#feel like people have outgrown me and are just too nice to say it or smthg | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twoidiotwriters1 · 2 years

Text

Until The Very End -(WITS Sequel)

A/N: I got the picture from this post and it’s pretty close to how I actually imagine Merry’s house -Danny

Words: 3,577

Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter

March — June 2000

Mel had been sorely missing waking up next to her boyfriend every morning, having every meal together... they still spent most of the day with each other, but it wasn't the same. Mel loved her mother and baby brother, but after Erick moved out she realized she'd outgrown the nest too, and she wanted to be with her partner.

When Easter arrived, Harry and Mel packed their bags and joined Joseph, Fred, Hermione and Ron on a two-week-long trip to France. Hermione, who was the only one apart from Joseph that had been there before, took them to her favourite places.

Jo was a bit sad about leaving France, but things were going great with Fred and the twin didn't want to abandon his shop, so Erick's cousin decided to look for a new job. Mel suggested he went and asked McGonagall if she would hire him to replace Erick. Everyone thought it was a great idea.

"I could supervise the shop we're planning to open in Hogsmeade!" Fred said. "That way we can live together, no need to say goodbye for long."

"Splendid," Joseph beamed. "I could even sleep there— don't think McGonagall would find it unsuitable. It's only a few minutes away from the castle!"

He leaned and kiss Fred with enthusiasm. Mel looked away, it was hard not to feel jealous of other people's accomplishments when she still had a long way to go. Harry's hand found hers and squeezed it to bring her back from her intrusive thoughts. Years of knowing each other had made them experts at reading their body language.

He leaned over to whisper. "Soon..." Then kissed her cheek.

"It's a real pity Anne and Erick couldn't come," Jo sighed. "I know he's dying to visit ever since I moved out when I was seven... oh well, he'll have plenty of time once he resigns. And he'll be able to bring his family too!"

Mel still felt a strange pull at the base of her stomach every time someone reminded her Erick was a married man. The force with which she felt it was diminishing with each day, eventually it wouldn't be "Erick has a daughter!?" but a tug of wonderful reaffirmation, "Yes! Erick has a daughter!"

"I hope that by the time he comes this restaurant will still be open," Ron said finishing his meal. "It's so good... hey, do you think they serve bouillabaisse?"

Hermione blinked. "I don't know. Why?"

He shrugged. "You mentioned once that you'd like it. I just wanted to try it out and see for myself."

The girl smiled. "Oh well, you ate too much already, but we can have dinner at the place where I ate it when I was thirteen! Hopefully, it'll be open."

"Don't spoil him, 'Mione," Fred warned her. "He'll get used to it and then you'll have to be eating out for the rest of your days."

"That's not true, I like cooking as much as eating," Ron scowled. "Unlike you and George, pair of lazy gits—"

Harry decided to intervene before the brothers continued their argument. "I'd like to go to the beach today. What d'you think Jo?"

The young man nodded. "It's a good plan! The weather's quite nice today..."

"We should be on our way, then!" Hermione finished her drink and got to her feet. "Let's pay and then we can go to Jo's place and get our swimsuits!"

She walked away from the table, Ron's eyes followed her all the way, bright and adoring.

"Uncle Moony used to take me to the beach during the time he lived here... That was the first time I truly noticed his scars..." Mel grabbed a fistful of sand and let it fall through her fingers absently. "He hated the way strangers looked at him. I knew he did, but he always acted like he was having fun for my sake... I wonder if he'll bring Teddy."

"Maybe we could bring him," Harry suggested. "Him and Regulus?"

"Yes, but that wasn't my point," She looked up at him. "I know Remus will stay away from public places. He did it before, and back then he was young and handsome. Now he's older, and though many of us still think he's good-looking... I know he'll be too mortified to go out with his wife and kid."

"Well, we can't do much about it, can we?" Harry said wisely. "It's up to Remus, just like it was up to us to seek help."

"I could help," Mel frowned, eyes fixed on her fingers. "He's a father to me, I don't want him to spend the rest of his years hidden... I want him to enjoy his life fully."

Harry stared at her strangely. She'd never been brave enough to ask what he was thinking whenever his face adopted that expression. But now she didn't have to, Harry was ready to talk.

"When I was about to die," He began. "I turned the stone a last time. I saw my parents and Sirius... your dad as well. They said they were proud... they stayed, I felt them when Voldemort raised his wand to kill me— but they weren't the last thing I thought of."

"What was it?"

He tilted his head, squinting his eyes to protect them from the sunlight. "I thought about the lifeline. The only thing I was regretting was having to leave you behind... not telling you the truth when I was fifteen, not saying I loved you sooner. Even if I'd said it many times by then... it all felt like wasted time."

"It wasn't wasted," Mel cupped his cheek, he moved his face a little and kissed her palm. "We understood a lot during those years, things that we had to learn separately. I was overprotective of you, being away lessened my need to save you..."

"I won't ever take you for granted, not after being so close to losing my chance for good. I know how lucky I am," He shrugged. "If this whole thinking about what's most important to you happens to everyone, then maybe he's changed his mind by now. He's teaching again, isn't he?"

"Look at you, so mature and clever," She tilted her head and grinned. "So I was your last thought before dying?"

"Of course," He smiled. "My head's empty and the only coherent thought is your name."

"You're absurd," She snorted.

"It works though," He smirked, casually placing his hand on her thigh. "I can keep going, I'll tell you what I know you want to hear. I'll lean over and—"

"If you finish that sentence I'm afraid we'll have to leave the beach immediately," She warned him.

A grey owl came down flying and dropped a letter on Harry's lap. Thankfully, the place was empty due to the hour, and Mel quickly busied herself with feeding the animal with a few of their leftovers.

"Hi, Cassi!" The girl smiled. "Is it a letter from Erick?"

"It's Anne's," Harry read through it, face puzzled by the contents. "She found us a house."

"What!" Mel snatched the letter.

"Guys!" Harry called their friends.

"Isn't that Erick's owl?" Joseph asked upon arrival, he tilted his head to dry his curls with a towel.

"Listen," Harry nudged Mel so she read out loud.

"I took Em for a walk and found a lovely house near ours— it looks abandoned and not in the best state, but I guess that's not a problem for a wizard! I'll look for the owner and I'll put you in contact with them...'"

"Blimey!" Ron smiled, but it faded quickly. "We won't be neighbours..."

"They need to find the owner first," Hermione commented. "It could be abandoned entirely— that's a lot of paperwork..."

"Or they could just get in there and pretend it's been theirs all along," Fred suggested. "Who can stop them?"

"We're not thieves," Mel scowled. "But this is great news! I hope Anne finds the owners— We're one step closer to having a house, Glasses!"

Harry stood and drew her up with him, he lifted her off the ground in a bear hug.

"We should celebrate," He said. "Drinks on me!"

"Hang on, Mr Wealthy," Mel pushed him away. "Are you out of your mind? We need that money!"

"Oh c'mon! It's not like we'll spend thousands of galleons on a few pints!" He sulked.

"That's alright, I'll pay for the drinks," Joseph smiled. "It's the least I can do—"

"Your parents are letting us sleep in their house," Mel shook her head. "You are doing more than enough."

"Oh, alright, I'll pay," Fred rolled his eyes. "I'm the next loaded guy in line, aren't I?"

Ron patted his brother's back and pushed him forward. "What else can you do with all that money? Save it? That's a Percy thing to do..."

"All drinks on me!" Fred replied immediately.

When Mel returned, Emily had a mess in their house. New pots of plants and some baby salamanders were distributed across the kitchen, Mel cringed the moment she entered and Grey ran up to her with his face all muddy.

"Where's Reggie?" She asked worryingly, picking up her pet and cleaning him with a flick of her wand.

"Remus and Tonks took him for the weekend while I put order— I'm so glad to see you!" The woman kissed her cheek and left a smear of dirt on her face. "Pass me that pot, please?"

Mel did it, though she jumped away as soon as she looked inside.

"Argh! I thought I'd left behind the horrors of Herbology when I left the castle..." She gawked, Grey jumped out of her grasp in disapproval.

"You want healthy creatures, you need to feed them right," Emily said brightly. "This is for my fairies..."

"Yay," Mel said without an ounce of excitement. "Have I gotten any letters from Anne?"

"No... Where's Harry? I thought he'd come to say hi!"

"He's at the Burrow, he wanted to unpack first but he told me he'd be here for dinner. Have you heard the news?"

"Are you pregnant?"

"No!" Mel's cat jumped indignantly. "Why does everyone always think— Oh, it doesn't matter. Anne said she's found a house for us!"

Emily stopped her energetic pacing and looked at her. "That's wonderful."

Her demeanour changed, she was no longer cheerful and loud.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just... came as a surprise... when are you leaving?"

Mel laughed. "Oh no! We haven't seen it. Anne said it looks abandoned so it might take a while before she contacts the owners."

"Oh," Emily's face brightened a bit. "Oh, well. I hope you get an answer soon. You'll let me go with you the first time you see it, won't you? Please?"

"Sure! I don't see why not..."

Emily nodded approvingly and continued her chores, Mel took off her coat and hung it on a chair, then she followed her mother out to the garden.

"Mum?"

"Hmm?" The woman had knelt, she was tending to some strange-looking plants.

"Have you thought about dating again?"

Her mother didn't hesitate. "No."

Mel felt unsure. "Well, it's just... it's been four years since... it's a new century, so if you feel like having a fresh start..."

Emily looked up at her waiting to hear the rest of the sentence, Mel sighed and continued.

"I want to make sure that you'll be okay. When Erick moved out you were sad for ages... if I leave I don't want you to feel the same way that when you were left to raise me by yourself. Reg's my brother and Harry loves him, so does Erick and everyone else... you know you don't have to do it alone, right?"

"Oh, kid," The woman stood and cupped her daughter's face. Mel didn't care about the dirt. "I'm okay! Mothers get a bit teary when their eldest moves out, that's all... you've gone away and came right back so many times I forgot that one day it'd be for good."

"So you don't wish for a partner?"

"Not right now," Emily pondered. "But I never thought I'd end up with Sirius. I'm happy with my life as it is, though. I've lived thirty wonderful years without romance being a big part of my life and I wouldn't change a thing. Men like Sirius and your father are one in a million, and Remus is already married," She joked.

Mel laughed. "I'm happy as long as you're happy."

"Then you'll be happy for as long as I live."

"House-elves?"

"Yes."

Kingsley stared at her, Mel didn't budge.

"I knew the Dumbledore in you would try to do something like that one day."

"A crazy thing, you mean?" She asked with amusement.

"Unorthodox," He corrected. "But please, do explain your reasoning behind this plan."

Mel handed him the petition she'd written with Hermione's help and started to describe the whole thing.

"Azkaban's only as safe as its defences. Right now, that isn't a lot. The dementors have murderous tendencies and they will follow dark magic devotees if given the chance. House-elves, however, are well-natured since birth. They hold more power than any regular wizard or witch, and they aren't affected by the same bindings we do. It's already an advantage to have a guard that doesn't need a wand to defend themselves."

"Yes, but we're talking of innocent creatures looking after the vilest of wizards," The man shook his head. "How can you guarantee they know what they're against?"

"It's all about hiring the right group," Mel smiled. "You know Dobby?"

"We've crossed paths once or twice," Kingsley responded with interest. "How is he special?"

"He's the only known elf that broke his masters' rules to accuse him of being a dark wizard," She explained. "He's proven multiple times in the past that he understands the difference between blind loyalty and morality, wrong and right. I trust Dobby with my life, Sir."

"But does he understand the importance of gatekeeping a prison?"

"I'm certain he wants nothing else but to help our cause and keep the dark wizards away. He holds Mr Potter in very high esteem, you see, whatever rules Harry follows, Dobby will do too."

"But this is just one elf we're talking about..."

"Oh, there's another," She quickly added. "My house-elf Kreacher helped during our hunt for Horcruxes two years ago, he enjoys spreading the word about the dangers of dark magic. He's even better suited for the job than Dobby, he doesn't advocate for any living person in particular, but for the ideals of a dead man, who I must say, had his heart in the right place."

Kingsley nodded silently, he ran a hand across his face and sighed deeply.

"Dumbledore tended to have the best answers to our biggest problems," He began, "I've heard you are the same."

"I'm not my uncle," She reminded him. "But I would never dare to make this big of a change if I weren't sure it'd work. You don't have to take my word for it, just hire Dobby and Kreacher and give them a month. Tell them to deliver reports twice a week, ask them to hire their staff, and you'll see Azkaban's safety measures will be the most efficient in the world."

"And if you fail? If this causes another massive break out?"

Mel's eyes were calculating. "I caught half of the people in those cells, Sir. I'd gladly do it again."

"I don't doubt that," He stated plainly. "But that's not my point, Miss Dumbledore."

She shrugged and lifted her hands, palms facing the ceiling. "That's what I can offer. That, and my resignation if you think that's what I ought to do if I fail. I'm putting my foot down. The world has never improved without a bit of risk, and definitely not when we hold onto old ways."

"Right as usual," The man took a deep breath. "Very well. Tell Miss Granger to contact these elves, it's her department, after all, the one that settles these kinds of deals. It'll be her first big assignment, I hope she's ready."

"She's been waiting for this moment since she was fourteen, sir," Mel smiled proudly. "She'll be happy to hear we're finally starting to see elves as our equals," The girl stood and shook hands with the Minister. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I want to apologize beforehand for the articles the prophet may publish once we announce the new plan. Skeeter will have a field day."

"I know," He groaned. "Let's hope to prove her wrong."

"By the way... I'm not saying this to pass the blame, but the elves weren't my idea," She confessed. "Mr Greengrass suggested it at the Flints' wedding. He's a visionary."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "Indeed, but if a man like him offered you such an imaginative solution, must've been cause he was sure you could pull it off."

"Maybe," She walked away from the desk but stopped at the entrance.

"What is it, Miss Dumbledore?" Her boss questioned.

"You said something before... while talking about Azkaban," she looked at him. "You said that the elves had to know what they were up against. That's not how we ought to see it."

Kingsley seemed intrigued. "No?"

"Once they're locked down, there's no reason to keep fighting them," Mel shrugged. "It was a terrible idea to have dementors there. We don't want the prisoners to hate us more, we want them to feel sorry for what they did. For them to regret their actions, I believe showing mercy and kindness, and giving them proper care... maybe that could make the difference."

"Then more than a prison it'd be a reformatory, don't you think?"

She shrugged again. "I don't see a problem with that. I'm not saying it'll work with all of them, and I'm not saying we would even get them out if it did, but most people do wonders with second chances, and maybe listening to an ex-dark wizard say that they regret ever following that path, will keep others from even trying."

"And if that doesn't work, the thought of having to fight Mel Dumbledore might," Kingsley smiled a little.

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

"I'm thirsty!"

"I warned you it'd be hot and you still decided to wear long sleeves," Mel looked down at her four-year-old brother with annoyance.

The boy pulled the strings of his coat and whimpered dramatically. Behind them, Emily and Harry were conversing with the old owner of the house. Regulus had visited Erick's place several times that year, but he wanted to see Mel's future home cause he'd overheard his mother saying it was an old building, and he was sure it'd be filled with ghosts.

"It's so far!" Reggie panted. "We've walked hours!"

"It's been ten minutes," Mel chortled. "Your legs are just short."

"My legs are a'ight!" He pushed the fluffy auburn locks of hair away from his sweaty forehead. "You're enormous!"

She picked him up. "Oof! You're heavy! Next year you'll be able to reach my knee if you're lucky!"

"I'll be taller than you," He stuck out his tongue.

"Hope so, then I'll force you to carry me around," She grinned.

"We're here!"

Regulus and Mel looked ahead: The three-story house had the Victorian-looking style Erick's home possessed, but was not as intimidating. It looked slightly smaller since it lacked the tower and the black roof tiles.

It had dark green rooftops covered in moss, ivy growing all over its cream coloured exterior and a small entrance with worn steps leading to an elegant but mouldy wooden door. She couldn't see the windows because they'd been boarded, but they were big and scattered evenly all across the house. Around the construction, there was a wide variety of wildflowers.

The man approached and opened it carefully, everything was old and unused, but not beaten as to be considered rubbish. Regulus squirmed out of Mel's grasp and started to roam around the first floor, Mel heard her mother warning him about the stairs, but the girl was too dazzled to help.

The entrance hall's tapestry was dark brown and falling to pieces, but to them, it looked as beautiful as any other. Mel could see herself growing old in that house so clearly she knew right away this was home.

"I told you it'd be loads of work," The man sighed, misinterpreting Mel's quiet awe. "Too much to do."

"Better start now while we're young," Harry retorted.

The old man blinked and stared at him.

"You want it?"

One look at Mel's sweet doe eyes, and Harry knew she'd fallen in love. He didn't mind the thought of having to rebuild half of it, if anything, it was an exciting prospect. They were about to build a home from scratch.

"Can you show us the rest?"

Mel had never gotten the opportunity to build a dream house in her mind, the only thing that she'd hope to get was privacy and enough rooms to welcome their friends in case any of them wanted to visit. This one had both, a vast forest around it, and three bathrooms.

So they bought it.

The man was perplexed. He asked discretely whether they came from wealthy families, and Mel answered that it was kind of the case.

"But the only living relatives we've got left are my mother, my brother and my grandad," She told him.

"I see," He said politely. "I'm sorry to hear that. But the lovely couple living near are your friends?"

"Yeah, they were the ones who told us about this house," Harry smiled.

"My dear auntie was never keen on making friends or acquaintances. I live in the south, so I just come here about once a year to check on the place and see if anyone's interested in buying it. I leave my card right there at the front door, I assume that's how your friend knew how to contact me?"

They told him he was right, and he hummed.

"Perhaps the house was made for you."

Mel liked that, Harry as well, judging by the way his eyes brightened at the remark.

"Hope you're ready for all the paperwork and all the handy work it'll take to bring this house back to life..."

Harry seized her hand and squeezed a little.

"We are."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @21bruhs @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead @greengarsstuff @aconfusedslytherin @talksoprettyjjx @avengersz-biotch @23victoria @moonhoonie @raajali @peachyaeger @espressopatronum454 @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic #UTVE fic

6 notes · View notes

starrbar · 8 months

Text

Okay so Yin Yang Yo! was my absolute FAVORITE fucking show when I was a young kid, like I dunno, 10 to 13 years old. I recently revisited the show and well, I've outgrown the writing QUITE a bit. I'm in my late twenties now. But it's still very nostalgic to me, and I figured hey, I got a few light-hearted ideas, so I'll scribble em down and post em somewhere.

One of my favorite characters from YYY was Yuck because he was cute and scruffy. I like scruffy. And I probably enjoyed his voice acting too.

Anyway, I spat out some ideas for how I might rewrite the episode "Yin Yang Yuck" for a fanfic or something, but I'm too busy to write a whole fanfic, so here's the raw juices.

So first, I don't like how flippant the beginning is. Yin and Yang fight daily, and often physically, so it seems silly that this one time only, they would create life. What's a specific thing Yin and Yang would do in this fight that's different from others?

Let's say they've both been learning a new move that's high level. Master Yo taught them the basics, but neither of them can successfully use it. Hell, Woo Foo Aura might be good for this? Putting aside Aura Or Not cause I'm just having fun here.

Yin has a partial grasp on the idea of it because she'll happily express love and passion, but Yang is too embarrassed to express himself and he tries not to feel those vulnerable emotions. So let's say Yin gets REALLY pissed at Yang one day (hopefully over something much less dumb than what started their fight in canon) and she gives in to using her anger for her aura instead, and Yang does the same, even though his anger is normally performative and light-hearted. The two of them genuinely set out to hurt each other in some way, which is what flares up their worst traits—traits they're directly channeling into physical Woo Foo energy.

Their auras reject them because of their misuse of their emotions to fuel the power, and instead they clash and combine. The sheer power creates a new being made of both of their worst qualities, topped off with hatred for each of those qualities and their good ones as well, because well, they were feeling some level of hatred for each other in those moments.

He calls himself Yuck because he is full of self-loathing and awful contradictions, and because the parts of Yin and Yang that love one another despite their differences did not get transferred to him. Yin and Yang are left without the ability to feel any negative hateful emotions. Maybe sadness? But not anger. Not the desire to harm.

I also just realized that yeah, I'd make Yuck nonbinary because he was made from a boy and girl who perform their genders in such AGGRESSIVELY normative ways, but I could buy that he uses he/him because nobody in this family knows what nonbinary is and Yuck isn't really concerned with it, but he still finds that he's completely being perceived either way. He doesn't care about his pronouns, etc.

He's also not really in a position to figure out what identity makes him feel right? Because again, he's just made out of awful traits. He's ashamed of ALL his interests and all his circumstances (and Yin and Yang's circumstances), so he lashes out any time someone tries to be nice and understanding towards him. He's disgusted by Yin and Yang's sugary sweet kindness. He's driven to violent rage when someone so much as steps in his way. He snaps at people when they seem to "have a tone" or look at him grumpily or don't respond to him quickly enough. He perceives every action someone takes in the worst possible light. He's miserable.

Master Yo is alarmed at what Yin and Yang did, and especially that it resulted in a new living person being made. He decides that it would be the most humane to split him back up and send his traits back to the twins, because they're incomplete without being able to work through them naturally, and Yuck is a being created purely to hate and hurt. However, Yuck doesn't want to die, of course. So he attacks.

Master Yo can easily kick his ass tbh. There's no reason little level 2 Yuck should be able to beat a Woo Foo master. But maybe Yuck has hostages. He doesn't attack Master Yo directly, he keeps him away by threatening others. Yin and Yang have to come up behind him and try to take him by surprise, and then they have to "kill" him to his face when their surprise attack fails. It pains them both to do this, but they have to be whole again.

After the fight, they're back to their normal selves and Yuck is gone, and they still feel like they just did something cruel....

#starrspeaks #yin yang yo #yyy #yyy yuck #yin yang yo yuck #headcanons #rewrite #fanfic

1 note · View note

ninepentz · 1 year

Text

Full moon in Cancer at 16°18 this friday.

For more full moon details and future transits, you can find those links at the end of this blog.

This full moon will be opposing the sun and mercury in capricorn, bringing to our attention, in my opinion that we need to relearn how we nurture, care for, show love, and the way we support others. Compliments on their looks and accomplishments is nice and all but it kinda is feeding into the culture of narcissm and sending the message that you're only valued by your looks, status, appearance, material things, our egotistical selves. From a young age, we've all been conditioned to believe this, people treat you better if you look your best or fit a specific beauty standard. That's why so many people today live to impress others and keep up appearances with surgery, cosmetics, filters in anyway to make themselves look better bc they feel like who they are aside from that isn't enough..

I feel like we need to rethink how much of our behaviors, praise for others, and admiration are based on superficial things. Constantly telling people they're beautiful, handsome, talented, it's appreciated ofc, but is that all they are to us at the end of the day? Does that help them become a better person, does that validate their entire self, does it do more harm than good?

We should try to be more constructive and maybe get to know people on a deeper level. Appreciate their authenticity, their humanness, who they are at their core.

And for us moms/parents out there this new moon in cancer is also shedding light on our home life, our children, our parenting styles. Remember to not bring our traumas, expectations, egos to be tied to our children in a negative way. Little by little provide building blocks for our young ones to develop into their own person with none of our baggage attached. Don't praise or prioritize only superficial things bc we know looking good these days is so important in the world, but try to challenge ourselves to look beyond that and be more impactful with our kids. Praise kindness, responsibility, being respectful, balance out the serious/stern side (capricorn) with our emotional/loving side. You don't have to be mean to teach your children a lesson, and you don't have to be too careful and sweet either. It's more important to teach your children how to survive in this crazy world, so try your best to focus on what's important.

Pallas is conjuncting the moon in the 1st house, house of self. So we all are becoming aware of our emotional nature, matters of the home/security, maybe how we parent/nurture ourselves. Take leadership to give yourself emotional fulfillment and create environments that make you want to thrive. Even if that means cutting out/placing boundaries against the people in our lives who are reminding us of our past unhealed selves, this is family members, old friends, people and places that we have now outgrown. It's time to take matters into your own hands and live for yourself, demand a good life. With the past few years we've all be struggling, experienced death after death of loved ones. We can't keep holding ourselves back from being our purest, bravest, comfiest, emotional, messy, and authentic selves...were only here for a limited time.

A lot of people... aka me🙄, are so far gone from who we were as a child, who had no limits, insecurities, self hate, inner judgment.

So it's just something to think about.

The moon, sun, mercury will also be squaring chiron in aries so it may flare up some insecurities and issues related to our identity and how we show up in our lives. Egos will be flared, we may be stubborn and impulsive, trying hard to control everything and hide away. Regardless of it all, our insecurities are bound to be seen, you might as well just say fuck it and put less pressure on being perfect or socially acceptable. What's more important then being perfect is just being a good person, being someone who makes others feel heard, respected, safe no matter how diff we are we have the same instinctual/emotional needs.

Ceres is in libra in the 4th house opposite chiron so to me that's how I see this all.

Check what time the moon starts in your timezone below 👇

To see Astrobutterfly's interpretation of this full moon and all of January's transits, check these links 🫶

Astrobutterfly is one of my favorite go-to astrologers for consistent transit updates, she gives really good interps, keeps it fun and easy to read.

Check what Cancer and Capricorn is aspecting in your chart/which house it's in, to know how you'll be affected by this full moon. Here's a link to calculate your transits for 2023, super useful!👇

✨️Nine of Pentacles✨️

#fullmooncancer #fullmoon #astrology transits #january #2023 #zodiac #capricorn season #astrobutterfly

1 note · View note

transamorousnetwork · 1 year

Note

Hi! [sorry if I use any offensive terms, I'm just now learning]

Just wanted to say these articles are really honest and thought-provoking. It's a lot to think about. I want to talk about my reasons for loving trans people.

I, too, am a male at the end of a long cishet relationship (18 yrs!). I never hid my attraction to trans people or cheated (we have an open relationship, communicate well), but I'm finding that I'm actually pansexual, with the strongest attractions to transfem people (femboys in my case) and also cis women. I could fall for the right guy, too. I need more, and it's not just a kink or a passing interest.

I myself have a fair deal of gender dysphoria, and I want to explore that with someone who knows where I'm coming from, you know?! I want to be more genderfluid and learn to be more feminine, express myself and my emotions better, change my appearance somewhat (I'm more dysphoric than dysmorphic, but still). I want to give and receive, be dominant and submissive, and learn to express positive emotions, not just the negative [read: masculine] ones.

As a male, most socialization and role models are toxic. Also, being in a cishet relationship is what society pushes one toward. It's easier to coast along and just be unhappy, or to fall victim to the sunk cost fallacy once you've started a relationship. It's especially easy to be stuck when you've had the example of parents or family members just being miserable and staying together anyway, as I have.

It's all quite the minefield, with bi- and pan prejudice/erasure being a thing, as well as poor reaction to male-presenting people who love trans people. I also believe that polyamory would be best for me, thanks to my neurodivergent needs (auDHD) and the desire to try many different kinds of relationships. Perhaps I'm playing on hard mode, as it were. But I finally know who I am, and that at least feels good. It simply took my life disintegrating for me to question who I was in the first place.

Hey Sempai,

I share many of the perspectives and characteristics you describe here. Thank you for sharing your mind with me. It's refreshing and confirming to know what I share is helping. I mean, I know it is helping, but it's nice sometimes to receive a message like yours, which confirms my knowing. So thanks for that. People who take a moment to reply must have been pretty moved to do so. So I just want to let you know how much I appreciate you doing so.

It's a wonderful time we live in, with the dismantling of so many ideas we have outgrown as a species. People like you and me are on the leading edge of that. It's not always easy to appreciate that fact, but I am often there, marveling at the wonderful opportunity we have, the opportunity to help humanity grow.

Love,

Perry

#trangsender #transamorous #transattraction

1 note · View note

megs-on-legs · 2 years

Text

ramblings

I’m just sitting here with my swollen belly, reflecting after a nice meditation, just thinking about the life I have created. Suddenly I felt the urge to write. I don’t know of anyone who actually reads this, & I’ve barely even glanced at this blog in what feels like forever. I am remembering that it was once a mindless after work activity where I scrolled to decompress. That was before I started a family... & that’s the basis of this little rant.

I am just feeling so fortunate to be at this stage of my life... I really do think I will look back & smile at these precious memories & consider them the very best of my (hopefully long) life. Our tiny house with all of its imperfections, no budget to do what we want to do to it, all the while feeling the true definition of happiness.

Brodie & I talked about this the other day. Sometimes it feels like we can’t get ahead... not enough childcare to cover us both to work as much as we want, which sets back our money goals & then the rest of the projects & trips & fun lay dormant. The transition to parenthood is hard! It is also the happiest either of us have ever been. Isn’t that wild? I can’t put into words the fulfillment that becoming a mother has given me. I am so glad he shares this feeling as a father.

Several of my close friends have lost a parent within the last two years, & when I hear them explain how difficult their loss has been, it is a reminder to try to stay present. We don’t get to do this thing again. Iris is only this little for a brief time! Our son will be our last baby to meet after the magic of birth, to lose sleep over & gaze at in awe in those early days to come.

This whole circle of life thing has never been more clear to me. I know now that my parents love me unconditionally! Although I’ve “known” that, the overwhelming realization hit me like a ton of bricks when I met my kid. I imagine it is similar to grief. Holy shit, it is transformative. You hear about how much people love their kids, & quite frankly I was like “yeah yeah yeah”, but it is unlike anything else I can imagine. I feel like I am a part of a secret club where you just glance at another parent & they’re like “I know”! People couldn’t fully articulate their experience when I asked them about becoming a parent during my last pregnancy. Now I realize why. It is just something you simply can’t explain.

The biggest shift & the one I am most thankful for is the amount of growth required to be a good parent. I worried quite a bit about what I would miss if I had children. You know... sleep, freedom to choose your day to day, drop into a yoga class at leisure, actually say yes when someone asks if you want to get lunch that day, & so on. Then one day, you finally sleep a full 8 hours, slowly you start to get pieces of your old life back, you go on a girls trip & you get a babysitter for a night out. None of it has the same impact (except maybe sleep!) - I just think I’ve found some new priorities, I have outgrown parts of the old me, & the things that I did miss a lot are so much more gratifying when I find a slice of time to do them. Actually there is a whole new list of things I miss now - like my body being my own for one, but in time that will come back, too. I’ll have time for myself, to work & save money, maybe get that dream home we can remodel (all at once)!

The best part about all of the above is, I’ll have a family to share it with. & if I’ve learned anything from therapy, knowing this in the present & appreciating what you have is precisely what growth is. I thank Brodie, Iris & this baby in my belly for that ♥ I’m so glad we did this. Let the chaos continue!

#family

0 notes

writingsfromhome · 2 years

Text

Endgame II

A/N: Okay, the storyline in this fic has been a lot of fun to write. And this one’s going to leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger but the final will come soon. Thanks for reading thus far 🥰

Note: Mentions of a toxic relationship

Part 1 / 2 / 3

---------------------------------------------------

“Look! Isn’t he so handsome?” Rowan asks.

It’s Saturday night and we’re holding drinks and pizza like it’s a freshman rush after-party. I didn’t realize this get-together at Jared and Dru’s was also an excuse to host tonight’s football match, but as long as socializing wasn’t at the centre of this gathering, I could handle it.

“He’s…okay.” Jared had the same brown/blonde hair as his brother but he was more angular where Dru was less so. Jared wore his hair outgrown while Dru’s evolved into a slicked-back style. “What does he do again?”

“He’s working at a nonprofit,” Rowan is basically fangirling. “Isn’t that so sweet?”

“Does he get paid?” I ask, finding it hard to imagine him at nonprofit let alone them hiring someone like him.

“I dunno,” she shrugs. “He’s pretty passionate about it.”

I realize on my way here that Rowan needed to make out with Jared in order to get over him. So it was my mission to make sure that happened tonight, of course I was relying on the fact that he was a bad kisser. Or had horrible breath. But she needed to get him out of her system, I needed my best friend to move on from this mediocre white man.

I move my gaze off of Jared and onto the wall that projects the game. It’s the final 6 minutes and everyone in the group was tense.

“So this is fun for us…” I say drily.

“Just get drunk,” a voice from beside me shoots back. “If I remember, that’s when you’re most fun.”

I crush my teeth together, Dru.

“Piss off,” I don’t even spare him a glance. Rowan glances between us like she was about to leave us alone to battle it out, but I eye her to stay.

“Always so mean to me,” he steps out in front of me so that I’m forced to look at him. He pretends to look sad before breaking into a bright grin like the psychopath he was. “The game’s pretty close hey?”

“Looks like we might actually win!” Rowan entertains his bullshite for the sake of being polite. She catches his attention.

“Rowan, nice seeing you here. How have you been?”

“I’m good!” She smiles. “Nice to see everyone again, it’s been so long.”

“I know,” he glances back to me, his eyes trailing the length of me. “Feels like Y/N avoids me, she hasn’t come to our last two reunions.”

I ignore him, staring at the game instead. This only makes him laugh.

“My brother invited you right?” He continues talking to Rowan. “Have you said hi yet? He’s buried somewhere in that pile over there.”

She was already ogling him the moment she walked in but Rowan nods, “Oh yeah, there he is!”

“Jared!” Dru shouts, his voice carrying across the whole room. Several heads turn. “Be a good host to your invitees!” He motions to Rowan who’s turning redder than a raspberry.

“Oh no,” she says faintly. “Let the game finish, we can talk later…if you want. Whatever! Just…” she trails off in embarrassment so I decide it’s time I step in.

“Dru, how about you go watch the game like you said. Don’t pretend to be a matchmaker here.” This is what I hated, he humiliated people just because he could.

“Yes mummy,” he grins before walking back to his seat. As the space he occupied empties, I see a familiar face I’m not expecting turned towards us. It’s Harry, sitting two people down from Jared, in his football jersey, here.

His expression is hard to read but my shock must be written all over my face because Rowan looks over to what I’m looking at.

“Oh wow, is that--it’s Harry! He’s looking fit huh? I haven’t seen him at one of these in a while.”

“Wh-what?” I sputter. “You know Harry?”

“Yeah?” She laughs. “You know him too you weirdo?”

“Yeah from work but-“

“Oh shite, that’s work-Harry?”

“Yes!” I glance at Harry again but he’s turned away again. “He went to school with us?”

“Y/N seriously? He was like, so tight with Dru and Jared in first and second year. They kinda drifted because he went into a different program I think but like, we saw him at parties all the time-oh! He had long hair back then, wore those ridiculous rings for a semester…you really don’t remember?”

“Oh my god no,” things suddenly start to make sense. No wonder he hated me the second he laid eyes on me at the office—he knew me in uni! And obviously I didn’t pay him any mind but he was friends with Dru, so his mind must be filled with the shite Dru spread about me. Clingy, bitchy, crazy. I blink back tears. “That’s such a small world.”

“I know! Did you know, he actually helped Jared get his job? He knew some people there since he did some design work for them for free! You know he was living in Manchester after graduation? I think but he moved back to London recently...which I guess you know because...”

I can barely listen to Rowan. I was freaking out, trying to place any memory of him in my mind but I was drawing a blank. Even in any reunions of the last three years I hadn’t noticed him.

“I’ve just got to...” I pat Rowan and walk away from the packed room.

“You alright?” she asks, grabbing my arm.

“Yeah yeah, I’ve just got to step away for a second. Use the toilet.”

She lets me go and I move down the hall to sit on the staircase with my drink.

Everything was starting to make sense with Harry. But what a complete dick for believing Dru’s words! God, this is why I couldn’t “let go” like Rowan wanted me to. Because I still ran into him every so often, everything he did, and all the shite he spread about me, made it kind of impossible to let it go. Because it still affected me now and it still coloured the way some people saw me. He fucked me up, my ability to get into another long term relationship, and apparently my relationships in the workplace now too.

I stumble up the stairs and find the toilet on the first go, gagging but nothing comes out. I drink the tap water and settle on top of the toilet seat with a wet tissue pressed to my forehead but it doesn’t work against the familiar pressure building in my chest.

I hear cheering from downstairs, the match must have ended. But the noise begins to sound like it’s coming from a tunnel. I had to get out of here, I needed fresh air, or just to be anywhere that wasn’t-

I lurch for the door handle, but it slips in my wet grasp. I try to focus on the panic, and it works momentarily as I get the door open but I face my next obstacle: the staircase. I just needed to collect myself. I turn in a circle and see another flight of stairs tucked away—they must lead to the attic. Maybe if I just sit at the bottom, hidden from view, I could catch my breath.

But the issue was I could barely get in a breath. What a total nightmare. It had been a couple years since I had a full blown anxiety attack, and of course it happens at my ex’s house with a bunch of friends I barely saw gathered downstairs.

My attention snags on my name: “yeah she might be in there, can you make sure she’s alright? I’ve just got to…”

That was Rowan. I wait for the other voice, praying it wasn’t Dru she was talking to. From my vantage point on the staircase, I see the light from the bathroom light up the opposite wall and then go out as the door closes. A few minutes go by, I feel marginally better but my breath is still only coming out in short bursts and my hands tremble. The fact that it could be Dru in the bathroom, and he could find me in this vulnerable position scares the shit out of me.

I drag myself up but I must get up too fast, forgetting I wasn’t sat on the bottom step, because I pitch forward over the step I missed.

I nearly faceplant, but two thirds of the way down strong arms catch me, a knee is inches from my face as it braces their body and mine against falling to the floor.

“Y/N,” a god-awful voice says. Of course; if it wasn’t Dru, it had to be Harry.

“I’m fine,” I breath. I try to push him away but his grip is strong and he pushes me gently back onto the step I came from.

“Hey, look at me,” Harry crouches in front of me. How humiliating, I think, for a man who already thinks I’m weak and flighty to see me like this. “Y/N, you’re okay can you focus on me?”

“I have to-“ I take a shaky breath. “I’m-I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Harry says, and when I shoot him a look he corrects himself. “You will be, but you’re not fine right now. I’m going to sit here.”

He sits on the last step below me, his hand grips my shoulder and he gently pushes me down towards my knees. Of course, I’d forgotten this in my racing thoughts. I rest my head in between my knees and he lets go as soon as I get there. I tell myself I shouldn’t give a fuck he was here, he’d made up his mind about me based on rumours anyway, so who cares if he saw me like this?

I sense him shifting to the step I’m on, our bodies are pressed against each other in the narrow space. A moment goes by, and his hand lands on my back. He rubs in a rhythmic motion that’s soothing and unsettling at the same time.

“Is this alright?” He asks. And the feel of his hand, the question in the midst of my attack must zap the synapses in my brain because suddenly I do remember Harry from uni.

I jerk my head up to face him, miscalculating how far he was. My head bashes his face and he flings backwards, a hand to his face.

“Fuuck,” he groans.

“Oh shit,” I press a hand to my chest. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry I-“ I cut off and take a deep breath, as deep as I could right now. “Is it bleeding let me see, is it-“

“I’m fine!” He waves my hand away from his face. “It’s-it’s not bleeding.” He confirms as he drags his hand off his face and inspects his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” I inspect his nose but he cups it gingerly again. “Seriously I’m-“

“It’s alright,” he says again, gentler but still pushing me away. “At least it’s not broken.”

“Shame. Might have been an improvement to your face,” I say before I can think. I slap my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide in apology.

For a moment, I think he’s going to swear at me and walk away. But it passes, instead he chuckles. A laugh. “So you’re just trying to shape my face into what you’d like it to look?”

That makes me laugh, I bring a fist down on my knee. “The plan’s foiled, damnit.”

We smile at each other, it was weird. In this dim staircase on the musty carpet Harry and I share a moment. And i remember again, it wasn’t our first moment together. Although it was our first moment I could see his face.

“It was you,” I whisper.

He looks puzzled, and I open my mouth to explain but we’re interrupted.

“I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner.”

“You and me both,” I recognize the voice as Rowan. That must mean it was Jared. At least I hoped it was.

They move towards us and we freeze. I clutch Harry’s arm accepting that we were going to be noticed, and I notice instead how toned he was, something the long sleeves on his button-ups at work ailed to showcase--I wonder if he worked out and what the rest of him might look like...

“This is it,” Jared stops nearly in front of us, but they’re so busy staring into each other’s eyes they don’t see us. He opens his door and they disappear, the sound of a lock, a giggle, and a slam against the door.

I let out a breath and hear Harry beside me doing the same.

“That was close. Can you imagine if they saw us? We must look so creepy in the dark…” I trail off when I look at Harry. It must be the wrong thing to say because his jaw tightens.

“I should go back down,” he stands up and I’m ashamed to say I seriously considered asking him to stay. Instead I make a joke of it.

“And here I thought I would have your company a little longer.”

I look up, and then further up to look at his face. He stares for a second before checking, “are you feeling better?”

“Oh,” I remember suddenly why he was here in the first place. “Yeah, I am. Thanks Harry.”

His gaze darkens, “Don’t…”

“Don’t?” I ask when he leaves his sentence unfinished.

“Uhm, don’t…don’t,” he stalls. “Don’t forget to lay off the alcohol, it won’t mix well with…anxiety.”

“Oh right,” for a second I thought he was going to say something a little more life changing. But this was Harry, and right on cue the unspoken rules of our relationship comes crashing down on us like a noose.

“I’ll see you around,” he finishes with both hands stuffed in his pocket. With a lingering look, I hear him rushing down the main staircase. Not soon after, I hear unsavoury noises from the bedroom so I follow his footsteps back down.

I find a water bottle in the fridge and take it with me, walking outside until I reach my car parked down the street. I sit inside, text Rowan where I was, and then pull the lever to flatten out my seat. I was exhausted and I couldn’t face the room of people in that house. Especially not Dru, and especially not Harry with the oddly charged conversation we just had. Something shifted for a moment between us and I think it might be from my end. I realized he was Twenty One from my first day of uni.

I had looked for him a couple weeks after that encounter once I was thoroughly over the embarrassment from that day. I searched the field for the whole week any time a game was on. It was only on the Friday that I spotted 21. I’d approached him, thanked him, and he’d looked at me like I was on drugs.

“Wrong person,” he’d said with a concerned face. “I don’t think we’ve never met.”

And we hadn’t, his voice was higher and more boyish than my twenty-one.

“I’m sorry,” mortified, again. “Sorry. Let’s just…pretend this never happened!”

“Sure,” he’d shrugged.

Six years later, I’d found him in the figurative sense because apparently he’d been there all along. He knew me before Dru and I happened, yet he’d stayed away from ever approaching me and even then, believing Dru’s lies. It was difficult for me to map what was true about Harry and what I had romanticized about him before I knew it was him.

But at the end of it, all I can really conclude was this: he was kind when he didn’t need to be. And when he found me in the same state today, despite our history at work, he showed the same kindness. Maybe he wasn’t good, but he was decent.

I really just wanted to know, who was the real Harry and what had made him this way with me?

Harry:

I’m sitting here amongst friends, some of these people I’m seeing for the first time in years. But my mind is somewhere else.

I can’t get her eyes out of my face; the cautious hope, the curiosity they held when she’d said And here I thought I would have your company a little longer. She looked at me like she did all those years ago. And with those eyes, my name sounded sin from her lips, Thanks Harry. The fact that I found her on the staircase leading up to my room, I could have helped her upstairs and...

Fuck, I couldn’t go down this road. It was wrong in so many ways, not to mention she was the kind of woman who could break my heart without a second thought. So I have to do what I’ve done with the two other moments I hold dear with us. I condense it, shrink it all the way down so I can bury it deep in my heart and forget about it. For now.

When I was alone and weak, I obsessed over these moments. I would think of what could have been. But for the me right now, they disappear as if they never mattered.

The thought hardens me into what I needed to be, to guard my heart. She’d stomped on it once before, and I couldn’t let her do it again.

But in the moment it takes for me to finish my drink, I make myself relive that moment to remind me why I could never grow soft towards her. I remember how dangerous she was for me:

“You’re not out of her league!” Ben claps me on the back. “You’ve been fucking drooling all over her since last year. Just make your move!”

“Yeah,” says our other friend. “You’ll never know if you can have her unless you grow the balls to test it out.”

“What do you think?” I ask Dru, the only one who was unusually quiet. We were assigned dorm mates in our first year. I never thought I’d find a best friend in him, but he was like a brother to me. The day I met Y/N he told me my constant grinning to myself was creeping him out. I’d told him about her, the girl behind the shed. Of course, I didn’t know her name then. But Dru had asked around for me, his brother had gotten the name somehow.

“I don’t really see her as your type--I’m sorry for saying the truth!” He defends himself when our other friends start booing him. “Look at her: scowl on her face, alone at a party—she wants attention and she’s upset she’s not getting any. You really want a high maintenance girl?”

He’d called her high maintenance once before. I’d gotten her name, and we had finally spotted her at a party a couple weeks later. She had been clinging onto her friend Rowan the whole party, obviously socially anxious. Dru had pointed out that anxious girls were too high maintenance, I was in my prime years and having a clingy girlfriend was going to kill my vibe. “You’re 18, you don’t want endgame at 18.” He’s said; he helped me give her space when she needed it.

“He doesn’t have to marry her,” Ben says. “Hook up, and then tell her no strings.”

She wasn’t just a hook up though, I knew that. Since that day on the field, my crush on her only grew any time I saw her. It was amazing, every time I saw her she looked a bit more like herself and it only intensified my feelings. Of course, she always looked past me so I never got to know if she thought anything of me. Except for one night at a party last year when I bumped into her when she was really drunk, but even after that she never looked my way. Maybe today was my chance.

“I just don’t want you to get crushed. Trust me,” Dru says to me. “I’ve been with tons of girls like her. They just want a guy to make out with and make them feel special. I bet if I go up to her she’ll come on to me.”

“Really?” Our friends ask hesitantly, which makes me feel a bit sick-imagining her making out with Dru.

“D’you wanna bet?” Dru faces us, gleeful in the face of a challenge. “Alright, alright how about this? I’ll go up and tell her you want her number. But watch, she’ll decide she likes the attention she already has from me and--mate, do you think I’m joking?”

“No I just…” I didn’t want Dru to do that. Because Dru was usually right about these kinds of things and I didn’t want him to be right this time. I know I wasn’t making her up in my head, but I’ve also never talked to her.

“Get this on camera so I don’t have to say I told you so,” Dru goes on like he didn’t hear me. “I’m sorry Styles, I’m about to prove this to you.”

He goes up to her, the scowl stays on her face until she puts a hand on her hip. Then she looks back at us and my heart hammers in my chest, I feel like I’m going to have a fucking heart attack. She says something to him, I try to read her lips but she’s too far away. She looks back at us and smiles, waving her hand at us. I think, this is it, she was going to remember me and give Dru my number. But times takes a slothful pace as she turns her gaze back to Dru. It’s her ring that catches the light, and I’m confused because it’s on the back of Dru’s head. Her ring is-

“Ohh fuck,” Ben swears, lowering his phone. "He was right.”

It’s a disaster I can’t look away from, my brain barely processes how she tugs him closer to her, it’s only when her back hits the wall and they part that the implication of this moment hits me. I feel sucker-punched. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t Y/N. It couldn’t be.

Dru looks back at me, he looks apologetic, even mouths sorry. I sense her looking too but I can’t stop staring at Dru, she kissed him. She kissed him and I will never have her, this person I’ve slowly fell for she’s never going to happen to me.

But what comes shocking is when she goes to kiss him again, he stops her and for a split second I think he’s going to step away and come back to us. But they leave, they leave the fucking room.

“Did he just...”

“If Dru can get it, why not? Sorry Harry, guess she was just like the rest of them.”

“Is he...?” I can’t even ask the question, and my friends can’t answer because we all know how fucked up it was that Dru had taken this chance to prove something to me, and stepped over the line.

“She’s just a girl, there’s plenty of them at this party mate. Forget about her.” they try to comfort me but I’m not easily fixed. Something just cracked inside of me, and I didn’t have the tools to fix it.

Dru finds me the next day, I’m packing my room for the summer. I was going to spend it in London but I decided I needed a break, I was going back to Manchester for a few weeks before meeting my mates in Spain.

He tells me he was sorry, she was just that kind of girl and he did me a favour. He saved me from a broken heart. He asks me if I ever really knew her, that I fantasized about her so much I made her something she wasn’t. And the more he talks, the more I come to see his point. But a small part of me still stings, because the connection we had that day in the field, and the stolen moment at last year’s party, they were real. So when he asks whether I was still staying in London, I stand stronger in taking a break. I needed to clear my head, and piece my heart back together again. Something in me knew then, things weren’t going to be the same.

“Harry,” the sound of glass hitting glass breaks me out of my memory. Dru stands in front of me with one brow raised. “Mate, I’ve been calling your name.”

“Yeah,” I look around, no one seemed to notice my mental absence.

“You alright?” he holds up his beer and clanks it against mine again. “I was asking if you want a refill? Yours’ empty.”

“I think I’m done for the night,” I admit.

“It’s only 10!” Dru shouts. “Somebody get this man an earl grey, he’s retiring for bed!”

A couple of our friends laugh but most people are interested in their own conversations so they don’t notice. I needed out of this room, I walk out to the kitchen in the back of the house. Dru follows of course.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks as he pulls two new drinks out from the fridge. He stands rigid before turning back to look at me with a smirk. “Oh...I know. You saw Y/N right? Don’t tell me you’re still letting her get in your head.”

I stare at him for a moment, blank faced. I realize, I don’t think I’ve actually told him I worked in the same company as her. It wasn’t conscious, I was pretty sure I’d told Jared but I guess Jared hadn’t told him either. Dru had no idea I saw Y/N at least 3 days a week. And apparently, in the 6 months we were under the same roof, I hadn’t told him...at all.

“No,” I spot the bottle opener beside the sink and open our bottles. I guess I would have one more. “It’s just been a long week, I haven’t seen half these people in a couple years I’m just...”

“Getting old,” Dru slaps me on the back. “You’ve been gone too long mate. Not to worry though, I’ll fix you right up, let’s get back to the party.”

I let him drag me back out physically, but in every other aspect I wasn’t really here. My mind was stuck in the past, reliving my uni days. Nothing was making sense again.

#harry styles #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles angst #enemies to lovers #office!harry #College!Harry #series #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #endgame #things are getting twisted!!#this fic is seriously the most fun I've had writing in a long time #eek

124 notes · View notes

insult-2-injury · 2 years

Text

Take a Seat- Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

On nights like tonight, when the tides shifted and the winds scuffed off the top layer of Undercity smog, a sliver of moon betrayed Piltover, parceling its light with the industrial city below. It was a beautiful evening, the sort that Undercity dwellers secretly basked in, the streets a touch quieter, its inhabitants markedly gentler in the shared appreciation of the rarity.

You’d thrown on a light jacket and were primed to walk the unsleeping streets, perhaps even make the trip up a level to sit on the embankments of the Pilt and ponder just how remarkably absurd your life had become in the past couple months.

So, it was just your luck that this was the night your brother showed up at your house to make amends.

Peering through the crack in your front door, you judged his pompous outfit with pinched eyes.

“You’re telling me you made it all the way here without getting jumped? Wearing that?”

Stefan swayed uncomfortably, as if a horde of bandits was hiding in wait, prepared to leap out from the bushes and drag him into the shadows if he didn’t make it to safety soon.

“People are getting too soft,” you remarked.

“May I come in?”

“You may.”

Stefan eyed Teddy’s fist imprint.

“Are you safe here?”

“Oh. Yeah. Been meaning to fix that,” was all you offered. You really had been intending to, but you reckoned it did give the place some character.

You turned your back, busying yourself with the sandwiches you’d been crafting when he’d knocked, already feeling your hackles raise like a mad kitten as your brother took his first steps into your tiny, blue-collar workspace.

“So, what’s going on?”

From your periphery, you watched him examine your shelf of trinkets.

“Is this…?”

You looked up at the grimy, multi-colored handlebar tassel he held in his hand, stomach lurching a little as you absorbed the nostalgic scene. It was from the first bike he’d gotten (stolen) for you back when you were just a kid. The one that had carried you speedily away from countless pursuing enforcers, that had imparted on him the now fading scar on his chin.

“Can’t believe you held onto this.”

Your hand tightened on the knife as you cut the sandwiches into triangles, feeling his eyes on you.

“I’m sentimental, I guess.”

He set the keepsake back down.

“I’m sorry. For what I said.”

You hesitated.

“I’m sorry, too.”

In a dark cavern within your chest, a low, hideous snarl ripped through you at the deception, at what felt like folding, throwing in the towel. You weren’t sorry in the least, just daunted by the idea of losing the only discernible human trace back to the roots of your childhood.

You despised this person you shrunk into around your older sibling, like a dog trying to tuck into a kennel it had outgrown years ago. But it was instinctive, an impenetrable defense wall thrown up against something inside you that you didn’t fully understand yet.

Your aggressive response at the fountain had been the first of its sort, but you’d retreated back inward, it seemed, and you were only now realizing just how nervous you’d truly been that he would never seek you out again.

“I’m supposed to worry about you. I’m your older brother.”

Your lip curled distastefully. It would be nice to have a relationship outside of mere pity, but again, you weren’t going to complain. He was here now.

“I know.”

Your shoulders tensed when you saw him pick up a framed photo.

“How are you doing with…?”

“Talya’s death?”

“Yes.”

You smiled at him, amused.

“You can say her name, I won’t burst into tears.”

It was funny, the soft way people treated Death when they hadn’t yet shaken hands with it, as if the concept itself were some fragile thing, a dozing bird clasped between the palms of two hands. It was to be tiptoed around, yet there was nothing more viciously awake. It wasn’t a moniker, hardly a concept, and definitely not some sinister guy with a cloak and scythe.It was simply you. Death was a constant, a lonely maypole you were fated to circle for the rest of time, a stalwart reminder at the center of your universe that there was an unfillable crater in your chest where your best friend should be.

But all that was a bit of a mouthful.

“I miss her.”

“Have you been going out at all? Making new friends?”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Stop.”

You snickered. “You stop. Can we talk for a second like we’re normal?”

He placed the picture back down on the shelf and turned to you, frustration evident on his face. “I’m not sure how to do that when you treat everything like it’s a joke.”

“I’m not sure how to do that when you treat every problem like it’s yours to fix.”

Stefan clenched his jaw and you both stood at a silent impasse.

Neither of you yielded. He stepped toward your workspace in the back. His hand traveled across to the edge of the curtain and you nodded in permission.

Sweeping back the material, your brother made his way into your studio, pausing, you noticed with slight satisfaction, to study each of your various machines: your coal forge, the unlit furnace, the anvil with a clutter of tools strewn on top of it. It was probably time to clear through the disorder, you thought, as a loose piece of paper latched onto the bottom of his otherwise unblemished, silver-laced boots.

He freed and unfolded it, his brows knitting together.

“I noticed this Eye symbol on the way here.”

Your heart skipped. You’d completely forgotten about that sketch. Dropping your culinary project, you flew over to your brother, snatching it out of his hands.

A burst of hot blood erupted through your veins at the remembrance of your tension-filled knife throwing with Silco. The unsatisfying lack of connection as your blade handle had been pressed into your rigid palm as his grasped your blade, never touching you, but the close, incinerating heat of his body holding you still just the same. The prolonged eye contact as you both had taken a subtle opportunity to learn each other up close.

It had you wondering, dangerously so, whether the attraction went both ways.

The Eye, sketched so cleanly onto the paper, winked tauntingly back at you.

“What does it mean?”

You startled.

“Huh?”

“The Eye.”

“Oh, it’s just-“ you traced the symbol with your index finger, “It’s just an Eye, really.”

“It’s spooky.”

You laughed.

“It is.”

“Are you going to make it?”

“What, the knife?” You looked to your brother. “No, I probably won’t. It’s- I probably won’t.”

You push-pinned the drawing into the plaster beside you.

Stefan scanned the workspace, eyeing the other design ideas you had scattered about, posted up to the walls throughout the years, some of which had come to fruition and some not.

“You should. You’re very good.”

You felt your face scrunch with emotion as you devoured the unexpected kindness like a woman starved.

“You’re talented.”

Your lip trembled as a switch was flipped and you were a child again, launching yourself at your brother, hugging him around the waist, your face pressed into his chest. He stood uncomfortable for a moment before wrapping his arms around you in a stiff, awkward hug.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“Would you… make one for me? I’ll pay you, of course.”

“Yes,” your cheek scratched against the rough fabric on his chest as you nodded, smile widening at the approval, “Of course, I will.”

He relinquished you.

“Do you remember that gala I told you about?”

You stepped back, head cocking.

“Yeah.”

“I think you should be my plus one.”

An undignified snort cut through the following silence, before you paused, smile fading.

“You’re serious.”

“When do I joke?”

He had a point. You scrutinized him, suspicion creeping in slowly like an approaching storm.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“It might be nice to network, or even work on expanding your business. There are some really talented metalsmiths up top, and many of them worked on the hex gates, crafted, no invented, new metals, new methods. You may even learn a thing or two.”

The sunshine that his kind words had brought on had quickly clouded over, leaving you feeling cold and bitter.

“I don’t sell up top,” you said.

“But you could-“

“Stefan,” you interrupted, looking at him carefully, feeling suddenly tired. “Am I enough the way that I am?”

Your gaze was aimed over his shoulder to the Eye behind.

“Of course, you’re enough.” he said, brows knitting together, “I just… want more for you.”

A blaring contradiction.

He was all you had left, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Yet, somehow, he always left you feeling lonelier than ever.

___________________________________________________

Thunk.

With a battle cry that had a few quizzical crows scattering into the night air, you launched a knife at the makeshift wooden target that stood several yards away, nearly cleaved to smithereens after months of use.

Thunk.

Just a mile or so away from your place, tucked away on the outskirts of the industrial district, were the remnants of a burned down apartment building, where you’d cleared out and set up an array of targets to practice your knife throwing. No roof, long caved in, yet the foundation still stood tall, walls enclosing your little hobby area soundly.

Even as a kid, you’d always had a fascination with blades, which was supposed to be your half of the business. Talya was always better with the more useful items, or the big yawns, as you’d always said. Kitchenware, other various tools. You’d made a great team. Every visionary needs a pragmatic to pull them down to Earth, just as every pragmatic needs a visionary to stir things up. Now, you couldn’t help but feel like an untethered kite.

It wasn’t as if you could practice on moving targets, nor did you ever have a semblance of desire to, but it didn’t mean you weren’t picturing them. Your imagination had always been your métier, only ever sharpening with strong emotion. And tragedy certainly gave rise to some latent aggression.

And you were furious.

A masked gala. As if they wouldn’t know. As if the fattest cats in Piltover wouldn’t sniff you out in a heartbeat, narrow their beady eyes at you in distrust. Why did Stefan think you’d enjoy that? Besides, he had to know full well you wouldn’t behave yourself.

But. Maybe it would be good to learn. Maybe what you needed was to improve. Be better.

No.

Thunk.

You were enough. You didn’t need to be fixed.

Thunk.

Knife belt empty, you hunched over to prop your palms on your knees, breathless.

You were a balloon inflated to the verge of bursting, squeezed by the tightening vice of a future decision you didn’t even know the principles of yet. Your stint at the fountain had been the first poke of your snout out of that little box Stefan had tucked you in, and you’d felt glorious shattering those expectations, so why weren’t you able to muster that same courage earlier?

Were you really that docile, that you thought a hug would remedy the desperate yearning you had to be understood by the one person you thought was capable?

You wanted to scream at him.

Why didn’t you?

A shiver, cold and shocking, walked its way down your spine. The voice rumbled through your head like a low roll of thunder, not nearly as satisfying as it had been up close, but your eyes nevertheless flickered open at its velvet timbre.

You sighed. The last interaction you’d had with Silco, days ago, had been churning in and out of your consciousness since.

Exhaling deep, you pushed yourself up.

Show me.

You marched toward the targets, feeling only a little silly for conceding to a voice in your head. A scowl twisted your lips as you collected each knife, one by one, as Silco’s honeyed words laced across the expanse of your mind like ribbons dancing on a breeze.

You’d played it out. You’d played it out a hundred times. The damning heat in his eyes. His closeness. How deliciously small you’d felt beneath his dominating gaze. And it had been just a mere moment, a blink in time.

If you squeezed your eyes shut and concentrated, you could imagine he was right there at your heels, guiding you, his breath fanning across the back of your head.

“Where?” you spoke into the stale, open air.

Anywhere, you’re creative.

You preened once more, the remembered words curling in on themselves in the pit of your belly, like a shallow pool of twisting eels. You let out a stuttering sigh.

Show me, he insisted gently.

Warmth flared between your legs. You ground your teeth.

It was unfortunate, this blooming desire that had seemingly crawled out of the deepest pits of hell, because it wasn’t even feasible. It would never come to fruition, for several reasons.

No. You had to shut the infatuation down, because it felt like submitting to a man who was already King of his domain. To surrender any more power to him would be your character death, a personal treason. Silco already ‘had you on a leash’, which you’d done a fine job fastening around your own neck.

But, in the reaches of your mind, you knew, without a doubt, that if he offered up his office again, another chance at dangerous, playful give-and-take, you’d grab it and run, because the man had an unspeakable pull on you that you felt powerless to deny.

You were terribly sick of being a slave to your own recklessness.

Show me.

“Shut up,” you hissed, hurling three daggers ferociously, overhand, hitting dead center of a target.

You exhaled a long breath into the air before adjusting your belt, feeling your anger bleed slowly out of you with a gentle pulse.

Good girl.

“Oh, what the fuck,” you gasped, knees knocking.

“That’s not fair.” You whirled around accusingly, particles of dust going airborne as your boots scuffled through the dirt. “You’ve never even said that!”

Fisting your hands, you lowered to a crouch, wiping sweat off your forehead with the inside of your wrist.

“Control. Control yourself.”

_________________________________________________

“Am I going to explode?”

Two petite metal foxes sat in each of your flattened palms. They were impressive, handcrafted out of spare bolts and cogs, the ears two upside-down sheet metal screws, the tail a stretched-out spring. Colorful, doodled markings adorned their exterior: a mushroom cloud on the belly, two X’s where the eyes would be, neon green knives sketched onto the sides. No longer disturbed by any of Jinx’s darker tendencies, you only found yourself once again in awe of how fantastically brilliant she was.

“They’re not that kind,” Jinx said simply.

“If they do explode, do you think your dad would buy me robot hands?”

“They won’t.” Jinx retreated suddenly backward in the booth, her eyes flashing. “They won’t explode.”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you backtracked, “I was just teasing you.”

She relaxed only slightly. You were still learning where her precipice was.

“What exactly do they do, then?” you asked, rotating them in your fingers, eyes locking on the tiny, round pin situated at the back.

“Oo, ooh!”

Jinx tittered merrily at your intrigue, barely containing herself as she wiggled, her fingers steepling together at chest level, expression positively villainous.

“They make you disappear!”

Your eyes rose slowly to meet hers.

“I mean, not like splat disappear. They hide you. In a puff of smoke!”

You snorted.

“You’re one of a kind.”

"You always say that,” she said, sounding a little vexed by your lack of creativity.

“Because it’s true.”

You gingerly placed the gadgets on the table in front of her and she frowned, offended.

“I made them for you. They’re yours.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Well, yeah.”

An overwhelming tenderness plucked at your heart strings. When was the last time anyone had gifted you anything?

“Thank you, Jinx.” You smiled at her warmly. “So, a fox, huh? Why’s that? Because I’m so clever and cunning?”

She rolled her eyes, and you were brutally reminded that you were speaking to a twelve-year-old. “You wish.”

You stuck your tongue out at her.

“You know,” you said, tilting your head into one palm, reminiscing. “There was this book about foxes that I was obsessed with when I was a kid.”

“Cool,” she said, completely disinterested.

“I’ll see if I can find it in my stuff, although I’m sure it’s seen better days.”

“I’m a little past picture books, you know.”

The word transported you back to the conversation with Silco weeks ago, when he’d offered you that drink.

“You might be. But your dad isn’t.”

Jinx was bowled over by your audacity, her blue eyes widening, darting between yours.

“Are you saying my dad can’t read?”

The way in which the corners of her lips were stretching into a matching rendition of your own mischievous grin told you that you’d hooked her.

Nobody in their right mind would bad mouth Silco to his own daughter, even teasingly like you’d just done, that’s why you were so certain that Jinx would find a dark delight in this door you’d just opened.

“Yup. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you said.

Jinx leaned forward conspiratorially, as if you’d just committed a heinous crime. Something told you she was trying to intimidate you, the wicked gleam in her eye challenging you to back down.

“You’re really going to say that?”

You grinned.

“He told me himself.”

There was a flash of uncertainty across her features before she settled back into the comfort of the booth, studying you with an intelligence that never ceased to astound you.

You could sense the moment you’d made it through another trial of trust with your companion.

“Huh. No shit. Well, no wonder he’s been so worked up lately. He forgot how to read.”

You laughed and she grinned in kind.

Cradling the two smoke bombs to your chest, you asked the question that still nagged at your mind.

“So why a fox?”

Jinx fiddled with a loose string on her pants as she spoke.

’Cause you work alone. Like me.”

Jinx’s words had been a death blow, the tender, excruciating plucking of your heart strings propelling you past the point of unease. And you couldn’t quite understand why.

When you’d grabbed your money off the corner of Silco’s desk that night, you’d scarcely made eye contact, forfeiting good humor for speed as you’d thanked him and spun on your heels, his heated gaze nipping at your back as you scurried out.

Like a fox dashing back to the comfort of its den.

______________________________________________________

The Undercity had been gifted two moonlit nights in a row, the cobblestones glistening in the dusk as you strode to meet Cecil at the Drunken Hen for your dance night.

When it came to partying, The Last Drop was top drawer, unbeatable, yet you’d felt a strange vulnerability when Cecil had proposed the bar, your growing devotion to the place and its inhabitants suddenly making you want to back away, create distance for a time. Maybe you could finish the night there, you’d stated, even as she insisted.

In comparison, however, the atmosphere at the Drunken Hen was admittedly dry.

That mere acknowledgment fed the tiny spark of affection for the jam-packed bar you currently journeyed past, stopping, as always, to look up at the Eye. The symbol was imbibed with a new, cryptic meaning now that you’d stood under the boiling gaze of its master. Your skin quivered beneath it in remembrance, stripping you to the off-whites of your bones as you huddled in your thin, low-cut black blouse, bass trembling the cobbled stone beneath your shoes.

I’ll show you.

You continued on.

It had felt strange, dressing up. It had been ages since you’d put in the effort. Since Talya had died, you’d been too depressed to put much thought into anything but making it to the next day. But now, you’d found a sizzling excitement in turning back and forth in the mirror, inspecting how long your legs looked beneath the mid-thigh length skirt you were zipped into.

“Hey!”

You could tell right away that Cecil was a bit tipsy. She was a charging bull and you held the red flag as she met your side at the front door.

“Look at you, hot stuff,” she said, fawning, “Ooh, someone’s going home happy tonight.”

“Sorry, didn’t catch that. Too busy staring at your ass. I mean what? My God, Cecil, I’ve never seen it this up close before.”

You shut your eyes and started muttering a fake prayer. ‘Forgive me Father for I have sinned.’

“STOP.”

Cecil cackled and you plumed, delighted to have made her laugh.

You grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her inside.

The two of you ordered drinks and immediately took to the outskirts of the dance floor, discoing your way in. When the first man tried to grind up against you from behind, you twirled away, remembering immediately just why it was that you only ever took men home from places like this out of sheer desperation. And you weren’t that desperate.

“He was cute,” Cecil said into your ear.

“Not my type.”

But he certainly thought you were his, hanging close to you the entire time, his curly black hair bobbing across the floor toward you every time you relocated. You thought maybe your vile sneer would drive him away, brought upon by the realization that he very much belonged up top, wearing an expensive, olive-colored vest and dress shoes. It wasn’t uncommon for topsider tourists to descend, experience the fascinating glamour of poverty before ascending back to their ivory towers.

You were perfectly content spending the night dancing by your friend’s side. In fact, you rather preferred it that way, finding yourself not interested even remotely in anyone around you.

Both of you whirled across the dance floor, lasting a good hour before you both decided to head somewhere else.

Your reasoning? The place just had no flavor. It was bland, boring. No grenade-toting teenagers. No ruthless crime lords taking up residence upstairs. No Sevika threatening to cut your life short.

Cecil’s reasoning, you suspect, had something to do with the latter mentioned woman, so you relented, allowing her to drag you to the Last Drop.

___________________________________________________

You weren’t drunk enough. Not even a little tipsy.

But you’d promised to show your friend the joys of dancing, so you’d put on your biggest grin and snagged her hand, lifting it up so you could use it to twirl yourself around her. Cecil began to loosen up, her laughs more rambunctious, but you could tell she’d been excited when she’d seen Sevika outside the bar, in a little alcove clearly murdering someone in poker, if at all evidenced by the smug look on her face.

Squeezing your friend by her biceps enthusiastically, you’d given her a pep talk outside the bathrooms, freshening her up and insisting she go take her shot, because she was just tipsy enough to go for it. She promised to come back right away and you’d waved her off. Don’t be silly, you’d said.

Poking your head around the corner of the building, you’d watched her approach the savage woman, and you’d smiled to yourself when she’d thrown her cards down with a scowl.

And now, you jumped across the dance floor alone, watching your splayed fingers dazedly as they reached toward the night sky of flashing colored strobes above you.

You were laughing, untouchable, harvesting energy from the organisms around you and pushing it back out, a participant in the collective existence.

And then you weren’t.

You were an immotile, withering maypole, the epicenter of a diseased loneliness that radiated outward from you like a heart pumping blood to its extremities and you were receiving nothing in return. The music hardened into a shell around you until you struggled to breathe. Your fingers numbed. Time slowed.

It wasn’t the same. Nothing was as before. Because you were utterly alone. And you should just go home.

It was crashing down. The world. You clutched at your chest, feeling the panic rise.

“Hey,” said someone to your left.

It was the man in the green vest. A wave of repulsion crashed over you at the knowledge that he’d followed you here from the Drunken Hen.

Without thinking, you were on him, pulling him close.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you purred, voice quavering as oxygen became scarce. You trailed your fingers down his bare arm, resting them on the side of his thigh. "Is there something you want?"

“Wha-What?”

“Shh, shh. Do you want something?"

“Y-yes.”

“Is it me that you want?"

He nodded. Your searching fingers had nearly reached it.

"Looking for a taste of the Undercity?”

“God, yes.”

“Then stop stuttering and go wait for me by the bathrooms.”

You released the man into the crowd, his eyes wide, as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune, and you didn’t even watch to see if he followed your instructions, because you were shoving your way in the opposite direction, hand clasped tight around the cigarettes and lighter you’d pilfered from his pocket.

You stumbled out onto the street, clutching at your chest as you beelined into the shadows beside the bar, barely illuminated by the light of a single street lamp. You hit the brick wall hard, your back grating harshly against it as you slid down to the ground, counting each forced deep breath as you dug your nails into the stone beneath you, centering yourself.

The blood began to slow in your veins, your body beginning to comprehend the fact that it wasn’t in immediate danger.

You didn’t even smoke, but you were grasping for a shred of control, and damn if you weren’t going to make use of what you’d pocketed. It took you a few attempts to light up the cigarette, the lighter shoddy.

No sooner had you recognized the dull clatter of rubber against metal stairs when the camouflaged door directly beside you swung open. You let out a yelp in surprise, dropping the stick, instantly pitching forward onto your knees to grab at it, needing its security.

“Is there a reason you’re sprawled outside my door?”

You froze, arm still reaching, fingers splayed out like a statue of a desperate Goddess. A prickling electricity plucked at the tiny hairs on your arms, every one of your senses heightening tenfold as you watched a pair of boots come to a stop before you, penning the soiled cigarette between them.

You scrutinized the golden toes up close, seized by a morbid curiosity. Just how much blood had these shoes tracked through?

“Are you still breathing?” Silco drolled.

After a beat, you swallowed, retracting your outstretched claws. You allowed yourself a deep breath, feeling his gaze beat down on the crown of your head like the hot sun.

“You made me drop my cigarette,” you accused boldly, rolling your focus upward until you pinned him with a feigned malice beneath your long lashes, and you could swear you saw his nostrils flare with an abrupt inhale. Because it was positively obscene, you realized, the way he towered over your kneeling form, the stiff material of your black skirt riding up your thighs, your knees slightly spread, the cobblestones pressing painful patterns into your shins.

For a few seconds that felt like an entire lifetime, he studied you from above, his mismatched eyes flitting across the planes of your face, down the column of your throat, until you were nearly boiling within the confines of your skin.

You rocked unsteadily backward from his overpowering presence, sitting on the backs of your heels, feeling your skirt ride up your thigh. His knife-edged gaze sharpened on the new, bare expanse of skin, remaining there for a beat too long before dragging slowly back up, pausing on your parted lips before meeting your rapt expression.

A door had been opened when you'd thrust that knife next to his, you realized now, something different in the way he peered down at you, like you were a curious thing. With that dominating heat in his orange eye. It passed between you unspoken, whatever it was, a mutual acknowledgment of the ineffable intrigue that held you both where you were planted.

And that wasn’t the only reason your stomach was fluttering. He was wearing that coat, the one you’d seen strewn across his couch weeks ago.

The lone lamplight across the road reflected brilliantly off the gold trimming of its wide collar, encircling his jagged, feline features. From your angle below, it looked as if his head was wreathed in a dull halo, although he was far from an angel. His confidence was wholly bewitching, that self-assurance that came from not acting his way to the top but knowing with full certainty just how many leagues above everyone else that he stood.

If it wasn’t the most captivating thing you’d ever seen.

Silco’s gaze dropped to the cigarette butt between his booted feet.

“Piltovan.” His lips tilted down with disdain. “Should I be concerned?”

“Well, it's tragic, really." You offered him a sad smile. "Ever since my concussion, I’ve developed a taste for mediocre tobacco.”

If Silco thought you amusing, it didn't show on his face.

"I found it," you lied.

He sniffed.

"You are indeed a tragic case."

You opened your mouth to retort but he unfurled his palm to you, effectively cutting you off.

“Up,” he commanded.

You blinked as he arched over you, and you studied his long-fingered hand as if inspecting it for traps. It surprised you, the civility, and you couldn’t help but glance hesitantly upward, meeting his knowing gaze, noting right away how much pleasure he was taking in your sudden bout of nervousness.

You remembered, somewhere in the recesses of your muddied brain, how you'd told yourself you were going to shut it down, this infatuation.

You squared your jaw and held his gaze determinedly, grabbing a tight hold of his hand. On a man so renowned for his brutality, you’d been expecting rough, calloused palms, yet the pillowed softness of his hands caught you off guard as they squeezed, hoisting your full weight off the ground with a single arm. The pads of his fingers skated across the smooth skin of your inner wrist, sending a startling electric current pinballing through you, kindling that quiet, pulsing thing in your lower belly.

Your breath hitched and of course, he didn’t miss it, drinking in the tiny inhale with his razor sharp gaze.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He hummed in response.

You smoothed your skirt down. You felt much too close still as you quickly sought out the security of the expanse of brick wall behind you, sloping yourself against it.

You fished the now crumpled box of cigarettes out of your pocket, deciding you needed something to do with your hands.

“You were hiding," he said.

Green and orange needled you for an answer.

“When I found you draped across the pavement.”

You puffed out your cheeks before blowing out a sharp burst of air. You didn't owe him an explanation.

You stared at him for a long moment, his face utterly impassive, yet you could tell he was taking in your guarded expression carefully. The way he was positioned, his form eclipsed the glow of the lamp behind, outlining him in a ghostly light.

“I was panicking,” you said finally, feeling only a pang of shame at the admission, "But I'm fine now."

Silco considered you for a long moment.

And then he nodded once, almost in quiet understanding, with a small tug of his head downward. And you couldn’t be more grateful for the simplicity of it.

He stared at your freshly lit cigarette as if it were a slug you'd just pulled out of your pocket.

“Are you that offended?” you asked.

“Thoroughly repulsed,” he responded. “Have you ever puffed on a wet slab of cement?"

"Can't say that I have."

"You're about to."

"It can't be that bad."

"You might try your hand at a cigar."

“No thanks, I don’t smoke, it’s a nasty habit,” you said, painting a look of disgust on your face before taking a long drag, earning the tiniest twitch of amusement from Silco's lips.

It quickly became genuine, your nose scrunching.

"Okay."

His eyebrow rose, lifting his otherwise half-lidded, dispassionate gaze.

"Was I right?"

"Sure."

"I always am."

"Always?"

Something merciless crossed his features at your question.

"Say it."

Latent heat swelled at his lilting command and you were certain he noticed the way you faltered.

"I mean who am I to say what constitutes a good cigarette?" you said, quietly enjoying your little dance, knowing you'd eventually relent.

His gaze didn't waver.

"Okay, fine," you said, holding the cigarette into the thin air. "Of all of Piltover's offenses, this cigarette is the most egregious of them all."

You crushed the cigarette under your shoe and looked up at him.

"You're right."

"Of course I am."

Seemingly satisfied, Silco pulled a cigar from an inner coat pocket and tucked it into a corner of his mouth, gesturing impassively toward your hand with a vague tilt of his head. You tossed him the stolen lighter and watched his nimble fingers attempt to work the cheap thing, grinning roguishly when he shot you an accusatory look, his chipped teeth baring around the cigar.

Hands grasping at nothing now, you placed them back against the cold brick.

“Are you off somewhere interesting then?” you nodded to his coat.

Silco leveled you with a dark smirk, smoke leaking out the scarred corner of his mouth. Your lips curled to match.

“C’mon, I thought we established I’m not a spy.”

“Of little consequence,” he purred, his rumbling voice so much more satiating in person. “You shouldn’t ask questions you’ll regret the answers to.”

There was a long silence.

"And what if I'm curious?"

"About?"

You.

”About-“ For the life of you, you couldn’t remember what you’d been intending to say, mind going suddenly haywire. “About- about what you’re doing.”

You could feel your ears burning red hot.

”What if I won’t regret knowing?” you blurted.

And you knew by now how he could read you. You bit the inside of your lip, concerned more than anything with Silco's total lack of movement.

He was utterly unreadable, his mismatched eyes fluttering as they held yours, as if flipping through an array of different potentials. Stretching out your unease, he raised his cigar, holding it in front of his mouth for a moment.

"You do like to push, don't you?" he murmured, voice deceptively soft, before connecting it to his lips and inhaling.

Smoke fanned slowly into the night air.

"Speaking to me as you do." Silco took a step forward and you fought not to shrink back into the unrelenting wall. "But you just can't help it, can you? Pushing."

Your stomach plunged with a driving force that had untapped fire splashing through you like a violent hot flash.

Another step forward and his boots were inches from the toes of your shoes.

"I'd like your input on a hypothetical."

His voice unraveled like a spool of silk ribbon, wrapping the column of your throat, and for the second time that night, oxygen felt scarce as you watched in anticipation, wondering what door you'd opened this time.

Words wouldn't come, not even a muddled apology. No, you were struck completely dumb by his closeness.

You nodded jerkily.

"What would happen, do you suspect," he said, propping his cigar hand next to your head, no part of him touching you, uncomfortably close yet leaving enough room for you to slip away if you needed. If you wanted. "If a girl wandered too far into a pit of snakes?"

Liquid heat throbbed between your legs as fear and desire fused into a breathtaking, almost nauseating brew. His hawklike gaze hungrily devoured your reactions to him. How your nails dug into the wall behind you. How your body thrummed like a tuning fork at his proximity.

It took awhile to form the words.

"She'd get bitten."

Silco hummed, eyes darting between yours. He then stepped back, abruptly releasing you from his spell.

"Precisely."

He flicked ashes onto the ground, brushing off his coat with one hand, and you could tell he was making to leave.

You stuttered out a breath, examining him with fresh, adrenaline-filled eyes, suddenly remembering the way Jinx had pressed you days before, trying to intimidate you into relenting. The way you had pushed through. And you couldn't help it. Pushing.

"You know, that coat would look silly on anyone else but you."

He paused. And something flickered, some raw confusion, in his searching gaze, and you wondered how long it had been since the man had received a genuine compliment about anything but his savagery. You meant it, and you knew he could read the truthfulness on your face.

Holding the cigar between his front teeth, Silco reached into his coat pockets and of course he had matching leather gloves, tugging them over his long-fingered hands, watching the way your gaze latched onto the mesmerizing movement. The look you shot him said it all. He smirked and rolled the cigar adeptly over to the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

"Bring a coat next Friday."

And he didn't give you a chance to question it, sauntering off into the night.

~~~~~~~~~

Link to join taglist!

Link to AO3

@truthandadare @arrlaauud @persimmoned-fig @rainygooseberry @eloisetwt @bugmanor @constant-fragmentation @stans-nami @mello-jello29 @simping-ella @avid-main @ironandglass @randomfangirl7 @lackofhonor @fortune-fool02 @sukurachiidee @skidebapp @night-walker-crescent

#silco fanfic #silco #silco x reader #reader insert #arcane #silco arcane #silco x you #take a seat #silco league of legends #silco x oc

48 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 3 years

Text

First Kiss ~ Xu Minghao

Your eyes looked around in awe as the car came to a stop, taking in your surroundings and the location that Minghao had picked for your evening together. It was quiet, as you liked, with barely a building in sight, just the two of you and the beautiful surroundings of the natural world for company.

Straight away, Minghao led you down a small pathway to where a small river flowed, stamping across the ground to check that it was dry before taking a seat. Once he had cleaned the area beside him too, Minghao invited you to take a seat next to him too.

“I love this little spot,” he smiled as you took a seat, your eyes looking around and taking in as much as they possibly could. “When I first moved here, we used to come down here as trainees to try and sneak in a bit of mischief.”

“I hope you’ve not brought me here to get me into any trouble,” you joked.

Minghao’s head nodded back at you, “I’ve outgrown those days, it’s all above board being here now.”

The memories that Minghao had made still remained, some of the people he used to come down here with were still friends, others he hadn’t spoken to in years, but no matter what, every person that he came down to the spot with had a special part to play in his life.

“This is my little escape,” he grinned as your eyes passed over his, “it reminds me a little bit of a place that I went to back at home too.”

“I bet you must miss home a lot, especially these days.”

Minghao nodded in reply to you, unable to quite find the words to express what he wanted to say. Instead, he allowed his arm to move loosely around your back, finding comfort in your company. It had only been a short space of time that the two of you had known each other, and yet Minghao found himself at one with you, as if he’d known you forever.

“I bet there’s not been many guys in your life that have brought you somewhere like this before,” he suddenly whispered into your ear by your side.

“There’s been a total of none, of just guys in general if I’m honest.”

You could tell straight that Minghao was trying his hardest not to look too surprised by your sudden statement, simply nodding with a smile. In his heart however, he couldn’t believe that there had never been a guy for you to call your own before.

There had been a few signs that Minghao had picked up on when he did wonder, but he just excused them for nerves, never imagining that you could have never dated before.

With his eyes still looking at you, you decided to speak up again. “I’ve liked being on my own, I’m very independent, but I’m reaching a point now where it’s not what I want.”

“I understand, it’s nice to have someone to experience life with, right?”

Your head nodded, as ever, Minghao understood you perfectly. He loved experiencing life with the rest of the groups, but there were still plenty of moments in his life where he wished he had someone special by his side for those moments not quite appropriate for his friends.

Feeling content in Minghao’s company, you decided to shuffle a little further into his side and rest your head against his shoulder. Minghao didn’t react at all, allowing you to settle, only with the smile on his face growing, thankful that you were unable to see it, or feel the way his heart began to beat a little quicker too.

“I don’t know about you Y/N, but I really feel as if there could be something special between us,” Minghao whispered after the two of you settled beside each other, “it’s hard for me to explain how all of this feels for me to be honest.”

“I think I know exactly how you feel, because I do too.”

“Really?” Minghao asked in surprise, “that certainly feels reassuring to hear, I was worried that maybe it was just me who had fallen too quickly, but all of it just feels so right.”

You never imagined that you could fall for someone so quickly too, whilst others could be forgiven for thinking that you were rushing into things with Minghao, for you, it all felt natural, everythin, g was the right thing to do for you both.

“I didn’t think for a moment that someone could impress me, and make me smile like you have, but there’s no other way of describing how I feel other than the fact that I guess I really like you.”

As you finished speaking, Minghao sat you off of his shoulder, turning your body around so that the two of you were face to face. His hand soon cupped over your cheek, running his thumb along your jawline, bringing your eyes to look at him.

Your smile widened as you met Minghao’s bright eyes, “what are you doing?”

The nervous tone in your voice brought a smile to Minghao’s face, adoring the effect that he seemed to have over you.

His hand guided your face closer towards his, “I’m doing something that I think I secretly wanted to do since the very moment that I met you Y/N.”

You continued to stare as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, sensing a bit of apprehension in him as he held you towards him.

“Do it,” you instructed, knowing exactly what he wanted to do, “because I think it’s exactly what I’ve wanted for the two of us to do too.”

“I really like you,” he whispered to you as he closed the gap.

“I really like you too,” you chuckled in anticipation, allowing your eyes to close.

Just as they did, you finally felt what you had been waiting for, the feeling of Minghao’s lips pressing gently to your own, hand guiding you to exactly where he wanted you to be. After several pecks, Minghao pulled away, a wide smile on his face.

“I could do that forever,” he whispered as he watched your eyes open, drawn instantly to the wide smile that was on your face too.

Your head nodded in agreement, bringing your hands up to fan over your cheeks, knowing straight away that they wore a bright red glow. Your eyes looked nervously to the ground, suddenly finding yourself unable to look in Minghao’s direction.

“I don’t quite know what to do now,” you laughed, trying to prevent your cheeks from turning any darker, “my tummy feels like it’s in knots, my heart is racing, and that’s all because of you Xu Minghao.”

“Look at me,” Minghao laughed, trying to draw your eyes back across to look at him, “you don’t need to be shy around me,” he added, proud to see the blush that he had created on both of your cheeks.

“I can’t help it; you make me nervous.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” He chuckled, relieved when you nodded back at him. “At least we both know that we like each other, a lot. We can still carry on as we were, no pressure, and just see where things go.”

“I do know one thing; I really like you Minghao.”

“As I do you,” he assured, “I’ll be right with you, whatever you’re comfortable with, however slow or fast you want to move, all of it is fine with me, I’m not going to risk anything that might end up with me losing you.”

“You’re not going to, not after that kiss especially.”

---

Masterlist

243 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

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!

taglist

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list!

@mariamuses @pastequeharry @f-vasquezp @jgtfvhsg @trulymadlykiki @bookwormandtea @sltwins @kakaym @cherryruins @fairysums @styles217 @reidsgubbler @meredithhuntt @hereforreid @kinda-ravenclaw-kinda-slytherin @harrystyle-ish @whitetigerlover17 @popluckbih @mellamolayla @shamelessfangirl-3 @runway-to-my-aid @battlegground @harrystylescherrie @sunsetcurve-h @wellfuckmylifethen @mroy-l0l

#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

943 notes · View notes