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itisannak · 1 year

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Rose-Colored Glasses Vol. 2, Part 4: Upper East Side, New York City & Low Manhattan, New York City (Sugar Daddy!Harry Styles)

Summary: (Y/N) gets a job and Harry blows the bank to celebrate her. Harry gets a small taste of mundanity, and (Y/N) plans her gift to Harry for Christmas. (Pre-Christmas Special) This is a NSFW story. If you feel uncomfortable with reading content like that, please, scroll through the chapters to find something you might like. (Smut / Oral; Female Receiving / Overstimulation / Risky Sex) (Words: 6.5k)

Author Note: Can you believe I haven’t posted since June? 😳

Vol. 1, Part 1: New York City / Vol. 1, Part 2: New York City & Aspen / Vol. 1, Part 3: New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome / Vol. 1, Epilogue / Vol. 2, Part 1: New York / Vol.2, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Vol.2, Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Part 6: New York, Zurich, London / Epilogue; Hawaii / My Full Masterlist / Rose-Colored Glasses Masterlist / My Ko-Fi

Cheerful steps take me to the reception of Harry's company's headquarters. "Good afternoon, Jennifer." I greet the lady at the front desk. We have come a long way, she and I. She now knows not to stop me from heading up to my boyfriend's office. "Good afternoon, Ms. (Y/L/N). How are you today?" "I am very well. Is Harry in a meeting?" I ask her and she picks up the phone, dialing the internal for Harry's assistant's office. "Is Mr. Styles on a meeting?" She asks. "Ms. (Y/L/N) is here. Would you like to be announced?" Jennifer turns to me and I nod. "Let Harry know I am heading up right now." I reply with a smile, before walking to the elevator.

I punch in the floor and watch as the doors close smoothly. It is so clean and neat here, I love visiting Harry's office.

And soon I am greeted by Harry's assistant. "Good afternoon. This is for you. It's a Berliner." I chirp, passing her one of the pastries in the box I am carrying. "Thank you, Ms. (Y/L/N). Mr. Styles is waiting for you." She smiles at me and I nod, pushing the door with my hip.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Styles. Do you have a moment for me?" I ask, looking at Harry as he smirks and shuts his laptop. "I think I can clear up some time for you, Ms. (Y/L/N)." He leans back in his seat. I leave the box of Berliners on the edge of his desk, before moving to straddle him on his chair. I go in for a kiss, capturing his lips before he could even speak. My hands move to his jaw, grazing it with the tips of my fingers as I deepen the kiss. "Someone's hungry... Should I lock the door?" He asks me, bringing his hands to my thighs. "I got the job..." I announce, biting the inside of my cheek as I wait for his reaction. "Baby, congratulations. Can I finally know what job you applied for?" He asks me and I hum. "We both know you would have called and gotten me the job if I told you from the beginning." "I wouldn't, I promised." "Hmm, you would. And you would make sure I would never found out." I graze a finger down his lips as he smiles. "I am, officially, the history consultant for a new tech company that makes educational apps. I will be working on gameplay dialogue and content for a new art game they plan on launching." I explain and he smiles at me proudly. "This calls for celebration, sunshine. I am so proud of you. Let's go for dinner. Right now. I'll make us a reservation." He cups my face and I nod. "You? Call for a reservation? Isn't that a petty job for you?" I ask in a kidding tone. "It's a special day. Pick a place, where should we celebrate?" He asks me. "The one in Madison Park... What is it called?" I try to remember the name, hoping Harry does. "The one we dined in when the French came?" He asks and I nod. "11 Madison Park. Damn it, you have expensive taste, sunshine." "Can you afford it?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow at him. "I'll smash my piggy bank." He winks at me. "Ok, let me give them a call." He sighs, picking up his mobile from the desk. "You mean now? We can celebrate later, I don't want to get you away from your job." "Amore, they'll be fine without me. What sort of boss would I be if couldn't take half a day off?" He asks, pressing the call tile. I move from his lap, leaning on the edge of his desk to let him make the call. "Good afternoon. Harry Styles of Styles Co... I am calling for a last-minute reservation. I would like a table for 2. Yes, it's for today. It is a VIP guest, I know it is very last minute. It would mean a lot to the company and to me personally if we could find a way to dine at your place today. Of course, at 5.20. We will be there. Thank you." The whole call doesn't even last 3 minutes. I cock an eyebrow at him once he leaves his phone down. "I thought they had online reservations only, and that they have this crazy long wait list." "Oh, I called the owner personally. We will be seated at 5.20." He replies, patting his thigh again. "You know the owner? And you have his personal phone? Who are you?" I ask and he chuckles. "We take clients, investors, partners, very often there. We like that they work with Rethink, it is good image." He replies, and I look at him in confusion. "Rethink?" "Rethink Food. It's a non-profit, they gather the excess from restaurants and use it to provide meals for food-insecure populations." "You have it memorized I see." "I think it is actually noble." "Since when am I a VIP guest?" I ask and he chuckles. "Since you keep the CEO sane and happy. That's very important for the company. So important that you should be paid for that..." He mumbles. "We are not having this conversation again..." "No, no... Not like that... I think I phrased it wrong. You should be compensated for that." He restates, grazing his fingers down my thigh, before resting them under the hem of my pencil skirt.

"Harry..." I bite the tip of my tongue as he finds the band of my stockings. "What? We have some time to kill. And I would like to compensate you for making me this happy." He murmurs, burying his face in the nook of my neck. "Come on... You have a house for that. We have fucked one too many times in your office." "Oh, you will get more once we are back home. And I think we have fucked one too few times in my office." He counters and I roll my eyes at him. "I can't win this argument, can I?" "You can... But I think you don't want to. Do you, sunshine?" He asks, in a deeper, intoxicating voice. "May I always forfeit this debate." I reply, earning a pleased hum from Harry, who gently pushes me to get up before getting up himself. "Settle on the chair, I'll be right back with you." He instructs, walking towards the door. He walks out as I relax on the chair, which earns a cocked eyebrow from me. Did he really work me up just to head out?

But within a minute or two, he is back and he is locking the door behind him. He walks to me, kneeling before the chair and keeping a smirk plastered on his face. "I just made sure no one will bother us... Wouldn't want to be interrupted during my appetizer." He states, pulling me closer by my ankle. "Mr. Styles... What do you have in your dirty, twisted mind?" I ask in fake shock. "I assure you, Ms. (Y/L/N), my intentions are pure." He winks at me, trailing his hand up my calf and under my skirt, brushing over the band of my stockings. "We will talk later about you wearing those stocks in public." "Was I supposed not to wear them?" I ask and he hums. "Not a big fan of others having the same thoughts as I do when I see them..." He replies, scooting my hips up to hike my skirt up the top of my thighs. "You would have the same thoughts even if I was wearing a mascot costume, you are no fair measure." I bend my knee and bring my foot to the edge of the seat, showing Harry my underwear. He chuckles and coos, bringing his thumb to toy with my sex over the clothed sex. "You have such a cute little wet patch..." He sighs, pushing my panties aside. His thumb now traces over my slit, causing my breath to shake at the direct attention. "My God... How wet you are, princess... Oh, you are going to taste so good, I can tell already." He looks at me with hungry eyes, licking his lips before bringing them to my sex. His lips work on my outer lips at first, kissing and grazing his teeth softly over the sensitive flesh. "Jesus..." I groan, feeling the need to buck my hips up and ride his face. "And I have barely even touched your pretty little cunt." He muses about my desperate reaction; he doesn't even have to try that hard to get me needy, at this point, I am dripping even at the sound of his voice. "Please touch me..." I beg, my eyebrows knitting together in frustration. Harry licks a long, swirly lick from my outer lips to my entrance, and ends it with a quick flick once he reaches my clit. A loud moan slips from deep in my throat, despite my best efforts to keep quiet. "Sunshine... You know they can hear us... Tsch, tsch, tsch... I expected more self-control from such a good girl like you..." He almost scolds me... As if he doesn't know that all self-control goes out the window, along with my dignity, every time he touches me. "I don't care... I don't care if they hear us... Please don't stop this. I'll do anything, just don't stop using your mouth on my pussy. Please." I am desperate for him to eat me out, even if it means getting through his little torture. He has magic lips, I can cum in mere minutes from his mouth on my sex.

"Of course, my cunt wants more... Look at that... Look at my pussy... Look how it pulses around nothing, waiting for a tiny little touch... Look how desperate my pussy gets." He groans, rubbing his fingers along my slit. Oh, he gets so possessive, it is addicting. I am his, oh God, I am his. "Please..." I beg, bringing my hand to stroke through his hair. He smirks at me, pleased by my pleading before burying his face between my thighs. He is hungrier now, going straight into devouring me. There is no time to toy around, he wants to eat me out almost as much as I want him to. I am throbbing, my pussy pulsing and burning as he laps his tongue and looks me in the eye. "Oh..." I cry out, arching my back off the chair's back. His tongue is circling over my clit and he is humming as he pushes two fingers inside me, pumping them up and curling them against my spot. "My sunshine, you will have to be quiet... So loud already." He scolds me, shaking his head from side to side. "I am sorry... But you are so good at this, I can't help it." I whisper, pressing my hand against my mouth. He smirks as he moves his fingers faster, moving back to take my clit between his lips. He rolls it with his tongue, causing me to squeeze around his fingers even harder. "Shit, you are sopping..." He mumbles, taking his fingers off and licking my wetness from around them. I sigh at the sight, blushing at the way he moans in pleasure at my taste. "So delicious. I have to take a taste straight from your little honey hole." He groans, fixing my body so my sex is fully exposed, my legs spread apart to a max before he thrusts his tongue inside me. It wiggles and thrusts back and forth; it is not really all that pleasureful for me, but Harry hums in ecstasy as he does it, so my whole body vibrates from this. "Damn you, Styles... You like having me hooked, don't you?" I sigh, bringing my hand under my blouse and into the left cup of my bra to tease my nipple. I trace and pull the taut peak. "Such a desperate brat... You want to be overstimulated, don't you?" He asks before placing my legs on his shoulders and diving in again. "I wanna cum... I am so close, baby..." I whine, feeling my heart beat faster. Harry digs his nails into the skin of my thighs, sucking onto my clit harsher. "I wanna cum... Oh God, I am gonna cum." I cry out, moving my hips against his face, trying to get more and more. Harry grips my thighs, trying to make me sit still, but I am trembling and shaking, so sitting still is not an option. "God..." I cry out as I cum undone, squeezing my eyes shut. My breath is caught in the back of my throat and my whole body feels tense and rigid, yet as if I am floating. It is so peculiar, every time Harry brings me to an orgasm is a unique, never-again experienced high. I try to shut my thighs as Harry continues licking me, the stimuli becoming too intense for me to handle but Harry's hands pry me open. "I can't... I can't take more..." I cry out and he chuckles. "You are done when I say so... You were the one wanting to be overstimulated..." He sounds almost sadistic, not even letting me take a solid breath before he flicks his tongue on my clit. He only does it just to watch me jerk at the sensation, and it works. I jolt in my place as his tongue flicks my clit repeatedly. "Shit, look at this... You are grooling... Adorable." He cocks, circling his tongue around my entrance to gather my grool. He removes himself from between my thighs and gets up from the floor. Still breathing funny, and still exposed to him, I am in no place to move. "Are you ok, sunshine?" He asks me softly as he fixes my panties. "I love you..." I say hazily. Harry smiles at me and leans in to peck my forehead softly. "I love you too. Let's get you a bit decent now, shall we?" He asks, helping me move my legs down.

"Mr. Styles... Right this way..." A man around his 30s almost cheers as he sees us walk through the doors of 11 Madison Park restaurant. Harry didn't even have the chance to announce himself to the host, it was as if they were waiting on their toes for us. "Thank you." Harry says politely, placing his hand on the small of my back. "Chef Lockwood has prepared a special meal for you. Would you like to be paired or pick your own wine?" The man asks as we sit at a table by one of the windows. "Pair us, please. Please, do transfer my gratitude to Chef Humm. I appreciate that he was able to host us so last minute." Harry says to the man who smiles and nods. "I will make sure I do that, Mr. Styles." The man replies, passing us two cards with the menu before leaving us to settle. "Shall I leave you two alone?" I ask teasingly as I scan my eyes down the card. "Me and the host?" He asks and I hum. "Uh, he is cute. But I am kinda taken." "Kinda?" I ask with a cocked eyebrow. "I don't see a ring on my finger..." He mumbles and I chuckle, shaking my head at him. "I kinda see a lot of rings on your fingers..." I come back. "There is the only downside of dating someone smart... You always have a response." He sighs and I hum. "You know this is the standard menu for the day. He hasn't prepped anything special for us." I comment, leaving the card down. "Can you for once enjoy things without overthinking them?" He asks playfully. "Nope..." I pop the p and he laughs. "You are the sweetest pain in the ass I have ever met, amore..." He says sweetly, yet I can feel a chill run down my spine and it is not the good kind of it. "What is up with amore lately?" I ask him. He furrows his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. I like it." He replies. I groan lowly, hoping he doesn't listen to it. "What?" He asks me. "Nothing." "It's not nothing. Your whole face dropped. Tell me, what is it?" He asks me again. "Can you stop calling me amore? Please?" I ask. "Why? It is a cute nickname..." He protests. "It reminds me of Italy." I sigh in defeat, choosing to let him know about my irritance. "And what about Ita... Oh..." He realizes, his face softening as he reaches for my hand. "I didn't realize, I am sorry." "It's not your fault. It's me who has the issue with it, still, after all this time." I feel bad for making him feel so bad over something so sweet. "What about I call you 'mon amour'... I haven't ruined France for you yet, have I?" He asks. "You haven't ruined Italy for me either. I am just not ready to make peace with it yet." I admit. "From now on, and until you feel ready, I will ban anything Italian... Even spaghetti and meatballs..." He jokes, earning a laugh from me. "There is no need to go to such extremes. And technically, spaghetti and meatballs is not an Italian food. Italian immigrants to America started cooking it because there was bigger access to meat, and it was cheap." "Smartypants..." He chuckles and shakes his head.

"So, now that the job is found, what is next on your to-do list?" Harry asks, carefully cutting a piece of the glazed zucchini. "Finding a house. I have to start looking, so I can start saving money for it. I need the downpayment and the rent upfront for sure. And then I will have to see if I will need any furniture and appliances for the new house. I still have a long way to go before I cross it off my list. You will have to suffer me for a little longer." I chuckle and he hums, leaving his glass by his plate after he takes a sip of his wine. "I was actually thinking about this..." "About when I am going to move out?" I ask with a playful chuckle. "I was actually thinking if you are going to move out..." "Geez, Harry. If you want me out of the house, all you have to do is say so." "No, that wasn't actually my thought. I was thinking that you shouldn't move out. I was thinking that I want you to live with me. I mean, you already are. But I want it permanently. I want it official." He explains, reaching for my hand as he looks me in the eye. "Mr. Styles... Are you really asking me to move in with you?" I ask him in shock. "Was it not clear? I love waking up next to you every morning, and coming home to you after a rough day. I love having breakfast with you and watching you take that first sip of coffee with your eyes still closed. I love reading with you on the couch of our study, I love cooking with you and having you drunkenly twirl around our kitchen. I love every single moment with you in our house." "Our house..." I smile, enamored by the word. "Of course, if you are not ready yet, we can talk about alternatives..." "I am ready. I want to live with you. I mean, I live with you already." I giggle. Harry brings my hand to his lips, pecking on the back of it softly. "You will not regret it, I promise you this, my love..." He states in a serious, yet soft voice. "I am afraid you will be the one regretting it." I joke and he shakes his head. "Not in a million years..." He assures me, gesturing for a waiter to come over. "What? Are we leaving so early? We haven't even had dessert..." I protest and he chuckles. "Nope, we are just having some champagne. To celebrate your job, and you moving in..." Harry explains as the man approaches us. "Can we please have a bottle of Krug '82?" Harry asks the man, who blinks at us at the sound of Harry's request. "A Krug '82?" The man asks again and Harry hums in approval. "Right away, sir." The man moves fast, walking at a speed that does not fit the restaurant's mannerism. "What's up with the whole behavior?" I ask, leaning back in my seat. "Oh, nothing... We just ordered a nearly 4-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne." "We just did what?" I ask and he shrugs. "Relax..." "The meals, the pairings, the champagne... We are looking at an almost 5k bill." I whisper and he chuckles. "Tip excluded." "Oh, God..." I touch my temples and he takes my free hand again. "Relax, it's nothing..." "It's nothing...? Rich people are fucking weird..." I mumble and he laughs at my remark. "It's a one-time thing. Let's enjoy it." Harry laughs. It still stuns me that he is able to drop such amounts of money on a single lunch. There is still this financial gap between us, which for now, freaks me the fuck out. "Are you still here?" Harry asks me. "Hmmm?" I bring my gaze to him. "You seemed a bit off. Everything ok?" He asks me and I nod. "Yeah, yeah. I was just thinking how significantly different we are." "Is that a bad thing?" "No, it is just an... Experience being with you every day." I state, smiling at him as the waiter pours us our champagne.

"Pretty girl..." Harry calls, getting my attention from my laptop. "Pretty boy..." I cheer, tilting my head back as he leans down to press a kiss. "Working from home today?" He asks me, sitting on the edge of the desk in our study. "No, just research... It was a hectic day in the office and I didn't manage to finish." "Hectic day?" He asks, and I hum, saving my document. "Yeah, we were testing a prototype for the first levels." I reply. "Oh, testing already..." "Don't get too excited. I will have to help the graphics team. There were issues with the design." "What issues?" He asks me, leaning forward to show me he is listening. "Um, period issues mostly. Hence the research. Anyway, it's pretty boring and technical. How was your day?" I ask him and he sighs. "Way less exciting than yours. Meetings, emails, financial strategies. I really don't see the point of talking about it." He replies. I bring my hand to take his, resting both of them on his lap. "Wanna go grocery shopping?" I ask him and he looks at me with furrowed eyebrows. "Didn't Lita take care of it?" He asks and I shake my head at him. "I told her not to." "How so?" He asks me and I shrug. "I like grocery shopping. And I have missed doing it." "You like grocery shopping?" He asks in confusion. I stand up from the chair, standing before him as I bring my hands to clasp behind his neck. "You will see, Mr. Styles. There is joy in mundane things." I state, my fingers twirling in the hair at the base of his head. "Alright then. Let's do mundane things that I, an immortal have never done before." He says with prose, mocking me. "Go change." I laugh and shake my head. "Change? What is wrong with my clothes?" He asks and I purse my lips. "No one goes grocery shopping in a Gucci fitted suit." "And what should I be wearing, Ms. stylist?" He asks and I roll my eyes at him. "Jeans. They work miracles for that ass." I comment and he smirks. "You like my ass, huh?" He asks with a cocked eyebrow. "Oh, my, God. Go get dressed." I command and he laughs. "Yes, ma'am." He steals a quick kiss before running out of the room.

"You sure have a good appetite for cheese." Harry comments as I add the little block of cheddar to the cart. "You don't seem to complain when I make those little charcuterie boards for our wine nights." "We don't buy those premade?" He asks. "You can't really be that aloof, can you?" I ask him with a laugh. "What? They look almost professional." He defends himself and I hum doubtingly. "Nice save." I mumble, pulling out my phone to take a look at the list. "I am honest here... They looked very aesthetically pleasing." He compliments and I hum. "Thank you very much, then. Next is produce... Roll away, sir." I point to the aisle. "Wait, no ice cream?" He asks me. "Not on my list. You want ice cream?" I ask him and he nods. "Ok, then. Let's pick..." I lean over the freezer, taking a look at the options. "Chocolate chip mint." He rushes to say. I turn to look at him, watching his cheeks become red with excitement. "You like chip mint?" I ask and he nods. "I do. It is my favorite... Well, Christmas pudding is my favorite, but I can't find it here. So, I settle for some mint..." He explains. I grab a pint and add it to the cart, pushing it towards the cheeses to sort of maintain the temperature. "Well, it tastes a bit like toothpaste to me, but ok. I'll get my fudge." I pick out a pint for myself, placing it by Harry's on the cart. "You know when I was little I used to tell my mom that when I get my own apartment, I will have a freezer drawer full of ice cream. I would have ice cream every night." "Do you have that drawer? I haven't noticed..." I ask and he shakes his head. "It was just a stupid childhood thing. I am an adult now." He replies. I pout my bottom lip, tangling my arm with his and leaning my head on his shoulder as we make our way to the produce aisle. "You were kind of right you know... It is nice going grocery shopping. Even nicer with you along." He comments, pecking the top of my head.

"I fed Harry..." Harry states as he wraps his arms around me. "You two get along great." I comment and he hums. "He is a neat dude." "The goldfish?" I ask and he nods. "Ok..." I mumble, melting the bouillon cube in the oil in the pan. "Can I help with anything?" He asks me. "Chop the veggies over there." I point to the chopping board, earning a hum from Harry. "No wine while cooking tonight?" He asks me, picking out a knife from the stand. "I thought I would be cooking alone..." I reply and he scoffs. "I always help you, don't I?" He points out, leaving the knife down. "You do. But I thought maybe you needed some time alone to recharge." I explain, watching him as he moves to the wine rack. "What are we cooking?" He asks me. "Vegan Ragu with tagliatelle." "Red then." He states, picking out a bottle. "You are really good at pairings..." I comment, watching him pop the cork. "Why, thank you very much." He replies, taking a whiff of the cork. "I think you are going to like this one." He comments, leaving the bottle on the island and grabbing 2 glasses. "I have liked all the wines you have suggested this far." I compliment him. There is something so intimate about Harry taking care of me, and treating me so nicely. I'd hate to jinx it, but it feels a little too good to be true. "Take a picture, it will last longer." Harry muses, snapping me out of my thoughts as he leaves my glass by my hand. "I just zoned out." I protest and he hums sarcastically. "You zoned out staring at my butt. Those jeans work miracles on it, you said it yourself." "Oh my God, I have never seen such vanity in a single person." I tease him. He hooks his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans, pulling me closer to his body, my back touching his chest before he rests his chin on my shoulder and leaves a peck on my neck. "Just admit you are obsessed with me." He whispers. "It's true..." I sigh in defeat. It is futile not admitting it, he knows it already. "Ata girl." He bites softly onto my neck, before moving back to chopping the vegetable. For a moment my eyes can only focus on how his hand grips the knife and chops the vegetables thickly, making a loud sound as the knife hits the board. Fuck me, I am truly obsessed with him.

"I am surprised work and Harry even let you see me today..." Chrissy complains as we make our way down Hudson street. It is a heavy December morning, so I can see her breath as she speaks. "Oh my God, look who's talking... If walls could talk, they would have quite the stories about you and your husband." I tease her. "Jealous much of married life?" She asks with a cocked eyebrow. "Nope... I am fine as I am." "Look at you... Ms. I will never date again." She chuckles, punching my shoulder softly. "I am not dating. I am living with my partner." I fix my scarf as Chrissy coos. "Why are we here? Your house is all the way on the other side..." She asks. It is true, we are nearly approaching Lower Manhattan, 1 hour away by foot from the penthouse on Upper East Side. "We are here to buy ice cream..." I reply. "Ice cream?" She asks as if I said something outrageous. I think she would react way less surprised if I told her we are here to buy cocaine. "Yes, ice cream. There is a little place down here." I point to the next block, right where the little British store is. "Why would we have to buy ice cream from here? And why are we buying ice cream at the beginning of the winter?" She asks me, looking at me as if I am insane. "It is the nearest place I could find Christmas Pudding ice cream. It's for Harry." I explain. "We are an hour away from your place. It will practically be soup by the time we arrive." "Vinny is picking us up and he has a cooler with him. We are going home, I am giving this to Lita, and then we head to the market to buy ice cream." I explain. "More ice cream?" She asks me; she looks nearly outraged and I can't say I blame her. "I am going to give Harry a drawer full of ice cream. As an early Christmas present. He told me he likes chocolate chip mint, but his favorite is Christmas pudding. So, I am buying 5 pints of that, and then various flavors. And some for me, because choc mint still tastes like toothpaste, no matter how hard he tries to make me like it." "Oh, wow... Ice cream..." She says sarcastically. "He told me that when he was little he used to tell his mother that once he was older, he would have a drawer in his freezer, full of ice cream. I asked him why he doesn't have it, and he told me it is a stupid childhood thing, and that he is an adult now. I swear, it was the saddest thing he has told me... And now I have to make it happen. So, shush, buy ice cream with me, and let's catch up." I open the door to the market, walking in first.

"It is actually lovely of you to do this whole thing for Harry. You are smitten." Chrissy nudges my shoulder as we organize the ice cream. "I am... Look at me doing stupid shit, for a man... I spent a quarter of my paycheck on ice cream. I am dumb, aren't I?" I ask her. "I mean... I get it. I nearly broke an arm to get Adrian that stupid first-edition comic book signed by RDJ. And I spent more money than I am willing to admit to doing that whole thing." "Well, he is your husband." I point out. "That was for our 2-month anniversary." "Jesus..." I laugh, and she joins me, giggling loudly. "I know, I know. The worst thing is I would still do it, tomorrow if needed." She comments. "Yeah, good thing he married you. You are wifey material." "Oh, dear God, stop... You are just like me, you know." "Not married. There is still hope for me." "As if you would say no if he showed up tomorrow morning with a shiny diamond ring from Cartier." She cocks an eyebrow at me, expecting the answer. "I don't like diamonds. And I also think this would be too soon." "Didn't answer my question..." She mumbles, stacking one more pint of Christmas pudding ice cream on top of another. "It's not happening, so let's not discuss it. Hot cocoa?" I ask her, putting the last chocolate chip mint pint in the drawer. "Sure. Extra sprinkles and whipped cream." "Oh, wow, you are a brat..." I comment and she snickers. "Ask Adrian..." She mumbles and I roll my eyes. "TMI, sis, but k..."

"Can I take this off now?" Harry asks. In lieu of a blindfold, I have put a sleeping mask over his eyes, so now I am guiding him to the fridge to show him the surprise. I was practically waiting for him by the door, and I couldn't wait a moment longer to reveal the ice cream to him. "Not yet..." I mumble, opening the door to the freezer. "This better be good, sunshine... I had a very long day at the office." Harry sighs. He can't say no to me, no matter how tired he is... "Just a few seconds more." I announce, opening the drawer. I take one last look at it, smiling to myself over how cute this surprise is. "Ok, ready?" I ask him and he hums approvingly. I stand on my toes, reaching for the sleeping mask. "Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them..." I instruct and he huffs. "Dear God..." He mutters. I press my lips together and smirk as I take off the mask. "You can open your eyes now... Ta-da!" I exclaim excitedly, standing aside from him to let him take a look. Harry is confused in the beginning, eyebrows pushed together as he tries to figure out why I brought him to the fridge. "What am I looking... at?" He asks, but before he could finish his phrase, his eyes light up and he reaches for the tub of Christmas Pudding ice cream. "It's your very own ice cream drawer..." I explain, waiting for his reaction. Harry leaves the ice cream down, opens his arms to wrap them around me, and pulls me into a bear hug. "What did I do to deserve you?" He asks me, pecking the top of my head multiple times. "Where did you even find Christmas Pudding ice cream in New York?" He asks me and I chuckle. "In a store in Lower Manhattan... It has English delicacies. I hope it is good." I giggle as he cups my face in his hands. "You are so perfect... Thank you, thank you, my love." He peppers my face with kisses, making me laugh at the tickling. "Come on, now. It is time to have dinner." I place my hand on his sternum, stopping him from covering me in kisses. "What's for dinner?" He asks me, resting his hands on my waist. "Ice cream..." "8-year-old Harry would adore you." He comments. "What about 31-year-old Harry?" I ask, making him hum before he replies. "31-year-old Harry worships the air you breathe." He replies, grabbing a tub of his ice cream.

Harry hovers the spoon before my mouth, teasing me as I try to eat a spoonful of the Christmas pudding ice cream. After a fit of laughter and me frustratingly grabbing his wrist to finally take the bite, I moan at the taste of the dessert. "I didn't expect I'd like Christmas pudding ice cream so much..." I mumble, making Harry look at me softly. "It's good, huh?" "You might like toothpaste ice cream, but this is good." I point at the tub, before digging my spoon into my pint. "I don't know how to thank you for this. It might be the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me." Harry states. I smile and shrug, biting my bottom lip before I speak. "You deserve it, all of it. No matter how much Chrissy huffed and puffed while we were buying the ice cream..." "You saw Chrissy?" He asks me and I hum. "I did. She helped with this." I reply and Harry chuckles. "How are Adrian and she? We haven't seen them in a while." He asks me and I shrug. "They are sickeningly in love with each other. And Chrissy can't wait for their first Christmas, she is even collecting recipes to cook with Adrian and host their families for dinner... It is so out of character for her, but so adorable..." I state, trying to steal a spoonful from his ice cream. "If you like this Christmas pudding ice cream, wait until you try the real deal in Cheshire." "Is it better than this?" I ask and he hums. "I am not going to spoil it for you... You will try it on December 26..." He says mischievously. "Are you having it shipped for Christmas? Is it even going to last during the trip here?" I ask and he chuckles. "I am shipping us there. Christmas in the UK..." He explains. He sounds excited about it, surely has been planning it for a while. "Why that face?" Harry asks. I didn't realize my face was contorted all this time. "Don't you think you should have talked with me about this before planning the whole thing?" I ask him, feeling my heart sink to my stomach. "I thought it would be a nice surprise..." He shrugs. "I don't want to spend Christmas in London, nor any place else. I want to spend Christmas in New York. I want to spend Christmas here, at home... Last year I couldn't... This year, I want to spend it in New York. I want to go to Santa's workshop the weekend before Christmas, to Time Square for the ball drop, and visit Chrissy's and Adrian's place on the second day of the year to play cards and drink wine. I want to do the things I couldn't do last year. I am not going to London. End of discussion." I can barely hold back the tears, my body shaking as I try to come up with enough excuses so Harry will drop this. "I have already made arrangements... Do you know how hard it was to arrange for my Christmas leave? You can't dismiss that without proper conversation." He points out. "Maybe you shouldn't have made plans without proper conversation to start with. I am not going to London. You can go alone if you want to so badly. Goodnight." I have the final word, leaving the ice cream on the island before hopping off the stool. "(Y/N)..." Harry calls, but I manage to ignore him and slip into the guest room.

Vol. 1, Part 1: New York City / Vol. 1, Part 2: New York City & Aspen / Vol. 1, Part 3: New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome / Vol. 1, Epilogue / Vol. 2, Part 1: New York / Vol.2, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Vol.2, Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Vol. 2, Part 6: New York, Zurich, London / Epilogue; Hawaii / My Full Masterlist / Rose-Colored Glasses Masterlist / My Ko-Fi

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allylikethecat · 8 days

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from 1-10 (1 being no angst and just fluff to 10 being i will be crying on the floor in fetal position) how angsty is the next birthday fic chapter

That is a very good question lol what is your capacity for angst? Because it's not like... chapter six of Rid Me of the Blues or the newest chapter of Ducklings sad... but it's also not like the most recent chapter of All the King's Horses fluffy lol It's somewhere in the middle maybe?

However, I'm going to be totally honest I haven't actually finished the chapter yet so like... the angst level has not been like fully established and could end up changing at literally any time 😂 I do however hope you enjoy it when I do eventually finish it and post it! Just remember, currently even though he has a stomach ulcer, infection verse fictional!Matty does get a happy ending! He's currently engaged!! And we know he ends up getting married and having a daughter out of all my Fictional!Matties he is doing the best lol (I love him) thank you so much for reading and the continued support!! I hope you had a wonderful weekend and that you have a great upcoming week!

❤️Ally

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #keep it kind #fanfiction #matty fic #gatty #fanfic #Now We're Clean #The Birthday Fic #The infection verse #the infection verse fic #the infection fic verse #infection verse #infection verse fic #infection fic verse #im so bad at writing not angst lol i feel like even my fluff ends up being a little sad? not on purpose i just love the PAIN #i was actually impressed how not sad the new chapter of atkh was lol #but then again... we're seeing that one through fictional!George's rose colored glasses lol

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godsfavoritescientist · 10 months

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Tbh? I still feel so out of my depth whenever I try to write Bill. For whatever reason it doesn't come naturally to me like writing Ford does. Every time one of y'all has thoughts on Bill's characterization or writes something Bill-centric I'm mentally taking so many notes

#godsrambles #im in that weird inbetween of knowing when his characterization Feels Right but not knowing how to write him so it feels right #its like that stage in art where your eye for good composition and colors and anatomy improves but you dont know how to actually apply it #what i should do is write some short scenes where he interacts with other people #because most of the fics I've written are 100% his internal thoughts when he is completely alone #which is way easier. takes away at least a few of the layers youd usually have to keep track of with this goddamn guy #the only one i can think of that had bill actually talking to someone else is parhelion. and i KNOW i slightly mischaracterized him in that #made him a lil too Smooth. made his manipulative front a lil too gentle and kind and patient #but since its from fords Very Reverent Rose Tinted Glasses perspective i dont think its that big a deal #and also the more i lean into him Seeming Perfect To Ford the more sinister it is to read with the knowledge of what happens later #which is. so much fun. and im so normal about it #but i still do want to get better at writing him interacting with others #ironically one issue that seems to come up is me being like 'whenever he talks to people they always respond exactly how he expects them to #like subconsicously. in the form of 'they get tricked successfully' or 'they are annoyed and bothered to the extent he was going for'#tfw you cant write a character bc you accidentally have the same innaccurate thought process as him #tags essay #TBH writing him as Too good at manipulation in parhelion is also billcore.#'this is how it happened right. im soooo good at trickery good job me'#if you count 'tricking yourself' then yeah bill youre the best at trickery there ever was

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years

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I had no idea there was beef between carly rae jepsen fans and taylor swift fans, you learn something new everyday

#sil talks.🎤#I liked both albums tbh but some songs in midnight is a bit too slow for my taste I was hoping for a bit more edge #but i cant deny the fact that when it comes to taylor my nostalgia turns my glasses rose-colored #now im curious is there beef between the singers too?#im so far away from the tea #anyway yeah im just happy that I have more music to listen to while writing fics dfvdf

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dulcewrites · 1 year

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Hey, this is a bit of topic, but since we mentioned Otto recently, I just realized that Otto wasn’t actually there when Viserys ordered the Maesters to cut Aemma open ( and outed himself as the monster he truly is ) so all he was informed of was probably that the Queen had simply passed in childbirth. What I’m trying to say is that this fact makes his decision to marry Alicent to the king a lot less horrible that if he had known the truth.

Because if you look at Otto’s character as a whole he isn’t all that terrible ( for example compared to Tywin Lannister). I always found his decision to marry Alicent to the king slightly out of character until I realized that all he saw from his perspective was a man who had lost his wife ( like he himself had ) and grieved her a lot, again because he probably didn’t know that all this time Viserys was just feeling guilt for having murdered his wife. So in a way I can understand why he would look at Viserys, a man he saw as a caring father to his only daughter and loving and devoted husband to Aemma ( as far as Otto knew ) and thought; he’s husband material for Alicent.

Especially if you compare that to the husband material bar in Westeros which is as low as can be.

Plus if he had caught wind of Viserys supposed idea to marry Alicent to Deamon in order to put an end to Otto and Deamon’s feud I can see why he thought that Viserys would be the better option.

Or am I being to optimistic about his motivations? 😅

I think I’d say that is a charitable read. Otto was still there for a good chunk of viserys life with aemma. Since he was hand for two kings before him. He may not have known the inner working of their relationship, but he must have saw how many times aemma was pregnant. Now just based on the little we get of aemma, she probably felt like it was her obligation to give viserys a boy. But I think otto is a very smart man. I feel he had to know that was not going to end well (healthy wise that is) for aemma.

That being said, and perhaps this is me giving him too much credit, but I don’t think he thought viserys would stand so headstrong on his decision of naming Rhaenyra heir. Let’s be real, viserys is an extremely wishy washy, reactionary person. Otto probably thought he would be no different this time. It doesn’t negate otto putting his daughter in that precarious situation to begin with. But I do wonder how gung-ho he would’ve been about sending Alicent to viserys if he knew that their (the Hightower/targ) kids would end up being ignored and neglected, and Aegon would be named till after the fact. Bc we even see in ep 3 before and during the hunt, when he is talking to Hobert, that he is starting to read the tea leaves a bit. He said that he doesn’t think the king sees it that way (in terms of naming Aegon heir). And all Hobert says is that it is Otto’s job to change his mind. Hence him offering that nyra marry Aegon. In ep 4, we see him contemplating if he should even tell viserys about the nyra and daemon news. And then of course the rain scene with Alicent.

I said this before that while I do think otto knows what he was doing mentioning nyra could put the kids to the sword, and how Alicent would react to that. I do also think he was being serious and was worried for his daughter now being alone. I think that is what makes otto so interesting. He is manipulative, and maniacal but I do think love is there for Alicent. As fucked as as it is. It the same way I feel about Alicent with her kids naming Aegon.

Like I do kind of believe him when he’s like “but I made you queen??? Isn’t that great???”. Bc when you grow up the way he has (the way Alicent has) working your way up that ladder to positions like the hand and queen is considered ‘a win’. But that does not account for all the trauma he put his daughter through.

#does this make sense #I think we are agreeing but also not lol #but I do get what you mean about otto maybe having rose colored glasses about the whole thing #but at the same time I wonder if I do his character a disservice by thinking it bc he is very smart #is this my sign to write the otto x his controversially young new wife that he also treats like a pawn fic lmao #asks and requests

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neowinestainedress · 2 years

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distorted masterlist

♡ pairing: lee jeno x fem!oc/reader | mentioned: lee haechan, park jisung | side members: oc's brother!jaemin, jeong jaehyun

⁓ genre: bet!au, brother’s best friend, angst, smut, fluff, yandere | requested

• overall warnings: angst, manipulation, gaslighting, fights, jealousy, stalking, possessiveness, love-bombing, smut | dark content in general, read each part warning

♫ playlist

status: completed

rose-colored glasses | part 1

⤷ summary: a long-lasting crush for her brother’s best friend, a bet, obsession, devotion and jealousy; all things that cannot lead to anything good. But the world that Jeno showed her was perfect and she couldn’t see what it really hid behind the rose-colored glasses. It was all distorted.

shattered glasses | part 2

⤷ summary: there’s only one way to survive in a cage made of rose-colored glasses: don’t shatter the glasses, reality will be painful to accept.

taglist: @jenoxygen @bockhyun @harrypinks @eotokki @painted-hills @shinzalabim @arlenejcc | if you want to be tagged comment under this

a/n: when i'll have time i'll change the header of the first part so everything is the same

#nct fanfiction #jeno angst #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno scenarios #fic: rose colored glasses #distorted masterlist

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skyhon · 2 years

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Me, looking at Papyrus: I love him. *Hands him one of my debilitating mental illnesses* here ya go big guy :)

#my paps is bipolar and nearly always hypomanic #this is my god given right #one of the only perks of the job #Sans gets my depression anx ADHD #reader gets my absolute shamelessness #depending on the fic #nm(btt) has like. the most stable reader of all #BUT she is an. disaster.#Sans sees her with rose colored glasses #she is a menace to regular society #and he’s like #😍 god shes so perfect. she commits so many small crimes 🥰#her knack has some sway over more than just cards #she gets away with a lot of shit because of her family magic #and she fuckin knows it

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lunena · 2 years

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hi again, jaemin just is... from a different world hdjsjrjjr but hes such an asshat in one of my wips ugh

jaemin is from a different world. he possesses an unearthly charm. what is it? one day it’s his eyes, another it’s his smile, another it’s his hands and the way he holds things. one day it’s his voice. one day it’s his introverted personality. can never zero in on one detail. he is an enigma. every day i find something new to love about him. i am in love.

#asks #lattaeyongs-main #idk how you do it #i could never write him as any form of asshat #i have rose colored glasses on when looking at him LOL #he is this soft stoic profound boyfriend in all of my fics hahaha

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itisannak · 1 year

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Rose-Colored Glasses, Vol.2, Part 6: New York, Zurich, London (Sugar Daddy!Harry Styles)

Summary: (Y/N) has some major career choices to make. Harry takes her along on an investors' tour, and they have a big discussion about their relationship. The penultimate part. This is an NSFW story. If you feel uncomfortable reading content like this one, feel free to scroll through my Masterlist to find something you might like. (Smut / Teasing/ Oral Sex; Female Receiving / Breeding Kink / Semi-Public Sex) (Words: 8.4k) Vol. 1, Part 1: New York City / Vol. 1, Part 2: New York City & Aspen / Vol. 1, Part 3: New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome / Vol. 1, Epilogue / Vol. 2, Part 1: New York / Vol.2, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Vol.2, Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 4: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Epilogue; Hawaii / My Full Masterlist / Rose-Colored Glasses Masterlist / My Ko-Fi

It has been about a year since that conversation with Harry. Another Christmas went by, with everyone's eyes glued on my ring finger, to find out whether Harry popped the question or not. It is not just his family and our friends anymore. Every time I accompany him to business dinners or trips, every time I visit his office, everyone is looking at my hands, scanning for a sparkling stone on that finger. At first, I was getting annoyed, and frustrated at the invasion of privacy. But now it is just funny, everyone is so obsessed with our relationship, so amazed by the fact Harry is in the longest relationship of his life -at least by Lita's sayings.

"Well, I will be damned..." I hear a familiar voice from the entrance of the design room. I have been helping from the game studio's headquarters lately, so I have been meeting with a lot of people. I raise my gaze to find Chimera, my old professor from my bachelor years. "Professor Fisher... It is so good to see you again. How have you been?" I ask her, leaving my pad on the desk to walk toward her. "I have been fine, Ms. (Y/L/N). Last I heard of you, you were moving out of New York." She shakes my hand. "Yes, but now I am back. I apologize for not attending our meeting all the way back." "The past is in the past, (Y/N). Tell me, what are you doing here?" She asks me. "I help with the gameplay dialogues and info, check the validity of information, you know, putting my knowledge to any use I can." I explain to my old professor who is now looking at me as if she is scanning me, looking for any excuse to judge me. "I see." "What are you doing here? This is the last place I expected to see you." I ask her. "The studio wants to recruit one of my students, apparently as your assistant, as part of their dissertation. As the head of the department, I had to check this place out." She replies. "Oh, that is amazing. I could use some help around here. And I am glad I will get to work with a fellow NYU student." I smile at her. "Now that I have found you, what about we go grab some lunch and discuss how you like it here? Maybe we can have that meeting we didn't have all this time back." She suggests. I check my wristwatch, seeing that I have at least 45 minutes until my lunch break. "I will have to ask my supervisor if I can have my break a bit earlier." I smile and point to the supervisor's office.

"What's up with you today?" Chrissy asks, pulling out a lace bodycon from the rack and holding it before my body. "Hm?" I realize that I have been holding onto the same pair of satin panties for the last 10 minutes, mindlessly feeling the smoothness of the fabric in my hand. "I am asking what is going on inside your head... You are off today. What is so much more interesting than lingerie shopping?" She chuckles. "I saw Chimera today... Professor Fisher." I state, placing the pair of panties in my shopping basket. "You did? And what, she sucked the life out of you?" She asks jokingly. "No... I mean, she was actually very nice. She bought me lunch." "Well, I mean, she always liked you. You were her little teacher's pet." She teases me, knowing that I am dying to hear praise from any authoritative figure. "Still, she was very difficult to deal with, you remember." "Anyways, is that the reason you are off today? Because Chimera bought you lunch?" She asks with a scoff. "I was supposed to have a meeting with her when I got back from Italy." I explain, avoiding eye contact. "(Y/N), baby. I love you, but I can't keep pressing you to extract information. You have to be the one to tell me if you want to let it out." She comments and I sigh. "She wanted to suggest I start my Ph.D. back then. She said that my research project was riveting for a bachelor student and that skills and insights like mine should not be limited to developing a mobile game. She said that if I am up for it, I can apply tomorrow morning and start next week because she will vouch for me." "(Y/N), baby... That is amazing. Oh my God, I am so proud of you, but oh, oh so jealous. You should be celebrating, not sulking." She encourages me, hugging me in celebration. "What are you thinking? Are you doing it?" She asks me. I sigh, feeling my eyes brimming with tears. "I can't afford it. I have to pay off my student loan. She said we could look for partial funding, but it is not enough for me to not go into complete debt with my current salary." I reply, feeling a tightness in my stomach. I really, really want this, but I can't have it. "Why... Why are you not... asking Harry for money? He would be more than happy to help, you know that." She suggests. "We made it very clear when we first got back together that he will not treat me like a sugar baby again." "Yeah, ok. But this is not like that and you know it." "It will feel like that to me. I won't even tell him about meeting with Chimera today. And I'll just forget about it. I have to focus on other things either way." I reply and she looks at me with a furrow on her brow. "Other things?" "I mean the game. I'd tell you if I had to plan a wedding, don't worry." I roll my eyes, showing her my still-ringless ring finger. She just hums and places the bodycon in my basket, moving to the next rack. "You know, sometimes I feel like your personal Barbie doll. You dress me up and then send me home for Harry to enjoy." "I am on his payroll for exactly that reason." She jokes. "That explains a lot, actually." I mumble and follow right behind her.

It has not been easy for me to move past this. I have always thought of myself as a scholar, as a person active in the field of research, someone who helps the next generations understand art a little better, and a person who helps all those stories behind artworks to be told to the world. So it is not easy for me to kick away this opportunity.

"Sunshine, you are still not ready?" Harry asks, emerging from the closet. He is trying to fix the cufflinks on his shirt's sleeves but he is struggling, so I gesture for him to come closer so I can do it for him. "I am not really feeling well. I think I am staying home tonight. Give my apologies to the company." I murmur, fixing the little decorations on his crisp, white shirt. "What is it, princess? You have been under the weather for a while now. Have you been to the doctor?" "It's fine, it's just tiredness." I assure him. I don't like lying to him, and I certainly don't enjoy watching him worry about me, but it is not really a lie. I am feeling sick, and being with his nosy business partners will not help me feel better. "Baby, have you... Have you taken a test?" He asks me. I can sense some hope in his voice. He has expressed that he wants us to have a family, but we have agreed to not rush it or force it. It will come in its own time. "A test?" I ask him. "A pregnancy test." He clarifies and I chuckle. "Harry, I am not pregnant." I hate to crush his hopes. "Are you sure? I can ask Vinny to bring you one." He offers and I nod. "I am sure. I had my period 10 days ago, remember?" I ask and he huffs. "I am just tired. I am sorry." I smile softly at him, running my thumb over his knuckles. "I'll cancel tonight. I'll stay with you, cook you a healthy soup, and we will sit and watch something on the telly." He begins unbuttoning his shirt but I stop him. "No. You should go. I will be fine for a couple of hours. I'll drink some tea, take a melatonin gummy, and go to bed. Tomorrow I'll feel better." I assure him, standing up to give him a short kiss. "Are you sure about that?" He asks me and I nod my head. "I will be fine, baby. I just need to rest. Go, have fun. I will see you during breakfast." "If you need anything, just call me." "I know." "I mean it. I will keep my phone on." "Okay, Harry. Now go, don't be late for dinner." "Fine. I am going. Oh, I can leave Vinny here. Just in case you need anything. He suggests but I shake my head no. "I will be fine on my own, Harry. But thank you for being so considerate." It is sweet of him, I can't lie. "Alright. I'll try to get out of it as soon as possible. Bye, baby. I hope you feel better soon." He moves out of the door hesitantly, leaving me alone in the empty house.

A knock on my office's door brings me out of my zone, stopping my typing mid-sentence. Harry stares at me through the glass door, waving at me happily. I smile and gesture for him to enter, watching him as he tries to open the door with his body. "I come bearing gifts." He announces as he walks in. And he truly does. A bouquet of fresh daisies, a large, brown paper bag from our favorite takeout place, and a smaller bag from the french patisserie near his office, all carried by him and placed on top of my desk. "This is a surprise." I state, standing up from my chair to hug him. I know that the glass door and the window divider don't give us much privacy, but I don't mind being seen hugging my man. "Is it a pleasant one?" He asks me and I hum. "Always. What are you doing here?" I ask him, inviting him to take a seat on the small, 2-seat leather couch in the corner of the room. My office is not as impressive as his, it is way smaller, way less private, and more minimalistic than his, but at least it is all mine. "You haven't visited my office in a while. So I thought I should pay my busy girlfriend a visit." He starts taking the takeout out of the bag. "You know I have been swamped lately, bub. And you see me at home all the time. Is that not enough for you? You'll wound up tired of me in the end." I joke as he hands me a lunchbox. "It will never be enough for me, no matter how many hours a day I see you. I just wished I would see you happier a lot more often." He hands me a travel mug with coffee, my usual fragrant cappuccino feeling warm in my hand, despite the isolation of the mug. "I've been feeling a bit off lately, that's all. I'll get better once spring takes over." I try to make up an excuse, but Harry is smarter than that, he doesn't buy it.

"Why didn't you tell me about the Ph.D. offer?" He asks me, sitting across from me on the couch. Well, due to the size of the furniture, we are pretty much one upon another. "Harry..." I don't know what to tell him. I didn't even realize he knew that much. "(Y/N)..." He insists, prying my head up with his pointer and middle finger. "Chrissy told you?" I ask him. "Only after I told her how miserable you've been lately. She is worried about you. I am worried about you. I thought you wanted to break up with me and didn't know how to tell me." He explains. "Harry, no. Of course not. I just... I can't afford to do it now. So what use would there be telling you? I wanted to suppress it, I wanted to forget it even happened." I admit, fidgeting with my rings. "If there is one thing I learned from therapy is that the more you suppress things, the stronger they return when they resurface. You can't ignore a smoke alarm, the fire will catch up to you. Yes, you wanted to suppress it, but it took away your happiness." "Ok, yeah. It happened. But even now, nothing has changed. I still can't do it, and now you know about it, so every time you'll look at me, you'll pity me." I sound frustrated, more so than I thought I would. "Is this Ph.D. something you want to do? Is it something that will bring happiness back to my favorite person?" He asks me and I sigh. I simply nod my head, biting my lip to stop myself from crying. "Then you should go ahead and do it." "You know I don't get paid enough to pay off my student debt and start a Ph.D." I chuckle and he scoffs. "I'll fund it." He states. "Harry, no. We have agreed you wouldn't treat this as a business deal. This is precisely why I didn't want you to know in the first place." I try to sound definite about this and cut this option off completely, but Harry remains calm and just looks at me until I am calm enough to listen to what he has to say. "I am not doing this to control you. I am not doing this to own you, or because I want you to feel in debt to me. I am doing this because this is the sort of thing you do for the person you love. I love you. And if this is going to bring the smile back to your face, I am going to pay ten times the fucking tuition." "What if we break up?" I ask him and he tilts his head to the side. "Are you planning on breaking up with me, (Y/L/N)?" He asks me. "Of course not, Harry. But shit happens, you never know. You might get bored of me, you might be the one who will want to break up." "(Y/N), baby... I will never get bored of you. I don't ever plan on breaking up with you. And believe me, if you ever decide to break up with me, the last thing I will care about will be the money. So, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), do this sad, sad man a favor and apply for the Ph.D., because every second I don't see the light in your eyes, I lose my happiness too." He takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on it. I smile and nod, moving closer to him to press a kiss on his lips. "I don't know how I will ever repay you." I whisper. He strokes my face softly, looking at me for a moment, staring deep into my eyes. "Love me. It is enough for me. Love me, because your love makes me a better person, and it makes the darkness go away. So, just... Love me." He states, stroking his thumb over my cheek. I nod my head, feeling finally ready to burst into tears. I have been holding myself for a while, trying to deny the pain I have been feeling. But now I can finally let go, I can finally admit how painful this has been for me.

"Is that the necklace I got you back when we first met?" Harry asks me, holding up the chain with the rose-gold plated dove necklace. I am currently finishing packing up for our trip to Europe, for an investors' tour. Harry is checking the jewelry I have packed for the trip, bored out of his mind now that he has finished with his own obligations. "It is." I smirk, looking at the dainty necklace. "You still got it?" He asks and I nod my head at him. "I thought it had long been buried in Arlington's grounds." "It is way too pretty to be buried." I reply. He hums, closing the box and placing it back into my luggage. "I hope this one is not packed to be worn in public..." He holds up a lace teddy, a baby pink, nearly transparent one, which of course Chrissy chose for me, but I couldn't agree more that I have to wear this. "Oh, this one? This one is for dinner with your parents... This, the pair of gladiator lace-up Amina Mauddi high heels you got me for Valentine's, and the silk romp Chrissy got me for Christmas... The perfect outfit for the in-laws, don't you think?" I ask him, folding in half the protective fabric bag that has one of my formal dresses inside, and placing it in my suitcase. "For the in-laws?" He asks, cheerful about the phrase I used to describe his parents. "I meant your family." "You said the in-laws, though..." He teases, walking closer to me. "I meant your family, Harry. Don't make too much of it." I scoff and he shakes his head at me. "You said the in-laws..." He grabs me by the waist, pulling me close to his body. "You said the in-laws." "Harry..." "No, no, no. Don't ruin it for me now... You said the in-laws. Which means, you are thinking of me as your husband. Tell me, (Y/N)... Are you thinking of me as your husband, baby? Are you thinking of becoming my wifey, Ms. (Y/L/N)?" He asks me, gently pushing me onto our bed. "I have to finish packing... Or else the teddy will be worn during a business dinner." I giggle. He pins my hands onto the mattress, hovering above me as he smiles. "Don't threaten me, 'cause I will call Gemma and have her send a dozen outfits to Switzerland before we land." He teases me, leaning down to bury his face in my neck. "Harry, I have a shitload of things to do." I purr, but Harry knows better than to back away. "You wanna be called Mrs. Harry Styles, baby? Cause I can arrange that... Pretty much right now." He nudges his nose on my sweetspot, causing me to sigh at the sound of his last name as mine. "Harry, baby..." "Oh, I know, I know... You want me to put a baby inside you, hm... You want that even more, don't you?" He asks, letting go of my hands and raising the hem of my sweater until it is off my body. "I just want you." I admit, succumbing to the way his lips are working on my skin. "I knew that already, baby. If you could, you would have me fuck your tight little cunt all the damn time, wouldn't you?" He asks me, moving his hands now to take off my biker shorts. "I bet this little pussy of yours is already soaked, isn't it sweetheart? Just imagine how much needier you will be with those pregnancy hormones. Fuck, we will have to build a bed in my office for our little mid-day meetings." He toys with the hem of my panties, grazing the very tip of his finger over my bikini line and sending shivers all over my body. "Damn, your impregnation kink... You know, rich guys tremble at the idea of producing spawns with random women, in case they demand a fortune for their paternity." I manage to gather enough coherence to tease him. "You've taken all logic out of my brain, princess. I don't care if I am left with a single penny after I put a baby inside you." "Now, do you want me to put a baby deep inside you? Do you want me to put a baby right here?" He asks me, kissing my lower stomach. "Yes, please, daddy." I moan, feeling his hot breath on my skin. "How much do you want me?" He asks me, lowering his lips until they rest on my still-clothed mound. "I want you so much, I can't even find the words. Please... Look how messy you've made me." I groan and Harry chuckles. "Oh, princess... But you have to pack your luggage." He slithers away, smirking victoriously. "You little shit." I protest, nearly jumping up from the bed. "Weren't you the one protesting that you have to finish packing?" He asks cockily, walking into the bathroom with a toiletry bag in hand, whistling a tune in faux-mindlessness. "Get back here, Styles." I groan, folding my arms before my chest. "We have to finish packing, sunshine. Get back to it." He sounds too smug for my liking like he knows he won this round. Fuck, this is the last time I play hard to get when I want him that bad.

"I can't believe I won't see you for 3 whole weeks." Chrissy sighs before pouting at me. I roll my eyes playfully, knowing how dramatic she is right now. "Chrissy, we have gone way longer without seeing each other." "Not since you moved back to New York..." She mumbles. "I'll bring you Swiss chocolates to make up for the lost time." "Bitch, you keep your Swiss chocolates. You'd better bring me a Swiss watch." I laugh at her comment, earning looks from the jet's crew who are impatiently waiting for me to hang up. "I'll do my best. Chrissy, baby, I gotta hang up. We are preparing for takeoff and I need to switch to airplane mode." "Fine. Stay safe, call me when you land." She demands. "I don't know what time it is going to be here when we land there, honey." "I don't care... You call me. Love you, be ok." She greets me. It is adorable how much she worries about me, it makes me feel like someone has my back.

I would be lying if I said I don't get why she is so worried; the last time I left for so long with Harry, it was for that trip to Italy, and we all remember how that went. Of course, Harry and I have traveled abroad again since we got back together. But it is the first time we are going to be gone for so long. And it is the first time we are traveling for business. I can feel the nervousness in my stomach, and a burn in the back of my nose. It feels awful, and I am glad I share the feeling with Chrissy, because Harry seems on cloud nine, completely in his own fucking world, and not too bothered by what is clearly on my mind.

I put my phone on airplane mode and grab my journal -a beautiful recycled leather journal that Chrissy got me for my research-, and my laptop. With around 80 academic journals, articles, and pdfs, I have enough to entertain myself during the long flight, the long trip to be honest.

"We are all set." Harry announces, plopping down on his seat. The comfortable seats allow me to sit fully curled on mine, my laptop resting on my lap. I know it is not the best position to study in, and I will soon have to change it, but for now, it will have to do. "When are we taking off?" I ask and he chuckles. "Eager to get up high, sunshine?" He asks me with a soft smile. "Not really. I am just craving coffee and I know they are supposed to serve us after takeoff." "Oh, they are not?" He asks as he motions for a flight attendant to approach us. "Can you please bring us some coffee? The pretty lady over there needs a caffeine boost, she is an academic..." He comments, looking at me adoringly. I cock an eyebrow at him, opening my laptop to access the folder. "Right away, sir." The flight attendant smiles and walks to the front to execute Harry's request "You didn't have to do that. And I am not an academic." I mumble and he chuckles. "You are a Ph.D. candidate, correct? And you wanted some coffee, right? We are passengers on this flight, we can have some coffee." He states. I just hum, focusing my gaze on the text before me. "Is someone a little pissy today?" He asks me, leaving his seat and walking towards me. "Nope." "Oh my God. Are you mad at me?" He asks me with a sly smirk. "That I am." I admit. "Look at my perfect doll, owning up to how she feels... I am so proud of you." He licks his lips, sitting on the arm of my seat. "Aren't you going to ask why I am mad at you?" I ask him and he shakes his head, stroking the side of my face. "Oh, I know why already..." He scoffs. The flight attendant brings a tray with coffee and paraphernalia. "Oh, you do? So tell me, Harry, the all-knowing, why am I mad at you?" I ask him, peaking at the pot of coffee to avoid eye contact with his smug, stupid face. "It is because I haven't fucked you in the last 4 days, isn't it? Your little cunt is so wet, desperate, and hungry for my cock that you've turned horniness into anger. You crave me so much that you are pissed you can't have me." He states. My eyes dart straight to the flight attendant, who backs away with wide eyes. "People can hear you, you know..." I mumble, but Harry seems to not care. "I am telling the truth, am I not?" He asks me. "Yes, yes... I am pissed at you for not fucking me, Harry. You have been teasing me for days now, and you have been leaving me high and dry. How is that fair? You know, it reminds me of the stupid bet we had last year before Christmas... And if I remember, we both did not like that time of our life." I clench my jaw, making Harry chuckle at me. He grips my chin, making me look at him and calm down from my fluster. "4 days without my cock inside you and you are spiraling... Oh, dove... I should have known how desperate my wife gets without feeling me inside her." He teases me. "I am not your wife." I protest and he hums. "From all I said, you chose to protest the wife part... Interesting." He states and I shrug. "I want you to count 75 minutes from when we take off. After 75 minutes, I want you to get up and head to the bathroom, wait for me there... I promise you, I am going to make it up to you for the dry spell." "We are not having sex on this plane." "Yes, we are. I have always wanted to join the mile-high club. And now, I have the most perfect partner to do so. So, we either do it in the bathroom, or I take you right here, with only a lap blanket hiding what this mean, big man is doing to this sweet, little angel." He cocks an eyebrow at me, expecting an answer. Despite the idea of him fucking me before everyone's eyes is turning me on to the point I have to press my thighs together, I am way too shy to ever do that. "Fine. 75 minutes." "Until then, I want you to focus on your bibliography." He reaches for the pot, pours me a cup of coffee, and hands it to me. "You are a huge dick, Styles." I roll my eyes, taking the first sip of coffee. "Oh, I know that." He winks at me, moving back to his seat.

I could not stand still while waiting for time to pass. I thumped my pencil on my journal countless times until I filled a page with random lines from thumping. What was worse was that Harry seemed too focused on his tablet, not even throwing me an accidental look. I hate that he looks so casual when I know he burns for me.

I followed his instructions down to the very last word. I took my refreshing cosmetics pouch that I had packed in my backpack for a touchup before landing and headed to the bathroom, which seems way more spacious than the ones on commercial flights. Of course, Harry had to tease me, making me long for him even more. He calls it delayed gratification, I call it torture.

A knock on the door, and then my heart pounding that someone might need the bathroom, and I got excited over nothing. "(Y/N), baby... It's Harry. Let me in so I can help you. Is it your travel sickness again?" He asks me from the other side of the door. I am confused, eyebrows furrowed together, but I decide to play along without phrasing my bewilderment. I open the door for him, allowing him inside the bathroom which now feels not-so-spacious. "Since when do I get travel sickness?" I ask him once he locks the door. "Since we need a cover. I needed a reason to join you. Would you rather if I said morning sickness?" He asks me, gently cornering me against the wall. One hand rests on my waist, the other on my face, and he is looking at me with a dominant expression. I love that expression, I love it on Harry and Harry only. "Smart, Styles..." I comment with a soft smile. "Just creative, dove. Very creative when it comes to pleasuring my wife." "Not your wife..." I comment and he smirks. "Right, not yet." He states, slipping his hand into my culottes. I gasp when his fingers find their way to my panties, toying with my cunt that is still covered by the thin, cotton undergarment. "Oh, look...My favorite cunt is so wet, it has a damp patch already." He chuckles and coos, rubbing his fingers along my slit. "Are you here to tease me, Styles?" I ask him, too desperate to even try to hide it. "Part of my job description is that, yeah..." He states, kissing the nape of my neck. "Styles..." "Styles..." He repeats at me, making me roll my eyes at him. "I go by (Y/L/N)." I remind him and he scoffs. "You'll go by Styles, just for me..." He kneels on the floor before me, lowering my bottoms along my panties. "Just for you?" I ask him, feeling his breath on my thighs. "Just for me. Only I will be allowed to call you Mrs. Styles. Mrs. Harry Styles. Deal, baby?" "Deal." I whimper as he fixes my leg onto his shoulder, allowing him access to my sex. "That's my good girl. Mon soleil. And now, I am going to reward you." He goes straight in, his tongue lapping up my sex, circling on the tip of my clit obnoxiously slow.

I know I have to keep quiet because there is no soundproofing in this shoebox of a bathroom. I know that a few feet from us are top executives of Harry's corporation. I also know that what we are doing is technically illegal. I know all that, and still, all I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs how good his mouth is at pleasuring me. I feel my heartbeat in my stomach and I can tell that it will only take a couple of seconds for the whole plane to hear me beg for more if I don't do anything to shut myself up. So I press my hand against my mouth, biting it until I feel my teeth leave marks on my skin. Harry moans lowly, enjoying himself as he savors me and sends vibrations to my sex. The sensation travels all across my spine, making my scalp tingle. "Harry..." I call for his attention. In return, he brings his gaze to meet mine, his beautiful, bright, green gaze fully on me. "I need you inside me." I beg, as quietly as I can. I need him, I need to feel him, all of him before I burst. "Oh, no, sunshine... We are having the main course when we land. Now it is just a little treat, a small preview." He kisses my inner thigh as he speaks, using his fingers in lieu of his mouth, pumping 2 fingers inside me. "But I need you... And is it really the mile-high club if it is just oral?" I ask him, my hand traveling to his curls. "I am sure the club's board won't be upset." He states, his mouth joining his fingers in pursuit of my high.

I understand there is no point in begging him for more now. He is going to give me what he has been planning to give me, and Harry is not one to go against his plans. Well, he wasn't, until he met me. And since then, he has been persistently failing to keep up with the precalculated path. We were not supposed to have sex, and then he succumbed to my seduction. He was not supposed to fall for me, yet he couldn't move on after we broke up. He was not supposed to wait for me, and yet he changed himself in preparation for my comeback. We were not meant to become addicted to each other, but here we are, unable to spend a day apart. "Deeper, please. Please, Harry." I mumble, sufficing to just the feeling of his fingers in that spot deep inside me. He seems to follow my wish, dipping his fingers knuckles deep inside me. "Are you going to cum in my mouth, sunshine?" He asks me, only parting from my sex momentarily. "I don't think I will be able to keep quiet. Edge me." It hurts me physically to ask for that, but we have no option. "Oh, no, honey. You are cumming for me. I don't care if everyone hears how good I eat this beautiful cunt." He uses his free hand to grab onto my hips and keep me there as he brings me to my breaking point. My sex glues to his face as I reach my spine-chilling high, eyes shutting tightly as I bite onto my palm. "There is my delicious girl... God, look at my honey, look how good she looks when she cums." Harry stands up, pressing me against the wall as he brings his lips to mine. "Do you think we are going to get arrested?" I ask, cradling his face softly in my hand. "For what?" He asks back. "For fucking in public..." "No one knows. And if they did, they would have burst in to stop us. We'll be fine, my love." He assures me, kissing the tip of my nose.

"You look so hot in just a towel..." Harry whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms around my waist. "You think I look hotter without it." I chuckle, scrunching my hair with the microfibre towel. "Look who's turned cocky." He turns my head, bringing his lips to mine. "All the worshipping you do has finally gotten to my head." "Objective completed then." He peels the towel off my body, letting it fall on the floor. "Harry, we have dinner with Gemma in an hour. " I remind him as his hand snakes down to my sex. "Yeah, I remember that." He rubs his fingers in circles on my clit, slowly inching them down to collect some wetness from my entrance. "I have to get ready for it. And you are a distraction, currently." "Oh, I am a distraction? Like you were when you wore that high-slit gown for dinner with the Dewis family?" He asks me, still moving his fingers slowly. "Oh, is that it?" I ask him, using my teasing voice, just to get on his nerves a little more. "All fucking night, all I could think of was your fucking pussy. And you made it even harder when you handed me your damn panties. Do you even know what it took for me not to blow everything up? Do you have any idea how much you could have cost me that night if I did not salvage the situation?" He is working his fingers faster, yet his voice is very calm, almost soothing. "And what's worse, princess, is that I would not give a damn if I lost money that night. All that mattered was the fact I had to have you. That's what you are doing to me, Mrs. Styles. That's how hooked you have me." He growls by my ear, stroking my clit faster. "Harry..." I whimper, gripping onto his forearm. "You can go ahead and get ready. I'll just have my fun with you." He sounds serious, his fingerpads pressing onto my sensitive bundle of nerves. "Harry, you know I can't concentrate on anything else with your hand between my thighs." I protest, my head falling back onto his shoulder. "Now you know how that feels." He is satisfied with himself. "Harry..." I purr, in a final effort to win this argument. "Time is passing, baby. We don't want my sister to wait, do we?" He chuckles, slowly teasing my sex. "You are so paying for this..." I whimper, bucking my hips on his hand. "Oh, princess...l don't think you understand... You are paying for what you did yesterday." He strokes my cheek with his free hand.

"You seem to have forgotten your manners, Styles." Gemma greets us as we reach the table reserved for us. "Sorry, darling. Someone took all night to get ready." Harry kisses his sister's cheek before allowing me to hug her. "Oh, no, baby... You are not putting the blame on me... Your brother seemed to have his hands full with obligations, Gem." I turn my head to watch Harry's reaction with a smirk on my face. He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head, keeping a playful smile on his face. "Oh, sweetheart, I believe you. You can take Harry out of the boardroom, but you cannot take the boardroom out of Harry." Gemma chuckles, taking a step back to check me out. "You look amazing, (Y/N). My God, how long has it been since the last time I saw you?" She asks as Harry pulls a chair out for me. "You never visit, Styles." Harry comes back, making her hum. "Thank God you conduct business in Europe and we see you once in a blue moon." "Are we here for you two to bicker back and forth?" I ask, picking up the menu card. "That's our love language, sunshine." He responds, kissing the back of my hand. "You would know if my brother didn't hog you all to himself at every visit." Gemma cocks an eyebrow at Harry, picking up the card as well. "Gemma, babes, can you stop staring at (Y/N)'s hands? We'd tell you if we were getting married." "Mum's raised the bet. If I lose half a grand because you cannot commit..." "Half a grand?" I ask, eyes going wide at the new information. "You can understand the kind of stress I am under. We are talking about good money." "What's your bet, Gemma?" I ask, biting my bottom lip. "Under 3 months." She replies. I turn my head to look at Harry who tilts his head and shrugs. "You might win it." I mumble, going back to the menu to make up my mind about what I want to eat tonight.

"Help me out of my dress?" I ask Harry who is already out of his shirt and drinking his last drink of the night. "Gladly." He leaves his glass down as I gather my hair up to reveal the zipper of my dress. "My sister made you feel uncomfortable, didn't she?" He asks me, slowly unzipping me. "No, it was actually nice. I like hanging out with Gemma." "I am talking about the stupid bet. It was fun at first until they started betting money. Now it is just annoying and creepy." He comments, grazing my spine with the knuckles of his fingers. "Same goes with your business partners... They were so pushy about the marriage topic. Everyone keeps on asking the same question; when is the wedding..." "They are worried you might realize you deserve better and leave me." He kisses the base of my neck before I turn around to face him. "This is nonsense, Harry. I love you too much to walk away." I place my hands on his chest, looking up at him as he touches my cheek softly. "Shall we do it then? So they stop asking?" He asks me, his face calm and voice steady. "Are you asking me to marry you so others stop asking?" I ask him back with a chuckle, but my heart is pounding in my chest. It is happening, for the first time he is honestly asking me to marry him. "Well, we already live like a couple, where is the hurt in signing a paper?"

For a moment my stomach sinks; it is just a formality. "Besides, I don't want to spend my life with anyone else but you. And I would very much like for everyone to know you are mine, and just mine." He kisses my lips tenderly, only for a second before he pulls away a few inches and stares at me. "Is this an actual proposal? Do you need an answer?" I ask him. "I...I mean... I know I don't have a ring and that it is spontaneous, but I..." "Yes, Harry. I want to marry you. Fuck the ring, fuck the prep, fuck everything. I'd marry you with paper rings tomorrow morning in the mayor's hall." I reach up, cupping his face in my hands and kissing him deeply. "Did you mean what you said? About marrying me tomorrow morning in the mayor's hall?" Harry asks me as I stroke his hair hazily. "And the paper rings part." I reply, still not able to wrap my brain around the fact he proposed. Harry, the love of a lifetime, the love of my life, asked me to be in his life forever. "You don't want a big wedding?" He asks me and I shake my head. "I never did, to be honest. Ideally, I'd like it to just be me and you. But we have to have witnesses." I roll my eyes and he hums. "Me, you, the mayor, Vinny, Chrissy, and Gemma." Harry counts on his fingers. "What are you thinking?" I chuckle and he smiles at me, kissing the tip of my nose. "Let's get married when we get back to New York. My assistant will do all the paperwork, we will buy whatever we need from here, we will invite just our witnesses and get married in New York, Saturday morning." He suggests. "Don't you want a big wedding?" I ask him, biting my bottom lip. The idea of a quick, no-fuss wedding excites me. "No, fuck that. We will sign our paperwork, and then I'll pick you up and leave for our honeymoon. Fuck anything else." He states. "If we invite Chrissy, we will have to invite Adrian." "Sure. But no family. Just Gemma because she is going to neuter me if she is not there at our wedding." "Deal. I'll call Chrissy. Saturday morning?" I ask him and he nods. "Friday we are going to be back in NY, Saturday I am marrying you." He says excitedly, placing a hand on the small of my back and pulling me closer to him. "Let's call Chrissy. But you will be quiet and go along with what I say. Promise?" I hold my pinky up for him. He chuckles and links it with mine before I blindly reach for my phone by my pillow.

Chrissy doesn't take long to pick up the phone. Her cheerful voice fills our hotel room, making Harry chuckle. "Hey, babes. What are you doing up this late, little minx?" She asks, singing at the phone almost. "Hey, Chrissy. I've missed you and I know you get off work around this time of the day. How are you?" "I am ok, missing my best friend and thinking of all the gifts she is bringing me from Europe." She says suggestively. I hum and roll my eyes, not that she can see my reaction. "Hope you like fridge magnets and keychains." "That's how much I am worth for you?" She gasps playfully. "Such a drama queen. Anyway, I didn't call you to discuss that. As I said and went unnoticed, I have missed you. And I was wondering if you and Adrian would like to join Harry and me for brunch on Saturday. There is this cool place across from NYC's town hall we've been dying to go and we thought it would be perfect to see you there when we return." "Oh my God, yes. What's that place? Have I heard of it?" She asks. "Nope. It is fairly new and exclusive. So dress up nicely and have some ID with you, they are pretty strict." "Oh, fancy. What time should we meet?" She asks me. I turn to Harry who just shrugs. "We have to make a reservation, so I don't know the time yet. I'll have to update you on that..." "OK, cool then. Will you find a reservation on such short notice?" She asks and I scoff. "Please. We have Harry's name opening every door. Who wants to piss off the mighty mister Styles?" I ask. Harry pokes my ribs playfully, causing me to slap his hand away. "Sometimes I forget you have one of New York's most powerful men wrapped around your pinky." She laughs. "Hm, only because he has me wrapped around his as well." I wink at Harry who just shakes his head. "You guys are sickeningly cute." "Said the girl who rejected her hoe side and married a year after meeting her husband." "I am not to be compared. Anyways, I have to go pick up dinner. Adrian will eat me if there is no food on the table in the next 20 minutes." "Since when do you complain about Adrian eating you?" I ask with a cocked eyebrow. "Your head is so deep in the gutter, (Y/L/N)." "I try my hardest, babes. K, bye. I have to go to bed." "See you on Saturday." She sings before the line goes dead.

"I think she is going to be pretty pissed when we don't have that exclusive bruncherie." Harry comments as I leave my phone down. "I think she is going to get over it when she signs as a witness to our wedding. Besides, we are heading for brunch after the wedding." I place my leg over his thigh, nesting my head on his chest. "Whatever the boss wants." He strokes his hand down my back. "I am the boss?" I ask, placing a kiss on his sternum. "Who else?" He asks back. "Why didn't you tell her about the wedding?" He asks me and I sigh. "She would make a big deal out of it. Plus, she would try to find a way to throw me a bachelorette party and I really don't want to spend a night away from you..." I explain and he coos. "So obsessed with me, my baby." He kisses the top of my head as I feel my eyelids become heavy. "We need to sleep... We have a big day tomorrow." "I thought the big day was on Saturday." "Yeah, but tomorrow we have to get the rings, the outfits, arrange for the paperwork, all the details. Plus, you have meetings, don't you?" I ask him and he groans. "Let me call my assistant for the paperwork." Harry tries to reach for his phone but I grab his forearm to stop him. "In the morning. Let him sleep." I smile at him, earning a sigh from him. "I can't wait... You are going to be my wife, my Mrs. Styles..." He strokes my cheek, smiling brightly. "Sleep now, Mr. Styles. We have a lot of things to do tomorrow. And I would hate for you to not look fresh and rested in our wedding pictures." I kiss the side of his neck and wrap my arms around him.

"Oh, we have to look this fancy..." Chrissy comments as she approaches us on the stairs of the town hall. I smile at her, hugging her and giving her a cheek kiss. "Thought I dress up a bit." I shrug my shoulders as she scans me from head to toe. "It suits you. I love the oversized blazer and the pant line. Though, creme looks a bit bridal." "Oh, no, honey. We can't have you looking like a bride without being one. We must do something about it..." Harry gasps dramatically, faking a shocked look. "You are absolutely right, baby. But what can we do... What can we do..." I shake my head. I must look ridiculous. "Oh, I know. Let's head right in there and get married. We have to, there is no other option now that you are dressed like that." Harry suggests, pointing at the town hall. I don't know who is a worse actor, him or I. "Excellent idea. Let's go." I giggle as Harry brings the bouquet of flowers from behind his back. "This was all a setup..." Chrissy gasps, jumping forward to hug us both. "I owed you a setup for what you did on your wedding day." I tease her and she scoffs. "If it wasn't for that set up we wouldn't be here today." Adrian chimes in, defending his wife. "That's why we thought it would be nice if you were our witnesses. It would actually be our honor if you accepted." Harry suggests, looking eagerly at our friends. "I would never talk to you again if you didn't ask us." Chrissy is on the verge of crying, right where I am too. "We should head in. Gemma and Vinny are waiting for us." Harry states, putting a pause to the crying session. "The mayor too." I giggle. "You two should head in. I'll give her away to you." Chrissy orders the two men, focusing on fixing the collar of my blazer. "Chrissy..." Harry protests, showing her his watch. "Styles, I spoke." She digs her heels into the ground, staring down at my very soon-to-be-husband. He raises his hands in defeat as Adrian pats his back. "Come on, you are not winning this argument. Chrissy, baby... Don't drag this out, yes, love?" Adrian requests, to which my friend hums. "Just a super quick bachelorette to give her the chance to change her mind... Just kidding. We will be right behind you." Chrissy assures them, dismissing them with a motion of her hand.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks me and I nod my head. "I am. I have never been so sure about anything else. He is the one. And I have to thank you for our second chance. If it weren't for you insisting he has changed, I would never even talk to him again." "And if it wasn't for that one night out, I would have never met Adrian, and there wouldn't be a wedding to invite you both to and bring you together again. Harry and you are meant to be, and everything has happened for that reason. Alright, it is time I hand you over to Harry. And I might be giving you away to him, but I am never giving you up. I love Harry and he is perfect. But I will always love you more, I will always choose you. A phone call away, and I will bust his head open." She strokes my cheek as I look up to avoid tears spilling from my eyes. "No time for tears, my bestie is getting married and I have to make sure she doesn't run away at the very last moment." Chrissy holds her hand out, inviting me to link my arm with hers.

Vol. 1, Part 1: New York City / Vol. 1, Part 2: New York City & Aspen / Vol. 1, Part 3: New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome / Vol. 1, Epilogue / Vol. 2, Part 1: New York / Vol.2, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Vol.2, Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 4: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Epilogue; Hawaii / My Full Masterlist / Rose-Colored Glasses Masterlist / My Ko-Fi

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strinak · 2 years

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there are some interpretations that are just...willful misreadings of the text.

which can be fine, in a fanwork! aslan's a brainwashing eldritch horror; cool idea, I'd read that.

but some of y'all are out here demonizing heroes and stanning villains and, with your whole chest, calling it the Truth of the Canon and like. fuck off? get a grip?

the serial killer with a sad backstory is Not the Good Guy just because you wanna fuck him. the good guys who did A bad thing are not secretly the Real Evil because they're not perfect.

I know fandom is allergic to nuance but fuck

#yes this was prompted by an mdzs post but it's Widespread #and i don't have rose colored glasses about the past #i definitely read death eater ron and btvs society of vampires fic back in the day #but most of the META i saw tried to base itself in canon not in wild speculation or headcanons #and that's NOT the ratio i see now #original

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ohmypawsandwhiskers · 2 months

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Yall, I'm writing a flashback of the first time young Erwin tags along with Dani and her brother, Nevin, and it has me in my feels as he is torn between a breaking heart of what it means to get meat that isn't in a market but accepting the harsh reality of the world, and a.jkidfunhsl;jnakif writing young Erwin is painful, balancing the loss of innocence with learning to do what he needs to in order to move forward.

#honestly I hc him as being a soft hearted boy with rose colored glasses that shatter when his father dies #AND MY FRICKIN HEART JUST IS BREAKING #I WANT TO WRAP THIS MAN IN A BLANKET AND GIVE HIM A HOT CHOCOLATE #attack on titan #commander erwin #aot erwin #erwin snk #erwin smith #of devils and monsters fic #paws speaks

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ichorai · 6 months

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weave ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; there was a rose in his hand, you realized. white, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. but it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for lucy gray. you would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. you’d also brought something for your tribute.

words ; 6.8k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury, lucky flickerman is a close family friend of reader's, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a fourth part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

It was humiliating, how nervous he was. Reaping day. The Plinth prize was just a whisper away—he could nearly taste it: phantom traces of rich chocolate and edible gold on his dry tongue.

The day before the exams, you’d pulled him into the library for one last study session. You whispered that you would botch one of your papers for him—he certainly needed the Plinth prize more than you. And though he knew that you’d be far more deserving of it (your grades were near impeccable, and impossible for him to try and compete with), he also knew that his pride wouldn’t ever recover from such a blow.

Because how could he face you after that? Knowing that he was… inferior?

And so he told you not to squander your own achievements for him—that he’d figure something out. You spared him a hesitant look, before turning back to your books.

Now that the exams were over and done with, Coriolanus briefly wondered if you went ahead and botched it anyway. An irrational sort of anger flared within his chest. Did you think you were better than him? That he was your charity case?

But all those terrible thoughts—the nastiness sweltering in his chest for days after the exams—dissolved almost immediately after seeing you.

You met him in front of the academy, your dress a lovely shade of crimson, angular at your shoulders but tapering down into flowing ripples below your waist. Like fire, almost. You were glowing, he was sure of it, with the way the sun illuminated only the best of your features—the slope of your nose, the curling of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes.

“Coriolanus,” you greeted with faux formality, tilting your head to the side. He was wearing his dress shirt again—the very one you watched Tigris mend and sew and tinker many, many times. Pinned to his waistcoat was another red rose, matching the shade of your own attire.

He mirrored you, sweeping into a low bow and brandishing another rose out of seemingly nowhere. “For you, darling. Grandma’am said she could spare it—special occasion and all.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous pet name. It was what your parents called each other when they thought nobody was around to hear it—it made you feel old. “And tell Grandma’am thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, stepping forward to slot the rose behind your ear. “Ready for your Plinth prize?” he asked, fingers lingering by your face, thumb stroking down your jaw.

You sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s going to be what either of us expect.”

There was a brief pause. Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed. Had you botched your exams for him?

With a pointed glance to the academy halls, you nudged him forward. “Come on. Everyone’s already inside. Clemmie keeps asking for you.”

The two of you made your way in, weaving between red-uniformed academy students (the ones who weren’t at the very top) and professors. Behind another set of double doors were where all the top-ranking students were mingling. Sipping on bubbling glasses of colorful drinks, picking off delicate foods from ceramic plates.

While Snow was stolen away from you by a few other classmate acquaintances, Sejanus was the first to greet you, shaking your hand enthusiastically. His palms were sweating. You didn’t quite mind. “Congratulations on finishing exams, Y/N. I know how hard you’ve been studying.”

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Congrats to you, too. I’m surprised you’re here at all, actually. I know how you feel about the reaping.”

His expression faltered. “Ma made me come. Moral support for my friends, and all.”

Ma. The word sounded foreign and heavy on the tongue. Unfamiliar… but rather inviting. Homely, in a way. Despite your initial silence, you managed to recover just fine. In a lowered voice, you whispered to him, “Well, my mother thinks it’s a rather dreadful affair. A waste of potential talent, sending children to their deaths, she says. I can’t help but agree with her. Father thinks it’s necessary, though.”

Sejanus pursed his lips. No doubt questioning the necessity of watching the people he knew from his childhood in the district getting brutally murdered. It looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, Arachne’s high-pitched voice cut through the two of you. You grimaced, catching Coriolanus’ eyes as he stood right behind her. Judging by his mildly annoyed countenance, he wasn’t having a very good time chatting to her, either.

“Spill it, Sejanus,” she demanded in a prissy tone. “Who won the prize?”

The dark curls on Sejanus’ head shook as he silently scoffed. “Oh, no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him but they do love his money… you know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?”

Her nose wrinkled in part-contempt, part-disgust. “Funny,” she deadpanned.

Coriolanus stepped around her so he could curl an arm over your waist. “We all know who’s going to win it, anyway.” His grip squeezed over the smooth fabric of your dress.

Arachne rolled her eyes and marched away, off to find someone else to bother.

Left with just the two of you, Sejanus dipped his head and muttered, “Look, I know you guys have had high hopes for this but… there’s no prize. Not anymore.”

There was a terse pause. Your head reared back incredulously, searching Sejanus’ expression for any signs of fibbing. Then you looked to Coriolanus, eyes wide.

“What?” he asked, words sharp, looking almost offended.

“I’m so sorry—”

Before Sejanus could finish his sentence, loud trumpets echoed throughout the hall and all the students began making their way to the plush velvet seats laid out in front of the podium. Coriolanus’ hand slipped away from you, balling into a tight, pale fist. You sat down first, Sejanus going on your right, Coriolanus to your left. Clemensia was on his other side, flashing you an attractive smile. You couldn’t find it in you to smile back.

If there was no prize, what were they going to dole out instead? A free holiday, all expenses paid? A new television? A pair of fuzzy socks?

Your rather prickly thoughts were interrupted when a woman stepped up behind the podium. She was dressed in lavish plum robes, intricate beige patterns weaving through the threads. From afar, it looked like there was flesh stitched onto the fabric. Her hair was greyed and a calculated sort of haphazard. One of her eyes was beady and blue, the other dark and large, almost eclipsing any of the white bits.

She tapped the microphone once, earning herself a buzz of feedback, and tittered with unnerving laughter. Volumnia Gaul was what she introduced herself as. Her voice was low and gravelly. When she went on to say that she was the head gamemaker, your and Coriolanus' heads both snapped to Sejanus, but his gaze was fixed onto the ground, face grim.

After a bit more faddering about the future, Dr. Gaul introduced the creator of the games and dean of the academy—Casca Highbottom. He sauntered forward from somewhere within the seats, mind very clearly addled with a drug of some sorts. Morphling, you’d wager.

“I can’t believe they still allow him to speak in public,” Clemensia said to Coriolanus amusedly. He didn’t spare her a response.

He dragged on his little speech, as if he took pleasure in dangling the golden carrot in front of the donkey. Your hands twitched in an antsy fashion, and you neatly folded them over your lap.

“My own twenty-four top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studying in this prestigious institution, eager to know who’s won that Plinth prize, no doubt. And a golden future, with it.” He catered forward with a slurred laugh. “However… I’m here to tell you all that there’s been a change this year.”

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. Coriolanus’ chin lifted higher, back straightening.

“One last assignment to prove your worth,” Highbottom continued on. He began to pace back and forth, reminiscent to that of a caged tiger. “The esteemed citizens of the Capitol simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience, no?”

More murmuring. Your eyes narrowed. Twenty-four top students… twenty-four tributes…

Oh, no.

You sucked in a quiet, barely noticeable inhale with the realization. It was enough for Coriolanus’ eyes to land on you, but you were staring at Sejanus, as if trying to get him to hear your thoughts.

Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we won’t have to play a hand in such a barbaric game.

“Head gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.”

For a moment, Highbottom’s gaze drifted over to you. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Arachne’s affronted, “Excuse me?”

You weren’t quite sure why she was upset. It’s not like she had a chance with the prize if it were grade-based.

“Instead, it will be decided by who is the best mentor in the hunger games.”

Your jaw clenched. Clemensia appeared bewildered. Coriolanus looked shaken. Sejanus was visibly distraught.

“As the reaping begins, I will allocate each one of the top twenty-four Capitol students a district tribute. A figure behind the scenes—one who must persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

This was met by a barrage of questions and protests from the students. Highbottom waved most of them away.

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles. Not survivors… victory in the games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.”

It was a terrible thing to imagine. Two dozen district lives in exchange for a bit of cruel entertainment for the Capitol. You were never fond of it, but you kept quiet on the matter because you had the luxury of turning your head away. Turning the television off and straying away from such brutalities.

But now that you were being forced to look—no, more than that—you were being forced to pull strings, it was altogether a nauseating thought.

“Oh, and I must warn you… anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage…” Highbottom’s spectacled eyes swept over the lot of students. “Well, they’d just have no future at all.”

More trumpets rang throughout the hall.

The Dean clapped his hands together. “Here we go! Let the reaping ceremony begin!”

Two large screens hanging over the podium lit up for the first district—a tall boy on the left, a sallow-faced girl on the right. Dean Highbottom began to list off student names as mentors.

To none of your surprise, Sejanus got the male tribute from district two. Coriolanus shot him a thinly-veiled, wry smile over your shoulder. “You got the pick of the litter.”

Sejanus refused to meet his gaze. “You forget… I’m part of the litter.”

On the names rattled—districts three, four, five, six, and seven all passing by in a blur.

Juno Phipps was called out for district eight’s male tribute. She sat somewhere behind you, and you could hear her puff a sigh of disappointment.

Then your name came straight after.

Your head snapped from Highbottom to the screen, eyes widening.

Wovey, her name was. She was a small little thing—you could see her frail, skeletal figure even through a grainy screen from afar. The striped dress she wore was patchy and frayed, darkened with soot and dirt. How old was she? She was probably one of the youngest tributes yet—you’d guess that she was barely thirteen, maybe even twelve. Something in your stomach jolted. Momentarily, you’d forgotten that this little girl was meant to be your school project.

District eight. The textiles sector. You blinked at the screen and shifted uncomfortably in your expensive-tailored dress—a dress that very likely came from the very same district.

Highbottom called out names for the next district. Clemensia was pleased with her large, burly tribute from the eleventh district. Coriolanus was yet to be mentioned. You glanced over at him, before reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t look at you, but squeezed your palm in what you read to be silent gratitude.

And finally—with only one tribute left, Highbottom coughed out what sounded to be a laugh. “The runt girl from district twelve… she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

The grip he had on your hand tightened until it was bordering on painful. You said nothing about it. Highbottom had always been a grouchy man, but he seemed to have a fixation on making Coriolanus’ life as tormentable as possible.

Lucy Gray Baird.

You watched the screen in fascination when a woman sauntered out from the ranks. Her hair was dark and curly, unruly in a way that suited her perfectly. Upon further scrutiny, you noticed small wildflowers woven through the strands, limp with time. She wore makeup, which wasn’t something you often saw in tributes. A deep blue eyeshadow and slightly-smudged rouge on her cheeks and lips. But what really caught your attention, however, was the dress she was wearing. It was a startling contrast to her name—with its bright, colorful ruffles on her skirt, the front of her corset bearing lovely details of flowers and vines.

She was beautiful.

“What is that dress?” sneered Arachne, in an obvious attempt to rile Coriolanus up. “Is she some sort of clown?”

But suddenly, Lucy Gray stepped out of her path towards the stage and grabbed a girl to her right. Or, more accurately, the girl’s collar. She promptly dropped something down her dress and hurried off. Screams erupted from the screen as the girl writhed with terror, screaming for someone to, “Get it out! Get it out!”

Coriolanus stood abruptly, letting your hand go. You hadn’t noticed just how much feeling you’d lost in your arm, and gingerly shook it back to life.

The grainy screen showed a small snake skitter out of the bottom of her dress.

When Lucy Gray finally made it up on the stage, she was harshly struck across the face by district twelve’s mayor. The blow made her head crack to the side and she went tumbling down. You frowned, but couldn’t take your eyes away.

It took two peacekeepers to haul the furious mayor away. You mutely realized that the girl was the mayor’s daughter.

Lucy Gray laid there, face aching.

And then—singing. A small voice from within the crowd. Five seconds later, another joined. And another, and another. Even through the screen, when Lucy Gray tilted her bruised face up and struggled back onto her feet, you could see the pain in her eyes. Was that her family singing for her?

The woman made her way to the microphone. She began to sing with a quivering lip. Her voice was soft and smooth, silken to your ears.

“She’s singing?” Arachne commented in a pinched tone. “Is she out of her mind?”

“Shut up, Arachne,” you turned to snap at her. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else, to your relief.

Coriolanus watched the screen with unsettled eyes. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Most unpleasant, many rageful, some curious.

And to bring her singing to a sudden halt, Lucy Gray screamed into the microphone.

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!”

The students burst into laughter, incredulous gasps, and scandalized murmurs. Coriolanus glanced around. He met your eyes, and you gave him half an amused smile. His tribute knew how to put on a show, that was for sure.

He smiled back, and turned to the screen once more.

Lucy Gray lowered herself into a deep bow for the audience. District and Capitol alike.

What an intriguing girl, you thought.

“She’s mentally ill,” Arachne buzzed.

It took every bit of your willpower not to turn around and strike her across the face. But you thought back to the furious mayor, and of the little girl you were supposed to mentor, and kept your hands folded neatly over your lap.

You found yourself at the Snow penthouse that night. There was nothing to study, not anymore, so you lounged on a rickety chair and watched Tigris sew together pieces of blue fabric. She wanted to make you a dress, and though you had more than enough of your own, you couldn’t ever say no to her. Being around her took your mind off of the games, even for just a few minutes.

Coriolanus, however, was pacing back and forth in front of the two of you. Muttering angrily under his breath, nose twitching with disdain.

“He’s sabotaging us. That girl’s never going to win the games,” he hissed, plucking the rose off of his waistcoat and tugging at its petals. They fluttered down to the floor. “You saw her, didn’t you? She’s underfed. Unstable.”

Pot, meet kettle.

You pursed your lips. “Highbottom said you’re meant to make a performance out of them. It isn’t just about winning.”

“Everything is about winning!” he asserted, carding a frustrated hand through his flaxen tresses. “If not the games, then the crowd. And Lucy Gray won’t survive a minute inside that arena.”

You sighed. Little Wovey didn’t seem too likely to survive, either. She wasn’t a fighter by any means. Maybe she was a fast runner?

“So that means we have to make every second before then count.” Coriolanus reached out to cup your face, and you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. Tigris shot the two of you a side glance and smiled to herself.

“What’re you planning?” you asked.

“I’ll make her sing again,” he said, sounding so sure of himself.

This made Tigris’ brows cinch together. “I wouldn’t sing a note for you if I was her. I wouldn’t do anything at all… not unless I knew I could trust you.”

Coriolanus regarded his cousin with a cynical stare. “She’s district, Tigris. She knows we hate her and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

“We?” you echoed, shaking your head. “I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her. Do you?”

“I—”

You lifted up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Do you know her, Coriolanus?”

His jaw set with a click. You had your answer.

“How can you hate someone you don’t know? Look, you don’t have to like her. Just convince her that you do.” You crossed your arms, thinking of the little girl you were meant to mentor. It was going to be hard to like her, anyway, knowing that she was going to die soon. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached.

Tigris nodded emphatically. She paused her needlework and looked up at her cousin. “Imagine it was your name they pulled, and you were ripped from your home. I’d just want to know if somebody still cared about me out here. Don’t discount her just because she’s district, Coryo. You might have more in common with her than you think.”

Coriolanus plucked the last rose petal from the stem. You watched him with soft eyes, before drawing yourself up to your feet.

“I think it’s time I head home. My family’s got dinner with the Flickermans tomorrow.” You placed a limp hand on his jaw and kissed his cheek, then drifted down to kiss his shoulder. He smelled distinctly of roses—a fresh sort of musk.

Just as you were about to pull away, he rested his hands on your forearms, rooting you to the same spot. “We should greet them at the station. Show them that they can trust us.”

You searched his face for genuinity. It wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

“You sure?” you asked. It wasn’t a secret just how uncomfortable Coriolanus was around district folk.

“Yeah. We can… get ahead of the other students. You’re way more approachable than me, anyway. Maybe they’ll like you more,” Snow offered. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you said no.

The thought of meeting your assigned tribute made your stomach do somersaults. Finally, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the station, then?”

Snow smiled in a charming manner. He dipped forward to slant his lips over yours, and you melted into his touch, almost forgetting that Tigris was there—until she made a noise of disgust and told the two of you, “Eugh! Do that somewhere else, please!”

Coriolanus was there before you, sticking out like a sore thumb in his academy red against the cold, rusted metals of the train cars. You wore a dark coat over your uniform, trying to look a little more discreet.

“Are they here yet?” you asked, steps quickening to him. He took your hand and squeezed.

“Anytime now.”

The two of you stood shoulder-to-shoulder as you waited, exchanging light conversation. There was a rose in his hand, you realized. White, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. But it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for Lucy Gray. You would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. Still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. You’d also brought something for your tribute.

A juice box. Grape. Still cold, beading with condensation.

You wondered if they had juice boxes out in district eight.

Another train rolled to a grueling halt to the track on your left. The cars were due for a good scrubbing, you thought. They were absurdly filthy—you weren’t even sure what its original color was meant to be.

Peacekeepers stepped up, disregarding the two of you, and began yanking the doors open. There were disgruntled noises coming from inside, and a few minutes later, the grey soldiers were pulling out the tributes.

You searched through the small crowd frantically. The boy from 11th—Reaper, you recalled his name was—caught your eye and just about snarled. You tried your best to ignore him.

When you found the little girl, little Wovey, you slipped away from Coriolanus and stepped forward. In your peripheral vision, you spotted him moving towards Lucy Gray.

Wovey was staring at a particularly uninteresting spot on the ground. She had her skinny arms wound around her midriff as if she was cold, despite the warm temperature that morning. When your shadow fell over her, her large, tearful eyes slid up to meet yours.

“Hello, Wovey,” you whispered in what you hoped was a welcoming, not-at-all-intimidating voice. You told her your name, making sure to enunciate the syllables slowly, so she’d have no problem repeating it back. She didn’t, but perhaps she would later. “I’m your mentor.”

“Mender?” Her voice quaked.

“Mentor. I’ll be helping you in the arena, during the game. Here, I have something for you.” You reached inside your coat, eyeing the peacekeepers warily. Either they didn’t notice, or they were just pretending not to. You wondered how many of them knew your father. “Do you guys have juice boxes back where you live?”

You held out the cold little box for her to take. She blinked at it warily.

“It’s grape,” you said.

She reached out and took it from you. You offered her a gentle smile, and she mirrored you with a shy grin.

“Can I share it?” she croaked. Wovey looked back at the male tribute from the same district—Bobbin. Were they friends?

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly.

Sweetheart? Where’d that come from?

The peacekeepers began rounding up the tributes, shoving them in the direction of a truck. You dipped your head at one of the grey soldiers as he took Wovey’s arm.

“Be gentle with her,” you told the peacekeeper. He met you with a stoic expression, but nodded once, before urging Wovey onward.

It was hard to tear your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to do so, bounding towards Coriolanus and—

“Lucy Gray,” you greeted, just before saying your own name as you moved to stand beside Snow. Her dress looked even brighter in person, even if it was caked in filth. “I hope Coriolanus hasn’t scared you off yet.”

“Who’s this?” she asked, her dark eyes flitting from Snow to you. “Another mentor?”

“Mmh. Not yours though. I’m dedicated to the little girl from district eight,” you replied.

There was something in her eyes that softened.

“You’ll take care of her?” she asked.

You exchanged an uncertain glance with Coriolanus. “I’ll try my best to. Just like my boyfriend here for you.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Y’all make an attractive couple, that’s for sure.” Lucy Gray smiled, wide and genuine. It faded instantaneously once she spotted a peacekeeper approaching. She plucked the rose from Coriolanus’ unsuspecting hands. “Well… good luck with that.”

The soldier grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the direction of the car.

Coriolanus stepped forward. “Wait, no—I, hey, I’d like to escort my tribute—”

They all ignored him. You pursed your lips, before following behind two of the soldiers, peeking around the bend. The truck’s doors were wide open for you to slip into. Snow met your eyes when you beckoned him over.

“We can sneak in,” you whispered. “When they’re not looking.”

“Are you insane? We don’t know where they’re going!” he responded in a lowered voice, taking your arm, not unsimilar to how the peacekeepers grabbed the tributes. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“They won’t hurt me,” you told him. It didn’t dawn on you that Coriolanus was referring to the district tributes, not the peacekeepers. Quick and chaste, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “You coming?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He blew out a frustrated breath, before letting you go and giving you the green light by motioning for you to get a move on. Nerves peaking with adrenaline, you glanced around again, satisfied that no peacekeepers were looking, and rushed into the truck. You felt Coriolanus’ chest brush against your back as he hurried in after you.

You hid in the shadows of the trucks’ slants just as the peacekeepers slammed it shut. A victorious smile stretched your lips thin. You made it.

Oh, your father was going to murder you. Snow first, maybe, and then you. Your mother would probably find the situation all too funny. Though, as you found all the tributes’ eyes locked on you and Coriolanus, you realized that it probably wasn’t funny at all, not in the slightest.

“Hello,” you said in an awfully wavering voice. Coriolanus echoed your sentiment, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy?” Reaper asked him with a scowl. “You in the wrong cage?”

“No,” he responded with a minute shrug. “This cage is delightful.”

The truck practically swayed as Reaper stormed closer to him. You instinctively grabbed his forearm, pulling him back. But clearly not quick enough, seeing as Reaper grabbed the lapels of Snow’s academy uniform, shoving him up against the wall with a loud thud. Coriolanus let out an oomf with the impact, blinking sudden white stars out of his vision.

“I’ll kill you right now!” Reaper hissed.

“He’ll do it, too,” warned Dill. The girl from his same district. “Reaper killed a peacekeeper back in eleven.”

“I say we kill them both!” another tribute from somewhere behind sneered.

“I’m in. Nothing left to lose now.”

You stood frozen, afraid that one wrong move would send Reaper into a frenzy. Instead, you spoke calm and clear, “We’re here to help.” Your eyes found Lucy Gray’s, then traveled over to Wovey, squeezed in the corner. “We want to help you.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy Gray said, “Y’all got family back home? They’ll kill them if you hurt a hair on their pretty Capitol heads. Then you. ‘Sides… the blonde one’s my mentor. I might need him.”

One of the tributes from district four curled her lip in contempt. “How come you get one?”

“You all get one!” Snow told her, which earned him another enraged shove by Reaper.

She guffawed—Coral, yes, that was her name—with incredulity. “What, and we’re just supposed to believe you?”

“Why else would we get in here with you?” you said, exasperated. “We don’t even know where they’re taking you guys.”

Coral cocked a brow so high it nearly disappeared behind her choppy bangs. “Whose mentor are you?”

You limply waved your fingers at Wovey. “District eight’s girl.”

“So how come Skinny and Rainbow get special treatment? Why aren’t my mentors here?” Coral leaned down towards Lucy Gray in a taunting fashion, barely glancing over at Wovey.

Lucy Gray smiled, all toothy. “They just got inspired, I guess.”

A moment later, a loud rumbling came from outside the truck. Had they already arrived? There was a whir, and the whole truck began to tilt downward. The doors swung open and shocked gasps echoed throughout the metal cavern.

Reaper relinquished his grip on Snow to grab hold of Dill, and you launched yourself at Coriolanus, trying your best to grapple onto the grooves in the walls so you wouldn’t slip. Lucy Gray yelled as her foot slipped and she went toppling down—

You grabbed her hand, grunting with the combined weight of two people. Coriolanus’ grip on the wall slipped, and he bumped into you, causing your fingers to fumble.

The three of you went rolling down, out of the truck, back into the blinding sunlight. Your shoulder hit the ground hard, another sharp rock digging painfully into your back. That’d definitely bruise later. Disoriented, you dragged yourself up from the ground, frowning at the stinging sensation in your legs. Coriolanus was next to you the next second, grabbing at your face and arms, asking if you were alright. You nodded a few times, before pushing him away to see if the tributes were okay.

All of them were dizzy and aching, but other than that—seemed just fine. Or, as fine as they could be, given the circumstances.

Only then did you look around your surroundings. Metal fencing, dirt pen, discarded tires—Capitol citizens watching with wide, curious eyes. You caught sight of the Capitol Zoo’s insignia on an ice cream stand just past the fencing.

“Ugh,” Coriolanus muttered, pale blonde hair properly tousled over his forehead. “What are all these people doing, staring at us? Don’t they have anything better to do? Don’t they have jobs? The children should be in school. It’s no wonder this country is in shambles.”

“The kids are on summer break, Coryo,” you deadpanned, shirking off your dark coat to give it a good dusting.

Then, a familiar voice made your head snap towards the crowd.

Cameras. Mustache. Coin flip.

“We’ll just give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath—I do have to admit I’m jealous of that big entrance! I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, a man who needs no introduction.”

Oh, he certainly didn’t. He and your mother were tight-knit buddies when they went to school together, making the Flickermans good family friends. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Guess where I am today, folks! That’s right, the Capitol Zoo, where this year’s tributes will be held here, on display behind these bars for your viewing pleasure! That’s right, all twenty-four of them—” That was when he turned to point, and his eyes landed on you and Coriolanus. His words faltered. “What in Panem—is that academy rouge I see?”

You stiffly waved at the camera. Absent-mindedly, you passed a hand over your head to fix your hair.

“Hey, Mr. Flickerman,” you called out with a grimace.

Lucky’s eyes bugged out of his head. He exclaimed your name in part-confusion, part-shock. “Hey, what’re you doing in there, kiddo? Who’s that dashing young man with you? We’re live!” He jutted a thumb back at the camera, its lens facing straight at you.

You spared him a stiff smile, eye twitching. Oh, your father was going to pop a blood vessel, you were sure.

“Uhm… well, uh—” The words caught in your throat and you lowered your voice so only Coriolanus could hear you. You had to ignore Lucky’s constant calls for your attention. “What do we do?”

His blue eyes, even paler in the bright sunlight, roamed over the onlookers. “We do what Highbottom told us to do,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He nudged you in the direction of Wovey, and began setting off for Lucy Gray. “We put on a show.”

You watched as the two, mentor and tribute, made their way to the fencing. As if there was a flip of a switch inside him, Coriolanus began to charm the onlookers and children, showing off his pearly whites, introducing himself and his rambunctious tribute. The children were enamoured with Lucy Gray, it seemed, judging by the way they bubbled over with questions about the snake, her colorful dress, her singing.

Lucky was having the time of his life interviewing them. If not for the current situation at hand—that being you trapped in a zoo enclosure—you would’ve laughed at his earnest excitement. Being a weatherman, a reporter, and an amateur-magician was apparently growing far too monotonous for someone with as large a personality as Lucretius Flickerman.

After much deliberation and cheek-biting, you turned and made your way toward Wovey, who was sitting down next to Bobbin on a tree stump. You noted the purple juice box, now crumpled and empty, discarded on the ground between them.

“Hey, guys,” you said, lowering down to one knee to speak to Wovey. “Do you want to go introduce yourself, sweetheart? Win over the Capitol citizens’ hearts?”

The young girl screwed up her face. Whether it was from shyness or distaste, you weren’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“I’ll be there with you. I promise,” you told her, holding your palm out for her to take.

Tentative, Wovey slipped off of the stump and clutched onto your hand. The two of you approached the barriers, with her nearly hiding behind you, clutching onto your coat.

Lucy Gray told the growing audience about her Covey family, a group of traveling musicians, and how she wasn’t actually from district twelve. Snow watched her with a somewhat proud, victorious expression.

Lucky noticed you approaching, beckoning for the cameras to follow him as he made his way over to you.

Quickly, he covered the top of the mic to lean forward and whisper, “Is the academy aware of what you’re doing?”

“No. Nobody told us not to, though.”

Lucky regarded you knowingly. “And does your father know about this little escapade of yours?”

“No,” you replied, frown-smiling.

“Ooh. Good luck with that.” He spared you an amused wince. Then, he uncovered the microphone and gave the cameras another brilliant smile, introducing you with a flourish of his hands. “I’m here with a close personal friend of mine, Y/N L/N. And here we have their tribute, yes? Who might you be, young lady?”

You tried your best to encourage Wovey out of her shyness, going so far as to pat her shoulder and to gently push back the thin strands of hair falling in front of her face. She croaked out her name and her district, and Lucky asked her another myriad of overwhelming questions.

Whilst the crowd around the ever-charming Lucy Gray was watching her with curiosity and awe, the audience you were gathering looked upon Wovey with pity and something mildly akin to empathy.

There were perks to getting the youngest tribute, maybe.

She was telling them about how she liked to climb trees back in district eight. Yes, that’d be useful in the games.

You looked over to see Coriolanus observing you with your tribute. He gave you a nod, perhaps a second too late. The man found himself wondering if he could somehow garner the crowd’s sympathy using Lucy Gray, too. How’d you manage to do that?

Before he could spare another thought on the matter, there was a dim buzzing coming from across the enclosure. A door opened, and four peacekeepers marched in.

“Looks like you’re going to get whisked away, kiddo,” Lucky told you, nodding behind. “Tell your mother I said hello. And make sure to take a nice, long shower before dinner tonight. Don’t want the smell of zoo hovering over my steak.”

You rolled your eyes as Lucky chuckled at his own quips, then looked down at Wovey with a far softer expression.

“I’ll be back. I’ll come back with more for you. Just hold on for me, okay?”

The frail girl nodded. She didn’t seem to want to let go of you, even when the peacekeepers began to semi-forcefully lead you away, out of the enclosure. Coriolanus wasn’t far behind, being manhandled far more aggressively than you were.

The soldiers shoved you out the door and shut it with a heavy click of a lock, before marching off to the sides.

Coriolanus reached out for you, hands resting on your elbows. “How was it?”

“Could’ve gone worse.” You studied his features. There was a faint trace of dirt smudged across his jaw—no doubt acquired somewhere in the truck or when everyone came tumbling out.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer, until you shook your head and broke into a smile, accompanied by a breathy laugh.

“Lucky called you a dashing young man.”

“He’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, and tugged you along to start walking. “Do you think either of us have a chance? At winning?”

The smile melted off your expression, and you grew somber once more. “Well… anything can happen in the arena. We just need to be smart about it. Neither of our tributes are fighters.”

Coriolanus stared off into the distance, brows cinched, heavy with thought.

“They’ll need to be,” he said. “Surviving isn’t enough. Not in these games.”

Your lips parted, wondering what in Panem he could mean by that. Did he really expect Lucy Gray to become a killer overnight? Or was he planning for her to do something else? He didn’t seem to notice your perturbed disposition, and kissed the side of your head.

Just as Coriolanus walked you to your doorstep, you gripped his hands, and your tone suddenly became very serious.

“I just wanted to tell you—before Highbottom announced the mentoring change, I was sure one of us would win the Plinth prize. And, well, I was going to give you the money if it came to me because I definitely wouldn’t need it. But now, since there’s a good chance neither of us are getting it…”

Snow’s features twisted with evident dismay.

You squeezed his hands with yours. “I can get my parents to pay your university tuition, if neither of us get that Plinth prize. Please, Coryo, don’t take this as charity. Take it because I care about you. I don’t want you to get caught up in… winning these games. Whatever you’re planning for Lucy Gray… I can’t see it being anything she’d be willing to do.”

It might’ve been a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw an irksome glint flash across his eyes. He bitterly came to the conclusion that you probably did botch one of your exams for him—not that that mattered now. Besides, it was you offering money, not him begging for it. The placating thought made it easier for his features to slip into a reassuring, easy softness.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” Snow said, cradling your face as if you were a fragile piece of china. Yet his touch felt bruising all the same. “But you shouldn’t worry. I don’t think Lucy Gray is going to win. Not on her own, at least. So I’m going to help her—and Highbottom is going to regret ever trying to make an enemy of me.”

He dipped forward, brushed a whisper of a kiss along your cheek, and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip.

And then he was gone.

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