece of her with him when he was gone. He did if you counted the small hidden tattoo of her first initial that had found its way onto his ribs after their (actual) two year anniversary.

The feeling of missing him never left when he was gone. She imagined he felt the same whenever she was on tours or work trips of her own.

While her body fought against his tickling touch, her heart melted into it. These moments, on (usually) quiet saturday mornings, meant the world to her. This was a time that was just theirs, belonging to no one else but them. Their joy and love took place in private, as privacy became something the couple had been increasingly possessive of as of late.

Harry’s loud and giddy laughter behind her sounded like a perfect melody and she could feel his chest heaving against her back as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him. Their comforter was now tangled around them, wrapping the pair together in a way neither of them could move with Y/N’s thrashing. He finally ended his torture when she whezed out between giggles that she was going to pee herself.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he relented, letting his hands leave her sides to reach them across his stomach and hold her body tightly on top of his. “We both know how you pee your pants.”

“Harry Edward Styles, it happened one time three years ago after nearly an entire bottle of tequila! How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” he snickered.

“You know what’s also funny? When you got so sloshed you were crawling under tables at the BRITs. Or that time that you got so drunk that you sent Jeff a dick pic by accident because you thought you were sending it to me. Or that other time-”

“That’s enough!” he announced, playfully clamping a hand down over her mouth, and releasing her mouth and a disgusted ‘blegh’ when she ran her tongue up his palm.

“Behave Styles,” she teased as she inched her way up his body, resting her head on his shoulder and snaking her fingers up into his hair, giving it a gentle tug as a warning.

“You know I like it when you pull my hair like that, so how about you behave, Styles?”

“That’s Y/L/N-Styles to you,” she teased, but she couldn’t fend off the giant grin that found its way to her lips at the mention of their still very recent nuptials.

The wedding had been small, very small, with only their immediate families and best friends in attendance. While their relationship had started in (and for) the focus of the public eye, they both decided their wedding was going to be just between them and those that mattered most. They didn’t wear their rings in public and no magazines had leaked or published that they were married yet. The day that it became public information was inevitable, but at the moment, the two relished in their little secret.

She felt a swell of love within her as she thought about her husband, sliding out of his grip and onto the bed beside him so she could finally see his face. His eyes were always a little puffy in the morning, a sight shadow of stubble decorating his cheeks if he had shaved the morning prior, but his tired smile was always the same. His pink lips lazily perked up to the left, his deep dimple appearing as if to say ‘good morning,’ and his two front teeth that always reminded her of an adorable bunny made their first appearance of the day. His smile usually disappeared quickly though, morphing into a pout and asking for a kiss.

How could she ever say no?

She settled a hand onto his bare chest and propped herself up to reach her lips to his. Their mouths moved with a well practiced gentle love and passion for each other, Harry’s hands coming to rest on her heating cheeks. She moved herself over him, settling her knees on either side of hips, never breaking their lips apart.

Kissing him was her favorite activity and with five years of practice, they were really good at it by now, but the swirling electricity that always appeared never failed to bring a flush to her cheeks. She could never get used to him. He was intoxicating and she never wanted to sober up.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud grumble coming from Harry’s stomach and Y/N pulled her lips from his and threw her head back with a loud belly laugh she just couldn’t contain.

“You good?” she teased down at him, lightly poking at his bare stomach right below her favorite butterfly.

His cheeks flushed slightly as he dramatically hung his head and flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at her with a silent plea to feed him. “I think I’m hungry.”

“You can be hungry but I’m not getting out of bed to make you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m not getting out of bed either,” his eyebrow quirked. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want your morning coffee that you say I don’t make right?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “I’m willing to risk shitty coffee if I get to stay in this bed.”

“I will do anything you want other than getting out of this bed right now.”

“Anything?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow and a curious lilt in her voice. She was quickly answered with an eager knod. He obviously thought this was some sort of sexual request by the smirk that rose to his face. “You have to clean the litter box until I decide I’ve been properly paid back for your veggie omelet and tea.” His face fell.

“That’s your job!”

“Exactly why I don’t want to do it.”

“I’ll do literally anything else.”

“My one offer. Take it or leave it?”

“Leave it,” he said with a theatrical pout and crossed his arms over his chest. She was momentarily distracted by the way his tattoos moved over his muscular and tan arms for a moment, but shook herself from the thought and steeled herself in her stubbornness.

The two shared an intense look for a moment, both of them deciding whether or not they would press the issue further. With a sigh and slight roll of her eyes, she stuck out her hand towards him.

“We go on ‘shoot’ and none of your ‘best two out of three’ bullshit.”

As childish as it felt, Rock, Paper, Scissors had become their way of negotiating most of their disagreements over the years. It was a lighthearted game of chance, and while it sometimes led to a few minutes of frustration for the losing party, it worked for them and stopped arguments before they could happen. Interviewers often thought it was a joke when they answered the usual “secrets to a happy relationship” question, but it couldn’t be more truthful.

“Fine, we play by your rules.”

Their fists dropped down to their opposite palms three times, before both called “shoot.” She had gone for rock. Harry had gone for paper.

A loud combination of a whine and a groan left her lips and she dramatically let her body fall off of his and back onto her side of the bed.

“Fair is fair, my love,” he playfully taunted. “I would like my veggie omelette and I’m thinking I could go for some green tea this morning.”

“I will be getting you back for this,” she grumbled as she began to drag herself off the bed and away from it’s cozy warmth. She slipped his go to Columbia black hoodie over her head and took a pouty deep breath. It would have been more dramatic but she was distracted by how good the sweatshirt smelled. It smelled like home.

“I love you so so much,” he defended, opening his arms wide to grab her for one last kiss before she ventured down to the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled against his lips. “I love you too.”

She sulked out of their bedroom towards their kitchen (not before Harry swatted at her butt that was barely covered by the sweatshirt) and began to hold up her end of their deal. The cold tile nipped at her toes as she made them both omelettes and bopped along to the music she had instructed their Alexa to play. She fixed herself a morning coffee (that Harry really did always screw up somehow) and rummaged through their cabinet until she found her husband’s special order of green tea.

“Come get your breakfast, princess,” she shouted up the stairs when she was finished and after pausing her music.

“No breakfast in bed?”

“You are not getting eggs on our new--very expensive--sheets. Come down here and give me another kiss.”

She heard a whine of “fine” come from their bedroom followed by the padding of feet. Harry appeared at the top of the stairs moments later, rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy child and she just wanted to pull him into her arms and run her fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep. He pecked her lips softly when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but killed it when he called her a “breakfast tyrant.”

Y/N followed him back into the kitchen and watched him plop his still sleepy body into one of the high chairs at their kitchen island in front of his plate and his favorite mug that read “Coffee has a rough time in our house. It gets mugged every single morning!” She hooked an arm around his shoulders and slid herself onto his lap, sipping on her coffee as she waited for his opinion on his breakfast.

“It’s always better when you make it,” he smiled at her and pressed an eggy kiss to her cheek.

“You always say that,” she smirked back at him, only causing his smile to grow. “Oh, I almost forgot. Alexa, resume music.” He gave her a faux frustrated stare as he recognized what song she had been playing.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, 'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” rang out from the small speaker on their counter and she laughed so hard she would have slipped off his lap if his arm wasn’t wrapped firmly around her waist.

“How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” she used his own words from this morning against him with a cheeky smile.

“You are so lucky I love you so much.”

“And I love you more,” she mumbled against his lips, bringing her smirk with her into their kiss.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!! If you enjoyed this you can support a broke college kid here :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #nationalharryleague #mine #one direction #one direction fanfic

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Three (Harry Styles)

a/n: part 3 wohoo! thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing the series, it keeps me going and writing more and more! originally i thought it would turn out to be about three parts, but it has outgrown that limit so i added two more parts to the masterpost, that’s for sure is gonna happen but i might even add more?! not sure, im still in the writing process so i can’t tell how long it’s going to turn out to be, but this just means even more content for you guys!

as always, feedback is very much appreciated, please make sure to share your thoughts and comments on the part, it’s such a huge boost for writers to read what you thought!!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.4k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

When you were working at the daycare you couldn’t focus on photography as much as you would have liked to. You often had to stay in for extra hours, wait until the last kid was picked up and then do paperwork, or change the decoration in your room or whatever Clair asked you to do that day. By the time you got home you just wanted to take a bath and fall into bed. You also had to travel 40 minutes to work which took away a lot of time from your day.

Working for Harry helped you immensely with focusing more on your passion. Even on his worse days he got home by six and since your workplace is your home, you don’t even have to drive forty minutes to enjoy the comfort of your home, you just walk up the stairs to your room and that’s it.

In addition, taking care of Izzy, you still have the chance to work on some editing or snap new pictures. You have time off when she has her classes and when you put her down for her nap. The best thing is that Izzy is quite interested in photography, she gets very interested whenever she sees you bring out one of your cameras and she always lets you take pictures of her, posing and goofing around. The folder on your computer that has her name is growing each day with more and more sweet photos of the little girl that has completely stolen your heart. You’ve been regularly getting your favorites shots of her printed and you always leave them on Harry’s desk so when he gets home he sees them and they make him forget about whatever happened at work that day.

You are getting more and more emails about possible sessions and slowly but surely, your weekends start to fill up with weddings, birthday parties and engagement photoshoots. It seems like you have definitely made the right choice when you took this job. No doubts.

“Can I ask a question, daddy?” Izzy is poking the peas around on her plate as the four of you sit at the dining table at dinner. Ruth has joined you today, because Harry had to make a quick trip to his office in the afternoon and you were out shopping with Trevor today.

“Sure, baby,” Harry hums nodding.

“Why don’t you eat meat?” she asks seriously, eyeing her own plate that has some chicken on it, while Harry’s is only stacked with veggies and potatoes.

“Because I decided that I won’t want to.”

“Can I decide that too?”

“You’re a little too young for that, baby. You need the meat to grow big. When you’re older you can think about what kind of things you want to and don’t want to eat.”

“Okay,” she nods without throwing a tantrum about her dad telling her no. You know quite a few kids who would have flipped over it, but not Izzy. Harry might not even realize how good of a job he is doing raising her and teaching her how to be a good human.

“I have another question,” she announces, glancing up at Harry.

“Go ahead.”

“If you don’t eat meat, does that make you an herbivore?”

You can’t push down a chuckle, you were not expecting this. Your eyes meet Ruth’s over the table, she is enjoying this conversation just as much as you do. It’s cute how Izzy put two and two together and made a seemingly logical conclusion.

“We learned about herbivore dinosaurs this week,” you inform Harry, who is a little lost about why his daughter just called him an herbivore. Also, you’re quite impressed that she remembered the word, though she struggled with it at first, but it seems like it finally stuck.

Harry shakes his head chuckling as he sets his fork down, looking over at Izzy.

“In a way I should be called an herbivore, but that’s not what you call people who don’t eat meat. I’m a vegetarian.”

“Oh, okay,” she nods, wrapping up the information in her head as she keeps eating.

You and Ruth clean up after dinner while Harry gives Izzy a bath, a little earlier than usually, because she spilled apple juice on herself, so he decided to just go straight for the bath instead of changing once more before bedtime.

“Will you be fine with putting these away, Darling?” Ruth asks as you’re drying the last few dishes.

“Sure! I’ll take care of it,” you smile back at her as she nods and heads into the living room.

Harry emerges from upstairs with a freshly cleaned Izzy on his arms. As soon as her little feet touch the floor she bolts over to join Ruth in front of the TV while Harry walks into the kitchen just as you put the last dish away.

“Hey, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he starts and suddenly, you feel your stomach drop, especially because his face seems very serious.

“Oh God, what did I do?” you ask, feeling yourself panicking already.

“Nothing! It’s not like that!” he chuckles softly, realizing you kind of misunderstood the situation.

“Okay, good. Sorry, you just looked so serious.”

“Sorry, I was just… thinking. So two friends of mine that I work together with also are getting married soon. They had a photographer booked already, but the guy cancelled on them and, um, I hope you don’t mind, but I recommended you to them.”

“Really?” you ask in complete surprise.

“Yeah. Actually, they saw a picture of Izzy that you took in my office and we started talking about how you do photoshoots in your free time and then I told them to ask if you’d be up to do their wedding as well.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of you, Harry. Thank you!”

“I gave them your number, they’ll probably call you sometime next week or so.”

“Great!” you beam, excited about the new event you can work at. “I hope they’ll want to work with me.”

“I kind of hyped you up for them and they seemed very pleased with the pictures I showed them, so I’m sure they will want to,” Harry chuckles softly, even blushing a little. It always amazes you how a tall, muscular guy with so many tattoos can be such a soft, caring and loving person. It always reminds you not to judge the book by its cover.

“Thank you, Harry. This means a lot to me.” Reaching over you place your hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze before moving past him to join Ruth and Izzy in the living room.

Harry was right about Sarah and Mitch being all excited to get in contact with you, because they don’t even wait for the next week to reach out. Sunday afternoon you are working on some more editing at the dining table while Harry and Izzy are painting on the other end of the table, busy with their masterpieces when your phone starts ringing, an unknown number shown on the screen.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you answer it, leaning back in your seat.

“Y/N, hi! My name is Sarah Jones, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time, Harry gave me your number this week.”

“Oh! Sarah, yeah! So nice to talk to you!” you beam and Harry’s eyes snap up to you at the mentioning of the familiar name. “Harry mentioned you’d reach out and don’t worry, I’m happy to chat.”

“That’s great. I wanted to wait until Monday, but truth is that we are kind of in a short of time and I was afraid you’d be already busy for our date, so I wanted to call you as soon as possible.”

“No worries.”

“So first and foremost, I’m gonna ask if you have anything planned on the last weekend of May. I know it’s just in a few weeks, but I really hope we can work it out.”

“Let me pull up my calendar,” you tell her as you open up the app on your computer that you use to keep track with your sessions and events. Finding the weekend in question in it, you smile at the empty space. “Good news, seems like I’m free that weekend.”

“Oh thank God!” she breathes out in relief and you let out a chuckle. “That’s so amazing. So then would it be possible to meet up sometime next week? You could show some more works of yours and we can discuss more details, how does that sound?”

“This week? Well I have to work—“ you start, but Harry cuts you off.

“Come into the office tomorrow morning.” “What?”

“Put her on speaker,” he smiles nodding towards your phone and you do as he asked, setting it to the table with Sarah on speaker. “Hey Sarah!”

“Harry, hi!”

“Aunt Sarah?” Izzy’s ears perk up, some pink paint on her cheeks that you have no idea how it got there, because her painting doesn’t even have any pink in it.

“Hi Izzy! So good to hear your voice!” she chuckles through the phone.

“Sarah, you’re gonna be at the studio Monday morning, right?” Harry asks and you can’t not notice how his voice changed the slightest bit as soon as he started talking about business.

“Yeah and Mitch is coming too,” she confirms.

“Okay then how about you come in tomorrow morning, Y/N?”

“But what about Izzy?”

“She can come too. I’ll look after her while you discuss the details, it’s no big deal. It’s been a while since the last time she came to work with me,” he smirks over at the little girl, who is already excited to spend some more time with her daddy at his workplace.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” he nods smiling.

“Thank you, well then I’m okay with tomorrow if it’s fine for you as well, Sarah.”

“That would be perfect! Thank you guys both, Mitch and I really appreciate it.”

“No worries,” Harry nods, going back to his painting. You take Sarah off the phone as you say your goodbye before ending the call.

You start Monday off with some extra excitement. Not just because you are about to get booked for another event, but also because it’s going to be the first time you see Harry at his workplace. He has been quite good at keeping his business separated from his private life, it never really happens that you catch him dwell about anything work related whenever he is home and around Izzy. The phone call with Sarah was like a tiny glimpse of what he might be like when he is in work mode and you’re kind of curious to see more of this side of him.

Just as usual, Harry takes care of Izzy in the morning while you get ready on your own. You want to look good, not only are you going to meet more of his friends, but people he works with. Or should you say, people who work for him.

You choose a light pink dress, throwing a white knitted sweater over your shoulders with a pair of ballerinas. After putting on some light makeup and grabbing your purse and laptop you head downstairs to grab a quick breakfast. Izzy is already sitting at the table, still in her pajamas since her and food are a dangerous combination and Harry always makes sure to get her dressed once she is away from all of that.

“You look so pretty, Y/N!” she beams, her legs dangling from the chair as she digs into her oatmeal. Harry appears from the kitchen and he has the same look on his face like when he saw you leave for that wedding a while ago. A blush paints his cheeks as he slows his steps down, his eyes running down on the length of your body before they return to your face.

“Izzy is right, you look… really pretty, Y/N,” he compliments into your face, unlike last time when you only heard him call you pretty when he thought you were long gone.

“Thank you,” you breathe out with a soft chuckle.

The morning carries on as usual, Harry dresses Izzy for the day and then you all head out, however you stop short upon seeing the various cars parked on the driveway and the double garage.

“Maybe take the Rover, it’s got the child seat in it and I’ll take the Jaguar today,” Harry suggests as he hands you over the keys to the Rover and then nears the car he is taking for the day.

“Oh yeah, you just take the Jaguar, boss,” you chuckle under your breath, finding it a little funny that deciding on which car you’re taking for the day is even a question in someone else’s life.

Izzy sings along the radio as you follow Harry’s car into the label’s building. Of course, it’s not just some simple office building, it’s situated in the riches area of the city and the building is massive with loads of floors and a huge HES Records sign above the entrance where you meet Harry after parking down.

“Good morning, Mr. Styles! Hello, Izzy!” the woman behind the front desk smiles widely immediately, standing up from her chair to hand Harry a stack of envelopes. “Your post, sir.”

“Thank you, Veronica. Have a nice day,” Harry nods in her way as the three of you move through the hall to the elevators. Waiting for it to arrive, you glance at the board on the wall that lists everything you can find in the building and the level you should look for it at. There are endless amount of studios, at least three on each levels, offices, creative rooms and conference rooms. It’s pretty clear that HES Records manages a lot of talents and that requires a lot of space.

Arriving to the twentieth floor, which is of course the top of the building, you are in awe as you realize that the whole floor is basically Harry’s office. There’s a kind of hall area for his two assistants, he has his own conference room, his kitchen and dining area and of course, his office space. The whole place screams power and influence. The modern design of the interior makes it such a fancy work space not just for him, but for everyone else in the building. It’s truly impressive.

“Wow, Harry. This place is… amazing,” you breathe out as he walks the two of you into the conference room where Izzy immediately climbs up to one of the chairs, standing up so she can lean onto the table. Harry walks behind her and adjusts her so she just sits before she could fall off.

“Thank you. I really like this place too. I always thought it’s important to have a great place to work at,” he smiles, clearly proud of how far his business has come. “There’s a mini fridge over there, feel free to take anything you’d like. Sarah texted me on the way here that they’ll be here shortly.”

“Great, thank you,” you nod, taking a seat next to Izzy as you set your laptop up. The glass door of the room opens and one of the assistants peeks inside.

“Mr. Styles, Mrs. Wonstein is on the phone asking for you.”

“Oh, alright, give me a minute and I’ll take it.” The assistant nods and walks out. “Izzy, come with daddy a little, alright? Let Y/N do her thing.” “She can stay, if you want. I can look after her,” you tell him, but he shakes his head as Izzy climbs off the chair and running over to him, she takes his hand.

“No, just focus on this one. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Harry,” you smile with gratitude as the two of them walk out, leaving you alone. You start scrolling through your folders, wondering which photos you should show Sarah and Mitch, picking out some of your favorites while you wait for them, though they don’t take too long to arrive. Soon enough the glass door opens and the lovely couple walks in.

“Y/N! Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Sarah greets you, wrapping you in a warm hug before stepping aside.

“Hi, I’m Mitch, nice to meet you,” the groom-to-be smiles shyly as he pulls you in for a short hug as well.

“Good to meet you guys too,” you smile back at them as you all sit to the table.

“Thank you so much for meeting us in such a short notice. Our photographer bailed out on us and I was starting to really worry when Harry mentioned that you are doing this kind of stuff in your free time,” Sarah explains.

“No worries. Would you like to go over some of my previous works?” you offer and they both nod in excitement before you start clicking through some old projects.

They share their vision for the whole wedding and the kind of pictures they would like and you like their approach and feel like it’s right up your alley. They both seem to like what you show them and Sarah compliments on how well you are able to catch small, but important moments.

“The wedding won’t be too big, just friends and family, but we do want a lot of memories, it means a lot to us,” Sarah explains and you nod, noting everything she says.

“Harry said you like this oldschool kind of vibe in your pictures,” Mitch chimes in.

“Oh, yeah. I like to make them look like they weren’t taken on a digital sometimes.”

“Do you think you can make some of those for us as well? Not all of them, just a couple,” Sarah asks.

“Sure! It’s more about the editing process, but it’s totally doable.”

You go over a few more things, making sure you’re on the same page, but you feel like things are working out perfectly. Though you guessed they would be great people, it’s still nice to work with such a nice and professional couple. You’ve had some crazy ones before, they definitely don’t make the job easy on you, but it’s not the case right now.

“Okay, so are you sure the date is okay for you? We wouldn’t want you to cancel on anything you had before just because we are Harry’s friends,” Mitch assures you, but you give them a warm smile.

“I’m totally free, don’t worry. Harry doesn’t have that kind of advantage here,” you chuckle softly.

“Thank you so much in this case. You’re truly a lifesaver,” Sarah breathes out in relief.

“Thank you for the trust. I’m really looking forward to working with you guys!”

Finishing up the meeting you pack up, chatting a little out of the business talk with Sarah and Mitch as you head over to Harry’s office.

“Hey! How did it go?” Harry asks as soon as the three of you walk in. Izzy is sitting at his desk, like a little boss, coloring something as he is sitting on the corner of the desk.

“Amazing, we owe you one for suggesting her,” Sarah sighs and you can’t help but just chuckle at how thankful she really is that you could help them out.

“You owe me no more than just one dance at the wedding,” Harry smiles at her.

“Can I dance too?” Izzy’s head perks up.

“Oh baby, you’re not coming to the wedding. You’ll be staying with Grandma, I already told you.” Izzy pouts at her dad, but she doesn’t seem to mind it that much, she quickly goes back to coloring.

“We’ll dance some other time, okay?” Sarah offers her and she nods happily.

“Can I dance with Uncle Mitch too?” she questions and Mitch just smiles down at her.

“Of course,” he hums, curling an arm around Sarah’s waist. “I have a meeting in ten so I’ll head out, I’m gonna pick James up in the afternoon, alright?” He kisses Sarah’s temple before pulling Harry into a brotherly hug. “Y/N, it was so nice to meet you and thank you for everything again,” he smiles at you, enveloping you in a quick hug as well.

“See you soon,” you smile back before he waves his last goodbye and leaves. “Who’s James?” you ask curiously.

“James is our son. He is turning three this year,” Sarah beams proudly.

“Oh! You two already have a son, that’s great! I’ll make sure to snap a bunch of photos of him too,” you chuckle.

“Please, our house is already packed with pictures, but there’s just never enough,” Sarah laughs.

The three of you chat a little longer while Izzy is busy with her coloring, talking about the wedding and whatnot, Harry invites her and Mitch over for dinner sometime and she happily says yes before business is calling her so she heads out as well.

“Okay, come one, little Sunshine. Let’s get home, Rosaline will be over soon for your piano lesson,” you smile down at Izzy who throws all her coloring stuff into one of Harry’s drawers before hopping off the leather seat.

“I’ll see you in the afternoon, okay?” Harry leans down and kisses the top of her head before pressing his lips to her cheek as well.

“Bye daddy, have a good day!” she calls out, grabbing your hand as you head to the door, Harry following behind.

“Mr. Styles, you have a meeting in five with—“ one of the assistants speaks up, but Harry stops her.

“I know, tell him I’ll be down in a minute. And please call Isaac to remind him about his deadline tomorrow,” he asks in that voice again you heard yesterday when Sarah called. There’s just something so intimidating yet exciting in the way he bosses around, but not like an asshole. He is a man in power, but he surely knows how to use it for the good.

“I forgot to talk to you about the time Izzy is spending at my mum’s, please remind me to go over it with you tonight, alright?” Harry asks and you nod as the elevator’s door opens and the two of you walk in.

“Bye daddy!” Izzy waves at him.

“Bye baby, be good! Bye Y/N!” he smiles as the door starts to close.

“See you later,” you smile back before he disappears from your sight.

The meeting with Sarah and Mitch got you buzzing, because it’s gonna be such an intimate yet beautiful wedding and those are your favorite. You can’t wait to start snapping the pictures and make their memories last forever of their big day.

You want to say thank you to Harry for suggesting you to them, so while Izzy is with Rosaline, you make a quick round to the grocery store and get everything you need to make some cupcakes, knowing well Harry loves those. He once told you that he could easily eat a dozen of those if he had the chance, so you think it’s gonna be the perfect way to thank him.

You keep the usual schedule, but after your little learning session in the afternoon, instead of heading out to the backyard to play, you suggest you bake the cupcakes together and Izzy is more than happy to help you.

It doesn’t take long for the kitchen to turn into a warzone, ingredients spilled to the counter all over the place, some music is playing in the background and you’ve been struggling to figure out how to use the different machines around the super modern kitchen.

You go all out with the decorations, you even bought some food coloring so you can make the cupcakes different colors and mess around with the icing and cream as well. You get so busy with the task on hand that time flies by faster than you expected. The two of you are still working on the decorating when the front door opens and Harry walks into the mess you’ve created in the past hours.

“What is doing on here?” he chuckles, seeing Izzy’s hair covered in flour, whipped cream on her nose and cheeks as she is throwing some sprinkles on one of the cupcakes, sitting on the kitchen island counter while you are finishing up another one.

“Oh! I wanted it to be a surprise!” you pout. “Izzy and I are making you cupcakes!”

“Why do I deserve a surprise?” he asks smirking, walking farther into the kitchen as he looks around, finding the mess quite amusing, rather than annoying. Harry knows well enough that it’s not easy to keep the place around you clean when there are kids involved in any process.

“I wanted to thank you for suggesting me to Sarah and Mitch. It was really nice of you.”

“Already told you it was nothing. Of course I suggest them a good photographer if I know one.”

You just smile at him shrugging, because no matter how hard he is trying to play it down, it meant a lot to you.

“Look daddy!” Izzy holds up her cupcake, half of it is covered with sprinkles, the other half is decorated with chocolate chips and she is clearly proud of it.

“That looks great, baby!” he smiles proudly, kissing the top of her head. “You have so much stuff on you, you could easily turn into a cupcake too,” he jokes, making her laugh.

“Be a cupcake with me, daddy!” Izzy beams and before Harry could stop her, she wipes some whipped cream to his face, getting him dirty as well. You gasp before letting out a laugh, Izzy shrieks happily seeing her dad all dressed up fancily and licking the cream off his face.

“Isabelle Styles, you have no idea what you just brought on yourself,” he warns in a low tone, already making Izzy scoot backwards as she is trying to escape, but she doesn’t have anywhere to go, the kitchen island’s edge is right behind her butt. However, she doesn’t realize it and tries to push herself back some more, deeming herself to fall right off, but before anything could happen Harry scoops her into his arms, pressing his creamy face to her cheek, making an even bigger mess that’s already there. Izzy is moving around, laughing and screaming as Harry gets some more cream to his hands, wiping it onto her anywhere he can.

“Oh my God, you are wasting all the cream!” you call him out, but it’s such a sweet moment to witness, you would never blame him for wasting it.

Harry stops attacking Izzy and turns to you with a dark look in his eyes.

“Izzy, I think Y/N looks too clean, doesn’t she?” he cocks his head to the side, exchanging a look with the girl in his arms.

“She does!” Izzy agrees as you start backing away from them. Harry sets Izzy down to her feet, grabbing the bowl with the remaining of the cream. He gets a handful for himself and lets Izzy fill her palms as well.

“Oh no, don’t you dare!” you warn them, holding up your pointing finger at them, trying to escape, but you are kind of cornered against the counter.

“It’s my house, I do whatever I want to,” he smirks, so full of himself and in a blink of the eye, they both launch themselves at you and Hell breaks loose.

They start whipping cream on you anywhere they can and when it’s gone, Harry just decides to go for anything else he can reach. Izzy is throwing sprinkles around while thanks to Harry, flour is flying everywhere, completely destroying the kitchen.

“Stop! No! I surrender!” you scream, fighting back, but it’s two against one.

“No mercy!” Harry shouts, so excited, as if he just transformed into a little boy, throwing mud around.

You grab his wrists when he tries to pour sugar on top of your head straight from the contained, holding him back, but he is so much stronger than you, it’s kind of a lost fight already. You don’t even realize how close he is, your chests are almost touching as he has you pinned against the counter, faces only about two inches away from each other. His wrist slides out of your hold, but he drops the sugar to the counter next to you. You try to snatch it to use his own weapon against him, but he is quick to stop you, forcing your hand down next to your side, but in the process he managed to bring you even closer, flushed against his hard chest and your lips part at the sudden mood change that he must be feeling as well, because the playfulness disappears from his eyes pretty fast and it’s replaced by something entirely different, something you can’t even read, because you haven’t seen it in his eyes before. And then…

Then you see his eyes flicker down to your lips, just a moment before yours move down to his. It’s that moment. It’s that exact moment when you just know you both are thinking about kissing, but you don’t know if it’s going to happen or now. You’re not even sure you want it to happen.

You fucking moron, of course you want to kiss him! That tiny voice in the back of your mind screams at you. In a heartbeat, it seems like he is about to move closer, but then the moment is interrupted and completely destroyed when a woman walks into the house, scaring you to death.

“Wow, it seems like Izzy took over control completely,” she comments, walking further into the house as you jump away from Harry, suddenly very aware of the mess you’ve made.

“Gemma, what—“ Harry starts, but he is quickly cut off.

“Don’t ask what I’m doing here, I literally texted you today that I would come by and you said it’s okay.” She gives him a look before her eyes move over to you as you’re trying to somehow clean everything up, but it’ll take a little longer probably. “You must be Y/N, hi! I’m Gemma, Harry’s sister.”

She steps over to you holding out a hand and you reach for it, but then stop, seeing that your palms are all floury. You both let out a chuckle, deciding to just move over the handshake.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, though it would have been better if we met when I didn’t have whipped cream in my eyes,” you joke.

“Auntie Gemma, we made cupcakes, do you want one?” Izzy runs up to her, holding up a cupcake that was finished, unlike the majority that are going to have poor decorations, since Harry and Izzy decided to use everything in the fight. Now it’s the floor that’s covered with icing, cream and sprinkles.

“Maybe later, sweetie, but they look awesome!”

As you wipe your face with a kitchen towel, you can feel Harry’s gaze on you, your heart beating so fast in your chest, it’s pushing all the blood up into your head that’s already feeling dizzy. What would have happened if Gemma didn’t walk in? Would has he kissed you? Or did you misread the situation and it was nothing just part of the game?

You busy yourself with cleaning up as Harry cleans himself a little with a paper towel before stepping closer to his sister.

“I totally forgot you texted, I replied in the middle of a meeting, I think I didn’t process the message.”

“It’s fine,” Gemma sighs. “I’m already used to my little brother forgetting about me,” she teases him, but he just rolls his eyes at her.

“Let me just help Y/N clean up the kitchen and I’ll be right with you. Would you mind cleaning Izzy off?” Harry asks her, but you stop him short.

“Oh, I’ll take care of this, don’t worry,” you assure him, but as his eyes snap over at you, you lose your voice. He clearly felt the moment as well earlier and now it’s kind of getting awkward, you don’t really want to be left alone with him right now. Not until you figure out what this whole thing was.

“Are you sure? I mean I was the one who started it and—“

“It’s fine,” you try your best to smile at him without overheating. He is standing several feet away from you, but you can still feel what it felt like to be pushed up against him.

Harry hesitates, his eyes following your every move while you are trying to busy yourself and act normal, while you are literally crumbling inside. You almost kissed your boss in the middle of his kitchen, you need a moment to process that.

“Alright, let me know if you need help,” he murmurs before picking Izzy up and heading upstairs to clean them both, Gemma following them right behind. When they are out of your sight, you lean against the counter, breathing out heavily.

Meanwhile upstairs, Harry hands Izzy his phone to play some games while he cleans her and himself off in the bathroom. Gemma sits on the edge of the tub, eyeing her brother curiously, which Harry notices.

“What?” he asks, stripping Izzy out of her dirty clothes.

“What was all that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you, Harry. You were like, ready to snog Y/N right then and there when I walked in. Did I miss something?”

“No idea what you’re talking about and I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring this up when it’s not just the two of us,” he replies firmly, looking down at the girl who is obliviously tapping on the screen. Gemma just rolls her eyes before leaving the two of them alone.

Wandering down she finds you scrubbing the counters from the mess you’ve made, deep in your thoughts. Seeing her walk in, you shoot her a smile, not sure what to say or if you even should say anything, but when she grabs a towel for herself and starts helping, you speak up.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m happy to help,” she smiles, as she starts cleaning the kitchen island up. “So how do you like working for my brother, so far? He mentioned what happened with the daycare. Honestly, those mothers are entitled spoiled brats,” she scoffs making you smile.

“They weren’t too delightful even before the whole fiasco,” you chuckle softly. “But I really like it here. There are a lot more perks and it’s so much easier to focus on one kid than to have fifteen at a time,” you point out making her laugh.

“Yeah, I’m good with my two, don’t think I could handle more.”

“Oh, you have kids?”

“Yes, two sons. Beau is turning ten this year and Jasper turned six in January.” Gemma pulls out her phone from her back pocket and unlocking it she shows you the homescreen that has a picture of two adorable boys sitting on a bench next to each other, munching on a big bowl of strawberries. The younger one, Jasper has a red sunhat on his head while Beau is rocking some cool sunglasses.

“Oh my God, they look so much like you!”

“I get that a lot and honestly, they really should!” Gemma scoffs. “It took twenty fucking hours for Jasper’s big head to come out!”

“Wow that sounds way too much,” you laugh and Gemma nods with a tired, but clearly proud smile.

“Yeah, but it was worth it. Anyway, after my two boys, Izzy is the little princess of the family.”

“The boys get along well with her?” you ask as you both keep cleaning.

“They act like her big brothers, they get so protective over her!”

“That’s cute.”

“Yeah, they really are. My mom has this summer barbeque every year, if Harry doesn’t invite you with him then I’m doing it now, because you need to see how crazy out family gets,” she smirks at you. “All of our cousins and the kids are there, it’s a whole parade.”

“I’m sure it’s a lot of fun,” you smile at her. “One of my friends in high school had a really big family and they always invited me to birthdays at their place, I loved how lively and buzzing it was always.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to get together from time to time,” she nods smiling. “So do you have a boyfriend or something?” she asks then, implying that she is not even sure if you are playing on the team she is assuming.

“Oh, um, no. It’s just me for now. So no boyfriend for me.” Your answer, making sure it gives her the information she was trying to get as well.

“Are you done interrogating her, Gem?” Harry appears from upstairs, Izzy running ahead of him before smashing herself against Gemma’s legs.

“We’re just having a chat, is that a crime now?” she rolls her eyes. “Swear to God, he is such a control freak sometimes,” she then adds turning to you.

“Would you stop offending me in my own house?” Harry gives him a look. Gemma leans down and picks Izzy up into her arms.

“Izzy, you really should tell your dad to pull the stick out of his as—“

“You are not finishing that!” Harry cuts her off and you can’t push your laughter back. Harry’s eyes meet yours over Gemma’s shoulders and he realizes that you are still all dirty and messed up. “Y/N, go and take a shower if you want. We’ll take this over, alright?”

It wasn’t an order, but you feel like it was a very firm suggestion. He is clearly uncomfortable with you talking to Gemma and though you’re not sure why, you don’t want to upset him, so just nodding you drop the kitchen towel and head upstairs to clean yourself up.

“I hope you didn’t say anything to upset her,” Harry comments as he takes over the cleaning. Gemma grimaces.

“What could have I possibly said? I was just trying to get to know her!”

“You are always a little too up in my business, Gems,” he sighs.

“Daddy, can I watch some TV, please?” Izzy asks, tugging on his pants.

“Sure. Do you need me to switch it on?”

“No, I’m a big girl, I can do it,” Izzy nods before running off, leaving the siblings alone.

“Didn’t know Y/N was your business,” Gemma tilts her head to the side. Harry opens his mouth to defend himself, but nothing comes out. He was caught with this one. “Oh my God. I knew I walked in on something, you have a thing for her!” Gemma gasps with wide eyes.

“Stop with this! You and Niall are like some middle schoolers, it’s so fucking annoying!”

“So Niall sees it too, huh?”

“Niall is an idiot,” he points out. “He is… obsessed with this idea that I should start dating again and he thinks I should make a move on Y/N.”

“Well, he is an idiot, but he has a point.”

“No he doesn’t!” Harry argues, but Gemma just rolls her eyes.

“So you want to die alone? Is that your plan?”

Harry has always hated his sister’s bluntness. She never held herself back when it came to giving her opinion, whether it was wanted or not. But what Harry hates even more is that most of the time… Gemma is right.

He doesn’t want to die alone, no one wants that, but being with someone is a hard topic for Harry after losing the person he thought he would spend the rest of his life with. Even just the thought makes him feel like he is doing something bad, like he shouldn’t even be thinking about anyone but his wife, even years after the tragedy.

“Harry, look…” Gemma breathes out leaning against the counter next to her brother. “I know it’s a fucked up situation and I know things are still not in the right place in your head. But eventually you’ll have to move on. We all want to see you happy and I think that… I think Maggie would want that for you as well.”

Harry tries not to physically cringe at the name, the familiar pain is already clutching his heart, like it has been since the day of the accident. Some days are easier, some days are harder, but Gemma is right. Things are still not in the right place in his head and he knows that, he is just not sure how to fix it at this point.

“I’m not saying you should date Y/N, I’m not Niall to force anyone on you. I’m just telling you to try to get out a little more, just to test the waters. But you obviously like her so if it happens to be her, it wouldn’t be a big deal, if you ask me.”

Gemma shrugs and goes back to the cleaning while Harry keeps his swirling thoughts to himself. Two of the most important people have told him the same thing recently and though part of him wants to stubbornly go against it, his rational side knows that they might be right.

But not much can be done when a man is still blaming himself for the death of his own wife. Because that’s exactly the case when it comes to Harry and no one really knows that the thought has been haunting him for years now…

After taking a quick shower, washing your hair and changing into clothes that are not covered in flour, you join Harry and Gemma downstairs and insist on finishing the rest of the cleaning while they move out to the terrace to talk. The evening goes by peacefully, Harry decides to order dinner and Gemma joins the three of you at the dining table.

You love watching the dynamic between them and they truly seem to be very close. Gemma likes to embarrass Harry with stories from their childhood and you are enjoying them all a little too much maybe, but it’s nice to think that he wasn’t always this confident businessman.

“It was so good to meet you, Y/N!” Gemma hugs you goodbye after dinner.

“You too!”

“Bye Izzy, come and give a smooch for your favorite auntie!” Squatting down she lets Izzy wrap her arms around her neck as she kisses her cheek sloppily.

“Bye Gemma,” she singsongs. Harry pulls his sister into a hug as well before walking her out.

You start washing the dishes, Izzy talking to you about whatever show she was watching earlier on TV. When Harry returns he tells you to just leave the rest of the cleaning up for him while he bathes Izzy, but you don’t listen to him and finish up while they are upstairs.

Bringing your laptop down you settle on the couch and just start scrolling through social media, reading articles and whatnot, the TV quietly playing in the background. You send out an email regarding the wedding you are attending this weekend, making sure everything is in place.

When Harry emerges again he joins you on the couch with a tired sigh.

“Thanks for washing the dishes but you really should just leave it to me when I ask you to,” he smiles at you softly.

“It’s not a big deal, I like to be useful,” you chuckle shutting your laptop down.

“As if you’re not useful enough already,” he huffs smiling to himself. “Oh, before I forget, I wanted to talk to you about Izzy going to my mum’s.”

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned it earlier.”

“Yeah. So she is going to spend a week at my mother’s and I timed it to line up with Sarah and Mitch’s wedding. So I’ll leave her at my mum’s Sunday evening and pick her up the next Sunday which lines up perfectly with the wedding on Saturday. That week is obviously free for you as well, like a paid vacation,” he chuckles.

“Sounds good. How far does your mother lives from here?”

“Just a few hours, not that horrible of a drive. If you’re up for it, we can carpool to the wedding and then pick her up together right from there and head home.”

“Yeah, that works for me, thanks,” you nod.

Harry stays and turns his attention on the TV, seemingly pretty unbothered while you still haven’t stopped thinking about what happened in the kitchen earlier. Glancing over at Harry it appears that it’s not that big of a deal for him, so it makes you settle with the thought that it’s not one for you either.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him grabbing your laptop and phone as you rise from your seat.

“Nigh, Y/N,” he smiles as you round the couch and head upstairs, but you stop at the bottom of the stairs, lancing back at the mop of locks that’s visible from him from behind. You watch him run his fingers through his hair and you let out a shaky breath, knowing well you did not convince yourself that it was nothing. Not for you, at least.

Because you wanted him to kiss you.

The wedding you’re attending is held on a farm owned by the parents of the bride. The whole barn was transformed into this very country like fairytale location, lots of fairy lights and candles along with some nice, pastel colored flowers with a hint of purple between them.

Everything goes planned. Arriving you meet first with the groom and then with the bride in their separated rooms of the house, going over everything they want just one last time before you get down to work, snapping loads of pictures from them getting ready for the big day.

Emily, the bride is a chatty girl and all her bridesmaids are her sisters, coming from a big family with five daughters, she is the second oldest. The groom, Jesse is a few years older than Emily, but they are such a cute couple and they are clearly so madly in love, it’s always nice to see people be so happy with the right person.

You keep going back and forth between the groom and the bride and later you do the first look thing as well, when Jesse stands outside in the field and Emily walks up behind him, letting him see her for the first time. It really is always such a special moment and you tear up as well, watching Jesse fall speechless upon seeing his beautiful fiancé.

As the ceremony is about to start and the guests slowly take their seats on the two sides of the aisle, you make a quick trip down there to make sure you are using the right lenses, not wanting to change a lot when the ceremony has started. You stop in the corner, just trying out if you can shoot some pictures of the guests as well with the lens you are planning to use, you take a look around using the camera and that’s when you almost faint.

You would pick out that face from any, it has grown to you way too much, but you didn’t think you’d ever see him again. Lowering the camera you stare at the tall figure with parted lips, blinking a few times just to make sure it’s who you think it is.

But it is in fact your ex-fiancé, Keith, and to make it even worse, the woman standing next to him with his arm around her waist is the one he cheated on you with. They are still together and now you are staring right at them.

Tears sting your eyes as you try to look for a way to escape before he spots you, though you know he’ll see you sooner or later, but right now they are standing right at the entrance of the barn and you can’t avoid walking past them.

Keeping your head down you try to stay unnoticed as you march towards the exit, but you apparently, you are out of luck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Keith calls after you just when you thought you were successful in sneaking out. Stopping in your tracks you seriously think about just running off, pretending like you didn’t even hear him, but it’s kind of too late and it would be ridiculous. So turning around on your heels, you plaster the fakest smile on your lips as you look at him.

“Keith, hi!” you breathe out, taking just a few steps closer to him, still keeping some distance between the two of you. Stella, the lucky woman on his arm blinks at you and at first you’re not even sure she realizes who you are or if she even knows you. The longer she looks at you the more certain you become that she indeed does not know that you’re the woman Keith cheated on with her. Nice.

Keith realizes that the two of you have been staring at each other awkwardly, so clearing his throat he quickly introduces the two of you to each other.

“Um, Y/N, this is Stella. Stella, this is… Y/N.”

You can tell he was thinking about using titles, but he decided to leave it at that, though it would have been a lot more interesting if he just titled the two of you.

Y/N, this is the woman I cheated on you with, who is my girlfriend now. Stella, this is Y/N, to whom I was engaged when I was fucking you!

You flash her a quick, not too honest smile and it seems like she is catching onto that something is not right, but she can’t tell for sure.

“What are you doing here?” Keith asks, a little harsher than you would have liked him to talk to you, but it’s kind of understandable. Seeing each other after what happened is not a pleasant experience for either of you, you assume. You hold up the camera as the answer for the stupid question and Keith furrows his eyebrows at you. “Oh, you still to the photography thingy?”

“Thingy?” you ask, quite offended. Keith always belittled your love for photography. He thought it was just a hobby, something that should stay just a hobby and not get turned into anything more. He once told you during a fight that it takes your time away from more important things, like doing chores. That was one of the most sexist things he has ever said to you and you should have packed your stuff right then and there. But you didn’t, stuck around for three more months before you found out about the cheating.

“Well, this thingy is kind of a side job for me,” you inform him.

“Oh. That sounds… fun,” he nods, but it’s clearer than daylight that he thinks it’s just a waste of time. Good thing he has no business in anything about you anymore.

“Um, I’m gonna go now, but I guess see you two around.” You shoot them another fake smile before turning around and walking away from this conversation straight from Hell.

Marching away from the barn you rush into the nearest bathroom you can find. You need a minute. Or maybe two… five. This did not just happen. You didn’t just face your cheating ex-fiancé with the woman he cheated on you, what kind of sick movie plot is this you found yourself in?

Placing your camera to the counter near the sink you wash your hands and sprinkle some water to your face as well before you lean to the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost and quite frankly, you would have been happier with the ghost than with Keith and Stella.

You’ve been doing alright since the breakup, but it’s obvious that only because you didn’t have to see Keith. Following the blowup when you found the explicit texts in his phone, you only had to face him twice and never since then. It’s easier to be okay when you don’t have to look at the person who hurt you most all the time, but coming face to face with him now really threw you off, especially with Stella on his arm. The fucker did not only cheat on you with her, but he went straight into a relationship with her and she probably doesn’t even know that she was just the sidechick in the beginning. If you were really evil, you’d go up to her and enlighten her about who you really are, but you are not one to cause a scene. Keith kept the two of you apart consciously, he never let you go into his office because he wanted Stella to think that he is a single man while he was engaged. Sickening to think how slyly he played the both of you and even after his little plan failed, he kept lying to the poor girl and lured her into a relationship. You wonder if he is already fucking another girl behind her back.

Your fingers start to turn white, gripping the edge of the sink tightly so you loosen up a bit, shaking your arms and shoulders off to pull yourself together. You fix your makeup and run your fingers through your hair quickly to give it some volume before grabbing the camera from the counter and heading out. However shocking it is to be at the same place as Keith again, you have a job to do right now and the bride and groom are expecting some amazing photos and that’s exactly what you’re gonna deliver.

You manage to busy yourself to the point where you are able to forget about Keith’s existence for most of the time. Following the happy couple around you don’t get too much free time, the camera is glued in front of your face basically and it brings you some peace. For a while.

Emily and Jesse disappear for an outfit change and it gives you a short break since they didn’t want that to be photographed, only when they return. So you get yourself a virgin cocktail from the bar and head outside to get some fresh air. You text back Heather and Trevor and then just scroll through Instagram, enjoying some alone time from the buzzing you’ve been around all day.

“Y/N!”

Turning to your right you spot Keith walking towards you, this time alone, but it doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes.

“What do you want?” you mumble under your breath.

“Just… though we could chat for a little. It’s been a long time.”

“Not enough,” you retort. “And I would like to skip the chatting.”

“Come on, you can’t be still that mad at me,” he chuckles and you almost punch him in the face right then and there.

“Well I am. So go back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone.”

“I know things didn’t end too well, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be civil towards each other.” You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your throat. He can’t be serious, trying to act like the bigger person now after everything he has done to you. This has got to be a joke.

“This is me being civil, because I’m not throwing anything at you. So leave me the fuck alone, let me do my job and then we hopefully don’t see each other again.”

“Come on. You don’t miss me, baby?” he smirks at you, completely ignoring what you just told him. You physically cringe at the pet name he just called you and you take a step away from him, needing the distance more than ever.

“I don’t. Now leave.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Too fucking bad. Now leave!” you raise your voice, but it does nothing. He is still standing there, looking at you like he didn’t completely destroy you just about a year ago.

“Heard that you haven’t dated anyone since we broke up.”

“Are you asking around after me?” you scowl.

“We have a few mutual friends,” he shrugs. “Is it because you still want me?”

“My dating life is none of your business, Keith. And I don’t want you. Quite frankly, I don’t even know how I could ever want you, so now please let me enjoy my break and leave me alone.”

“Y/N, I just—“ Keith reaches for your hand, but you pull back before he could touch you, holding up a finger at him you start talking slowly and very clearly so the message goes through.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me or talk to me. I want nothing to do with you, you’re a manipulating, cheating, egoistic asshole who ruins the life of others. I’m telling you this for the last time, Keith: leave me the fuck alone.”

He looks a bit stunned at your harsh response, but you couldn’t care less if you’ve hurt him. He did way worse things to you than snapping at you. As you walk past him to head back into the barn, he doesn’t let the chance to punch you in the stomach with his words one last time.

“I wish I could say you were a good fuck, but that wouldn’t be true. Good luck finding some lowlife loser who would even think about marrying you!”

Every fiber in your body is screaming to launch yourself at him and punch him until he is unconscious, because that’s exactly what he deserves. The tears are already stinging your eyes, but you don’t give him the satisfaction to see you react to his words. So swallowing hard you just keep on walking until you are out of his sight, bottling up the sobs and tears for the time when you’re home and on your own.

It’s past two am when you arrive home, drained and exhausted, both emotionally and exhausted. Following the conversation you had wit Keith he didn’t try to talk to you anymore, but you could always feel his eyes on you, wherever you were, as if he wanted to see if you are watching him too, but you weren’t. Looking at him would have been too painful so you tried your best to keep your eyes away from him through the night.

You know damn well that what he told you when you were leaving was just to get a reaction out of you, to get you upset enough to start a fight with him, it’s just who he is, he enjoys having the last word and the higher ground in every situation, but you didn’t want to be his partner in his stupid games this time. However it still hurt, what he said.

Walking into the dead silent house you kick your shoes off, drop your keys into the little bowl next to the door and head to the kitchen to get yourself some water. Pouring yourself a glass you lean against the counter and as you stare ahead of you, nothing can stop the tears from falling.

Everything you kept bottled up during the afternoon and evening just hits you all at once, making you break down heavier than any time in the past months. You sob and cry, letting it all out until your head feels like exploding, but you still can’t stop. You were not ready to face the man that broke your heart like no one before.

In the middle of your breakdown you don’t even realize the footsteps coming from the stairs.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice calls out, snapping you out of your pity party. He immediately sees that you’ve been crying like a baby, no doubt, but you still try to wipe your cheeks and eyes, pretending like everything is totally fine.

“Harry! What are you doing up so late?” you breathe out hoarsely.

“Just wanted to get some water, but have you been crying? What happened, are you alright?” he starts bombarding you with questions, clearly worried about you, seeing you in this state.

“Everything is fine, I just… had a rough night,” you chuckle through your tears that are still rolling down your cheeks, those bastards!

“A rough night doesn’t make you sob like this. What happened?” Rounding the kitchen island he stops in front of you, not sure how to approach the situation, but it’s kind of sweet how he wants to help, but doesn’t know how.

“I, uhh—I met my… ex-fiancé tonight. He was at the wedding I worked at,” you mumble shutting your eyes closed.

“Did he hurt you? Y/N, if he laid a hand on you, I swear—“ “No, he didn’t hurt me,” you shake your head before adding: “Well, not physically.”

“Come on, let’s sit down for a bit.” He gently takes your hand and pulls you to the couch in the living room, making you sit before he plops down next to you. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s really stupid, I shouldn’t be this upset about it, but I just… It hurt and I can’t change it,” you whine, wiping some more tears away.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid. Tell me what happened!”

“He was there with the woman he cheated on me with. They are basically a couple now, but she doesn’t even know that Keith was engaged to me when they started dating, so it’s really fucked up. And it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, because, you know, fuck him, he can do whatever he wants, it’s not my business anymore, but then he came up to me and tried to chitchat with me, which I didn’t really want, of course.”

Harry listens carefully, giving you his undivided attention while you fumble with the hem of your shirt, kind of avoiding to look him in the eyes. Part of you is afraid you’d see judgment in them and you don’t think you would be able to handle that.

“I asked him to leave me alone, but he just kept talking and then I snapped at him a little harsher and when I was walking away he…”

You scowl again, hearing his words play in your head so clearly, as if he was standing behind you, repeating them to you. Harry reaches out and he gently covers your hand with his warm palm, giving it a gentle squeeze, letting you know that he is patiently waiting, not rushing you to talk. Taking a deep breath you blink your tears away before continuing.

“He basically said that I wasn’t even a good fuck and no man will want to marry me.”

“Jesus fuck, what kind of asshole did you date, Y/N?” Harry snaps in horror and it’s kinda funny, makes you laugh through your tears.

“Seems like the worst kind,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. “I know I shouldn’t have let his words get to my head, but… it’s easier said than done. I feel like such a loser,” you breathe out, your lips trembling as the tears are threatening to flow again.

“Don’t blame yourself for having feelings, it’s completely normal. Of course his words hurt, he once meant a lot to you and he probably knows that too, that’s why he tried to use it against you. What he said held no truth.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper as you finally look at him. His green irises appear so warm as he smiles at you, squeezing your hand again. He scoots a little closer, his knee bumping against the side of your thigh.

“Y/N, I know so,” he chuckles. “That guy was a proper idiot for what he did to you. You didn’t deserve any of that and any many would be lucky to have you as their wife.”

“Really?” you pout, feeling so touched and loved from his words. It’s exactly the reassurance you needed.

“Absolutely,” he nods smiling sweetly.

Everything that happened today messed with your head big time. And now sitting with Harry on the couch, listening to him telling you how worthy you are of love and happiness, it completely throws you off. Ever since that moment in the kitchen before Gemma walked in, you’ve been nonstop thinking about what would have happened and it made you notice even the tiniest things about him.

Harry Styles is a man who is clearly a sight for the eyes, with his chiseled jawline, pink lips and gorgeous green eyes, the duality of his powerful and business appropriate attires he wears during the day and the tattoos hidden under his dress shirts, you’d have to be blind to say that he is not an attractive man. But on top of everything on the outside, he is a wonderful person on the inside and it twists your head more than you’d like it.

Your brain switches off for a moment, or just the rational side, but you completely stop thinking as you stare at each other. The intimacy and emotionality of the moment pushes all your common sense to the side as your gaze wanders down his lips.

The thought of kissing him comes fast and before you could even stop yourself, you move forward and press your lips to his. The touch of his lips against yours is sweet and warm and kind of intoxicating, but in just a blink of the eye your rationality gets a grip of you and your eyes pop open in realization of what you just did. Pulling back you gasp and cover your mouth in shock, feeling your whole inside trembling at the thought of getting yourself fired by this move.

Harry seems frozen and quite shocked as well, his lips are parted as he stays still in his spot.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what’s gotten into me! Harry, I’m sorry, I promise—“

You start rambling in panic, but you don’t get to finish. Harry moves forward, his hand coming to the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss, this time making it a lot more passionate and even your tongues get involved. He is kissing you hard and you almost moan into his mouth when you feel his other hand come to your thigh, squeezing it just enough to send a shockwave up your spine. Your hands come up to the back of his hair and you hold onto him for dear life, carrying the kiss on like you’re two teenagers in your parents’ basement, doomed to get caught any moment. Harry goes in again and again, tugging on your bottom lip, licking into your mouth and making your insides twist just from having his lips on yours.

And then you both let go of each other, needing some time to breathe and you slowly realize what just happened. You both stare at each other in disbelief, completely shocked at your own actions, but neither of you have any idea what should happen next.

You let go of each other, sitting back to your normal positions, awkwardly breathing heavily and you realize you cannot deal with this right now. You are way too drained and tired to make it make sense so you decide to just… call it a night.

“I’ll head to bed,” you quietly inform him as you stand up from the couch, walking like a zombie, the shock still clouding your judgment.

“Good night,” Harry mumbles, just as confused as you are.

“Good night,” you nod and basically sprint up the stairs and don’t stop until you shut your door behind you.

Leaning your back against it, you slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare into the darkness for long minutes. Quite some time passes by before you hear Harry walk upstairs, his door opens and then closes before silence falls on the house again. With a blank mind, you push yourself up, take a quick shower and just go to bed, ignoring everything that has happened today. You’ll deal with it in the morning.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #to love and be loved series #dad!harry #ceo!harry

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kenmaskitten10 · 3 years

Text

Dilf Deku Headcanons

Midoriya Izuku x GN!Reader

warnings: swearing, NSFW themes (nothing graphic just briefly mentioned),brief mention of bullying/scars, idk this is pretty tame nothing is really described... if u don't like dilfs then don't read this :)

a/n: okay! this is my first time writing/publishing anything on Tumblr so please go easy on me haha... I've had ridiculous Deku brain rot lately and I decided I had to jot a few thoughts down. I'm playing with the idea of turning this into a writing blog, but I am undecided! If anyone wants to thirst for one Izuku Midoriya please come talk to me please anyway without further ado here are some Dilf!Deku hcs.... I'm playing around with doing a NSFW version after this so if you would like to see that let me know!

w/c: 1,498

Okay everyone today I want to talk about Dilf!Izuku

This may be controversial but I personally believe that he has the most Dilf potential out of any of the class 1A boys and no I will not be taking criticism at this time

Sorry but even when he’s younger he has Dilf energy - he’s caring, considerate, takes your feelings into account like a dad he just wants to take care of his baby

oh fuck this man no no no

And listen, here me out on this one….. he has more dilf potential than Bakugo and allow me to tell you why

We can all agree that Bakugo has been confident his entire life, so of course he’s going to be confident when he’s older?? duh

But IZUKU is a different story altogether, he’s never felt confident in his life

His whole childhood he was looked down on for being quirkless, and bullied by someone he thought was his friend kachaan

THEN he got a quirk but oh every time he uses it it breaks all his fucking bones and leaves him with all these scars, and he appreciates them because of what they represent but also he’s young when he gets them, he’s already prone to insecurity and when he’s younger ESPECIALLY i think they just remind him of previous failures

He only started to gain a little bit of confidence in his UA days, but it takes time to rebuild yourself after you’ve been torn down for so long, so I honestly imagine he doesn’t even feel an inkling of confidence until his third year or later and even then, it’s new, it’s unfamiliar, he doesn’t totally know how to act

Because yes, by his third year, he’s starting to realize, oh wow okay, I have an incredible quirk and all these new abilities that I can control better, and wow people are paying attention for good reasons , because he’s tall and attractive, probably cuts his hair undercut Izuku supremacy and he’s made some solid friends who help boost his confidence too

But despite all this, deep down he still feels like that quirkless little kid who has to work three times as hard as anyone else and still doesn’t get the recognition he deserves

But OH BOY

DILF IZUKU??? This man is dripping with confidence

he’s older now. he’s overcome a lot. he’s gone to therapy, and worked his way through the pro hero ranks until he earned his number one spot fair and square, that’s something no one can take away from him

He’s loaded now (see below because I go on a whole tangent), he has nice tasteful style that can only come with age and experience

He knows he’s hot now, because its simply no longer something that can be denied, anyone with eyes can see how attractive he is

If he catches you staring at him, he doesn’t shy away. His cheeks might tint slightly, but he stares right back with the biggest smirk on his face. “See something you like, angel?”

Probably finds reasons to show off slightly but he’s Dilf!Izuku so it’s subtle, it’s meant just for you and god does it drive you crazy

The way he’ll reach for and grab at things when he’s around you because he knows you like his hands (he wants to hold your bags and please let him he just wants to feel needed)

They way he stands behind you while you cook, or work, or read…. He sees you sitting or standing so peacefully and he’ll come up behind you to check out what it is you’re doing. He’ll lean down slowly, quietly, stopping when his breath is on your neck and your nose is filled with his scent, and take a quick peek at whatever it is you’re working on. It takes you a moment to turn around, your heart starting to beat faster in your chest due to his looming presence behind you (I DON’T KNOW WHY THIS IS HOT TO ME IT JUST IS OKAY). When you finally turn to face him, his face breaks into a small smile of victory as his strong hand catches your jaw in a gentle grip and he places an achingly soft kiss to your lips before saying “You look so cute when you’re concentrating,”. As you’re about to go in for another, he lets you go and stands up again, his eyes twinkling. “No no, you’re working so hard baby, don’t let me distract you,” WHEN ALL HE WANTED WAS TO DISTRACT YOU and he succeeded and now you’re all hot and bothered, with no hope of resuming what you were doing

Dilf Deku is a tease I know he is but it’s okay he’ll make it up to you later ;)

He’s got shorter, slightly more cropped hair with grey mixed in with the green, his face more lean and angular… not to mention years of pro hero work have toned his body into an absolute work of art I’m gonna pass out just thinking about it

Freckles splashed across his skin like hundreds of little constellations, accented by scars and marks from old wounds (which he’s come to appreciate - they show how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get to where he is now) he’s muscular but I don’t think he’s quite as big as All Might (his fighting style is a lot different so of course he would build muscle in different places) so this means LEGS LEGS LEGS

LEG MUSCLES FOR DAYS

THICK FUCKING THIGHS oh my god

And holy shit his back muscles too WHEW sometimes in the morning when he gets up before you, you watch him sit on the edge of the bed and flex his shoulders and arms to stretch out in the hazy morning light and Jesus Christ

Dilf Deku is older now, he’s spent his entire life working himself too hard and he missed out on a lot of the fun, impulsive, chaotic things young people do, so I think he wants to let loose a little in his older age, have some fun for once

And what’s more perfect than sweet, youthful, tantalizing little you to indulge in ?

He’s so doting, just wants to make you feel special and cared for

And on that note, if you will indulge me for a moment

he’s fucking RICH like

He’s the number one pro hero, he has brand deals on brand deals on brand deals

And I don’t mean to slander All Might and Endeavor, but in terms of a hot, fuckable number one pro hero, Deku has them beat by a landslide so I imagine he has a wider range of brand deals too, because he can sell the sex appeal angle

I mean can you imagine him in interviews? Interacting with fans? Confident yes, but still soft spoken and kind, almost gentle but anyone can tell he’s completely in control, of himself, of the interview, of the audience, this man has the entire country world wrapped around his little finger

All this to say he’s DRIPPING WITH MONEY

he’s like the guy that overtips an OBSCENE amount like if the waiter is really nice he’ll tip like $300 dollars and won’t even blink (I know they don’t tip at restaurants in Japan but this is more for vibes yk)

sugar daddy deku isn’t a stretch it’s a REALITY

Y’all can be officially together or not, either way Deku loves to spoil his precious little y/n

All you have to do is smile sweetly and ask, and he’s absolute putty in your hands

Complies with even the most egregious of your demands, because hey, he has the money to spare, and how could he say no when you look so cute asking so politely?

GOOD TASTE too like he has a lot of money but he knows how to spend it 😏

Additionally he’s, ya know, him, so he’s insanely charitable and donates to charities, go fund me, personal Venmo accounts of fans that need it

if a fan has like a go fund me for some reason that catches his eye, he’s going to donate and he’s going to donate a lot (A LOT)

he doesn’t even do it for the press, he does it bc he’s a good person but my GOD the press eats it up and so do the fans

These hc’s are so self indulgent but all this to say

Dilf!Deku gets what he wants when he wants it and no one is standing in his way

So when he decides it’s you he wants? Well then it’s you he’s going to get!

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha x y/n #mha hcs #mha x reader #dilf izuku #izuku midoriya headcanons #deku #dilf deku #deku x reader #deku x y/n #mha #mha x y/n #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x y/n #izuku

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?” She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y��know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

#to lovers fic challenge #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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rsgguk · 4 years

Text

true love, almost always — jjk

↳ aka — 'cause baby you're perfect for me

summary: y/n didn't know much about her soulmate. She knows that he's artistic from the little doodles that appears on her arm. She knows he's athletic from the scrapes that appears on her knees. She also knows that he has pain in the ass friends from the random dick drawings that appears on her forehead

genre: romance, angst, comedy, fluff

word count: 5.8 k

pairings:

Jungkook + reader | soulmates

warnings: so let me tell you, this is probably gonna be a bit inconsistent, I had written most of this during the middle of the night when I had a severe case of the feels. Now this isn't my usual style of writing, most things are in passive form because I'm trying to focus more on how they feel. I’m not sure if I’ll ever go back to this writing style but I had fun generally not worrying on the dialogue.

Y/n didn't know much about her soulmate. In a system where everything marked on your soulmates skin crosses on yours, she knows from the seemingly many doodles that appears on the plan of her hand that he is an artistic person. She knows from the way her knees would appear scraped at times meant that he was either athletic or desperately clumsy. She knows that by the scar that daunted on her cheek that he got in a ’fight’ with his brother. She also knows from the random dick drawings that appear on her forehead that he has the most chaotic of friends.

Jungkook would like to say he knew a lot about his soulmate. He knows by the way tiny little hearts would appear near his doodles that she wasn't the most artsy person in the world, but she could draw a damn to near perfect heart. He knows by the way that small little freckles would gloss over his skin that she was an outgoing person. He knows by the way that shallow cuts would appear on his arms and fingers that she had an asshole cat. He also knows that by the way tiny reminders would appear on his palm that she had a knack for forgetting things (he also knows that her handwriting might be the cutest thing he'd ever seen, but he may be a little biased).

They're sober to the fact that the other exist by the time they're 11. Jungkook was bored in class and started drawing little clouds, trees, the sun with shades on, the whole package on his arm. And then on the expanse of his palm would appear in large curvy letters, 'can you draw a cat?'.

He thinks back to the day and guesses that he didn't really understand the extremity of the situation back then. Everyone had a soulmate, but it was the first time he'd actually 'talked' to his.

He didn't gasp or scream or shed a tear, only complying with her request and drawing a cute little cat next the tree trunk. He'd think he was hallucinating about the request until he watched as a ribbon was drawn and coloured in the middle of the cat's head.

The next week, he would have a fight with his brother that had ended in him getting a cut on his cheek. He doesn’t worry about it, only locking himself in his room and sulking in his sheets. It’s when a few words appeared on his palm that he finally sat up with a smile on his lips. She would write down if he was okay because a cut had appeared on her cheek.

‘I’m sorry’ he’d write.

‘it’s okay my daddy said I look cool’ she would reply, and his cheeks would flush because his mom had always said that a woman’s face was her pride. Jungkook had never understood it back then, because if he could be covered in dirt after a fun game of soccer, and still be called adorable, why should it matter what a girl’s face looked like?

She’d ask what happened and Jungkook would bite down an embarrassed whine. ’My brother said I played with the computer too much so I threw a pen at him’.

‘did you win?’ She’d ask a second later.

’No it hit the floor and bounced to my face’.

‘and then he laughed at me’

‘your brother sounds stupid’

‘he is stupid’

They didn't talk more than that, they were still young and the whole soulmates thing hadn't made sense yet. Jungkook still drew his doodles on his arm and she'd add little details (mostly hearts) around them, a tiny reminder that she was there.

It was barely considered a means of communication but it had morphed into a sense of comfort for Jungkook. He draws the little doodles, sometimes it was of a cat (He would never admit it but he'd learn how to draw a cat because he knew she liked cats). And each time without fail, she'd draw a tiny ribbon on its head.

And then Jungkook entered high-school and he met his friends. His stupid, chaotic, love them to death friends and his soul mate was still there, drawing little heart across his skin. The boys say its cheesy (as cheesy as it is to the fact that she's literally his soul mate) but he really hadn't given a shit.

He'd considered himself a romantic throughout the years, although he's gotten not a single bit of experience, he cries at the ending of titanic every single time and his ideal way of proposal is during the sunset walking across the shoreline of the beach, nightlights littered in the scenery and him on one knee, asking to marry his one and only soulmate.

He tries his best to keep up a mature kind of facade for his soul mate. Afterall, that was what they were into right? Older and more mature men. Sure, they'd like bad boys too, but honestly Jungkook bruises like a peach. His act of maturity consists of drawing thing with 'deeper meaning'. And yes, maybe a cat surfing on the beach tides has a deeper meaning, you never know.

His act is ruined when one day, he falls asleep during lunch after a long night of overwatch (in which he dominated by the way) and wakes up to Taehyung snickering beside him, looking at him with the largest shit eating grin he’d ever seen. Jungkook would shake his head and roll his eyes, dismissing whatever it was that he did.

Later during class, everyone kept giving him weird looks, and his teacher even laughed at the sight of him. It wasn’t until multiple frowney faces appeared on his arm that he really realized that something was wrong. His heart skipped a beat when he answered back with question marks written along her doodles.

‘there’s a dick drawing on my forehead :(’ she’d rely with the same curvy letters he’d gotten used to. And then there was a sound that had left his mouth. A mix between an angry scream and a surprised gasp with a little bit of an embarrassed groan. He’d then realize he was still in the middle of class and that every one of his classmates were staring at him.

His teacher would give him some sort of look between annoyed and amused, and finally asks ’so you finally realized huh?’. Jungkook would splutter on his words and immediately turn towards Jimin and Taehyung. It was barely a second before Jimin had shook his head and pointed at Taehyung. He would finally lift his hand off his mouth and bursts out laughing for a minute or two before outright choking, tears in his eyes.

That day, Jungkook along with Taehyung and (for some reason) Jimin would be sent to the discipline teacher. Jungkook wouldn’t give a shit about being sent to devil’s incarnate, only silently punching Taehyung’s shoulder and cussing it out at him for making him look like a fool to his soulmate.

When he’s home (after a lecture from his mom, a pat on the back from his dad and a high five from his brother), he locks himself in his bedroom and takes a pen from his bag, writing apologies all over his arm. She’d reply a minute later, saying it was okay.

His fingers would then drum along his arm, his leg jumping up and down, trying to figure out what else to say to her. He’d get up the courage and ask her what was her name. She’d respond with y/n and he’d have a smile riding up his lips, saying her name again and again, realizing that he loved how it felt to say her name.

Then the two of them would keep talking to each other, Jungkook constantly rolling up his sleeve to make some room for more words. They would spend the whole night getting to know each other and filling up a whole decade of silence. When they had run out of room to write, she would go on and ask for his number so they could text instead, and Jungkook would get up to his feet, jumping up and down on his heels. He wouldn’t waste a second to write down his number on the little space he had left.

The next day, he had woken up with an especially good mood. An extra jump on each of his step, a large grin on his face as if he hadn’t gotten into trouble for having a dick drawn on his forehead just the day before. Taehyung would expect a more than pissed of Jungkook, maybe a little bit of pettiness in the mix, but Jungkook shows nothing but adoration for him, even going as far as to buy him the apple juice he knows he loves from the convenience store nearby.

Texting her falls so easily in his routine. One second, he’s hesitant to text her, afraid to show her just how much of a dumbass he could be, another second, he’s called her the fifth time in a day because he swears a baby just gave him a nasty look. They connect quickly. She finds out the reason she suddenly gets eye bags after a full night’s sleep with because her idiot soulmate had spent the whole night screaming at wario for cheating at Mario kart.

Taehyung says it’s sickening to see just how lovey dovey Jungkook was (Jimin says it’s nice to see him so in love, but they both knew he secretly hated it too). The way his eyes light up at the sight of her name appearing on his screen.

He gets in trouble more nowadays though, teachers having caught him talking to his soulmate on his arm, and the most embarrassing time they read out his not-so-failed attempts of flirting off his arm to the whole class. Let’s just say he’d gotten teased for the life of him when it reached his brother’s ears (though he supposes his brother isn’t any better when he would literally be a make shift carpet if his soulmate asked for it). The Jeon boys treat their women like proper queens and won’t settle for anything less.

The first time they video call, Jungkook has fixed his hair for the hundredths time, a comfortable (and new that he bought just for this occasion) sweatshirt hung loosely on his shoulders. She’d asked if it was okay if they could do a video call the day before and Jungkook being as whipped as he was, of course agreed with her, only regretting not to be the one who asked first.

He’s so tense that when his phone starts ringing, he nearly chucks it off to the wall. He forces himself to calm down before setting it up on the table and pressing the green button after taking a deep breath. He looks at the screen and watches as her face appears. His heart almost bursts, because he’s thought of this moment a million times. He’d expect her to be something like a glowing figure, that she’d resemble a star and that her voice would sound like a serenading angel.

She’s nothing like he’d expect. She’s not glowing like an angel. Her camera has bad lighting and he could see a few strands of her hair sticking out. When she says hello, it isn’t like an angel, her voice isn’t smooth, a little raspy. But she still manages to surpass all his expectations, and he realizes she’s so much better than he’d ever imagined. His heart beats faster and faster because she’s only said one word, and Jungkook is already falling for her. She’s not perfect, but she’s perfect for him.

It’s going well, very well. There’s a way that she makes him feel, a way that just brightens up his day, and when they have their video calls and she laughs at one of those lame jokes that he’d gotten from one of his friends, her voice just soothes him, lets him relax into his seat and just watch as her eyes crinkle in joy.

It starts to become a routine, the video calls are weekly but the texting is daily. Whenever he’s nervous about an upcoming exam, he calls her and just listens to her talk about her day, lets her voice fill his ear and calm his nerves. And then she would get off track and asks why is it that he had called her and he’d brush it off, he called to hear her voice, but he won’t say that because it’s too cheesy and he has a reputation to keep.

It’s during one of his classes that he feels it, a gut wrenching feeling deep in his stomach that has him groaning. It’s a different type of pain, nothing like nausea or a muscle cramp, because he’d always considered himself as a person with a great pain tolerance, but at that moment, he had just felt like curling in a ball and crying. Jimin and Taehyung would take him to the clinic immediately, and he’d just have tears rolling down his cheeks, and he’s sniffling and making these weird choking sounds when he tries to smother down his sobs.

He stays there for a while, the curtains draped closed with Jimin and Taehyung just rubbing his back soothingly. He tries to calm down, but every so and then, a sob bubbles up to his chest and a new wave of tear roll down his cheeks. It stays like that for an hour and the pain in his stomach travels up to his chest. His right arm starts to ache and dizziness starts to seep in his head. He falls asleep in the clinic bed, his whimpers slowing down and his eyes drooping heavily.

When he’s back at home, he doesn’t try to talk to his parents. They’d come visit now and then, giving a few hugs and pats on the back. His brother would come by when Jungkook had calmed down a bit, ruffling his hair and saying ‘it’s going to be okay’. But that’s the thing, there isn’t an ‘it’ to be okay. For all he knew, ‘it’ was all okay, everything was going okay in class, but then there was this rush of emotion that came over him and he’d just double over in pain. There was this burning sensation in his gut, something that hadn’t been building but more of an eruption. And then it would slowly cascade to his chest, and then he’d start crying and crying, choking on his sobs.

He’s in his sheets, listening to the sounds of pans clanging from the downstairs kitchen. His mom was cooking dinner, but he doubted that he’d go down to have some himself. The sound of the washing machine clashing against itself. That old thing was always just waiting to give out. The sound of the TV running from the living room. There was always some sort of game his dad would be watching, cheering on for teams he’d never even heard of. These are all sounds he’d never realized he’d taken comfort into. Such meaningless things that were just always there, a consistency that had always reassured him in some way.

He’d just lays there, listening to his own heartbeat. For the first time in hours, he feels relaxed and his breath relax into a steady pace. His eyes almost drift to sleep, because It's been a long day and Jungkook feels exhausted, but then there’s this loud blaring noise that breaks the silence. He knows what it is, someone had gone up and called him again. It would be the sixth call he’d get from his friends.

Only it turns out that it wasn’t his friends, it wasn’t Jimin, nor Taehyung or even Yoongi. It was her, and it terrified him because he’d always smile at the sight of her name, but there was this raw and intense feeling that had him wanting to decline the call. It terrified him because she’s his soulmate and supposedly the ’love of his life’ but he had wanted nothing more than to hang up the call. And it just stays like that, him wallowing in the fact as his phone had stopped ringing, and then a few seconds pass and her name appears again. His arm would suddenly feel heavy at the weight of the phone in his hand. Slowly, he would finally tap on the green button.

Her voice hits him like a wave. Jungkook doesn’t even have the chance to say anything when her voice starts filling his ears. Her voice is raspy and broken, there’s sniffling and whimpering as she rushes through her words. ’I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ she whispers in uneven breathes, and he would have stopped her, to comfort her and ask her why she was crying and that ’it’ was going to be okay. But then there is this sudden realization that hits him that ’it’ wasn’t going to be okay, and he probably wasn’t going to be okay. So, he just sits there as new tears roll down his cheeks.

When she finally speaks, everything just dawns on him. He felt like he was dying because his soulmate had kissed someone, he felt like dying because his soulmate had kissed someone that wasn’t him, he felt like dying because his soulmate’s first kiss wasn’t him, and will never be him. And then all of her other words just go straight through his other ear. He doesn’t hear it when she says that she didn’t want it, or when she says that she didn’t know it was going to happen until it happened, or when she says that she also felt the pain, the suffocating and unrelenting pain, that she also felt like she was dying.

He hears it when she says she loves him.

Jungkook has always one for cheesy romances and tear-jerking speeches. He imagines their first exchanges of ‘I love you’ to be at night, with a sea of stars sunken in the night sky because that was where they would have their first kiss. She would have his jacket that was a little too big for her on her shoulders because the night was breezy and his mom raised him to be a gentle man. Her hands would be in his because she always has cold hands and he always has warm hands.

He would talk about the ‘old times’ like when he had drawn those little cats for her or when he’d waken up to many frowney faces along his arm because his friends yet again drew dicks on his forehead (he should really get some proper sleep). And then he’d try to coax a few tears out of her and end it off with ’I love you’, and because this was Jungkook’s imagination of how things would go, she would also say I love you, and they’d kiss in the night sky.

Jungkook then realizes that nothing he’d imagined will ever go as planned, that they will never have a first kiss, because she’d already had hers with some random asshole, and that they’d never have their first ‘I love you’, because she had already said it through the phone while they were both out of breath and sobbing every drop of tear from their bodies.

He doesn’t realize it, but when he’d finally gotten out of his phase, the call had already ended and his cheeks had become tear stained and his sobs had calmed down to weak whimpers. He realizes that he’d just hung up on her after she’d said she loved him, and he just panics, because she’s going to think he doesn't love her and he should immediately call her and tell her that he loves her, because he does, he loves her like he’d never loved anyone before.

He’d started talking to her in his sophomore years and he was now a senior, and she'd been there in every step of the way. But he just doesn't, he doesn’t tell her he loves her, he doesn’t call her, because he doesn’t trust himself if he does. And she doesn’t call back either.

There are a few times when Jungkook forgets that y/n is his soulmate. He doesn’t know what he’d expect when he doesn’t talk to her in a week. It starts off small. He catches himself dozing off, looking into the distance and zoning out. His friends would ask him if he was okay and he’d reply with ’I’m fine’, even though he knew he wasn't, and that he knew they wouldn’t believe him anyway, because who the hell would be fine yet walk into the classroom with puffy and bloodshot eyes.

And then when class goes on like normal, he’s moving his leg up and down, fingers drumming along the desk, because he swears class had never been this long before. He realizes later that class had always gone on so fast because y/n was always there for him to talk to. He looks back at it as if it had happened years ago, as if he hadn’t talked to her in decades.

The truth is that they haven’t talked in no less than three days, yet he’s been missing her as if he’d gone days without a limb. A piece of him feels missing, torn apart from him and left out to dry. It’s a weird feeling, a suffocating feeling that has him yearning for her, that has him filling his mind with nothing but her. He supposes that was the thing with soulmates, when they were together, it had felt like he was he was over the moon, as if nothing could ever go wrong in his life, but when they were apart, it felt like he was missing a part of himself.

She would nag at him whenever he was bombarding her with doodles on his arm, waiting for her attention so she could drag him from his boredom of class. She’d say ‘you have class’ and he’d say ’I also have a soulmate, and I’d rather pay attention to her’. His friends would tease for it, for flirting and dancing around with her as if it was a game of push and pull, as if she wasn’t his soulmate.

That’s the thing that terrifies him, because as far as he had ever known, having a soulmate was the best feeling in the world. It’s all rainbows and roses, because it had meant that there will always be that one person that just gets you, that just loves you unconditionally for all your flaws and perfections, all your quirks and mishaps. That one person that will always be there for every step of the way. He yearns that, the comfort of knowing there was someone the universe had picked just for him, the missing piece to his puzzle.

And then he meets her, and he realizes just how perfect she is for him.

And then the whole fiasco happens and he realizes just how much it would hurt if he didn’t get his happy ending, because he knows it wasn’t uncommon for soulmates not to work out, usually from the intensity of their emotions for each other.

Having a soulmate had also meant other things. It meant that when you were together, you’d feel the happiest you’d ever be, but if you weren’t, you’d dread every second of your life. You’d feel pain, you’d feel nauseous, you’d feel your body start to crumble. Having a soulmate was almost like a drug, something so addicting that your body starts to dysfunction when you go a day without.

Jungkook still feels it sometimes, when he’s managed to get her out of his mind. There was this sudden jolt of pain that shoot up his chest, causing him to lose focus. And then all he can think about is her, her, her. He wonders if she feels it too, if she misses him too, if she thinks of him too. He realizes how stupid he is, because his phone is right there in front him, and he could end all of this with just one button.

Truth is he’d stopped mulling over the whole kiss thing a while ago, and that he should’ve called her a long time ago, but he was scared, scared of his own emotions, scared of how much he loved her, scared that this whole thing is going to destroy to him.

He wants to talk about this with someone, to anyone, but then it dawns on him that the only person he really wants to talk to about this was his soulmate, and that she was the only person he should be talking to about this. So, he picks up his phone and presses on the name he’d been missing for what felt like decades now.

She answers after no less than a few seconds. She speaks after a second’s hesitation, and her voice is filled with the sort of hope, as if she has done something wrong. Jungkook cuts her off when she starts on her little ramble (a habit he’d learn she had over the years) and apologizes, two words that hits her as hard as a brick. ‘I’m sorry’ he’d say again, and again and again. He says it until he can hear her start crying on the other end of the call. He knows she’s crying in a way that she’s trying to hide it from him, but he’d still hear her weak sniffles and whimpers.

It breaks his heart because he knows he never should’ve hung up on her that day, that he should’ve said that it was never her fault that ‘it’ happened, that he never thought of ‘it’ as her fault, that he was sorry ‘it’ had to happened in the first place

There’s a lot of things he realizes that he should have told her, so he doesn’t give her the time to say anything before he gets everything off his chest. He tells her everything. He tells her that he had never been upset with her, that he was upset with what happened to her. He tells her that he’s scared, no— terrified of how strong his feeling are for her, that the pain he felt that day was never what he’d ever experienced before. He tells her how much he had missed her during his period of stupidity when he decided not to talk to her, that he’d thought of her every second of the day.

And she just swallows in everything he tells her, listening to every word he says without a single interruption. And then they talk, talk, and talk until they shed more tears, because they’d never realized it, but they had always needed this. It’s a bit like clearing the air, speaking up about every and any hesitations they’d have.

They talk until their voices go dry and their eyes droop heavily. It isn’t until then that Jungkook realizes he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in days. Sleeping had always come easy to him, but during the past few days, he would lay down in his bed and just had this queasy and tense feeling.

When they’re nearing the end of the conversation, he knows there’s this one thing he hadn’t said yet, and he knows she’d been waiting for it too, those three simple words that had meant everything to them. He wants to say it, but there’s this one nerve in his stomach that causes his throat to close up when he tries to.

She finally ends the call after hours and hours of talking about their feeling and what they’d miss. Jungkook would again take out his pen, and write the words he’d meant to say in the palm of his hand. I love you.

Jimin shares a look with Taehyung when Jungkook comes to class the next day (he’s always late and it’s definitely not because of his poor excuse of a sleeping schedule), and the next thing he knows, they’re just screaming and hollering before running towards him. Jungkook swears he’s never felt more scared than he was at that moment, with the sight of his two best friends sprinting as if they were about to run them over like the untimely death of Mufasa.

And then they just hug him, stuff him with pats on the back and intense noogies. Jungkook just stands there, accepting it with the most confused expression ever. They go on about how glad they are that he got over whatever it was that had set him in such a sour and glum mood the past week and it puzzles him because he doesn’t remember being that much of a debbie downer.

They prove him otherwise by listing all the reasons he was such a pain to hang out with, because he’d somehow turned into a dictionary of depressing jokes and emo quotes. They end up finishing each other’s sentences, locking eyes when they say the same words and giving each other a bunch of high fives (Jungkook sometimes feels sorry for whoever their soulmates are, because the two of them are so in sync that they were already each other’s soulmate).

They’re interrupted when the teacher finally enters the class and tells everyone (specifically the two of them) to take a seat. They turn to Jungkook one final time and give him a pat in the back because they’re genuinely happy that the kid had no longer seemed so miserable.

Jungkook hadn’t thought hearing ‘I love you’ would change much for him. He’d heard it a dozen times from his parents (never from his brother, but let’s be honest, that’s to be expected) an amount more than you’d expect from Jimin and Taehyung (although Taehyung would say it more to annoy him and it works every single time), three times from Namjoon (which makes him grin more than it should) and once from Yoongi (now that one he wears like a golden medal).

Hearing it from his soulmate hits him in a totally different way. The conversation they had led them to get more comfortable in their relationships, this time acknowledging each other in a more romantic way. The way she says ‘I love you’ during insignificant moments like during a goodnight text or his after his daily ramble on how his friends are a pain in the ass sends him in a sort of high. It makes him giggle and flush and swoon all in the same time. It makes him feel things in a way he never knew he could.

Jungkook would learn that he shouldn’t plan things out as much as he used to, lets himself enjoy the moment for a while. Takes one step at a time, and this time he’s not as terrified to his wits anymore. It turns out when he's not worrying about all of his 'plans', time happens to move so fast.

When he finally sees her, she's got her back turned towards him, she hasn't noticed yet.

Jungkook takes a moment to take it all in. Sparks don’t fly, his hands don’t sweat and his breathing doesn’t pace. There is no nausea or nervousness that bubbles up in his stomach. When he sees her, his heart starts beating faster, but it beats in a way that you see something familiar after a long time, there is this sort of comfortable feeling. There’s a moment of complete peacefulness and serenity when he sees her. He’d never felt more at home.

When she sees him, her knees almost buckle, because he’s there. The boy, the dumbass, her soulmate that she’d been talking to for years now is finally there, and he’s waiting for her, looking for her. Her eyes almost well up in tears and she hates it because she swore to herself, she’d done cried enough times in their relationship, she doesn’t need to add another one to it.

She cries anyways, and she guesses she doesn’t hate it that much after all. Jungkook had managed to overturn all her expectations of their relationship that she’s not surprised that he pulls this either. She’s always known that her forgetfulness would bite her in the ass one day and she guesses she can’t be mad when this happens.

‘4:30 java time café pick up’ and right below on her palm is his handwriting, the handwriting she’s grown to adore and look forward to all these years, is written ’I found you’.

#bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #bts fanfiction #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #soulmate #soulmate au

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Note

hi i’d like max x reader where he’s having very stressful day at work like everything that can go wrong does go wrong and the reader is his gf and bc of all this stuff going wrong he forgets that she’s supposed to visit him at work so she comes in and starts talking about her day and how great it was and then he just shoots up and goes to hug her and starts kissing her and playing with her hair and she’s like ??? cause this never happens and he just lays his head on her lap and he rants about his day and she listens and she tries to comfort him as best she can thank u 🥺

Rough Day At Work [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: Oh. my god. This is a long one. I write a lot of Maxwell fluff but this one is by far one of my favourites. It's a journey of pure, unadulterated sweetness with a sliver of comedy. And it's set at Christmas— perfect to get you in the festive mood! Reblogs appreciated because this isn't showing up in tags.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: food mention, drink mention, brief allusions to sex, Maxwell is ~stressed~.

Rating: PG-13

Masterlist in pinned! Requests open x

Maxwell Lord had his fair share of bad days. Things almost always went wrong in his line of work, but it was almost never his fault. He could always squander up an excuse or find someone else to blame. But today it was one thing after another.

He was late. He had a meeting with the board team first thing but as the Christmas traffic filled the bustling roads of DC, he had already missed the first twenty five minutes of the conference. He practically fell out of the black limo that drove him to work every morning, plodging his feet through the thick layers of snow. It was so deep this morning, the ice cold water seeped through his leather Armani shoes and even through his favourite cashmere socks. The ones with little purple polka dots. He shivered uncomfortably as the clumps of ice sat in between his toes, melting, and so every footstep made an obscene squelching noise. He didn't have the time to fuss around and change his shoes. The bottoms of his tailored pants were dripping. He bolted through the glass revolving doors of Black Gold Cooperative, trailing a pool of water behind him. His receptionist Anna, and his assistant Raquel, stood up abruptly, their eyes widening as they saw their boss in such a hurried frenzy.

"Mr Lord! You have your nine o’ clock meeting and it’s now nine twenty-” Raquel raised her hand and called for him, but he didn't bother to stop in his tracks.

"Yes Raquel, I know!" Maxwell yelled after her, already tapping his feet impatiently as he waited for the elevator. "Cmon, cmon…" he grumbled as it slowly made its way down from the 25th floor to the ground floor.

When Maxwell entered the board meeting, his cheeks were a rosy pink from the cold winter weather. His eyes were glazed and the waves in his dark blonde hair were falling out of place. He had styled it perfectly this morning, the same way he did it every morning. You had even helped him, brushing through his locks when he had hopped out the shower. But now he looked as though he had just run a marathon, breaking out in a cold sweat. He swore if he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he'd have a heart attack. But surely, the day couldn't get any worse. Right? Maxwell had made it to the meeting, albeit late. At least he was there.

Wrong.

"I am so sorry." he scrambled, plopping his briefcase down on the table and slipping past the many occupied chairs. He slumped down in one eventually, pulling out in a notepad and pen. "Bad traffic," he huffed. "Can someone give me the lowdown?"

He eventually looked up to see his company. Twelve older ladies in pink button down dresses and white frilly aprons, their hair tied back into matching low buns. Maxwell froze up, his gaze wandering from woman to woman as it slowly began to sink in.

"Mr Lord…" the woman at the head of the table said cautiously. She looked just as baffled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've worked for Black Gold Cooperative for five years now but never did I expect to see you in person."

Maxwell looked back at the other girls who were all nodding in agreement, beaming with excitement. "Uh." He didn't know what to say, but instead, he placed his pen and notepad back into the inside of his suit jacket pocket and stood up. "I think- I think I'm in the wrong meeting." he announced.

"We are the body of staff who are responsible for the cleanliness and hygiene of your company sir. We spend ten hours a day washing and tidying every surface, every inch of this building. We take great care of it." one of the ladies spoke up and Maxwell became even more confused. Although clearly, on a day like this, it didn't take much to confuse him.

"The cleaning staff have meetings in here?" He wondered out loud, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left his lips. He didn't want to come off as rude. "I mean, I'm your employer. Pft, of course I know that you have meetings. And I'm glad you do so. It's good to take direction!" he was doing that motivational voice he used on television, making the 60 year old cleaners swoon with admiration. "I- I should get going but. Uh, yes. Lovely to meet you all."

"Mr Lord!" A lady with ebony hair and crinkles by her eyes stood up, handing Maxwell his briefcase. He nodded appreciatvely and walked to the door where her hand met his arm and stopped him in his tracks. "Could I get your autograph, please? I'm just a huge fan of your infomercials."

Maxwell checked the time on his wristwatch. Almost half an hour late, but he couldn't deny one of his cleaners. Once upon a time he wouldn't have bothered giving them a second glance yet he leaned over the table and signed his name on a sticky note. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Pamela," she beamed brightly.

"Nice to meet you Pamela, have a good day." he pat her shoulder and went open the door when another voice yelled his name.

"Mr Lord!" a woman with white hair stood up, a grin pinned on her face. "I'm Doris," she introduced confidently, but her voice was shaky with her old age. "I remember when your father was on the television. I used to clean for him too, you know? Oh, he was such a lovely gentleman. And you look more and more like him every day. Such a handsome man, you are."

Maxwell stiffened up, his hand grabbing the door handle so hard he was sure his knuckles might've turned white. "Oh," was the only thing that could really leave his lips. He wanted to leave.

"Mr Lord, your father I mean-, every Christmas he'd give little old me a kiss," she recalled, her heart blooming at the memory. "Of course I wasn't old then. I was young. And beautiful."

Maxwell exhaled and nodded his head, unsure of really what to say or where this conversation was going. All he could think about was the board meeting that he was already extremely late for. Maxwell pushed down on the door handle and Doris let out a long dramatic sigh, making Maxwell pause once again to hear what she had to say. "I haven't been kissed like that, by a man as attractive as your father, in years." she sighed longingly, fluttering her eyelashes.

That was when Maxwell realised. He sighed quietly, his eyes scanning the room. All the cleaners were staring at him, expecting him to make his move on poor old Doris. Then, he turned back to Doris and offered her that familiar Hollywood smile. The same smile that the whole world was used to seeing on five o'clock television. He took her hand and brushed a soft kiss over her wrinkled knuckles before gently dropping her hand again. There was no denying the pink blush that coloured her cheeks. The action earned a few squeaks and squeals around the room and while they were all babbling with excitement about what they'd just witnessed happen to their friend Doris, Maxwell took the opportunity to run.

He did finally make it to the meeting. He squeezed past his business associates, trying to locate his chair around the table. In the process, he knocked over a cup of coffee. It spilled all over Maxwell, and one of his colleagues. Maxwell's pale blue suit jacket was now stained with brown espresso, and he knew it would take more than just a few washes to get the stain out. He muttered a small 'sorry' before finding his seat and taking out his notepad and pen. Just as he finished writing the date at the top of his piece of paper, the director of the meeting called it quits and everyone flustered out of the room.

All this had happened and it was only ten in the morning.

Luckily, that was the only meeting of the day and he knew he was going to be spending the rest of the day in his office doing paperwork. That was easy enough. Maxwell padded into his enormous office which took up the entirety of the top floor at Black Gold Cooperative headquarters. He shut the double doors, finding peace in knowing that there was no need for anyone to come in and distract him. Maxwell tugged off his blazer and hung it on the back of a chair. He unclipped his suspenders that held his tailored pants up, and threw them to one side, along with his shoes and soaked socks. He padded into the closet at the back of his office and shuffled out of his pants, changing into some grey sweatpants.

He smiled, beginning to feel warm again. Wearing the sweatpants reminded him of you and it made him feel like he was at home. He remembered a few weeks into your relationship; your surprise when you caught a glimpse of his wardrobe. Not a single piece of casual wear in sight. You wondered if Maxwell Lord had ever known the comfort of sweatpants and so, that afternoon, you went out and bought him a pair. They changed his life. Maxwell would always favour his suits, that's just who he was, but he would love to wear the sweats when he wanted to lounge about in the house.

He was tired. His hair was still damp, the dark blonde waves curling at the nape of his neck and falling out of place every time he tried to remedy it. He still smelled vaguely of espresso, and was still haunted by the interaction of Doris the cleaner. He pursed his lips together into a thin line at the memory of kissing her hand.

Maxwell walked over to his desk and sunk into his chair, holding his head in his hands. Finally some peace.

Until there was a loud knock at the door. Maxwell swung his head back and groaned. "Come in!" he shouted, quickly composing himself for whoever wished to see him. It was his blonde assistant, Raquel.

"Hi sir!" she beamed, waving her free hand and placing a glossy catalogue on the table.

"Raquel." Maxwell nodded politely, sitting up and looking at the catalogue she had positioned before him.

"For the Christmas gala," she explained, flicking open the pages and pointing out different things. She'd carefully highlighted and labelled everything she wanted to show him, making it easier for his conveience. "I was thinking huge black and gold balloons with the company name on. Gold confetti. Banners and streamers hanging from every corner. A buffet, and every table cloth will also have the company's name on, printed in small, glitter ink." Her loud and chatty voice was giving Maxwell a headache.

"Yeah, balloons with Black Gold Cooperative written on really scream ‘Have a Very Merry Capitalist Christmas’." he sighed, slowly looking up at her. She blinked a few times. "Well Raquel?" he quizzed, growing irritable. It wasn't her fault, it's just everything was beginning to build up. She blinked again, dumbfounded by his comment. "Is that what Christmas is about to you?"

"W-what do you mean?" she asked nervously, removing her hand from the catalogue and taking a step back from his desk.

"What about red and green balloons? We'll have a Christmas tree in the ballroom. We could even make it family friendly and hire a Santa Claus for the kids to meet." Maxwell suggested. "And no weird company merchandise."

Raquel blinked, not saying a word. It had never really dawned on Maxwell how much you had changed him. His staff realised practically instantly— from the moment he came into work after the first time you had spent the night, it was like he was a changed man. He held the door open for people, he wished people a good morning. And as your relationship with him developed, you opened up a brand new side to him. He became more affectionate and caring for those around him, a feeling he had shut off from the world for his entire life.

He had never cared for Christmas, never cared as much to host a Christmas gala either. His father died during the festive season and it hadn't been the same without him. His mother didn't do much to celebrate. Maxwell had everything he always wanted; all the new toys and fanciest designer clothes. But it meant nothing to him without his father. Christmas meant nothing to him without love. That's why it all changed when he met you. You finally brought love back into his life, and everything felt whole again. You completed him. You taught him how to enjoy events and celebrate. You taught him happiness but most importantly, you taught a cold and broken man how to love and be loved in return.

The Christmas gala was your idea. One night, around a month ago, you and Maxwell were both lying in bed together. Maxwell had expressed to you that he wanted to do something special for his staff at work. Over the past few years since he had met you, he'd slowly been softening with the people around him. Christmas time was no different and his staff were always jolly to receive a hefty bonus from him. But they didn't expect anything more.

You came up with the idea of a gala, and Maxwell couldn't help but smirk a little when you mentioned it. He knew that your suggestion was deeply rooted into the fact you had always wanted to attend a gala, wear a beautiful dress and have your hair and makeup done. More importantly, you wanted to go to a gala with Maxwell and have him by your side looking as handsome as ever. The prospect excited you so much. With Maxwell, you knew that you wanted for nothing. That he could give you anything and everything. But you would never ask. You wanted him to know that for as long as he was with you, you had everything you needed.

Normally for Maxwell, gala’s were a place for adults only. Bars that served the best alcohol and a place where men who were just as rich as him would meet and schmooze. Before you, gala’s were a fine opportunity for Maxwell to meet a lady and take her home. That's all he enjoyed them for. But you had taught Maxwell that there was more to life than wealth, women and good champagne. He was so sure you'd love the idea of turning the gala into a family friendly party, and he was certain that his employees (the likes of the cleaning staff, for example) would love the ability to bring their families to such a high class event.

"Don't worry Raquel," Maxwell smiled. "Forget about the party planning for now. I know someone who would love to organise the Christmas gala." Today was tough, but everytime he thought about you, he couldn't wipe the grin from his face. He was one lovesick puppy. "Could you bring me a coffee?"

Raquel nodded and picked the catalogue back up, padding out his office without saying another word.

At around twelve o’clock, Maxwell was about to take his lunch break- but the phone on his desk began to ring. "Maxwell Lord." he introduced himself, holding the phone to his ear. It was the CEO of Powergrid Electrics, an electrical company in Rome. Rude and unhinged, the boss man reminded Maxwell of a version of himself that he had left in the past.

Maxwell had almost sealed an amazing deal with the company, but it had seemed that the CEO hadn't received a vital part of the contract. Trying to regulate the anger that was building up inside of him, Maxwell shakily put the phone back on the hook and called his second assistant, Emmerson, into his office.

"It's impossible," Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows together in bewilderment, after explaining the situation. He scrambled amongst the papers that were stacked mountain high on his desk. "I put it in the envelope and had Raquel send it off to Rome last week. I remember… I know I didn't forget. I never forget." he said, trying to sound as composed and confident as possible. There was no mistake in the worried little warble in his voice, though.

Emmerson, Maxwell's second assistant, wasn't sure if he was going to regret his next move. "Sir," his voice was timid and small. Maxwell's eyes snapped up to meet Emmerson's and Emmerson felt his heart rate increase rapidly. Emmerson reached over Maxwell's desk, picking up a folded piece of paper with a sticky note on top that read 'For Raquel: give to Rome'. "Is it possible that this is the missing part of the contract? That maybe, you might have just, forgotten to give it to Raquel?" he said slowly, trying to beat around the bush as much as possible.

Maxwell slowly reached over to the slip of paper, unravelling it like he was scared to see what the contents would reveal. He sighed out loud when he realised he had, in fact, forgotten to give Raquel the document, and there was no one to blame but himself. He ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating what to do next. He didn't want to believe he was out of options. He wasn't one to give up, especially when it came to the sanctity of his business.

"I need you to go to Rome." He said immediately and Emmerson's jaw dropped.

"I- I'm sorry?" Emmerson quizzed, confused and still slightly afraid of how impulsive Maxwell was being. "With all due respect, can't you just call Rome and ask for an extension on the deadline?"

Maxwell scoffed. "Call Rome? I can't just call a country," Emmerson was about to interject to explain that wasn't exactly what he meant but Maxwell didn't allow it. There was something about the way Maxwell's brain worked… he didn't get where he was today from taking the advice of his assistants. "You will go to Rome and give Powergrid Electrics the remaining part of the contract yourself. I trust you."

"But sir-" Emmerson raised a shaky hand.

"Oh, I see, you're worried about accomodation," Maxwell assumed, chuckling lightly. "I'll get you a five star hotel and give you a spending allowance of three hundred euros a day, how does that sound? No need to fret. Hurry along now."

"Mr Lord," Emmerson deadpanned finally, causing Maxwell to look up at his assistant in bewilderment. Emmerson was still afraid of his boss, of course, but he knew he had to stand his ground. "I can't go to Italy."

There were a few beats of silence. "What?" Maxwell questioned. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a free trip of a lifetime. You have an easy job to do. You can spend the rest of the day souvenir shopping. I don't care. Just get the contract delivered." He ordered.

"No." Emmerson put his foot down.

"No?" Maxwell repeated, raising his eyebrows like he was due an explanation.

"Mr Lord, I didn't want to say anything because it seems… you've had a lot going on today. But my girlfriend, Katherine, she's due our baby. See, we're having a son. I'm not sure if you knew… I mean, you probably didn't know. But, I promised Katie- uh, Katherine, that I'd meet her at the hospital after my shift. I wish I could help you sir, I really do. But I love my girlfriend and I've been waiting nine months to meet our son so if you please-"

The old Maxwell Lord would've burned red with rage, firing poor Emmerson on the spot, right then and there. How dare he question Maxwell. How dare he deny Maxwell. How dare he choose his love life, his family over his job. But right now, Maxwell couldn't help the small smile creep upon his lips. He was overjoyed, just wishing Emmerson had told him of the amazing news before now.

"Congratulations," Maxwell said, his voice quiet but his eyes gleaming. "On the addition of your family. That's really great."

Emmerson stood as still as ever, blinking a few times. He waited for Maxwell to snap and finally lose it. He was waiting to get the sack. But nothing. "Uh, thank you, sir." Emmerson replied hesitantly, like he wasn't sure what to expect from Maxwell.

The following few moments of silence, Maxwell spent thinking about you. He thought about how radiant you glowed this morning and how he wished he didn't have to leave your side. You were the love of his life and quite frankly, since meeting you, he understood the priority of choosing love over wealth. He finally had someone he could hold onto during the dead of night, someone to ramble to about his feelings, someone he could kiss and love and cherish forever.

Maxwell Lord finally loved something more than his business and that was you. Emmerson coughed awkwardly, breaking the silence and Maxwell flicked his wrist up, checking the time on his gold Rolex. It was almost twelve thirty.

"Why are you still here?" Maxwell grinned, swinging his hand to point a finger towards the door. "Go! You have a son to meet!"

"Sir, I don't finish until five o’ clock." Emmerson replied, stiffening up.

"No no no! Go home, go see your girlfriend, please." Maxwell stood up and shook his assistants hand. "I have no doubt you'll be an amazing father," he said genuinely. "And I'll have Y/N send over some flowers and a donation after the birth."

"You- you're really letting me off work early?" Emmerson beamed and Maxwell nodded his head enthusiastically. "Oh how can I ever thank you?"

"I hear Maxwell is a popular choice of name for baby boys right now," the CEO charmed and Emmerson let out a small but genuine laugh. "Now go! Tell Katherine I send my love."

"I will do, thank you sir." Emmerson grinned, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack and merrily running out of the office.

Maxwell sunk into the plushness of his leather chair, still unable to escape the smile that played on his lips. He imagined the possibility of you, the love of his life, carrying his child. He thought about how beautiful you would look, how you'd glow, and how he'd simply give up everything to take care of you. Make sure you had everything you needed during your pregnancy. He imagined building the nursery with you and picking out some books on parenting, studying with you so he could ensure that he'd be the best father ever. He'd never wanted kids. In fact he hated the idea of having little mini Maxwell’s running around and causing fuss and torment, but the idea of you raising them alongside him made his heart flutter. He was certain of the unconditional love you’d have for them. Similar to the unconditional love he had for you.

His eyes darted back to the unsent report on his desk and he sighed. Guess I have to call Rome after all. He thought.

Maxwell was counting the minutes until he could go home and see you. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on the sofa with you, the fire on, and watch one of those cheesy Christmas movies you liked so much. He heard the doors to his office open, frustration racing through him as he prepared himself for the next bout of 'things going wrong'. He'd normally yell at someone if they entered his office without knocking but he was so tired. So so tired.

When he saw you, he swore his heart stopped. There you were, his blessing in disguise. His angel. You were wearing your red winter coat and knee high brown boots, and you plopped your purse and a bag on one of the many side tables in his office. You took off your gloves and pulled off your wooly bobble hat, stuffing them lazily in your pocket and offered him a happy smile. He scrambled to his feet, not taking his eyes off you for a second and ran up to you, sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around. You squealed, grabbing onto him for your life and he put you down, pulling you into a tight warm hug.

"You're freezing cold." he grimaced, pulling your hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants in hope they'd warm up.

"It's snowing again." you whispered happily, smiling into his neck. He was delighted, having you in his arms and being able to smell the familiarity of your shampoo and perfume. He knew for sure now, he was going to be okay.

"I can see." he replied, moving one of his hands up to your face and padding out the pearly snowdrops that were balanced in your hair. "I am so glad to see you sweetheart." he hummed, sending vibrations through your body. You felt your heart blossom in your chest at his sentiment.

"I told you I was coming this morning," you giggled, eventually pulling away from him and taking your arms out of his pockets. You cupped his face and ran your fingers through his dark blonde hair, fixing it as best as you could. "I brought us lunch." you told him, fishing into the bag and bringing out boxes of pastries and cakes. "From that bakery we like."

Maxwell gasped and you looked up at him confused. "Baby, I completely forgot you were coming."

"I hate to say Max but you do look a little disheveled," you folded your arms across your chest and checked out your boyfriend's appearance. "What's with the sweats and… where is your tie and suspenders?" Your eyes met his feet on the floor and they widened almost comically. "Max! Where are your socks and shoes?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "Long story." he took your hand and pulled you over to the couch, pulling you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around him and he placed a hand on your thigh, pushing under your skirt and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"Tell me everything." you replied and he looked up at you with nothing but adoration in his brown eyes.

"Traffic jam on the way to work because of the snowstorm last night, and the streets were so busy with it being so close to Christmas. We couldn't get parked out front so I had to get out of the car and walk through five inches of snow to get into work. I was already late for my meeting. Soaking wet and uncomfortable," you let him ramble on, watching intently at the way his expression would change as he recalled different events in his day. You began to play with his hair, seeing that he was getting flustered at the memory of it all. "I was late for the meeting, I ended up in a whole different meeting. I didn't know the cleaners in this building even had meetings!"

"The cleaners?" you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. "You sat in on a meeting with the cleaners?" Maxwell nodded sollemnley and you nudged him playfully. "I love that."

"Well, I didn't. They're all lovely women. But this one cleaner, Doris…" he fumbled around with his fingers. "I ended up kissing her." you pulled away quickly, knotting your eyebrows together. "No! No not like that," Maxwell said quickly, pulling you back onto his lap and wrapping his arm around you. "She's like 90, said she used to work for my father and every Christmas he'd give her a kiss. She'd start talking about how she's never had a kiss from someone as handsome as my father in years. So I gave her a polite one, on her hand. And baby, I ran. As fast as I could, I had to get outta there."

You smiled. "Max, you probably made her day. That was really sweet of you."

He brushed off your comment, taking a dramatic exhale and continuing his story. "Finally got to the meeting, spilled coffee over myself and one of my associates. But by the time I had finally settled, the meeting was over. So I went back to my office and changed out of my wet, cold, coffee stained clothes and sat down. Raquel came in. She was planning the Christmas gala but it all sounded so… corporate. Not what Christmas is about at all," he explained and you nodded in agreement. "Anyways I suggested that we change the gala this year so it's family friendly. In the spirit of Christmas."

"Oh Max!" you beamed, snuggling into his chest. He smiled to himself proudly, knowing that he had made you happy.

"You good with that?" he chuckled, running his fingers through your hair.

"Yes!" you squeaked, pushing yourself back up and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "I have so many ideas."

"That's great honey," he laughed. "Because I told Raquel to forget about the gala. I figured you could plan it. You're great at stuff like that, and I know how much it means to you. I want the gala to be perfect for my staff and their families, and I trust you more than anyone else in the world."

"I can't wait," you smiled merrily, already weighing up the different ideas you had in your head. "Was Raquel okay with you taking the party planning duty away from her?"

"I think so," Maxwell replied. "She has a lot on her plate, being my assistant and all. It's a busy time of year and I think she'd appreciate having less to do."

"Well, it really does sound like you've had an eventful morning."

"Oh, I'm not finished," Maxwell grimaced and you braved yourself for the impending chaos. "Rome called and told me that the CEO of Powergrid Electrics only received half of the binding contract. So I was going to send Emmerson to Rome because I needed that contract in the hands of the CEO by midnight tonight. But Emmerson told me he couldn't. His girlfriend is having his baby today. A little boy. So I let him go home early."

"Emmerson's going to be a father?" you gasped and Maxwell nodded. "That's so wonderful! I should send him some flowers."

"I already told Emmerson you would." Maxwell grinned.

"Oh a baby boy too! How lovely. We have to go meet the baby when he's born. Please please please." you whined, fluttering your eyelashes.

"Okay darling." Maxwell pressed a kiss into your cheek.

You stood up and brought the bag over to the couch, taking out the little boxes and handing them to Maxwell. You opened them up and started to eat, as you told him how your morning had gone.

"After you went to work, I cleared up and did the dishes that you had left from breakfast. Max, I was soooo tired from last night," you blushed and his mouth twisted into a proud smile. "So I went back to bed and slept for another hour. Then I got up and took a bubble bath. Oh!" you scrambled around in your purse, taking out a fresh Polaroid and showed him it. It was a photograph of his white long haired cat, Lady, with bubbles balancing on her head. "She kept me company while I was in the bath." you smiled and Maxwell laughed.

"She looks so funny with the bubbles on her head." Maxwell took the Polaroid from your fingers and admired the cat. He was never particularly fond about animals, or having pets, but you loved them. In the first year of your relationship, Maxwell asked what you wanted for your birthday. As always, you told him that you didn't want anything materialistic, that he was all you needed. But you did tell him about an animal charity that you were so passionate about. He remembered leaving you at home and telling you that he was simply 'heading out'. He had planned on visiting the charity and making a donation in your name, as part of your birthday present. But he didn't leave the shelter empty handed.

A white fluffy cat with long whiskers and big blue eyes. Her eyes reminded him of sapphires. She mewled and padded towards him, her tail waving happily as she rubbed her cheek on his leg, circling around him. "Ah, she's a darling," the lady who was showing Maxwell around told him. "Unfortunately, she's been here with us longer than any of the other cats. She's not that good around people. But I must admit, she likes you a lot. In fact, I've never seen her so confident around another person before."

Maxwell dropped to his knees and tickled her head. She began purring erratically, rubbing her face along the edges of the rings on his fingers. "Nobody wants her?" Maxwell asked, not taking his eyes from the happy kitty. He picked her up, ignoring the white cat hair that malted onto his suit. She rubbed her soft face against his cheek and sniffed his cologne.

"No." the lady replied sadly. Maxwell smiled.

"I'll take her."

And that night, Maxwell came home with a new addition to the family. You were overjoyed, but no one was happier than little Lady Lord who had found her fur-ever home.

He placed the Polaroid on one of the side tables, promising you he would find a frame for it. "How was your bath darling?" he cooed, pressing his lips along your jaw.

You giggled, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. "Relaxing, lit some candles, done a little reading. After my bath I got dressed and tidied up the bedroom. I turned on the radio and they were playing Christmas songs. Oh! WHAM have just brought out a new one, it's really good. Hmm, me and Lady played for a little while and she let me brush her hair. Jeeves offered to drive me to the bakery but I really wanted to walk in the snow. Get some fresh air. And now I'm here! With you!"

It was safe to say Maxwell's morning was a lot more chaotic, but he was comforted knowing that you had been relaxed while he was going through all the antics.

"Your morning sounded amazing, darling." he kissed your forehead and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You let his lips brush over your skin, fall down to your nose, and eventually take place on your own lips as he leaned his forehead against yours. You giggled, his hair falling out of place again slightly and tickling you as he kissed you. You pulled him closer, encouraging him to deepen the kiss and laced your fingers in his hair. He pulled away to catch his breath but peppered small yet passionate kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“You’re being so affectionate,” you smiled, eyes sparkling with love.

“What can I say? I like to kiss you.” Maxwell exhorted and leaned in again, pressing another kiss into your lips. This time he swiped his tongue along the plumpness of your bottom lip, begging for entry. You pulled off him and he moaned. “Whaaat?” He pouted playfully and you rolled your eyes, earnestly laughing at how cute your boyfriend was.

“We shouldn’t do this at work,” you giggled.

“Baby we’ve done a lot worse than just kissing on this sofa, if you remember.” Maxwell charmed and you felt your cheeks heat up as you nodded slowly.

"The highlight of my day though, is being here, with you." you promised.

"Yeah," Maxwell hummed. "Me too."

"I'm proud of you." you said out of the blue, putting your sandwich down and wiping your mouth. Maxwell looked at you, confused. "You've had a bad morning. But you acted so selflessly today. Everything from signing autographs in your office to kissing that old maids hand, giving Raquel less work to do and letting Emmerson be with his girlfriend. You… you surprise me everyday Max. And I fall in love with you more and more everyday."

"I remember when we first met… I would've never dreamed of doing any of this." Maxwell admitted sheepishly.

"I know, I remember," you recalled. "I fell in love with the man you were then, but I somehow think I love you even more now."

And with that, Maxwell pulled you into a kiss. The curve of his nose nudged against yours and his hands pulled you into his lap, knocking the boxes of food onto the floor as you straddled him. "I love you so much." he announced.

Maxwell rarely said I love you's. But that was okay because you knew he loved you from his actions. You knew he loved you from the small kisses he'd give you on a morning, and the way he'd pull you into a hug every evening after work. You knew he loved you from the way he'd shelter you from paparazzi and squeeze your hand tight whenever you felt overwhelmed. Actions spoke louder than words. But coming from Maxwell Lord, hearing those three words struck you like a bolt of lightning. They were just words, but they meant everything to you.

He meant everything to you.

Permanent taglist~let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first

#max lord x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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galadrieljones · 3 years

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The Walking Dead: Episode 4.12, “Still” Rewatch

So I rewatched “Still” in honor of the Stilliversary tonight. My thoughts are not related much to Team Delusional stuff, more so just thoughts and idle analysis, but I had fun and definitely did not cry.

Here we go!

Beth is already feeling it, right away, after the trunk scene, ie: what he must think of her. She’s just another “dead girl” who needs to be protected. It is both insulting and embarrassing at the same time.

Daryl misses that squirrel and breaks an arrow! Dammit, Daryl. This is just another trial, but it’s interesting in how we see Daryl in like rote provider mode, and yet he makes a mistake.

The suck-ass camp begins with some Garden of Eden imagery: While Daryl skins and cooks the snake, Beth is admiring the beauty of a ladybug crawling on a leaf. The music is actually full of wonder. Beth sees the beauty in the natural world while Daryl sees it only for what he can use. It is an essential masculine vs. feminine moment, in terms of their individual themes, and what propels them and their actions. Their masculine and feminine energies will be subverted later though, and well-complicated, because the writing is good.

Beth brings up Hershel’s death early: “He’s not exactly around anymore so...” She wants to have a drink, maybe to rebel against her father, maybe to honor his memory, maybe to seal her own fate. It is a complicated choice for Beth. It’s not just some “dumb college bitch” moment. She knows this, but how is she supposed to communicate it to Daryl?

Daryl is like an animal eating that snake while Beth tries to talk to him. Literally, out of body. I imagine being her and just like, Ugh. Gross, dude. Then, when she leaves, Beth totally expects him to come after her. When she doesn’t see him right away, she mutters, “Jerk.” She called him a jerk in season 3, too, after he takes off with Merle. I think Beth is used to being treated nicely by boys. Ofc, Daryl, while he may not be an overt gentleman in his scarfing of that disgusting snake, was there watching her the whole time.

“You wanna spend the rest of our lives staring into a fire and eating mud snakes? Screw that. We might as well do something.”

I sort of missed this before, the mention of “the rest of our lives.” It is a small acknowledgement that they are now “stuck together.” Ofc, Beth’s idea is to “make the most of it,” to go out into and DO something! Embrace the future! Daryl sees only the here, the now, and the past. He would prefer to stay still.

Unrelated but: God, Daryl is peak hot in this episode.

Anyway, so, the state of Pine Vista, and what happened there. Jfc. It’s very ugly and very sad. The Dogtrot seems a reference to a dogtrot house, which is an old Appalachian style home. Basically like two shacks connected via a breezeway. I see some sort of backcountry types having moved in here and tortured the rich folk. There is evidence that “fun” was had. “Rich bitch,” etc. Maybe it’s the same psychopaths who tormented the OG Terminus crew, ultimately turning them into crazy cannibals.

Beth finds the Washington D.C. spoon. Why?? It’s such an odd, pointed shot, with a slow zoom. Is that where we’ll find her? Does anybody else know anything about this?? Anyway maybe this is a TD post lol.

Beth finds that bottle of wine and it’s a shame she has to break it! I remember feeling so bad about that the first time I watched this episode. Like NO BETH YOUR BOOZE!! She uses it to stab the shit out of that walker though, and to defend herself. She’s kind of pissed at Daryl for not helping her, again used to only the kindest of attention from boys. But Daryl isn’t like other boys (lol). He was there the whole time, once again, but he let it play out, because he knew she could do it. I like that her first (almost) drink here sort of has to become a weapon instead. Nothing is ever easy! And sometimes, the environment IS best observed, not in terms of its beauty or promise, but in terms of how its use can best be served to survive.

Tempus Fugit - Time flies! Oh, yes. Yes it does lol.

Daryl and Beth both need to escape their old selves here. Beth with her pretty cloths and Daryl stealing the cash and the jewels. They need to shake that shit off. Burn it all down, if you will. I think this episode we mostly associate with Daryl changing and having his epiphany, but Beth changes, too. She is just quieter at it.

It is 3 o’clock! The grandfather clock is this interesting motif that puts pressure on the situation literally while also bringing the symbolic pressure of time passing, running out, etc. It makes us feel detached from reality, like this is a purgatory episode. I like when The Walking Dead does this, like when they take us to a new place in which we become critically aware that this thing we’re watching is fiction, and by the rules of fiction, anything (ANYTHING) can happen.

“I know you think this is stupid, and it probably is, but I don’t care.” She just is who she is. She doesn’t give a shit what he thinks. I think that attracts Daryl to her in this moment and emboldens him. I think Daryl actually really cares what other people think of him, that he is keenly self-aware in this way. We see this fear manifest as Merle in Chupacabra, ie: that the rest of the group thinks he’s a “freak,” a piece of “redneck trash,” and that they’re all “laughing behind [his] back.” Meanwhile, Beth is just like, “You probably think I’m just some dumb bitch. But guess what, Daryl? I DON’T CARE.”

Beth sitting at that bar trying to clean out glasses: “Who needs a glass?” She clutches the bottle longingly and then cries. I would argue she is thinking of Hershel and the line of questioning that arises in this moment. Should she do this? Is she betraying him? This moment also contradicts what she tells Daryl in 4.1. “I don’t cry anymore Daryl.” This is the moment that breaks him.

Beth keeps trying to make him feel normal, while they’re walking to the shine shack. She thinks he used to be a motorcycle mechanic. But Daryl’s normal is not hers, and he doesn’t really do small talk. In these little moments, we see him being who he is. Daryl is really good at being who he is when who he is revolves around passivity and silence.

They go from country club to moonshine shack. What we see is how a class divide might differ in longevity. A country club full of walkers, made out of humans who turned against each other, every bottle dry in the house vs. an empty shine shack, no death in sight, absolutely full of booze. When societal protections collapse around us, it is the ruthless and the bereft who will know how best to survive. It’s like Beth sad about Daryl, being “made for this world.”

They are trapped! Tropes. So many romantic tropes! Lol at people who would like to ignore that any of this happened or that Bethyl was never canon.

This:

Anyway, I think Daryl is actually pretty mean to Beth toward the end here, out on the porch, like the way he treats her, kind of tugs her around physically. He doesn’t hurt her, but he is not gentle. This puts things into harsh perspective for Beth, as I do think that, while he is not right in how he handles her here, he is right in some ways about who she is. She is not naive but she is used to protection and safety and relying on others, the same way he is used to the opposite of those things. Both of them need to learn how to exist from the other side.

Beth also sees what’s going on, however. I think she also might be used to this sort of quasi-violent, performative, drunken behavior. Her dad was a drunk. I think it’s interesting that so much of this episode hinges on alcohol in Hershel’s wake. I always thought this might be one reason Beth is drawn to and accepting of Daryl. We only really see Hershel while sober (I mean, mostly). We never saw him in his deep element of alcoholism, but Beth did. She is not innocent to vices or men spinning out of control. It’s why Beth responds to Daryl’s whole insane story about the tweaker and Merle with, “You miss him, don’t you?” She doesn’t care that Merle was a degenerate drug addict. He was Daryl’s brother who died. She has loved and lost an addict, too.

Before, Daryl was just “drifting.” In this episode, Beth gives him a quest. I think that’s very important. She also gives him something to look forward to:

“You got away from it.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Maybe you gotta keep on reminding me of it sometimes.”

The hint at their future: “You gotta keep on reminding me,” he says, counting on them staying together. Beth is so kind to him here, too, even doting as she talks about him being the “last man standing.” I can’t imagine a girl has ever treated Daryl like this. I think she scares the living shit out of him.

Daryl suggests they go back into the shine shack, but Beth says they should burn the place down instead. Again, stillness vs. action. See their complimentary traits: Daryl is passive. He needs someone to tell him this is okay. Beth is active. She does what she wants. It is uniquely antithetical to their gender roles and subverts the power dynamic we might otherwise expect from a relationship like this: Daryl is older and a man. Ofc he should be the more aggressive, assertive one. The actor. But he’s not. It’s Beth who makes their choices in this episode. Daryl follows her and protects her along the way.

The ending is so happy. Oh my god. Anyway.

Thank you for humoring me. Happy Stilliversary!! 😭🥺❤️

#the walking dead #bethyl #daryl dixon #beth greene #daryl x beth #4.12 #still #stilliversary #❤️❤️❤️

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mysticdragon3md3 · 3 years

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Ranma ½ is GENIUS. Here’s Why by Bonsai Pop

The thing I really appreciated about Ranma ½ when I was younger, was that it was a discussion about gender without getting sidetracked by sex, the way most “sex comedies” did, especially at the time. At the time, publishers tried to market Ranma ½ as a “sex comedy” in the vein of raunchy college-setting Hollywood movies or fanservicy Male Gaze series (compare “Futaba-kun Change” or the proceeding “harem genre” that Ranma ½ started). But Ranma ½ felt more like a discussion about gender more than sex, or even more than sexuality. And being an AroAce kid, who didn’t know what AroAce was at the time, but was very confused about my gender, I really appreciated Ranma ½’s focus on gender over sex, fanservice, and heterosexuals navigating (sexual) relationships—which, I *cannot* express enough, was the saturated majority of all anime/manga, that even came close to discussing gender, at the time. I just wanted a discussion about gender, gender roles, complaining about presumed traditional ideas about gender, and how to define one’s own gender despite society’s pressures about gender. I wanted a discussion about Strength, that the martial arts genre did so often, without an advocation for sexist ideals, toxic masculinity, stereotypes about “feminine” being weaker (even as warriors), fixated only on romance, or any number of female stereotypes, etc. I feel like I can’t remind people enough of how it was back then, when not only were these toxic mysoginist ideas portrayed frequently, but they were also portrayed as good, true, “right”, or unquestioned. At least when Ranma Saotome was being a sexist jerk, he was punished for that terrible thinking or eventually had to reconcile with his dissonance. And Akane Tendo was revolutionary at that time too. It used to be that on the Shonen genre side, we had only hyper fem, passive, romance-fixated, love interests, OR nagging, cold female characters that really felt like the author was conveying all their horrible views on women in general, OR sexy eye-candy that had close-ups on their boobs or butt so frequently, that it completely made their lack of focus on romance or anything else in their personalities, secondary. Then on the Shoujo genre side, we had girls who were fixated on nothing but romance, constantly jealous and possessive—and often over guys who hadn’t even proven themselves worthwhile to pursue romantically. Let’s face it: A lot of Shoujo leading men were often jerks, treated their female love interests badly, and for some reason, she was just supposed to play the devoted “Lady Murasaki” and be totally “in love” with him. Whyyyyyyyyyy????????????? Even worse on the Shonen genre side too, because he treats her badly, it doesn’t get portrayed as bad treatment, he doesn’t understand why she’s angry, so she just looks like a volatile nag all the time, often existing only to be objectified or serve as a flimsy motive for his character arcs and actions. It was a pretty bad time. Not that now has eliminated those problems, but when Ranma ½ and Akane Tendo seem like the shining lights of something different, maybe then you can understand how much I sorely needed Ranma ½ and Akane Tendo at that time.

Really surprised that this video essay didn’t mention Jackie Chan. The thing that differentiated Ranma ½ from so many martial arts battle anime/manga at the time, was that Ranma ½’s style of martial arts was inspired by Jackie Chan. Meanwhile, all the other Shonen martial arts manga/anime were so serious and based more on “cool”, “action” genre toned martial arts movies.

I’m intrigued by this video essay’s idea that Ranma ½ the series isn’t sexist, but rather, characters within the series are sexist, and are so in order to make a point about how them being like that is messed up. I need to grapple with this because one of my problems in looking back at Ranma ½ is that it can be a little transphobic and/or homophobic at times. Like, I’ll never forget when Tsubasa Kurenai was introduced and, Akane, this character that we’re supposed to completely sympathize with during this series, just keeps screaming in Tsubasa’s face that they are a “pervert”, simply because it’s revealed that Tsubasa identifies as a boy but dresses as a girl. I think the episode just ended like that, and that was supposed to be a joke, but I don’t know whether the reveal’s shock intended on the audience was supposed to be conveyed through Akane and we were expected to have the same reactions as her, or if we were supposed to be shocked at Akane’s reactions and her reactions being ridiculous were the joke. I dunno; it was a long time ago, I don’t remember much context, and I really should look it back up. But frankly, there’s a lot of Ranma ½ to sift through and that’s more time than I have, writing this post. Akane does seem to repeatedly have instances of being perfectly nice to characters, but when she discovers they’re actually guys, she spends a lot of time yelling “pervert” in their faces. Sometimes I don’t know if we’re meant to see how ridiculous Akane is being or if we’re meant to agree with her. Again, I watched/read the series a long time ago, and maybe if I re-watched/re-read it now, it would be clear to older me. Because, when it happens between Akane and Ranma, Ranma has a specific line, grummbling about how Akane was perfectly nice to him, up until she found out he was actually a boy. And Ranma was a bit nice in his characterization up until that early line of dialogue, so maybe we were supposed to be on his side in that thought. So maybe Akane spending the rest of the series yelling “pervert” at Ranma (repeated so often it’s essentially their running gag), is supposed to be a joke laughing at how irrational Akane is being. o.o? I’d hate to think we’re supposed to be on Akane’s side, repeatedly calling Ranma a “pervert” over a curse that he had no control over getting, and early on was portrayed as a misfortune that the audience was supposed to sympathize and pity him over. Maybe the whole thing is supposed to point out Akane’s flaws, since everyone in the series is pretty messed up. (Even Kasumi unsettled me a bit when I was younger, in that she dropped her entire life, to replace her mother’s role when she died. For me, being a young girl who didn’t buy into those traditional female roles, that were still at the time, strongly pushed onto girls in society, that was a little unsettling. Still love Kasumi as a person though.) Akane did have reason to “hate boys”, as the series specifically states early on, but I’d like to think that she was given this flaw as a point to grow away from. Just as this video essay calls to attention Ranma being sexist and, over the series, eventually growing out of it. But back when I was young and initially into Ranma ½, I feared that some of these sexist or even homophobic ideas in Ranma ½ were actually reflective of thoughts that Rumiko Takahashi advocated. After all, there’s a point in Maison Ikkoku where Kyoko berates herself by saying all women are fools. Maybe I was too young to see the nuance in a character berating her own mistakes in her love live, vs the implication that all women are “properly” stereotyped into being obsessed with love and end up acting foolish for it. Nowadays, I can see how we can berate ourselves whenever our specific actions can slot us into generalized stereotypes, and we curse ourselves for falling into proving stereotypes true on occaision. But back then, when I was younger and watching Ranma ½ for the first time and reading Maison Ikkoku for the first time, I was afraid that such lines were reflective of Takahashi believing such stereotypes as truth. Which is why I was so happy when sometime after Ranma ½, Inuyasha had a canonically gay character, and instead of Inuyasha calling him a pervert the entire time, he just got exasperated with his non-stop flirting, the way that all the female characters from Ranma ½ are tired of guys who won’t take “no” for an answer. At the time, I thought, “Yay! Takahashi has evolved to a less homophobic stance!” But maybe, all this time, she was always against such things, and merely portraying them, even through characters we were supposed to sympathize with, merely to show how messed up such ideas are. I really like that thought which this video essay presented.

But I will disagree with this video essay on 1 thing: The manga is better. I’m not trying to be elitist. I realize that comedy has a very subjective sensibilities, and the anime leans into awkward silence type comedy, whereas I am sick of that type of comedy. But so many visual gags and jokes in the manga, and Rumiko Takahashi’s style in general, involve panels that are almost completely re-drawn, with only 1 element changed—the gag element—suggesting that the eye is supposed to read from panel to panel quickly (since the human eyes/brain filters out a lack of change, and is hard-wired to focus on changes from previous conditions). To me, this suggests quick punchlines, whose sudden oddity is supposed to shock, implying an intended fast pacing to the jokes. And yeah, Takahashi will draw seemingly normal scenes, detailed with all the normalcies of a commonly recognizable environment, then suddenly the next panel is exactly the same except a character is contorted into a silly pose or an absolutely ridiculous creature with an intentionally nonsensical facial expression has suddenly appeared, amid that completely “normal” scene, with all its “normal” details _redrawn_. It’s why the “evil oni” episode in Ranma ½ had a ridiculous face, despite its supposedly ominous background. In fact, anywhere Takahashi can fit a gag face, especially if it contradicts the surrounding scene’s/story’s serious tone, she will do it. She has even said in interviews that if scenes are too serious, she will try to put in a gag in the corner. I remember reading Maison Ikkoku during a depressive episode (for both me and Godai) and suddenly Yotsuya had poked his head through a hole in the wall, into the scene, shining a flashlight onto his own face, like a kid telling a ghost story, all while he made funny faces and Takahashi’s typical gag with the sign language “I love you” gesture. The woman cannot let things stay serious (except for Mermaid Saga, parts of Inuyasha, and some short stories), and I love her for it! ^o^ But the way she suddenly injects ridiculousness into scenes and character designs, suggest, at least to me, an intended fast paced delivery with the jokes. That sudden shock when you notice Yotsuya making faces in the corner of a depressing scene. That sudden shock, when Ranma is hiding from his mother, and is clinging to the ceiling or futons like Spiderman, and Akane is just supposed to act natural so Ranma’s mom won’t notice where he’s hiding. To me, this suggests the punchline is supposed to come at you like a sudden punch, unlike awkwardness that hangs in the air. So when the anime tries to make the joke linger, I just don’t enjoy it as much as when my brain can dictate the faster pacing I want (and believe better fits) while reading the Ranma ½ manga.

Also, the manga is better because those manga filler episodes were not as well written as the manga. Rumiko Takahashi is a master of short stories. And that shows when you run into the less-effective filler anime episodes–even when you don’t know they’re filler episodes! I remember watching the Ranma ½ anime before reading the manga, before there was even internet lists of which were the filler episodes, and coincidentally, all the filler episodes did not make me laugh out loud, whereas every episode up until that point, had made me uncontrollably laugh. I feel like the anime thought that because Ranma ½ was an episodic, very silly series, they could just insert anything and it would fit. But clearly, only the manga-based episodes—and even individual scenes!—had the nuance of Takahashi’s writing and pacing, to make even an episodic, ridiculous series work.

Also, I love how this video essay just lavishes the love on Rumiko Takahashi. ^o^

Another thing this video essay pointed out that I appreciate about Ranma ½ is how indifferent Ranma is to all the advances of his suitors or even accidental fanservice. All the consequential “harem genre” series that tried to emulate Ranma ½ always seemed to include male protagonists who were surrogates for the audiences’ intended horny reactions. But Ranma was neither turned on, enticed, nor tantalized by even accidental fanservice falling into his lap. (As Mother’s Basement has noted, harem genre protagonist have a penchant for accidentally falling and grabbing a girls’ boobs, or their face falling into her boobs, or accidentally put into a position to forcibly see up her skirt, etc.) If anything, he’s more embarassed that he accidentally walked in on girls in undress, rather than enjoying the view OR reacting so long, that the scene drags on, fixating on the accidental nudity/groping/fanserivce. And I was about to postulate that maybe because most harem genre and fanservice series are usually made by straight men for an audience with a Male Gaze. But Takahashi wrote Maison Ikkoku’s Godai, right before she created Ranma ½, and he very much enjoyed the view, took peeks, and fixated on any accidental fanservice. So it’s actually Ranma himself who had reactions and a perspective that were very agreeable to this asexual.

I hadn’t noticed before this video essay said it, but Happosai really is condemned much more for being the “pervy old man” archetype, whereas other series are very permissive towards that same archetype, even when they’re being sexual predators. I’d like to attribute this to Takahashi bringing a woman’s perspective, but Sailormoon was also written by a woman and (if I remember correctly) Rei’s grandpa’s pervy ways were reprimanded in only 1 episode then permitted as a running gag in the rest of the series (thankfully, not often). Then again, lots of the Shoujo genre also advocated for many toxic traditional ideas about gender (like girls picking romantic partners who don’t respect them, and girls being fully devoted/invested in such guys, because they “once” meet the bare minimum for human decency by being nice to them once). So maybe it was uniquely Takahashi’s prerogative to not let the “pervy old man” archetype slide as supposedly “endearing” silliness.

#ranma 1/2 #ranma1half #rumiko takahashi #video essay #analysis #gender #manga #anime #nostalgia #old otaku #martial arts genre #shonen genre #reactions #reminicing

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yukipri · 4 years

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On Thatch & Marco - A One Piece Mermaid AU Text Headcanon/Story

So I’ve gotten quite a few asks regarding Marco and the Whitebeards, and while this isn’t a response to a specific ask, here’s a little story on them!

It's only been a few weeks since they've left Dawn Island, and they're still in East Blue but they've somehow already more than doubled the number of brats on board. And while the Moby Dick is far from boring, Thatch has had more adventures in this short timespan than he's had in years, and he's thriving.

Sure, he still feels little twinges of guilt for basically ditching his duties, but he's growing, in ways that the stability of an established Yonko crew hadn't allowed, and he knows that he'll be a better, more useful man to Pops and the others by the time they've caught up in the New World. Honestly, he's wondering if he should suggest these kinds of experiences for all the commanders, and wonders how Pops would feel about that.

But it's on one of these days and brief moments of calm when Thatch is daydreaming about his family in the New World when he spots a blue seagull circling far above them. It's weirdly shiny, and Thatch immediately recognizes it as a species native to an island in Pops' territory, and one that is unusual all the way here in East Blue.

Which means only one thing: Marco's checking in.

A quiet whistle from Thatch is all it takes for the seagull to come spiraling down, and Thatch remembers to take a quick glance around deck to make sure Luffy hasn't spotted it; he's learned the hard way what it means for a bird to land on deck when the ever-hungry mermaid is feeling a bit peckish.

But the bird lands safely on the rail close to Thatch's arm. It's by no means nearly as brilliant a blue as Marco, but certainly more beautiful than most birds you can find out at sea. Thatch still remembers the first time he found Marco making friends with the things, remembers laughing hysterically and making all sorts of bird jokes as Marco, then still a teen, looked more and more like the constipated old man he eventually grows up to be.

Well, jokes aside, the birds are now incredibly useful, serving as Marco's personal messengers to their allies across the world. Which, huh, Thatch supposes that includes him now, which is kind of an odd feeling.

And while Thatch wants to feel flattered that Marco's checking up on his favorite Thatch, he also knows that Marco's checking up on their littlest little brother, and the little brother of that little brother (baby brother^2, Thatch and Marco had fondly dubbed her, when Ace first told them about her). Because while Thatch's definitely accompanying Ace and co for his own selfish reasons (and he also swears it's not just so he could encounter the love of his life, darling Luffy), he also knows that Marco and Pops had ulterior motives for letting Thatch go, beyond just allowing Thatch to stretch his legs.

When Ace had asked, uncharacteristically shy, if he could still be one of Whitebeard's sons without formally joining his crew, and when Whitebeard responded with an affirmative--Thatch wonders if Ace really understands what that meant. A good parent, a good father is definitely a foreign concept to him (and unfortunately for Luffy too, Thatch has found, and knows that Pops will adopt her the moment he meets her if he hasn't already). And the Whitebeard pirates don't take the bonds of family lightly.

So while yes, Thatch is here for his own adventures, he's also very aware of what he represents, both to his family and to the world. For his family, his presence on board maintains the connection between the Whitebeards and Ace. Ace is still so very new to their family, and while no one doubts his competence, he still has much to go in terms of learning to rely on them, on learning that the Whitebeard pirates will ALWAYS have his back. And well, East Blue is kinda far away, too far for a shout to be heard on the Moby. So Thatch is here acting as their representative, and he couldn't be more honored to have the role. He is, if nothing else, excellent at being a nagging older brother, and it's the role he's easily found himself fitting into here.

But the other reason is that Thatch is the Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeards, and no one who knows anything about pirates would fail to recognize him, and the weight of his presence. He knows people won't immediately make the connection that this crew has already been adopted, or even what that means because it's not quite the same as ally, but Thatch's presence establishes an undeniable connection between them and one of the Four Emperors. Thatch knows that when he makes eye contact with the marines and they balk, it's not just him they see: it's the huge, looming shadow of Whitebeard himself. And until the world learns to see that shadow behind Ace, behind all of the ASL pirates, well, Thatch will stay right here.

The blue gull on the rail looks at Thatch expectantly, and Thatch lets it perch on his shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen. Sanji glances up in surprise and squints at the bird, but doesn't say anything as he returns to preparing dessert for the ladies (it's a reminder that Thatch should be doing that too, or else the snot-nosed cook will one up him in earning the favor of Luffy, or at least her stomach). Thatch decides to make this quick, and grabs two cookies from the hidden cookie jar, as well as some parchment and a writing utensil.

Thatch knows Marco wants to know how they're doing, but well, the timing of the gull is awfully convenient, so he's taking advantage.

Dear Blue Chicken Sauteed in Pineapple Sauce, Thatch writes, taking advantage of the opportunity to write in "code," despite the lack of confidential information and low risk of one of Marco's blue gulls being stopped. He'll take every opportunity to tease, thank you.

The stove on this ship works great, and the fish is beautiful. Thatch's pen moves before he really thinks about what's coming out. She's stolen my heart, I think I want to marry her. Thatch pauses...huh, well, honestly he's not exaggerating, is he? He'll let Marco guess how serious he is. (he's suddenly uncomfortable because he's not sure how serious he is himself, but that's a thought for another time)

And now, the most important part of the letter: PS - I dropped my hair wax in the ocean. Can you send me an extra from my room?

Because, tragically, Thatch had--and now his beautiful pompadour is a sad mess that's tumbling down his shoulders. Thatch knows he could pick up another tub of hair wax on any of the islands they’ve stopped at, but he has standards, and he needs his special wax that he’s used for decades, which is unfortunately only found in the New World.

Which makes his current situation stuck in East Blue quite tragic, except it isn't quite as heart-breaking as Thatch had thought it'd be, once he realized how much Luffy likes playing with his loose locks, and the sheer number of times Thatch has been finding himself overboard recently would have made putting his hair up again after every time a pain--but well. It'd still be nice to have the familiar weight of his hair wax in his pocket again.

Thatch decides to omit the major change with himself since he last saw Marco that resulted in the hair wax being lost in the first place: the fact that he's eaten a devil fruit. Because that's a surprise. Thatch wants to see Marco's face when he realizes how badass Thatch has become, controlling Darkness of all things. (well, Thatch has to actually get good at it first, and stop almost drowning. It's coming along)

Thatch wraps one cookie in the letter, tying it into a neat parcel, and feeds the other to the bird as thanks for his services. The bird takes off as soon as Thatch opens the door.

Well, now Thatch has a lovely mermaid to feed, and a baby cook to outclass.

Thatch sees the next blue gull a week later, damn those things are fast. It's carrying a parcel this time, and Thatch reaches out gleefully, because he doesn't remember the last time he's had his hair down for this long and he can't wait to have his signature hair style once more.

The bird doesn't stick around this time, and instead just drops the parcel into Thatch's hands before wheeling back the way it came.

And...huh. The parcel's not the right size, or weight to be Thatch's hair wax.

Thatch squints suspiciously, as Ace comes to stand by him, staring after the gull. "Marco?" he asks, and Thatch grunts, already feeling grumpy and just knowing he's not gonna be thrilled by whatever Marco sent.

He opens the parcel, and inside is a little blue bauble, wrapped in Marco's infuriatingly precise, fancy shmancy handwriting.

Dear Soggy Bread, congratulations on graduating from a baguette. May you evolve into a better bread next time. PS - The stone's for baby brother^2.

Ace ignores Thatch's enraged yowl and plucks up the stone--before cursing and dropping it. Thatch's reflexes manage to catch it before it hits the deck--and he immediately knows why Ace dropped it in the first place.

The stone immediately feels weird, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that distinctively reminds Thatch of the sea. He's familiar with what the stone is, but not how it feels, and is reminded once again of his relatively new status as a devil fruit user. At Ace's questioning (and wary) look, Thatch explains, as a good older brother should.

It's a special stone made on Fishman island. There's a piece of seastone at its core, and then it's wrapped in a mix of glass and crystal. It's a luxury trinket popular with a lot of young mermaids, because it's pretty, but also feels like the essence of the ocean is in it, which can be immensely comforting to most merfolk and fishmen.

While not the purpose, the glass and crystal casing also ensures that devil fruit users can touch it without feeling weakened, though they can still sense the sea from it, hence why it feels weird.

Thatch hates, hates to admit it, but it's a ridiculously thoughtful (and expensive) gift for a mermaid devil fruit user who can't enjoy the sea directly, damn Marco for thinking of it first! The bastard's definitely teasing Thatch by trying to woo his crush from half a world away. Marco hasn't even met her, this is just a game to him, but Thatch's serious, damnit!!!

Thatch wishes he could be petty enough to lie and say the bauble is a gift from Thatch, but he can't, because as much of an asshole as Marco can be, Thatch still loves him. Sigh.

Luffy chooses that moment to slide across the deck to them like a playful sea lion, slamming into Ace's legs and snaking up him in a split second to peer over his shoulder at whatever her brother's looking at in Thatch's hand. Ace isn't fazed and doesn't even twitch.

Thatch sighs dramatically. Adorable little brothers and their adorable little brother^2s, damnit.

Thatch dutifully presents the little stone to Luffy, as Ace warns her not to drop it, it's gonna feel a bit weird ok. Thatch lets Ace take over rattling off the information he'd just conveyed, doing his own duty as Older Brother, and is instead transfixed by the way Luffy's eyes widen in wonder as she rolls the shiny thing from one hand to the other.

While Luffy's not really the type for jewelry or trinkets, it's clear she's enthralled by the stone, the way she is with few inanimate objects other than food. Thatch belatedly notices that the stone's a brilliant crystal teal, with shards of gold obscuring the dark seastone center, the same color as someone's Zoan form. Bastard.

"Who's it from?" Luffy asks, and Thatch knows he's told her about his crew before, but she's unlikely to have remembered any names.

He may not lie about who the gift's from, but it doesn't mean he can't take revenge.

"A pineapple man who can turn into a burning chicken," he says with a straight face, ignoring Ace's frantic gestures to abort.

Thatch finds out why moments later, as Luffy's eyes widen impossibly more, and he belatedly realizes that to Luffy (and probably only Luffy), he'd just made Marco sound like the coolest person on earth.

Thatch meets Ace's furious eyes apologetically even as Luffy's COOOOOL!!!!!! rips across deck, and they both sigh.

They're not looking forward to Luffy meeting Marco

Hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and encourage me to create more for this AU! ^ ^

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 2

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#One Piece Mermaid AU #Whitebeard Pirates #Thatch #Marco #ThatchLu #MarLu #YukiPri rambles #genderbend #text headcanon #except it's honestly more of a short fic this time #is 2K a short fic idk #long post #longpost #Ace: all you needed to say was 'it's from an old dude with funny hair' and Luffy woulda forgotten about him in an instant!#but now she's excited and won't think about anything else!#Next she'll say she's always wanted a burning chicken on the crew!

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littobin · 4 years

Text

sprung

genre: suggestive romantic stuff, with a tiny bit of angst

pairing: tattooist!moonbin x reader.

warnings: none ? just a minimal language, and kinda heavy making out... yeah

- summary: sanha, the well known skater, had an older brother. and maybe his best friend y/n was too in love to proper think.

a/n note: this is kinda long and emo, it's just my first time writing in this genre so hfjbfn sorry in advance. gender neutral, also for a special friend who encouraged me to post on her birthday. planning on do stuff for the other boys soon. :)

...

[1:02AM]

putting a bit of effort into it you open your eyes, tired after waking up from what felt like a long nap.

your head still was unsettled, confused, looking around the place you found yourself at. by some point then you manage to recognize the living room and the nice sofa on which you were lying, such things from nothing less nothing more than the comfy, simple house of your best friend, sanha.

honestly no matter how much you tried to recall it on your mind, nothing reminded you of what could have happened for you to wake up there. despite how it was already one habit of yours to often visit this house where the tall, half black half blonde haired boy used to greet you in with his bubbly smile several times, and of course with his extra peculiar style, ripped pants, bandaids and chaotic printed t-shirts you always thought to be funny.

to be friends with a professional skater since high school days wasn't so bad, after all sanha was indeed one of a kind, such a mature and high spirited boy. he was such a nice goofball, always ready to talk about any topic, share taste on music or learn new things, the actual opposite of what people say about someone like him. sanha has always been an amazing friend, making you feel comfortable and your days a lot lighter every time you went to see him after dealing with responsibilities.

whether your short visits were to spend some time for both of you to help each other with things about studies or just when you missed spending time with him, you were already a common guest. for textbooks and notes purposes or for when it'd all turn into laughs, popcorn and your best friend's favorite games, or even in skate competitions he used to bring you with him at the square down street.

or else, when you'd also come to secretly see the black haired handsome man always on his casual clothes living there with your friend, who at the time he was home would stay sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes doing his works outside at the small desk near the garden, sometimes practicing sketches in his own room.

sanha introduced him as his older brother bin, who unlike him was a lover of all kinds of arts. whom you shouldn't pay so much attention to, but before your mind could go against it all of your thoughts were just as they ended up. constantly filled with him, with the need to see him everyday.

however now instead of going on trying to figure out any other possibilities to what could've brought you there, or even letting your thoughts wander over sanha's brother again, you hear calm footsteps approaching and immediately close your eyes, burying yourself on the sofa's recline. there you pretend to be still asleep, yet not understanding why your first reaction was like this, if it could be just your best friend.

for a few minutes the atmosphere remains monotonous, but soon enough turns tense as you feel someone come too close. two strong muscular arms embrace you carefully, bringing a sweet smell of shampoo you instantly could recognize so well. since the time when, in a game match with your best friend and his brother, both you and sanha attacked him with tickles for being the loser, as a form of punishment. you'd never forget it, for how it was your very first time hearing bin's boyish giggles, and touching his so silky, smooth hair, like a thin fabric tinted by the late night hues.

all of this together sent your heart pounding madly, already knowing who was there with you, especially when his jaw's downy skin brushes against your face for the proximity. at first he made a kind of awkward attempt to put you into his arms, in a position you could be carried comfortably. after one more try he gets to pick you up, and just when he easily manages to hold you firmly in bridal style, taking you off the couch like a light plush on his arms, nervousness started taking over you in silence as you couldn't assimilate where he planned to carry you to.

albeit a bit sudden at times and without much control of his own strength, except when you saw him drawing extremely detailed lines with his tattoo needle for customers at the studio he worked in, to where once sanha took you to bring him lunch, albeit he was too broad and intimidating, and his own homemade food didn’t always come out good for that little rough way of his no matter how hard he tried to do something thinking of you and sanha, albeit it all bin was always too gentle, too loving. it was so much whenever he'd open his mouth to talk with such sweetness and even a tiny bit of timidity to express his thoughts, even though how excellent he is with words, all of his little 'eh?'s when he'd be confused or cute neck scratches, you'd never believe he'd be a professional tattooist for years. he could normally work for all kinds of people, from madams to rockers, and do any type of drawings, from small daises to pretty complicated dragons and skulls. you'd have no clue of it if sanha didn't tell you, also about the fact bin always wanted to be a dancer, but because it was just the two of them and life tends to adapt itself according to necessities, he never thought about doing tattoos, yet casually came to work on it with time.

outside his job bin always took good care of his younger brother, though the troubles sanha would occasionally cause or how mischievous he could be even with him, and bin had to hit his head sometimes. all of his gestures were always docile, humble, treating you as if he was also a friend, and always being a real gentleman. not mentioning the countless times he had his crescent moons smile on up his eyes, just utterly enchanting.

all of this inevitably got you even more lovestruck, and your heart weak, no matter how hard you tried to muffle down those feelings. bin remained as the only man whose your mind and its daydreams for hours never grew tired of, the only one who gave new colors to your days. the more you knew him the more you were sure you couldn't be in any other way than hopelessly in love with him, too affected whenever he'd be around.

before you'd notice it you were thinking about this, about all you kept hidden inside for him. so you just settled yourself to forget what would be going on and let him believe you were really asleep, although in fact tension ran down your nape feeling his body's warmth, heat uncontrollably up your face while you leaned against his large chest.

after a few minutes of more footsteps sounds on stairs and doors opening through he carried you, bin stops at a certain point, slowly placing you carefully over another soft material, which you deduced to be of a bed.

you held yourself static, thinking he'd soon leave you there to rest and go, as you figured out sanha's brother probably would do so by his cordiality. nevertheless almost all at once you were simply taken aback when the male leaned on the bed, and slowly on top of you. his elbows and one knee supported him over, in such a way that made you too weak under his figure covering yours up, as if he was like a huge brown bear in charge. shivers hardened your shoulders, as you feel a heavier breath against your face.

"i know you're awake." he says softly, yet his characteristic boyish voice sounding way huskier than normally. you instantly open your eyes in disbelief over what you've heard, and just so your cheeks turns crimson, realizing how both of you were just few centimeters apart. his stunning almond eyes sparkled brightly into the room, dark and hooded while staring deeply at you. every one of his features on his manly face were lined on a serious expression, seeming concentrated, but almost fatal.

"bin.." all you could do was just mutter his name sheepishly over embarrassment, only to get a sigh from him in response. "shh..." his index finger lightly touches your mouth, tracing its tip to the corner of your lips, your hands starting to sweat cold just by the small contact with his digits.

bin then suddenly towered over you, without removing his intense brown irises from yours and rests his arms around your face, so his long fingers would now caress your hair. solely in this move his body quickly cornered you on the bed by his height. butterfly swarms rush into your stomach, as for a few minutes both of you kept quiet, staring intently at each other.

you swallowed hard. any trivial action like breathing now seemed dull, with him there so close to you as never. bin was like the definition of being drop dead gorgeous, every detail, every fiber of him exuded beauty, to almost seem unreal. through these few seconds watching him you couldn't keep your eyes from wandering, over each one of them. his thin, dainty rosy lips, which looked a little swollen, begging for another one's touches. black hair strands resembling the universe's dark matter hovering messy on his slightly sweaty forehead, and over his expressive frowned eyebrows. soft, milky skin which became a little more flushed as he stared at you, thick neck exposed by his t-shirt colar, wide shoulders covered by his cardigan tucked on his elbows.

oh everything about him was, so breathtaking.

although you couldn't understand why he was doing this, for how in your head you wondered why such an attractive man like him, who anyone would want to have, was there looking this way at someone so simple, still you couldn't hold back such things he made you feel. too many things screaming for you to let them out. and it was just the same for him.

"you know what.. damn it.." you heard bin break down the silence with a shaky whisper, and before you'd realize or question anything he placed your noses together in a soft brush and collided your lips with his eagerly, both of you sighing in the contact.

fear still was the main emotion taking over you, even though you closed your eyes right away and gave in to him, millions of beautiful sensations coursing through your veins at once. you simply didn't have any idea on how to act, what you should do in the first place all because of the frozen state his attitude caused, something you'd hardly come up with in your dreams by how far out of your reach you thought it'd be. however now you just put everything aside, gradually melting away with your knees getting weaker, as you felt bin kissing you in an irresistibly slow, delicate way.

not even through any of your deductions with yourself you'd imagine these little things which had your heart to almost explode now, that his nose would be so soft, and his lips would taste so sweet, velvety in their texture extremely hot and moist, pressing and moving gently as if they were massaging yours. easily you were found anesthetized, like one who reaches the ninth cloud. when they started to move more, just a bit hungrier between small sucks created by him and nibblings on your lower lip, you began to gradually further correspond them into the kiss, wherein he lets out quiet sounds, his pulsations so out of control and his cheeks burning red just as, or perhaps even more than you.

bin was still trying to not lose his composure. still trying to keep the feelings he had hidden for you from being all poured out at once, like a waterfall.

since the first time when sanha introduced you to him as his best friend, after he came home from a rough day at work. since then when you smiled saying your name and he could sense flowers blooming all over his chest, stealing the air on top of his lungs. to every time you locked eyes for too long or your hands accidentally touched his when you'd volunteer to help him in the kitchen. every little conversation, every time you patted his shoulders to encourage him when his brother would as well, never looking intimidated, like most people he knew.

he didn't want to show each drop of his honesty so fast in case you wouldn't flinch, but it was too hard when he had you there kissing him back, only the two of you in this moment, feeling you not repress him but otherwise, just wanting his touches as much as he's been longing for yours. he couldn't help but lose his mind more and more into each of your small actions. your hands timidly plugged on his waist, almost embracing it while his warm, long fingers intertwined with your hair strands, that somes mixed a little in his bangs, or your leg unconsciously poking his. in a way that without noticing bin tightened his arms more around you as well as the pressure of his chest, looking for more and more closure to you.

it didn't take long until the male would part his lips like a bud's petals, and so you shudder with his hot tongue there rubbing your lower lip, asking for entrance. you just give in not even being able to think through all the flustering this new sensation sent on you, and bin slowly deepened the kiss, making it fulfilled by all the so suffocated attachment you had for each other.

little by little his tongue slides in intertwining with yours, as the first thing hitting you was the fresh flavor of his chocolate mint cereal bar, which you were used to always see on bin's hands or pockets, and it just added an even better feeling through you explored his mouth. plenty more touches come up between the two of you so that the male, after staying still in the same position for a little while, suddenly slides one of his arms down. his huge veiny hand grips firmly and gives light squeezes on your side what caused you to jump a few times, running it down in a path of pure shivers to your hips, until he catches your hand still on his waist and without any previous warning pulls it in, under his shirt.

air immediately hitched on your throat out of shock, but bin was immersed, focused on only feeling you more. in the intervals his tongue's tip traced your mouth tilting his head for access, and when he brought it back so he'd press and gently suck your lips with his, the male kept the pace guiding your hand on his large back. slowly he also brought it down to the point of his firm, built up abdomen, which caused chills on himself, and moved your palm to make contact with the warmth of his absurdly soft, fragile bare skin inside the fabric. uncontrollable pulsations took over you the moment you get access to this new touch, your head in a fog of only bin.

this one was indeed a little different from the docile person you knew, with his contagious smile behind gloves and a tattoo needle you were so used to see. instead bin showed to be such an intense man, and why not say sexy, full of alluring gestures you didn't know how to handle, solemnly irresistible. over an impulse you make up a little of courage and start moving your hands by yourself, caressing and feeling his muscles, that have always been apparent on his manly athletic body, as each of his proportions under the shirt.

"god.." he suddenly said under his breath in a way sounding too sensual from his gracious, still husky voice among the kiss, melting completely in sensitivity and a cardiac mess because of you. bin then pressed a few more pecks a few more times on your lips, not wanting to pull away but doing so already for running out of air, through both of you parted trying to catch it.

yet you fail miserably, as soon as you see your best friend's brother face, completely flushed and breathless. his coffee colored eyes dripped fondness and loads of tiny stars all together, eyebrows pressed in such a lovely, affectionate expression you swore you never saw anything so endearing in your life. if it wasn't for another beat skipping your chest when you noticed a small amount of saliva, that you could clearly define as traces of the wonderful kiss of a few seconds ago, in the corner of his mouth.

as soon as he notices your widened eyes, bin's face changes and he cleans it by licking his lips seductively, as if he knew how much it affected you. the cardigan he wore falls from over his shoulders and he removes the cloth piece, dropping it on the floor. a small smile sprouted on his captivating features when he looks over at you watching him, as he lowered himself to your neck, putting his lips near your ear.

"keep going.." bin closed his eyelids, feeling the characteristic and comforting smell of fabric softener on your clothes. this smell which he always had on his memories from that day he shyly hugged you on your birthday, that now made him ask sweetly into whispers for your hands on him again, pressing more of his fine body and chest against yours.

his hips suddenly rolled down in a slow move, stimulating waves of electricity and adrenaline onto your stomach, your state now broke into sighs. you squeezed his waist slightly and involuntarily, moved by your latent feelings as he nuzzled against your neck, like a fluffy cat purring. bin was panting still heavily, sending incessant shivers down your spine.

"bin... you.. you're too much.." losing any lasting control over yourself you buried your face deeply on his shoulder and grabbed his huge biceps, letting out any first thing that would come out of your mind.

he smiled against your skin with a muffled chuckle, light and content for how cute you sounded to him, what got you even weaker as well as over the moisturizer perfume on his exposed collarbones by his shirt, before you went to fulfill his request. soon enough your palms were all over his muscular back once more, massaging them in up and down movements. bin took time to appreciate the feeling of having you into his arms, touching your hair, your nape, your lower back, or your cheeks where he decided to put gentle, tender kisses, that got you forgetting even more about the destination of your fingers under his shirt.

they ran all over his torso, sides, down to his beautiful abdomen once again to trace trembling patterns with your fingers under his stomach, running them up to reach the area of his chest, where you accidentally touch one of his nipples. bin stopped when he felt the stimulus, letting what sounded like a frustrated moan resonate in response, and you move your hands right away. yet you didn't expect him to feel so flustered to the point of, having his weight against you, to this time start distributing wet kisses, full of desire onto your neck and jaw.

in the middle of them bin took pauses where he sucked some of your skin to mark it slightly, or moistened each sensitive spot he left with the way too warm texture of his tongue. his hands also return to be entirely over you, one putting stronger, breath taking grips and squeezes on one side of yours as the other entered under the hem of your sweatshirt, his thumb touching your belly's area. each thing he did left you helplessly more and more of a mess for him, while his hips gave another roll once again in an enticing motion, causing you to feel an inevitable friction you tried to ignore but his moves only made it harder and harder, between his thighs wrapped tight by his jeans and yours pressed in the middle of his from jumping so much with his touches.

"sanha, saw you fell asleep, and asked me to take you to a room.. i went to see you and heard, you mutter my name.. saying that you wanted to have me..." for a moment, your eyes widen in realize, and finally you get how you were there.

your mind gets back remembering how sleepy you were before you'd come to see sanha, something which was again the result of another pulled night thinking about life, studies, and about bin constantly, about how incredible would it be if you had the courage to confess to him. but before you could even die of embarrassment for letting your dreams go too high right at your bestfriend's house, right next to him, bin slowly brings another trail of his warm kisses up your neck, eliciting quiet whimpers from you this time, especially when he stroked your waist skin inside your sweatshirt and reached for your earlobe, instantly capturing it in his mouth to suck on the small cartilage.

"do it now.. do whatever you want." you heard him confess with a bit of difficulty on his tone, for the much any response from you for now would mean to him. therefore he stopped, pulling away as he looked at you with sad traces, insecure.

bin needed to know about you, to get a reassurance from you, one more time of you expressing fully whether you were in love with him as much as he was with you to let yourself stay with him more, or if not, as hard as it could be he'd stop there, despite how reciprocal everything was from your side. he didn't want just a make out with you.

uncertainties still bothered him inside, through several sleepless nights spent on his room's desk among all his draft drawings and work notes, but thinking of the stupid, probably one sided attachment he developed for you, growing everyday because of how regularly he could see you. way too quickly you stole a space on his heart, bigger than the passion for art and colorful designs his job gave him. even when his needle did its work putting on pigment, when he found himself alone before a customer would come, he often wondered about what you'd feel, if you saw him only as your best friend's brother, if it'd be too risky to try and tell you what he felt.

there wasn’t one moment in 24 hours all of this didn't cross bin’s mind for once as the days went by, but he was too afraid of being rejected, to the point of thinking his brother could have much more chances with you. though he left all these things aside when he finally heard you demonstrating something for him as simple as saying his name on your sleep was, losing it all while he held you on his arms.

and so you knew you had to get all that fuss of feelings off your chest at once before the chance slipped from your hands. before you had no option but to go back to your routine of sinking in sighs about what could have been, wanting to be in his arms for a day, when you wanted it to be always.

taking a second to comprehend his eyes you raised your arms around the middle of his back to caringly engulf him on them. it caused bin to unhesitatingly lower himself again, resting his chin on your shoulder and hold onto your lower back, his heart rushing loudly, unsure by your action.

"i want what you want, love.." you confessed as well, still feverish for his previous caresses. then you just rested your face on his shoulder, and with all the sincerity within your heart you tightened your arms in a hug, trying to show your intention of making him feel exactly this, your simple embrace.

love.

as he heard you clearly when you hugged him, the moment you loosened the grip bin pulled his body a little away to look at you again. his serene, loving eyes flickered until they were deeply on yours, oceans overflowing with hope and anticipation into them. "did you say.. love?"

"yes, i.. always wanted to call you like that. can i?" your knees flutter with your own question, just by the idea of being able to call him as something that in so long would describe him so well for you.

bin, however, sighed till the bottom of his lungs, both now filled as everything within into a magical warmth, through every inch of his longing feelings were complete over his exhale. he wondered if he was dreaming, if this was finally the pure and graceful joy of touching clouds, or the lightness of blowing dandelions to the wind, of knowing that you felt the same, despite how he still couldn't believe it at all.

"you're so cute, i adore you so much y/n. if you say it like that, i'll be addicted to you.." the male's palm comes back to find itself cupping your cheeks, as his fingertips against your ear. once again you watch his fascinating gaze and face too close to yours, his irises, his lips to his shoulders, as if it turned into a new habit which would give you life. his voice sounds honeyed, like a blanket on winter, yet intimate, breathy.

almost as an immediate response you blinked repeatedly at the main three words on his first sentence, as of it didn't take long until you blushed violently trying to proccess everything, surprising bin while you placed your wrists at your nose's level to hide your face. you were now too caught up on a mixture of inexplicable waves of euphoria and emotions hitting you, too overwhelmed at all of these extremely heartfluttering things he just said so naturally. god, indeed he was too much to handle, but he still was your favorite.

"don't do this, fool! i adore you too.. a lot.." with your wrists still there your embarrassed expression only increase as you let out, but soon you moved them aside when the sound of his soothing laugh echoed into your ears. "wow.. i guess i'm the happiest fool now."

bin was smiling widely, grinning, perhaps in the most angelic, genuine way among all the days you've seen him do through routine. the crescent moons forming his beaming eyes harmonized as his lashes half closed with the curves on his lips up, giving room for two light dimples, forehead aligned with yours, emotions all over that you still couldn't read, as of relief and affection at the same time on his details. to hear him laughing in a tender and so spontaneous tone, his body seeming relaxed, comfortable, and to be a part of it almost like watching stars at midnight, all of this also made you smile along with him.

without being able to express too many feelings at once or what you'd like to say to him now you simply place your fingers against his face, the small, gelid earring on his ear, touching his bangs between them dearly, as if he'd be made of crystalline glass. another silence raised as you both kept looking at each other, like the night stopped passing around you, until bin draws another small smile and breaks the short distance again.

you took a deep breath, grabbing a certain spot on his shirt when you feel all the coziness of his thin lips pressing more kisses on different points of your face all slowly. on the area next to your nose where he placed the most of them, or on your mouth as he initiated another sweet, luscious round of lips on lips, pulling you closer and closer by your lower back, which seemed to be his best choice for a comfort zone.

but it doesn't take long for his attention to turn back to your neck, stopping to scan and softly trace his thumb on the small crimson hickeys he left there.

"some of them, look like tattoos... sorry, i.." bin whispered, trying to explain himself somehow embarrassed, but gets interrupted by you taking the initiative to hold on his back and get closer.

there you bury your face on his neck and kiss him gently, under his jaw to the beginning of his collarbones, as of every inch of his velvety skin flushed hot and sensitive in goosebumps where you explored. still being a bit taken aback bin shut his lashes and rested his cheeks now tinted in shades of pinkish hues against yours, disarmed by your suddenness. the more he felt your timid lips going so intimate on him, the more unrestrained beats and pantings had the best of him at that moment, bin no longer being able to maintain the same calm. you always had that power to leave him like that, definitely. the only one who ever did.

"there's something i always wanted.. but first tell me, if you want me by your side." one of his thick arms hug your waist, a barely audible moan escaping through he said out without thinking at all, just letting himself upon your guidance, locked on your touches.

the moment you proccess bin's words and what they'd mean your fingers slip from curling the silky strands at his nape, also leaving the curve of his shoulder where you planted more confident kisses, as if by magic your heart was sent on another unbalanced marathon. did he really ask it?

"of course.. of course i do." you answered his doubt with your whole chest, and it was all he ever waited to have you saying.

bin didn't know what exactly made him feel so lost on everything about you, wishing to stick to your side more and more. but he knew it was such a thing way too heavenly for him to not want to dive deep in. one drink, or a way too pure cup of water on thirsty times he'd last there appreciating till the last drop, a room wherein he'd feel better than in any other, or even a necklace he'd carry on himself everyday, a permanent tattoo.

any way it all should be, he wouldn't care. as of the moment he heard you a smile flourished across the corners of his lips again, and in a matter of minutes he held your sides pulling you with him as he sat back among the sheets, placing you onto him all too fastly and strongly in a way you had to look for support by putting your trembling palms on his chest.

you were left once more in a loss of words, swallowing hard over another wave of butterflies when you found yourself held sitting on his lap and facing him, through he gave you such a dangerously charming, sexy smirk, gaze so intense it almost knocked you dizzy like you never thought to be. yet less even would you imagine he'd strip off his t-shirt right in front of your eyes, and reveal his toned, absolutely perfect torso, all of his muscles there totally exposed from collarbones to his lower abdomen, where a black butterfly spreading its wings showed up printed on his skin at his side. bin just let your shocked eyes hover on the sight of his whole sculptural half naked body, before he'd glue your foreheads and squeeze your sides excitedly, also giving attention to your right thigh caressing and gripping it with his other hand through he adjusted you on his lap.

"everything i want is us, y/n..."

he couldn't wait to throw aside his stupid composure with you.

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

This Night (40s!Bucky Barnes x Hispanic!OFC)

Summary: When she saved a scrawny blond in a back alley, she would never have anticipated the ripple effects it would have. Nor how meeting someone with a pair of baby blue eyes and cocky smirk would draw her in, encouraging her that for one night, to taste revelry like she never had before.

This is my submission for @allaboardthereadingrailroad Marvel Diversity Challenge! My prompt was “a little danger never hurt”.

I am going to admit, I’m super nervous to post this. I’ve never written a person of color before and would be horrified to accidently offend someone. That being said, I also had so much fun writing this piece. I adore 40s Bucky and Steve, so I was excited to finally have the inspiration to write them.

Few notes:

-All translations are via google and what I can remember from university (if any of my Spanish is wrong, please please please someone tell me and i’ll correct it!)

-I threw in some 40s slang for fun, so that will be in italics.

-In the little research I did (again, someone please correct me if I am wrong), in the 40s there were not many Hispanic or Latino people living in NYC yet. So for my OFC and her family, they would very much stand out.

Warnings: a few swear words, some angst, sexual tension, topic of racial discrimination and inequality

Words: 8k (the story kept growing, i’m so sorry)

She clutched the parcel to her chest, trying to avoid the muddy puddles on the sidewalk. Mr. Hendricks would be furious with her if she got any mud on the packaging of the parcel. He always said it reflected his reputation.

Weaving through those walking down the busy Brooklyn sidewalk, she could feel the few glares and inaudible comments following in her wake. She tried to ignore it, knowing was not the first nor last time others judged her for her different skin tone. Though she doubted she would ever get used to it. One of her older brothers would try and cheer her up saying the white folks were jealous since they burned when in the sun too long while Spaniards became more beautiful. Without fail, she would smack him but end up laughing along.

Peeking at the address scrawled in precise handwriting, she surveyed the street names around. A sinking feeling in her gut confirmed her fear- she had somehow gotten lost.

“Mierda.” She hissed, turning around in a circle. Not just to try and relocate her whereabouts but on the off chance her mother happened to be behind her to whack her over the head for swearing.

Not wanting to be run over by a fellow pedestrian, she stepped off the sidewalk into an alley nearby while she tried to get her bearings. She brushed down the front of her workwear, dark blue, princess style dress with its Peter Pan collar, double pockets and pleated skirt. A glance at her tights showed a couple spots of mud she somehow managed to still get on her even though her kitten heels were still mostly clean. A miracle really.

It was only mid-afternoon but Mr. Hendricks hated when she returned late from delivering parcels. He was the best tailor in Brooklyn and practically thrived off that title. He employed her to help keep things organized, the shop looking nice and delivering parcels to their patrons. It was mindless work but that did not bother her. It was a job...and she was lucky to have one. Being from one of the few Hispanic families in the area was not a perk when trying to find work. She knew the only reason she even got this job was she willingly took half the pay he would have given to anyone else, she could sew well, and she was pretty.

A crash at the end of the alley drew her attention behind her. There was some hushed talking followed by another sound of something hitting the ground. Hard.

Logically, she knew she should walk away. She was already lost. Her mother frequently reminded her to not involve herself in other people's business, it would only get her in trouble. The problem was her curiosity was a near palpable thing, driving her forward, along with her independent streak the size of the Upper Bay. So when she heard what sounded like a smack and another crash, her feet started moving without a second thought.

She darted around a half brick wall to find herself at an "L" intersection. And at the end of both alleys, stood a tall man with a face like a bulldog and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, fists at his side. Below him lay a much smaller, blond man who was sprawled out on the dirty ground. The smaller man groaned, rubbing a hand on his jaw. He rolled onto his side, then slowly and painfully rose back onto his feet, his own fists in front of him in a poor imitation of a boxer.

"You think you somethin' special, huh?" The larger man jeered, a nasty smirk on his face. He leaned on his back foot, preparing to throw another punch.

The smaller man raised his fists but made no other move, prepared to take the hit and most likely go back down.

So, she decided to do something stupid.

"BILL!!" She cried out, her voice echoing off the brick walls of the alleys.

Both men froze, turning to look at her.

Tucking the parcel under her arm, she jogged over to the smaller man, uncaring now of the muddy puddles. "There you are, Bill. I've been so worried. You promised to show me where Mrs. Wilcox lives. I tried to find her myself but I got so lost." Ignoring the quizzical look from the blond man, she stood between the two men, meeting the eyes of the larger one. She twirled a strand of her long, black hair around her finger, nerves getting to her but she pressed on. "I'm so sorry for whatever trouble he has caused you. He won't bother you again. We have to go now; our boss will dock our wages if we aren't back soon."

The man trailed his eyes over her as if looking for a lie tattooed on her skin or dress. Finding nothing of interest, he stared hard at his victim for a long moment. She found herself holding her breath, silently praying her ruse worked.

Finally, he rolled his shoulders and unclenched his fists, his thick jowls still tense. "Keep ‘im away from me or next time his ass will end up in the hospital."

Slowly, she released her breath as she watched the bulldog of a man turn on his heel and stomp away, back down the alley and onto the main sidewalk.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over the smaller man. As he dusted off his brown trousers and tan jacket, she was surprised to realize he stood about her height, and probably about her age, in the young twenties. If her guessing was any good.

He rubbed his jaw again and winced where an impressive bruise was already growing. "I've had worse."

She could not help but smile at his nonchalance. His bright blue eyes met her own honey brown. A timid smile echoed hers, his face so open and expressive. Something about the man she found endearing already. Maybe defending him was not such a stupid action.

"All that stuff you said, about lookin' for me and gettin' lost…"

She huffed a laugh. "I am actually lost. I'm trying to find this address here." She showed him the scrap of paper with the address scribbled on it.

It took only a glance before he handed the paper back with a smile. "You're not too far. Only three streets away….I... I can take you there if you like."

"Oh, I'd hate to impose on you."

"No, it's really fine. Seems you saved me from...well…" He shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket.

"And... you...don't mind, you know, being seen with me?"

"No, why?" Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed slightly, he stared at her like that was the strangest question.

It was in that moment she knew, whoever this scrawny man was- he was a good man. The difference in their ethnicity made no difference to him. He was a rarity in her experience with most New Yorkers.

Even though it was 1940 and this was supposed to be a land of equal opportunity.

It was not.

With a shrug and momentarily, awkward silence as they both thought about their own answers to his question, they fell into step with one another as they headed back out of the alley.

"So, what's your name? Or is it actually Bill?" She spoke up once they hit the sidewalk.

"Do I look like a Bill?"

She squinted her eyes then shook her head giggling. "No, you don't."

"It's Steve…. Steve Rogers."

"It's nice to meet you, Steve."

He directed them down another street. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they walked, due more to their need to maneuver around puddles and other pedestrians than any sense of intimacy. "You gonna tell me your name or do I have to make one up for you?"

"Oh! Sorry. It's Elana Morales-Díaz. So, what caused the fight?"

The tips of his ears and cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. "He, um, we...we had a disagreement."

"Obviously. I would hate to know you're friends and beat each other up for fun."

"My best friend is a boxer. He's tryin’ to teach me some moves…. does that count as beating each other up?"

She pretended to think about it. "I may let that one slide but it sounds like you might need some new friends."

"Yeah," he chuckled and peeked over at her. "Know of any openings?"

"I just might."

They stood at an intersection waiting to cross the street when they heard a shout from further down the road. Neither paid much attention initially until the shout repeated itself.

"STEVE!"

The blond looked down the road, a smile on his lips. He waved and tugged on Elana to move away from the curb. She followed along, surprised since he told her they needed to cross.

A man glided through the pedestrians easily, a few lingering looks thrown his way by some of the women. When he noticed her standing next to Steve, his eyes widened for a brief moment before a lazy smirk appeared on his face and his strut became more pronounced. With boxing gloves dangling over his shoulder, his white shirt and black trousers, he looked like he just walked out of a gym. Especially with the way his dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze, a few strands sticking up like he had run his hands through it a few times.

"I leave you for one afternoon and I come back to find you with the prettiest gal in all of New York."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're always at the gym now."

The man put Steve in a teasing headlock. Only after a flirtatious wink at her, he released the smaller man. "So, you gonna introduce me to this wolfess, Steve?"

"Ah, right. Elana, this is my best friend, Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is Elana."

"Nice to meet you." She said, a small smile at their interactions. It reminded her of her brothers.

The man -Bucky- reached over and took her hand but instead of shaking it, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, maintaining eye contact the whole time. "Pleasure is mine."

Oh, he was a charmer. The kind her mother warned her about. Then again, her father had the same devilish charisma and Elana liked to remind her mother of that. To which her mother would laugh and say that's why she warned her daughter of those men, she knew from experience. With just a wink and kiss, she would fall madly in love, leave her home and give him five babies before she even knew it. It was always after this statement often said loudly and with feigned annoyance that Elana's father would wrap his arms around his wife, lovingly kiss her temple and remind her how long he had to chase her before she even agreed to go on a date with him.

"So how do you guys know each other?" Bucky asked, those blue eyes bouncing between the two of them.

Steve coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was then Bucky finally seemed to notice the slowly darkening bruise on Steve's jaw.

"Steve!" He grabbed his friend's face and glanced over him, concern etched in his movements and expression. "What happened this time, punk?"

"Nothin'...just a disagreement. I had 'im on the ropes."

He dropped his hand, running it through his brunet hair. "You gotta stop pickin’ fights, one of these days…" The implications hung heavily in the air.

"Ah, Steve…" When he looked over at her, she nodded toward the parcel still in her arms.

"Oh right! Sorry. Buck, I gotta take her to drop somethin' off."

Bucky shrugged. "Lead the way, punk."

"Jerk."

The three of them quickly crossed the street. Steve, and soon Bucky when he understood what was going on, pointed out markers for her in case she got lost again. In a short time, they arrived at the house, one of the nicer ones in Brooklyn. The boys waited on the sidewalk as Elana walked up to the front door and handed the parcel over with the man's tailored suit.

"Where you off to now, doll?" Bucky asked when she approached them.

"Oh, I need to get back to the shop. Mr. Hendricks will most likely be upset with how late I am anyway."

"The tailorin’ shop near Prospect Park?"

"Yeah." She played with a strand of her hair, trying to hide her nerves.

"What a coincidence. We were headed that way ourselves, right, Steve?"

"What?" Steve looked at Bucky, head tilted in confusion. Bucky cuffed him in the back of the head. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, gonna take a nice walk in the park."

Elana could not help but giggle at the two. With Bucky looking skyward like he was silently praying for patience to deal with his best friend; meanwhile Steve rubbed the back of his head and glared at his best friend. Although she just met them and hardly knew them, she found herself enjoying their presence. Friends were not something she had in great supply...or any supply really.

Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she found her gaze drifting to the tall, charming brunet more times than she cared to admit. The butterflies in her stomach did not help the situation. She knew it was foolish. He was attractive and knew it. But when he turned those baby blues on her and winked, she could not help but be drawn to him, like a moth to the flame.

"How come we ain't seen you round before? I know I'd remember a dame as beautiful as you round Brooklyn." Bucky said on her left side while Steve walked on her right. Neither one crowded her space. Sometimes one would touch a hand to her back to direct her steps or hold her elbow when she jumped a puddle. It was sweet instead of condescending.

She shrugged. "I recently got the job at the tailor shop and I live in Queens."

They both winced making her laugh. She would never understand this animosity the boroughs had with each other.

"Well that explains a lot." Steve muttered.

"Hey!" She nudged the blond with her shoulder as she muttered. "Me gusta Queens. Ustedes dos están celosos."

"What language is that?" Steve asked, curiosity evident.

"Spanish."

"Is that why you have an accent?"

She nodded, unable to meet their gazes as she answered. "My family moved here from Spain when I was six." Although she had grown up here in New York City, gone to school just like the other kids, she still maintained a slight accent to her words, different from the stereotypical New Yorker's accent.

"Say somethin’ else." Bucky smiled down at her.

She laughed. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Anythin’."

"El cielo es azul. Me duelen los pies con estos tacones. Me he reído más con ustedes dos que en semanas".

Bucky had almost a dazed look on his face. "That's beautiful."

"You have no idea what I said."

"Doesn't matter." The brunet stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Steve can talk in Irish."

"Buck…"

"What?"

"I mean, a little." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My ma came from Ireland."

Bucky snorted. "You wrote a poem for a girl in the second grade in Irish and read it to her on the playground. I'd say that's more than a little."

Steve's face was red and jaw dropped as he stared at his friend. "How...how...how do you know that?" He sputtered. "We weren't even friends yet."

Bucky winked at Elana as he answered. "Gotta be friends with the right people."

The three of them walked back, talking and laughing. Well it was mostly the boys talking and teasing one another but she enjoyed just listening to their banter. Occasionally they would direct a question to her or she would throw out a remark that had them laughing.

She guided them to the back alley of the street front shops. Mr. Hendricks disliked her walking through the front unless she had her work apron on and clean shoes.

"Well thank you for helping me and walking me back."

"It's not a big deal." Steve said.

"We'll see you round, yeah? I'd hate to just meet a gorgeous dame like you then never see her again." Bucky threw a wink at her, adjusting the boxing gloves still over his shoulder.

She opened her mouth to tease them then stopped. She truly hoped this was not the last time she saw these two. In a spur of the moment decision, she stepped closer to say goodbye. She pressed her cheeks to Steve's first, giving the traditional cheek kiss. She did the same to Bucky, though she had to rise on her toes to reach his face, and she suspected he bent over slightly.

"Hasta luego, mis amigos."

"What was that, doll?"

She looked from Bucky's smirk to Steve's red face and back. "A traditional goodbye."

"Mmm…I could get used to that." The boxer teased, nudging his friend who refused to meet her eyes now.

She smiled and started to open the back door when Bucky's hand grabbed her forearm, stalling her movements.

"Hey, wait." Those baby blue eyes met her honey brown ones. "It's Friday night. We usually go to the Stork Club for drinks and dancin’. Come with us."

"Oh, I don't know…"

"Come on. It'll be great. If it helps, we'll pick you up from your house."

She could not help the laugh that slipped out at the thought. "You'd come to Queens... to get me?"

"It might break my heart to leave my beloved Brooklyn but I'd do it for you, doll."

"Honestly it'd be dangerous for you to come to my house."

"A little danger never hurt." He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

He was trouble, complete trouble for her...and she knew it. But the longer he stared at her with those pleading eyes and hand now at the nape of her neck, she could feel her resolve crumbling. "I have three brothers and a protective father."

"They can't be that bad… Come on, please? Steve, help me out!"

Steve just laughed, raising his hands in surrender.

She bit the inside of her cheek thinking about it. Her brother Mateo owed her for when she covered for him when he almost got caught smoking cigarettes behind the apartment building. Tonight, her parents were supposed to visit her eldest brother and his new wife in the Bronx.

"Ok…" She whispered.

"Yeah?" A beaming grin spread over his face.

"Ok...I'll meet you there though."

"Yes!" Bucky bent over and kissed her cheek loudly. "You won't regret it! Nine o'clock!"

"Nueve. Estaré allí."

"I still don't know what you said, doll, but I love it."

She laughed, pushing him away from her. "Go! Before I'm even more late."

Before they were three steps away, she ducked inside the back of the shop. Hopefully she was able to slip in unnoticed. The shop should be closing soon so Mr. Hendricks would be in his little office room.

She leaned against the back door, hands pressed against her cheeks to will away the warmth in them. Thankfully with her brown skin, the blush would be harder to notice. As she stood there, the realization of what she just agreed to finally hit her. An icy fist landed in her gut, drowning the blush away. She had never been to a club before. She had no idea what to wear...or how to act. How was she even going to get there?

Underneath the fear though was a determination to go. Why couldn't she have fun for one night, like other young women she regularly saw and envied. Both of those Brooklyn boys seemed nice. Thinking about them brought the flush back to her skin, especially when she thought of the kiss on the cheek from Bucky. He was trouble and fun and charming and devilish and… and she wanted to spend more time with him. And Steve, the sweet, kind, funny guy that he was. She liked them both. But when thinking about those baby blue eyes, insufferable smirk and broad shoulders...her heartbeat sped up and butterflies erupted in her belly.

"Oh Dios, ¿qué voy a hacer?" She whispered to herself.

*****

Just after nine o'clock, Elana climbed out of the taxi. She stared up at the sign that brightly screamed ‘Stork Club’. So many people milled about, either walking into the club or chatting, waiting for others in their group. A couple people already looked like they had been hitting the bottles for some time, if the rambunctious yelling and obnoxious laughter said anything. The atmosphere was loud and vibrant with an air of debauchery...and she had not even stepped foot in the door.

"Oh Dios, ¿por qué estoy aquí? Estúpido. Tan estúpido. Debería irme. Ni siquiera se darán cuenta." She murmured to herself, her hands wringing the strap on her clutch. Actually, it was not even hers. She "borrowed" it from her mother's closet and prayed that she could return it before her mother noticed.

"Elana!"

At the call of her name, she turned around to see Bucky and Steve crossing the street, dodging a car that decided they were taking too long.

"You made it!" Bucky exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. He scanned her over, giving a low whistle. "Damn, doll, you look beautiful."

"Gracias." She smoothed down her floral-patterned tea dress that reached mid-calf, her kitten heels still on from earlier. Her raven hair hung loosely down her back, unstyled in the typical curls that most women wore. There had been no time to try one of those hair styles and not bring attention to herself before she snuck out. Just to make her even more self-conscious, the cherry red lipstick she wore felt heavy on her lips. Something she only wore on rare occasions. "You fellas clean up nicely."

Checking over them, they each wore nice suits. Though Steve's looked a size or two too large and the prominent bruise on his cheek ruined the look a bit. Bucky was practically sinful in his suit, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs, his hair slicked back. Improper thoughts flooded her mind and a heat warmed her cheeks. She had a feeling she would need to go to confession tomorrow. That was tomorrow’s worry though, tonight was about fun.

"Ready to have the time of your life?" Bucky asked, excitement practically bubbled under his skin.

"That's a high standard."

"Guess I better not disappoint. C'mon!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the crowded, open door. In her sudden fear, she reached back and snagged Steve's hand, dragging him along. She would never admit it but having both of them on either side of her made her feel better.

There were several different calls for Bucky, vying for his attention. He just waved or yelled something back but kept her hand in his, pulling them through. She noticed more than one disappointed female face when Bucky passed them. It churned something in her stomach which she tried to ignore.

When they finally entered the dance hall, she froze. It was nothing like she imagined and so much better. At the far end was a stage with a large band playing an upbeat song that made her bounce on her toes without realizing it. A large bar area was set up, packed with people already looking for something to wet their throats. Booths and tables lined the walls. Already the hardwood, dance floor looked packed with couples jiving. Mirrors and photographs hung on the walls making the place feel bigger even when it was so crowded. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and a youthful zeal she had never experienced.

It was intoxicating and nerve-wracking. She could not wait to join in.

The next thing she noticed when she glanced at all the people...she was the only non-white person there.

"Let's get a table." Bucky tugged them along towards an open booth on the right side of the dance floor.

She slid in on one side while Steve scooted in on the other. Bucky stood at the end, grinning ear to ear as he seemed to quickly survey the place.

"Right." He tossed his suit jacket on the seat next to her then clapped his hands, the sound muffled by the volume from the band nearby. "What kinda drink would you like?"

"Ah, vino?"

He nodded and waltzed towards the bar, throwing an arm around the shoulder of one of the men standing there waiting.

She turned back to the blond. "You're not drinking?"

"Nah, too many health issues to make it worth it."

She hummed and took note of Steve's fidgeting. "Is this your first time too?"

He chuckled. "No. I just don't...well, this isn't where I'd prefer to be on a Friday night...but don't tell Bucky... though he probably knows."

"What would you rather be doing?"

"Drawin’ or paintin’, maybe playin’ cards but I'm terrible at them."

"You're an artist?" The realization warmed her heart. This scrawny man with a heart too big for his body and kindness an invisible cloak around him. It made sense somehow. He could look past the ugly and see beauty and somehow capture it.

"I don't know if I'd say that...I just enjoy it. It's usually what I end up doin’ when I come here. Doodlin’ on a napkin while Buck dances with every girl he can."

Her stomach dropped while hearing that, which was stupid. So stupid. She swallowed thickly, hoping Steve did not notice, before she spoke again to distract herself. "Well if you doodle something tonight, can I see it after?"

"If you like."

Bucky appeared a minute later with a foamy glass of beer and a glass of red wine. Carefully, he placed them both on the table. "Ready to cut a rug?" He asked, looking at her expectedly.

"Um, I don't...I've never danced like this before." She hesitantly admitted. Steve gave her a sympathetic smile like he understood.

"Don't matter. I bet you're a swell dancer." He held out his hand for her. When she did not immediately accept his hand, he wiggled his fingers. "C'mon, ain't that hard. I'll teach you."

With a sigh, she took his hand, his smile beaming as he tugged her out of the booth. She could not help but smile back at his sheer enthusiasm. It was contagious.

He led her off to the side of the dance floor. Putting one hand on her lower back and taking the other in his hand, he began demonstrating the steps. Her eyes stayed glued to his feet while he moved, willing her brain to understand and not make a fool of her.

"You got this, doll. Told you, you're a natural. Just follow my movement, let me lead."

So she did and before she knew it, they were flying around the dance floor.

Bucky was an amazing dancer and it showed in how he effortlessly led her. A couple times she stumbled or stepped on his toes but he would just grin and encourage her to keep going. The faces of those around them blurred. The music seemed to sink into her blood and with every beat of the drum or clap of the hands from the band, her heartbeat echoed it. It was intoxicating and she had not even had a sip of alcohol. Now she understood why people flocked to these dance halls. There was something freeing in them, losing yourself to the music and movements. For a short time, you could ignore the outside world and all its trials. Here, you could be free.

Eventually she begged a break, practically panting from the several songs they danced through. The brightness in her eyes and smile though showed how much fun she was having. Still holding hands, they weaved through the crowd back to their booth where Steve sat with a napkin in front of him, pencil in hand and eyes focused downward. She slid into the booth first, Bucky right behind her.

"Have fun?" Steve asked, eyes bouncing between the two before him.

"I can't breathe." She giggled out, hand pressed to her chest. Her lungs struggled to fill up properly but instead of installing fear into her, it only made her laugh.

Bucky took a long sip of his beer and slung his arm behind Elana, on the back of the booth. "Told you, you'd have fun. You're a great dancer."

"Only cause I had a great teacher." Taking a sip of her wine, she focused on the quiet artist. "Did you draw something, Steve?"

"Yeah, just a little sketch."

"Can I see it?"

He slid the napkin over to her, nerves obvious. Giving him a small, reassuring smile, she flipped the napkin over and felt her heart stop and jaw drop. The pencil sketch was of Bucky and her dancing. His mouth was next to her ear, whispering instructions or flirtatious comments, his hand on her lower back. Her gaze was on his chest but the brilliant smile on her lips gave her away. The sketch was so realistic, it was astounding. It completely captured Bucky's confidence and her nervousness but somehow the opposite emotions only added to the image, bringing a sense of balance and trust between the two dancing partners.

"Steve, esto es…. hermoso…. increíble." She breathed out, never taking her eyes off the napkin. When she finally looked up to see him blushing and fiddling with the pencil, she smiled.

Bucky had been leaning against her so he could see the sketch also. "That might be your best one yet, pal."

"Thanks, guys. S'nothing."

"May I keep it?" She softly asked, eyes tracing the delicate lines and shading.

The embarrassed blond flapped a hand at her. "Course. It was for you if you wanted it anyway."

Silently, she reached across and squeezed Steve's hand, unable to convey all the emotions she was feeling. "There's one thing you got wrong."

"What's that?"

"I'm not that pretty."

Both Steve and Bucky chuckled.

"Elana," Bucky started, gazing down at her. "He drew you like-"

"Bucky!" A silky voice interrupted. A young woman stood at the end of their booth. Her blonde hair in perfect curls, bright red lipstick matched the equally bright red dress she wore. Her eyes zeroed in on the handsome brunet at the table, ignoring the other two patrons like they were just wallpaper. "Wanna dance?"

The sun-kissed woman could feel Bucky's hesitation. Nudging him gently in the ribs, she nodded towards the interloper. "Go. Have fun. I still need to catch my breath."

With a nod, he slipped out of the booth and followed the beautiful woman onto the dance floor. The two easily fell into step like they had done this a million times, each movement flawless and smiles on both of their faces.

She turned back to Steve, ignoring the churning in her gut. "What's your favorite thing to draw?"

They talked for a few minutes about art classes he had taken and the few commissioned pieces he had done for local businesses. The passion he spoke with about art, hands flapping and eyes alight, it was impossible not to join in his enthusiasm.

The presence of someone standing at the end of the table drew their attention away from the quick sketch of a monkey Steve had drawn on another napkin. This young woman had a haughty expression on her otherwise pretty face, glaring down her nose at Elana.

"You shouldn't be here." She stated, venom lacing every word. Hands on her curvy hips, the gold stitching in her emerald dress catching the light from above.

"Ruby, we-"

"No one is talkin’ to you, Steve." She barked then continued glaring at Elana. "I bet you're a real floozy, comin’ in here lookin’ like that. Well news flash, no one wants you or your kind here."

Tears stung in Elana’s eyes, threatening to fall. She knew this would happen. It always happened. There was always someone to remind her she was not one of them, even if her own eyes could see it. She had hoped tonight would be different. That for once, she could fit in.

"I want her here. She's my date."

The lady -Ruby- spun on her heel so quick, her dress flared out. "Bucky," she crooned, her voice sugary-sweet, so different than a moment ago. "You're lookin' like a real Fred Astaire out there tonight. Let's go-"

Bucky did not even look her way as he slid back onto the bench, eyes focused on Elana. "You alright there, doll?"

She nodded numbly, staring at the table. Twirling a strand of hair absent-mindedly around her finger, she tried to force the tears from falling. It was not even the worst insult she had heard hurled at her, but it still cut her to the quick. Every time.

"Why don't we head out, yeah? Steve there looks like he's gettin' a little warm and the music ain't so good tonight." Bucky said gently.

She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.

"Bucky, stay…" Ruby tried one last time but he leveled a glare at her that made her take a step back.

"Take a powder, Ruby, I ain't interested."

Bucky wrapped his hand around Elana's, entwining their fingers as he slid out of the booth with her right behind him. Without even a backwards glance, he led the three of them out of the dance hall. Elana kept her head down the whole time, unable to meet anyone's eyes for fear of what she would see.

The night air was blissfully cool after the heat of the dance hall. It kissed her skin as if trying to help calm her down. At this point, the street was not as busy, everyone mostly inside now. Only a few pedestrians and cars interrupted the quiet scene.

"Elana, I'm so sorry."

"Debería irme. No debería haber venido. Soy tan estúpida." She muttered to herself, not even hearing Bucky's statement. It was a foolish idea to come out. For so long she had tried to fit in, especially as a child. Her mother always told her to be herself and embrace her difference. That was easier said than done. Tonight felt like a taste of it when she was on the dance floor. What things could have been like if everyone was accepted. If where she was from did not matter. She had been so happy dancing with Bucky, this handsome devil who treated her like she was special, holding her hand in front of everyone. Sure, Steve said he danced with a lot of girls but for tonight, she was someone while on his arm. She was someone special.

And oh, did she love the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. Him holding her close as they danced, his warm breath hitting her neck just right. He was trouble, through and through. Her mother would call him a Casanova and tell her to run the other way. Yet she did not want to. He drew something out of her. An almost recklessness. A desire for more. More in life. To experience life with a passion. Both this new feeling and Bucky’s presence were addicting...and she found herself unable to turn away. At least not for tonight. She wanted to revel in it tonight.

It was not until a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to meet a pair of worried baby blue eyes that she was jolted from her internal spiral.

"Hey, hey. I have no idea what you're sayin' but it don't sound good. Why don't we walk for a bit, mmm? The night's still young."

Wordlessly, she followed. It was then she noticed Bucky was still holding her hand, palms flat against one another's. That realization drew a small smile on her lips. On her other side walked Steve, hands in his pockets but a genuine smile on his face when he caught her eye. Even after all this, these two Brooklyn boys wanted to be with her. With that in mind, she shoved her despair and pain away. Let tomorrow bring what worries that came with it. Tonight she wanted to be reckless without fear of the consequences. Tonight was supposed to be fun.

"Can't believe Ruby would say that. Always thought she was a nice dame." The brunet mused, slipping his suit jacket back on before taking Elana's hand once again.

"She only showed what she wanted you to see, Buck."

"Dance with a girl a couple times and she thinks you owe her or somethin'."

The blond quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "Was it only dancin'?"

"What you gettin' at, Rogers?"

"You ditched some other girl for her once before."

His head swiveled to stare at the smaller man in shock. "I did?"

Elana spoke up. "Sounds like you have quite the selection of dance partners to choose from."

Steve snorted. "Guy has been doll-dizzy since he was twelve."

"What can I say? I appreciate fine art." Bucky said with a self-satisfied grin.

"Don't usually lock lips with paintings or statues…"

"You know what, Rogers!"

Elana laughed as Bucky let go of her hand to race around her and put Steve in a headlock. The two pretended to box for a couple minutes, grins on both their faces. When finished, the champion boxer slid up to her, a rakish smile teasing his lips as he claimed her hand back.

"Well if those gals are fine art, you sweetheart, are a masterpiece." He twirled her around once, making her dress flare out around her legs. "Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?"

"Yes, Bucky."

"Good, I'd hate for you to forget." He winked and the trio started walking again.

"Oh, here." Steve suddenly said, fishing something out of his pocket. He held out his hand almost shyly.

She took the offered item to see it was the napkin with the sketch on it. "Oh, Steve. Muchas gracias." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red stain behind. "Oops."

"Here." Bucky tossed over a handkerchief to Steve.

She glanced at the napkin one more time before reverently placing it in her clutch. She already knew where she was going to put this in her room so she would always remember this night.

"Oh drat." Steve said after glancing at his watch. "It's almost eleven. I have class early tomorrow."

"Go on, punk. I'll look after her."

Elana hugged Steve and was thrilled when he squeezed her back just as tightly. "I'm so happy to have met you."

"This isn't goodbye, right?"

"I hope not. You have more artwork to show me."

He blushed yet nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug.

"Night, Steve."

"Night, jerk."

Together, they watched Steve walk down the sidewalk, wave back at them then disappear down the next street.

"Wanna keep walkin'?"

She nodded. She knew she should go home. It was getting late and she still had to get back to Queens. Yet walking side by side with this man whom she had only met several hours ago, she found the idea abhorrent. Glancing up at the night sky, only a couple of the stars were visible through the smoke, clouds and street lamps. They were lovely though, a reminder that there were greater things out there, one just had to look for them. At least, that is what her father always said.

"Hey," Bucky's voice pulled her attention back, "I never got to say it earlier but thanks...for havin’ Steve's back earlier today. Punk doesn't know when to quit."

"I'm glad he got in that fight...is that odd? If he didn't, I wouldn’t have met either one of you."

"Alright, this ONE time I'm glad he got in a fight. Though, we probably would have ran into each other eventually."

They walked in comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Two cars passed them separately and only a handful of people walked their way. Otherwise it almost felt like they were alone. It was peaceful, still holding hands and wandering the streets of Brooklyn.

"Y'know, I was kinda hopin' we'd get at least one slow song at the dance hall."

"Me too." She confessed.

"Well, we should!" An idea sparked in his eyes. "Wait here." He moved over to one of the parked cars near them. He tried to open it but it was locked so he moved to the next one. This one opened without hesitation and he slid in. The whole time Elana switched between watching Bucky and scanning the streets for someone to yell at them. What was he thinking? Suddenly music came on, drifting from the radio through the open passenger door.

Bucky stood there, leaning against the car with the biggest grin on his smug face. "Who needs a dance hall?"

She laughed, understanding what he had done. "We’re going to get in trouble."

"No, we ain't. C'mon."

"Oh, Dios mío, yes we are!"

"Dance with me." He cooed, standing before her looking like an Adonis.

With that lazy smirk and enthralling blue eyes staring down at her, refusal was not an option. The words died on her tongue as she stared up at him. The music was slow, a singer crooning about his love. The moment felt like something from a fairytale story her mother would tell her as a little girl. She knew she should go home. Stop this heat that seared through her when she found herself caught in his eyes. Stop the butterflies in her stomach when around him. Stop the way she melted under his touch, his hands always so gentle.

But she wanted this. Right now. To pretend this was her reality. To dance with her prince under the stars. That love did not care about the differences in their skin tones. For when the sun rose and this dream faded, reality would seep back in. Plus, he was a charmer. Doll-dizzy. She would not keep his attention past this night.

For now though, she could pretend. Enjoy the night in a way she never had before.

He placed her hands behind his neck and his on her hips. Standing there under the streetlight and distant starlight, they danced, swaying back and forth. Her head landed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath it. So steady and soothing. The world faded away around them, the only things that mattered was their dancing and the music. It wrapped around them like a warm, thick blanket. Enveloping them in a sense of security and vitality. One of his hands slowly traced her spine leaving a trail of fire behind. His cheek pressed against the top of her head. She felt safe...and wanted. A heady feeling that she could sense herself beginning to crave even more. Her hand tangled in the hair, her fingers lightly scraping the back of his neck.

"Say something in Spanish." He whispered, his lips against her scalp.

"Gracias por esto ... todo esto. Ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida".

She looked back up at him, hoping to convey without words what she said. As she lifted her head up, their eyes locked. Tension filled the empty space around them, pulling them closer. For a split second, his eyes drifted to her lips and back up. Her heartbeat began racing anew. Slowly, as if waiting for her to turn away, his head tilted towards hers, his hands gripping her just a little tighter. His breath fanned across her face, warming her inside and out. She swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. His nose brushed hers, an almost timid action that drew a smile from her. He chuckled silently then somehow pulled her even closer. She closed her eyes, a gasp escaping her when she felt the faintest touch of his lips on the corner of her mouth.

"Hey! Hey, you kids! What ya doin’ with my car?!"

All the tension evaporated like rain drops under the scorching sun.

"Shit...c'mon!" He grabbed her hand and started running away. Holding on tight, she ran next to him, as well as she could while wearing heels. The yells of the car's owner soon a distant sound behind them.

Finally, they stopped two streets later. He let go of her hand, running his hands through his hair and pacing. She leaned against the brick wall, hand over her mouth, giggles spilling forth between gasps of air. Never in her life had she done anything like this. She closed her eyes as the giggles turned into full-body laughter. One hand covered her mouth and the other wrapped around her own waist to try and contain the sound. This night was nothing like she expected but it only seemed to get better and better. This newfound revelry of youthful zeal, this silly recklessness...she wanted more and more of it.

When the laughter dissolved into small chuckles, she wiped her eyes as she opened them, hoping her make-up had not smudged too much. Not that she particularly cared in the moment.

What she saw standing before her killed the laughter on her tongue.

Bucky stood just at arm's length, staring at her like she was the stars in the heavens.

In a single step, he crowded her against the brick wall. "Elana…" he growled, voice low, and it might have been the most exhilarating sound she had ever heard. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, their lips just pressed together. A soft pressure that made her melt into his arms.

He leaned back to press his forehead against hers. His breath just as shaky as hers, both still breathing hard from their run.

"That was my first kiss." She blurted out, immediately regretting the words once they escaped.

He leaned back to look her in the eye. "Really?"

She shrugged nervously. "Not many fellas lining up to kiss a girl like me."

"Their loss, doll face." He smirked, running a thumb over her bottom lip. "May I have the honor of your second kiss ever?"

She giggled and nodded.

This time when their lips touched, it felt like more. The first was like licking the spoon used after mixing cookie dough. A taste of what was to come. The second kiss was eating warm cookies right out of the oven and practically ascending to heaven.

His lips slanted over hers perfectly, as if they were formed just for her. Their mouths moved in tandem, picking up speed. No longer were the kisses sweet and gentle. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she willingly opened her mouth to receive it like a present. These kisses were all-consuming and fiery. It was as if his touch seared into her soul, leaving an imprint there for all eternity.

She knew right away when she met Bucky Barnes, he was trouble. He was the kind of man her mother warned her about. The kind to sweep her off her feet and make her forget the world around her. He was kind, charming and so full of life. Yet she knew even as she was wrapped in his arms, lips pressed against his, that there was one truth that would haunt her. Even if she ignored it for now. That truth would never leave. So she overlooked it, sinking deeper and deeper into his kisses and embrace. Drowning herself in him. With her back pressed against the wall, her hands tangled in his hair and mouths devouring one another, she had never felt more alive.

Tonight, she would choose the fire he poured into her. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy life without fear. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that this night would never end. To thrive in this feeling of passion and life, that nothing could go wrong.

For the truth was one day, he was bound to break her heart.

#marveldiversitychallenge #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky/ofc #bucky fic #Steve Rogers #Hispanic!ofc #POC character #40s!steve #40s!bucky #40s!#1940s #mzwrites

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