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justlemmeadoreyou · 23 days

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2. the offer (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

(part 1 here)

summary: as you settle into the grueling routine at Haus, you find yourself seeking out any moment of praise or feedback from harry. you two develop an understanding, but it's still hard to focus when he's being...him. safe to say, it ends contrary to what you would have done if you were still the 16-year old smitten fangirl.

words: 5k

warnings: flirtations, some inappropriate behaviour, cursing

finally managed to use this pic in a fic!

***

"Keep your eyes on your own work, newbie!" Thomason's gruff yell made you jump, nearly burning your knuckles on the hot grill.

You whipped your head around guiltily to see the grumpy head chef scowling at you from across the kitchen line. His eyes followed your sheepish gaze to where you had been not-so-secretly watching Harry chatting easily with the maître d' by the kitchen's swing doors.

Feeling your cheeks get hot, you stammered an apology to Thomason before fully focusing on the sizzling food under your tongs. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the burly man roll his eyes in disgust before barking at someone else down the line.

Ever since that surprisingly nice interaction with Harry a few nights ago, you found your wandering thoughts kept getting...preoccupied whenever you had a free moment. You hated to admit it, but some unprofessional part of you kept replaying his words praising your potential while those kaleidoscope green eyes held your gaze with seeming sincerity.

Just remembering the slight rasp of his voice was enough to give you butterflies in your stomach anytime Harry was nearby. You tried to push those feelings down with shame, scolding yourself for entertaining even a hint of inappropriate conduct.

This was your dream job, your long-awaited chance to finally prove yourself in a real professional kitchen. Getting distracted by your silly childhood crush could derail everything you'd worked so hard for.

But despite your internal pep talks, you couldn't quite shake the electrifying tingles that spread through your body whenever Harry was within fifteen feet of you. As embarrassing as it was to admit, just his nearness alone was enough to make you flustered.

You blinked hard and refocused with renewed determination on assembling the line of beautifully seared steaks. Keep your head down, you firmly reminded yourself. Don't mess this up over some silly fantasies about your boss!

As if testing your resolve, you looked up from garnishing the plates to see Harry striding through the pass, easy grin in place. He opened his mouth to speak to one of the sauce cooks but seemed to notice you watching. His lips curved a bit smugger as his jade eyes met yours from across the sizzling line.

With a subtle but obvious look up and down your body, Harry winked before turning to murmur his instructions. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as an unexpected spike of nerves shot through you.

Was...was Harry actually flirting with you? Or had you just been so obviously drooling over him that he was amused to throw you a bone? Your face burned as you ruthlessly shook the thoughts away.

In any case, this was no time for getting flustered - the height of Friday night dinner service was upon you. With sheer willpower, you blocked out everything except perfectly executing each plate and order. Harry Styles was now off-limits in your mind.

Until, that is, you heard Thomason's gravelly shout over the din: "Styles! We need you over here!"

You risked a quick glance to see the head chef gesturing for Harry's attention from across the kitchen. With one last considering look in your direction, Harry sauntered over to join Thomason at the expo station just as the evening's first orders began flying in.

You watched, trying to be subtle, as Harry fell effortlessly into the choreographed rush. He moved with an easy confidence as he inspected each dish, adding a sauce here, delicately plating a garnish there. His broad shoulders flexed under his snug black t-shirt as he reached over cooks, communicating with nudges and gestures.

This kitchen was clearly his domain; Harry commanded the space with the born ease of a natural leader. You stared, captivated by the smooth fluidity of his motions, the barely contained power in his lean, tall frame. It was mesmerizing watching him work like a master conductor.

Without seeming to think about it, Harry's brow would furrow in concentration whenever a plate arrived at his station. His gaze would rove over each element, those full pink lips pursing as he scrutinized the arrangement intensely. There was something utterly gripping about watching him wield that intense focus on each dish, his large hands deft and precise.

Your mouth went dry as you caught the shift of taut forearm muscles beneath tanned skin as Harry wiped an artistic streak of sauce. He gave a curt nod to Thomason, his chiseled jawline tightening in approval.

You realized this raw charisma and talent was putting on an entrancing performance for you...almost like a private show if you let your thoughts wander inappropriately. Smacking your forehead sharply, you earned a concerned side-eye from a nearby cook. Yanking yourself back to the present, you redoubled your focus on the tickets before you. No more watching Harry, not when you couldn't afford a single mistake.

Despite your best efforts, the rest of the evening flew by in a blur. You cooked and plated automatically with precision...yet couldn't stop tracking Harry in your peripheral vision.

You saw him ducking out to handle a special order, then return with a rare olive oil for a dish alteration. You watched him joking with the bread server before snatching a buttery roll to taste the fresh bake. No matter where you turned, Harry always seemed to orbit nearby, that addictive charisma and easy grace undercutting your indifference attempts.

By the time Thomason finally called for station breakdown, your knees wobbled from the marathon stress combined with subtle Harry overload. You couldn't even feel good about handling such intensity because you were so emotionally drained.

As the crew began the process of cleaning and sanitizing, you heard a polite throat clearing behind you. You turned, already flushing, to find Harry watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Uh, hey," you croaked, shocked at your own cracking confidence around him. Harry arched one perfect brow but said nothing, seemingly waiting for you to gather yourself.

You swallowed hard before trying again. "Was...was there something you needed, Harry? I'm just about to start shutting everything down."

A slow grin spread across his lips as his eyes crinkled at the corners. For a strangely open moment, you felt like you could see straight into Harry's core - the intelligence and intensity normally hidden behind his lazy facade.

"You did brilliant tonight, you know?" he murmured, looking you up and down consideringly. "Thomason worked you hard, we all did - but you kept steady through the chaos no matter what."

Your stomach clenched with surprise at his open praise, tingling warmth blossoming outwards.

"O-oh. Um, thank you?" You winced at how flustered and uncertain you sounded.

But Harry's smile only deepened as he took an unhurried step towards you, decreasing the distance to mere inches. You could now catch the woodsy, leathery notes of his cologne taunting your senses.

"Nothing uncertain about it," he murmured, voice lowering an octave. His eyes traveled over your face before lingering on your chest. You felt unable to breathe under that smoldering gaze. "You're really getting the hang of this kitchen, aren't you?"

Despite your racing pulse, you bristled slightly at the implication. "Well, I still have a long way to go to be the cook you and Thomason are."

Those full lips curved at one corner. "True - but we both see the potential there, don't we?" Harry's voice had taken on a low, gravelly timbre that made something in your belly stir.

He took another casual step forward, crowding you back until the counter dug into your thighs. This close, you could see the gold and amber flecks in his green irises, feel the clean warmth of his body heat between you.

"You've got a long road ahead," he continued, so close now his words rasped against the side of your neck. "But I'd be lying if I said I haven't noticed how quickly you're accelerating."

The way he said that last word made you shiver despite the kitchen's heat. Harry's gaze dipped to your parted lips, then flicked back up, intense.

"Tell me," he said in that same rumbling baritone. "Would you be open to my...personal mentorship? I could help get you up to speed even faster."

His meaning slammed into you like a shove. Was Harry...propositioning you? In an utterly inappropriate way that could get you fired?

Heart pounding, you could only gape at him, at a total loss. Part of you screamed at how wildly wrong this was, how you needed to shut it down immediately. This was your celebrity chef boss, for God's sake!

And yet, another part of you was utterly enthralled by the clear want in Harry's gaze, the visceral attraction crackling between you. All you'd need is to give a single nod and you could potentially experience pleasures you'd only fantasized about with one of the world's most desirable men...

Harry must have seen the conflict on your face because his lips twitched in a knowing smirk. Another half step forward brought your bodies almost flush, the hard planes of his chest brushing against your soft curves through his thin t-shirt. Your breath caught at the heated friction.

"Tell you what," Harry purred, his voice thick with suggestion. "Take a nice, hot shower after your shift tonight. Really think over my offer while you're alone."

With a searing look that felt X-rated, Harry reluctantly leaned back, restoring a sliver of propriety between you. Still, he held your heated stare as he reached out with one large hand and trailed his fingertips feather-light down your flushed cheek.

The barely-there caress sparked tingles everywhere. Your lips parted helplessly on a silent gasp as every nerve ending in your body felt sensitive.

A devilish glint sparked in Harry's eyes at your reaction. With a final wink, he turned to saunter off through the kitchen doors. You watched him go in a stupefied daze, unable to process anything beyond the strong throb now pulsing between your thighs.

What...had just happened? Your brain whirred trying to comprehend what precipitated that completely unprofessional come-on. Had you unconsciously encouraged Harry's advances somehow? Led him to believe you were open to that kind of...inappropriate relationship?

The mere thought of anyone perceiving you as willing to use your sexuality to get ahead made your stomach churn with shame. You had worked too damn hard to get here - you wouldn't risk tanking it all for some secret fling!

Yet a tiny part of you couldn't stop replaying Harry's scent, the timbre of his voice calling you "pet"...the unmistakable promise of illicit thrills in his heated gaze. You gave yourself a harsh internal shake, appalled that you could be so quickly led astray by such baseless temptation.

Steadying your breathing, you forced yourself to refocus on meticulously cleaning your station. One step at a time, that was all you could think about. Allow yourself to get distracted by Harry's appeal and you were doomed.

Though it took every ounce of willpower, you managed to lose yourself in the monotony of scrubbing and sanitizing. The rhythmic motions gradually purged those unwelcome jolts of arousal, until you felt more like yourself again.

Some twisted part of you couldn't resist a bitter laugh. As if Harry Styles, world-famous millionaire, would ever seriously pursue someone like you. No, whatever sparked that bold flirtation, it was undoubtedly just him amusing himself by yanking your chain hard.

Shaking your head disgustedly, you stacked your clean pans. This kind of negative self-talk was just as unproductive as indulging fantasies. Squaring your shoulders, you decided to follow Harry's advice - a hot shower was wise after a shift like tonight, then straight to bed.

Tomorrow was a new day to refocus and earn your place, plain and simple. As you hung up your apron, you resolved to greet Harry with a clear head, a smile, and firm professional boundaries from now on. Time to nip this nonsense.

Unfortunately, maintaining those boundaries proved far easier said than done. Over the next couple weeks, it seemed like Harry launched a campaign to slowly chip away at your sense of propriety.

It was like a game, seeing how far he could push before you combusted. Every time you'd settle back into your usual groove, Harry would level you with flirtatious comments.

Like when you restocked the walk-in shelves, so focused you didn't hear the door open behind you. The first hint of no longer being alone was the heat of Harry's chest against your back, molding from shoulder to hip.

His raspy exhale ghosted your neck as he purred, "Need any...extra hands to reach those hard-to-reach places, love?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the suggestive comment. Whirling around, you found yourself centimeters from his chiseled jaw, close enough to feel his amused chuckle.

He took a single step back, eyes shamelessly roving over your body before meeting your gaze, one eyebrow arched invitingly. You could only gape, robbed of coherent thoughts.

"I-I didn't hear you come in," you eventually stammered, trying in vain to will your blush away.

Harry simply tipped you a wink before squeezing past you through the narrow opening, his body dragging against yours with every micro-movement. By the time he sauntered out whistling, you were gripping the shelves to keep upright.

It wasn't just the innuendos and lingering looks Harry leveled at you that made you feel like you were losing it. He'd instigate small, casual intimacies while you worked, completely eroding your focus.

Like when you labored over a roulade during prep, Harry hovered at your shoulder to murmur appreciated groans about "how good you are at working that lengthy meat with your bare hands."

You froze, blood rushing to your cheeks as Harry's heated gaze bore into you. His lips twitched as he deliberately looked you up and down, taking in your flushed throat.

"Among other things," he added in a tone dripping with innuendo, making you nearly drop the roulade. Harry threw you a scorching look before sauntering off, leaving you flustered.

Another time, you garnished a plate when you felt Harry's hard body press against your back. His large hands caged you in as he leaned down. You froze, breath catching, as his nose skimmed along your neck to the soft spot beneath your ear.

"Mmm, you smell delicious," Harry rumbled, his gravelly voice sparking tingles everywhere his warm breath hit. "I could just eat you up, petal."

You barely suppressed a whimper at the heated promise in his tone, squeezing your thighs together as arousal flooded you. Harry chuckled low, leaving you feverish and shaky after brushing his lips along your ear.

Moments like these rapidly became the norm - heated glances, suggestive remarks laced with innuendo, lingering casual touches far past professional boundaries. It left you feeling unmoored and disoriented, certain the prize was something deliriously illicit.

You tried to shut it down at first, offering polite reminders about conduct. But Harry only grinned, as if you barely registered. "Relax, love. Harmless flirting between coworkers never hurt anyone."

As the incidents persisted, your token protests grew weaker. Though you refused to admit it, some part of you began craving Harry's heated focus and suggestive teasing like an addiction.

He always paid you those inappropriate compliments while deeply engrossed in showpiece cooking. As if he derived pleasure from flustering you amid such intense artistry.

Truthfully, it did add an undercurrent of charged tension to mundane tasks - feeling Harry's eyes tracking your hands as you worked, knowing he was eye-undressing you. Though you refused to meet his gaze, a delicious shiver inevitably rippled through you.

He'd hover nearby with a murmured narration: "Oh yeah, petal...use both hands to really get a good grip on that shaft...fucking gorgeous watching you stroke it like that..."

No matter how disciplined you tried to be, Harry's sly innuendo always made your mind race with X-rated visuals of intimacy. You'd bite your cheek to keep from whimpering, consumed by arousal and shame equally.

By the time work ended each night, you felt punch-drunk and disoriented, like you'd run an erotic marathon. More than once, Harry would further mercilessly bait you in those vulnerable moments.

"You look thoroughly debauched, petal," he'd purr, eyes burning into yours before dragging down your sweat-dampened form. "Care to skip the hot shower and come home with me instead? I'll give those talented hands a real workout..."

You swore Harry could make any phrase sound filthy. On too many nights, you fled to your car - face flushed, breath uneven, core throbbing - envisioning how those invitations might unfold.

In quieter moments, bitter self-recrimination was your companion. How had you let yourself become such a pathetic, distracted mess over meaningless flirting? No matter how heated Harry's stares felt, he was your famous boss while you were nobody.

Your entire career and reputation rested on maintaining a strict professional boundary, no matter how electrifying and tempting your boss's overt sexuality. You resolved on more than one drive home to simply start shutting things completely down as soon as inappropriate comments began, no matter how intoxicating they felt.

Sadly, as soon as you stepped back into the thick of Harry's potent charisma and sensual magnetic field, your willpower tended to erode embarrassingly fast.

One morning during a high-stress meal prep, you trudged towards the walk-in in search of more chives. Harry looked up sharply from his sauce station as you passed his station and snagged your wrist to halt you. The unexpected gesture made you jump, and you whirled to find his eyes already roving hungrily over you.

"Wait," he rumbled, not bothering with any professionalism as his heated stare settled on your lips. Before you could question him, Harry tugged you flush against the long hard planes of his body, caging you against his workstation with his pelvis slotted snugly between your thighs.

The sheer eroticism of that ardent man-handling and friction punched the breath from your lungs. You could only stare up at Harry with wide, lust-blown eyes, momentarily bemused into stillness as his forearm came to rest beside your head, his deliciously musky sandalwood scent surrounding you in an intoxicating cloud.

"You've got a smear of sauce right..." Harry breathed against your mouth, so close now you could taste the earthy spice on his warm breath. His free hand came up to cup your jaw tenderly, rough thumb swiping out to trace the seam of your parted lips. "Here."

Your chest heaved against his in tiny, panting gasps. Any remaining illusion of boundary, lay in crumbling ruins around your feet. There was no mistaking Harry's seduction for mere playful teasing at this proximity, and indecency.

This was him finally making his play, naked want and desire radiating off his tall frame in scorching waves as his searing gaze clung to your mouth. Every ounce of blood in your body rushed straight between your thighs in anticipation.

You remained utterly motionless, rendered speechless and hyper-focused entirely on the sizzling feedback of sensation Harry's proximity inspired. He was absolutely everywhere - the heat of his body seeping under your skin, the slow rhythmic rise and fall of his chest brushing against yours, the gravelly white noise of his ragged breathing surrounding your senses.

Every rational thought in your mind screamed at you to gather some shred of control and push him away, firmly shut this down before it escalated further than you could ever recover from. But you remained frozen in place, utterly possessed by the intoxicating anticipation of what those plump, virile lips would feel like finally slanting over your own.

Just as your last vestiges of propriety and worry threatened to shatter, a ringing clatter of trays against metal echoed in the hallway. Both of you jumped as if electrocuted, the tension between your pressed bodies dissipating in an instant as reality came crashing back. You stumbled backwards, putting several feet between you, just as one of the prep cooks rounded the corner lugging a heavy trolley.

Harry cleared his throat roughly and shifted to put more workspace between you, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. The aborted moment seemed to penetrate the fog of arousal, harsh light returning to his dilated emerald eyes as they flickered across you. You wrapped your arms around your midsection defensively, suddenly feeling small and skittish under the weight of his palpable discomfort.

The prep cook sailed by with a polite nod, oblivious to the fraught tableau he'd interrupted. As soon as he rounded the corner again, Harry shook his head and grasped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut in clear frustration.

You watched with bated breath, anxiety coiled in your belly, as he seemed to wrestle with some internal dilemma. When Harry finally opened his eyes again, the naked hunger that had consumed him only moments ago was carefully veiled once more behind that affable, dimpled mask.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, more to himself than you. Straightening, Harry met your uncertain gaze head-on, his own shuttered and inscrutable. "That was...completely out of line. Unprofessional of me."

Your heart stammered in your chest at the curt dismissal, warm arousal rapidly cooling into brittle rejection. Of course this had all been a mere game to Harry, one he lost interest in as soon as the threat of consequences loomed. You were such a fool to have let yourself get caught up in the fantasy.

Fighting to keep your expression neutral, you gave a small, tight nod. "It's alright, Harry. I understand. We got...carried away there for a moment." The flimsy excuse felt pathetic even to your own ears, but you pressed on. "It won't happen again, I can assure you."

Something flickered behind Harry's gaze at your reassurance, though you couldn't parse its meaning. He maintained the weighted silence for a heavy pause before finally replying.

"See that it doesn't," he replied evenly, a subtle edge to his deep timbre. "We're professionals in a workplace, after all. No matter what harmless games we play at, I'd hate to see you get...distracted from your goals here, petal."

You flinched at the petname, once again. Color bloomed hot across your cheeks at the insinuation that you would be the one unable to draw the line between flirtation and flat-out unprofessional conduct.

Disappointment and shame swirled sickeningly in your gut alongside lingering arousal. Before you could formulate a response, Thomason's bellow echoed across the kitchen, shockingly close. "Oi! Either get back to your stations or take the grope fest to the alley already! Some of us got shit to do today!"

If you thought you were flushed before, it was nothing compared to the full-body conflagration sparked by the head chef's words. You opened and closed your mouth soundlessly, utterly mortified at being caught out in such compromising circumstances, as Thomason stomped closer into view with a disgusted scowl.

"What the fuck are you two playing at, huh?" he demanded gruffly, stabbing an accusatory finger first at you then Harry. "Styles, I expected this kind of shitty lack of focus from a prima donna rock star jackass - but you?" He swung his narrowed glare your way, making you shrink back involuntarily. "If you want to keep getting world-class knowledge dropped on your dumb ass, try keeping it in your goddamn pants around the maestro for five fucking minutes!"

If possible, your flush deepened even further at his harsh reprimand. Shame roiled nauseously as you struggled to meet Thomason's furious glare, much less Harry's eerily impassive one. This was it, the humiliating moment you'd been dreading - getting outed as just another silly starstruck girl unable to rein in inappropriate impulses around her famous boss.

Just as you began mentally drafting your letter of resignation, Harry finally broke the tension by letting out a low chuckle. You shot him an incredulous glance, but he simply shook his head, dimples creasing his cheeks ruefully. Raising placating hands, he turned to the seething Thomason with an engaging grin.

"Easy there, Paulie. No need to get your apron twisted, nothing skeevy going on here I assure you." Dropping one hand to your shoulder, Harry gave it a firm squeeze, muscles in his bicep flexing enticingly. "Our young prodigy and I were just engaged in a bit of innocent culinary mentorship. You know how hands-on and intense those private tutorials can get."

His lascivious emphasis made it clear there was nothing 'innocent' about the nature of contact you'd nearly devolved into. But Thomason seemed to relax marginally all the same, giving a grunt of grudging acceptance.

"Fine, but keep your dick out of the dough while you're on my clock, capisce?" he growled at Harry, ignoring your scandalized gasp as he turned on his heel to stomp away. "Christ, I feel like I'm running a fucking fry shack instead of a Michelin kitchen..."

You watched his retreating back, utterly stunned into speechlessness by the unbelievable turn of events. Was...that seriously it? Harry had just implicitly outed your unprofessional indiscretion, and the consequences amounted to mild ribbing and a halfhearted reprimand?

Slowly, you pivoted to face Harry once more, utterly at a loss. His hand was still a scorching brand on the cool exposed skin of your shoulder, eyes glinting with that same indefinable mischief you'd witnessed him deploying to charm countless others.

As if sensing where your thoughts were headed, Harry quirked a knowing smile before finally withdrawing his touch. "Don't look so stricken, love. Paulie likes to play the crusty hardass, but far as he's concerned - as long as the work gets done right, whatever happens off the clock is nobody's business but our own."

His emphasis on those last few words rang with clear unspoken suggestion. But unlike before, you felt firmly centered in yourself enough to shake off any arousal. Lifting your chin defiantly to meet his smoldering gaze, you replied in a low, measured tone:

"Then with all due respect, Harry...I believe I'll pass."

For the first time all evening, the suave restaurateur looked briefly taken aback. You refused to let the flicker of uncertainty show as you pressed on, keeping your voice carefully modulated.

"I've put in far too much time and hard work getting here to jeopardize it all over some...tawdry infatuation. So while I'm flattered by the attention, and your willingness to keep things discreet, I have to draw the line at anything more than a professional mentorship."

Harry's eyes narrowed fractionally, clearly unaccustomed to such outright rejection. You refused to quail, squaring your shoulders as you laid it all on the table.

"My dreams are bigger than being another disposable conquest for my famous boss to slum with in secret. If you can't see me as more than that...well then, I wish you the very best. But our relationship can only be strictly chef-to-chef from here on out."

You paused to let the weight of your impassioned words hang between you, searching Harry's expression for any flicker of reaction. For several tense moments, the only sounds were the distant murmurings of kitchen noises and your own thundering pulse.

Then, as if an invisible switch clicked, Harry's stony demeanour melted away - replaced by a look of grudging amusement and what could only be begrudging respect. The familiar dimples you adored so much reappeared as his lips curved into a wry half-smile.

"I see," he replied at last, voice low and considering. "Well then. If those are your terms, I can hardly expect any less from such an admirably principled young chef, can I?"

Another beat passed between you, the tension slowly bleeding out to be replaced with the subtlest charge of intrigue. Harry's emerald gaze roamed over you in a way that felt far more evaluative than outright sensual before he spoke again.

"Very well then. A professional mentorship it shall be, with all the rigor and boundaries that implies. But make no mistake..." Here his lips stretched into a lopsided smirk that somehow felt both conspiratorial and vaguely provocative. "I expect you to rise to every challenge and be an exceptionally eager pupil, my dear."

You couldn't quite suppress the shiver that rippled through you at his lilting promise, despite your best efforts. If anything, the glint in Harry's eye only sharpened at your reaction, his grin taking on a hint of satisfaction.

Wanting to flee the weighted tension before it could reset that dangerous gravitational pull between you, you quickly gave a curt nod before turning on your heel to walk away. "Then we have an understanding. I won't let you down, Chef.”

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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be-with-me-so-happily · 11 months

Text

il gran finale

ONE SHOT

Summary: As photography apprentice to Lloyd Wakefield, you have been around Harry quite a lot on tour, capturing all the mesmerizing moments on stage. But at the after party of the final show in Reggio Emilia, he seems to be the one zoned in on you.

AN: I don't know if this is any good. I haven't written smut in so long, but with Love On Tour coming to an end, I needed to do something!

Warnings: Some explicit language, alcohol consumption, mild exhibitionism kink, fingering, public unprotected intercourse (wrap it before you tap it people)

You've always known Harry Styles is a gentleman. Even before you took on the role of apprentice photographer to Lloyd Wakefield, you only ever heard positive comments about the man, about how kind and caring he is. No one ever has a bad thing to say, and touring with him has only proven those things to be true. He is a sweet guy, just as everyone claims him to be.

That's his reputation. His public reputation.

But the way his enchanting and lustful green eyes have locked in on you for the past several minutes has made you think of nothing but the other reputation he has. The dream that you and thousands of his fans indulge in. The fantasy of him taking control of every single part of you, of using you, of pleasing you. Of giving you everything he has while you are under him, and on top of him, and in front of him, and…

You reset yourself as nearby laughter pulls you out of those delicious yet indelicate thoughts, ones you may need to draw upon later in the privacy of your hotel room.

It's bad enough that he has a flirtatious side. The subtle winks, the cheeky smiles, the wiggles of his eyebrows when a mildly indecent comment has been made. Usually by him. Both on and off stage, each of those gestures can easily get you flustered.

And it definitely doesn't make your job any easier, especially considering it's your assignment to watch him, to photograph him, to view him in a variety of different angles, none of which could be considered unflattering. He always looks good.

The outfit tonight, the shaggy silver get-up, showcasing his glistening pecs and chiseled abs, only added to the assortment of desires you only dwell upon alone at night. You're usually very composed, for the most part. You know how to play it cool.

But right now, as his stare exhibits something primal, you feel as if your entire body is on fire, and you can't help but be engulfed by the flames.

Clinking of the ice in your glass as you bring it to your lips alerts you to the fact that your drink has been fully consumed, and you decide to head to the bar for a refill. If not just for another drink, then for the moment of solidarity to gather yourself and bring some air back into your lungs. Because you are sure it's not the alcohol that's causing you to feel so dizzy.

"Hi, could I please hav-"

"Another margarita?" You hear in a deep, sultry, British voice sounding out from behind you. Right behind you.

"Yes please." You utter, almost inaudibly, to the bartender, the heat from before intensifying with each breath of Harry's that you feel on your neck.

"And I'll have two shots of Tequila, please sir." He states, so casually, as you stand frozen in place.

A cold breeze hits your skin as you see him move around and position himself to your left, leaving you to miss the warmth he was just providing.

"You look like you're having a good time." He states, as he brings his glass to his lips. You watch as the rim rests on them. You watch as the liquid slides between them. And you watch as a smirk pulls in the mischievous dimple that he is so well known for, unintentionally licking your own lips in the process.

"Sorry… what were you saying?" You ask, attention moving back to his gaze and finding those glistening green irises already locking in on your eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?" He chuckles in response to your question, leaving your heart pounding with embarrassment.

"I am!" You exclaim, quicker than anticipated, clearly not playing it cool like you believe you usually do.

"Good." He replies simply.

"Are you?"

"I am." He nods, his eyes quickly flickering down your body, before switching their focus back to the bar, creating a warmth between your legs, and you try desperately not to squirm.

"Good." You reply, with a giggle, finally taking the sip of margarita that has unknowingly been sitting in front of you for a few minutes. "So we're both enjoying ourselves."

He chuckles along with you, shaking his head as he throws back his second shot. He swallows it harshly, drawing your eye to the way his Adam's apple bobs with the consumption of the liquor. You notice his body begin to turn towards you, and as you glaze up his neck to his gorgeous face, a lustful expression falls over it. His brows narrow, and deviancy sparks in his eyes, turning them to a deep, enticing emerald.

"Want to enjoy each other now?"

"Sure, that-" You begin to respond, but your eyes begin to travel down to his lips, noticing how his teeth dig into the bottom one. His look of determination makes you wonder if there's a more devious meaning behind it, and that thought alone causes an extreme yearning between your legs. "Wait… what do you mean?"

He leans against the bar, his tattoo-covered forearm resting on top, as the palm of his right hand gently slides over your hip and draws you closer with the mildest press of his fingertips against your dress.

"YN, I just had one of the best nights of my fucking life! I want to celebrate. Really celebrate."

"And… how-... umm… how do you want to really celebrate?" You chuckle nervously, every hair on your body standing straight, every nerve on high alert.

"I can show you. If you want me to." He utters, almost a whisper, barely audible in the jumble of conversations surrounding you, but loud enough that it sends the coldest shiver down your spine. He leans closer, his body following along until you are only inches apart. "And considering how tightly your thighs are clenched together right now… I think you do."

Your mouth instantly drops open, and if he wasn't actually correct, and those contracted muscles weren't holding you upright, your legs would have buckled beneath you.

"C'mon." He whispers, softly running two fingers down your arm and grabbing your hand, pulling your body to follow him.

"Harry, wait." You manage to get out, surprisingly, considering the daze he's just put you in. "This… is your party..."

"Yeah." He states, shrugging so casually as he turns back to look at you. "So?"

"We can't just leave!"

Harry stops his trek, along with your heart. He swivels around, the most salacious smirk wide across his face, and to your surprise, you manage to clench your core even tighter.

He leans down to your ear, his lip barely grazing the bottom, his breath steady but thick.

"Who said anything about leaving?"

An exhale releases all the air held in your lungs, leaving you unsure whether it is the margaritas or his suggestive statement that's making your head spin.

He turns back and maneuvers through the crowd of people that have come to congratulate and party with him. But he seems to be a man on a mission.

Through the dim lights and the loud thumps of the music filling the room, you somehow find yourself looking at a staircase leading up the the second floor of the venue.

"Just us?" You hear Harry ask the security staff member guarding the way.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." He responds with a quick nod.

Without hesitation, Harry leads you up, each step building the anxious anticipation inside of you. It's not even clear what may be waiting for you at the top, but if Harry's apparent determination is any indication, it won't be boring.

As you reach the landing, you do a quick scan of your surroundings, seeing a couple of purple velvet sofas pushed against the wall. He takes you further in, letting go of your hand and placing both of his large palms on the thick, black railing in front of him. You stand at his side, copying his stature, though feeling the sweat of your hands being transferred to the metal within them.

The neon flashing of lights is the only thing brightening the venue, as the music sounds and provides a rhythm for the rest of the attendees to move their bodies to. You feel Harry's closest arm glide its way across your back, settling itself on your opposite hip, and squeezing with enough firmness to tell you he wants to be gentle with you, but also wants not to be.

The rest of his figure moves along behind you, pulling you closer to him, as if your bodies had an unretractable magnetic connection. The warmth of his lips suddenly hits right below your ear, causing every muscle you have to practically melt under that simple touch.

"Harry…" You utter, unsure if you've been heard over the sound of the new song beginning to play. "People could see us…"

"Doubtful." He mumbles, his breath tickling down your neck. "No one's looking anyway."

Another kiss moistens your skin, and your head falls backwards to him, resting against his broad, strong shoulder, encouraging him to continue his tantalizing exploration.

He grazes your hips with his palms, running them up and down the tops of your thighs, letting out a heavy exhale when he stops at the hem of your dress. His fingertips tease the edge, sliding around to the front. One hand lifts up to your waist, while the other glides around to your inner thigh, and you could swear your panties are already soaked.

"Do you like this?" He whispers in your ear, and with the state of daze he currently has you in, all you can manage is a subtle nod. "Tell me. Do you like this?"

"Y-yes." You breathe out.

"Do you want more?" He asks in the lowest tone he's ever spoken in, barely needing to convince you that he'll give you whatever you want.

"Yes." You reply, anticipation thick in your stomach.

His fingers run up and under your dress, and you thank yourself for picking the shorter of your two options when you were getting ready for the party.

You attempt to push him back a few paces to the closest velvet sofa for some privacy, but he stands solid in place and you stretch your neck to get as good of a look at him as you can.

"Stay." He states simply, not a demand that you couldn't reject, but the way his tone hit your soul, you can't even imagine refusing him of almost anything he wanted.

Suddenly your body jumps, as you feel mild pressure slowly moving up the center of your panties.

"Soaked." Harry whispers. "Didn't realize I got you this wet, this fast."

His teeth begin to nibble on your earlobe, as his fingers snap the fabric of your underwear, causing you to let out the most pathetic and needy whimper.

"Harry… please." You whine, desperate for something, anything, that he is willing to give you.

"What do you want, YN?"

"Touch me." You reply, your legs already weak at the thought.

He listens, running his index along your center, feeling how slick he's made you. Suddenly, he dips it inside of you, and you worry he could make you cum right here and now. But god you want to feel so much more. You want him to give you so much more.

Slowly, his finger pulls out, but immediately glides back in, accompanied by another, pumping them both in unison, and sending your head into a spin.

"Do you want more?" He asks into your ear.

"Yes." You barely reply, hoping with all you have that he heard your response.

He adds one more finger, and the trio pick up their pace as his thumb puts the perfect amount of pressure on your clit.

"Oh my god." You whine, feeling a sensation ripple through your body. Nothing you've done to yourself, alone with just your thoughts of him, could ever compare to the feeling of what he's doing to you now.

In and out, his fingers pump, and you're sure if the music suddenly stopped, the noise of his motions would echo from wall to wall.

"You're so tight." He utters. "Don't know if you'd be able to handle my cock."

Just the mention of that word has you moaning, so you reach your arm up to grab onto the back of his neck, and you tilt your head towards him.

"I want that."

"You want what?" He asks, quickening his pace, and halting your words until you swallow the lump that's caught in your throat.

You look down, scanning the crowd for any prying eyes, only to find everyone distracted by their own activities below. Although, at this moment, you aren't sure if that matters to you. If that would stop you.

"I want your cock." You admit, using your free hand to push in between your two bodies and palm over his hard bulge, the feeling of his thick girth creating an even deeper yearning for it.

"Fuck." He growls, his cock twitching under the fabric of his pants.

The emptiness created as his fingers leave your body almost has you wishing you hadn't made any other request, but as you feel his waistband tug down, and the bare skin of his cock as it springs out from its confines and back into your hand, you get wetter than you've been in any moment before.

A strong thigh parts your legs, the back of your dress inches up, and as you feel his long, thick cock glide between them and coat itself in your wetness, Harry lets out a deep, rumbling growl. He runs one hand up your spine and pushes slightly on your back, getting you to bend over a bit and prop yourself up with your hands gripping the railing.

There's never been a desperation so intense as now, as you feel Harry's tip tease your entrance. You've never wanted anything more than the sensation of him pushing into you, stretching you out, giving you everything you've ever fantasized about.

"Think you can fit me inside there?" He asks, the smugness more enticing than you could have imagined possible. But his words, his touch, his everything is overwhelming and rendering you speechless. Then you hear Harry hum, as if knowing your inability to reply, and answering it for himself. "I think you can."

And just like that, he slips in. Slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size each time he pushes in a little further. Filling you completely with every inch he goes deeper, until all you feel is him. Until all you know is him.

"Oh my god." You moan out, unaware if it has been drowned out by the music and chatter of everyone else.

He quickens his pace slightly, and your hold on the railing tightens, not only to steady yourself, but also to possibly disguise your actual activities as simply enjoying the rhythm of the song.

"All these people… and no one knows what we're doing up here." Harry grunts as he thrusts into you, drawing out another, yet much heavier, moan from your chest. It's followed by a pleased groan from behind you, the sound almost as good as any song he's ever sung. "But I wouldn't care if they did… if they saw how well you're taking me… and if they heard much you love it."

"Harry…" You whine, as an extreme sensation builds in your core, feeling every nerve peek, alerting you to the fact that at any moment now, you'll be completely taken over by the intense amount of pleasure he's giving you. "I need to-"

"No." He states sternly.

"Please!" You beg, all dignity being tossed aside.

"Not yet." He replies, and all of a sudden, you feel hollow. Something is missing, and as you feel yourself clear out from the heightened state of a daze you've been in since you reached that second level of the venue, you realize his glorious cock is no longer inside of you.

"What-" You begin, stepping back and turning around to face him, finding his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip, creating an even stronger desire to have him fill the gap again.

"I need to fuck you harder, and faster." He explains grabbing both hips as he backs up and lowers down to take a seat on the sofa. "And I need to watch you when you cum all over my cock."

A shallow breath makes its way out between your lips at his statement, and you slowly lower yourself to straddle his lap, feeling a throb inside yourself as you feel another underneath you.

Your hips begin to grind on him, hoping to create an impatience in him as strong as the one in you. You cup his cheeks within your palms and bring your lips to his, smiling against them as they part and release a deep moan. You move to kiss his jaw, letting the stubble tickle your skin and you make your way down his neck. His hands begin to roam your body, exploring more than they had been able to when standing at the railing. They grip your back, your waist, and settle at your hips, gripping just tight enough to guide them back and forth.

"All I've thought about tonight… is having you like this." You hear him utter, the words hitting deep into the pit of your stomach. "Hell, all I think about most nights is… fuck… is having you like this!"

You pull back, your eyes immediately locking in on his, as if your bodies are confessing their deepest desires to each other in a secret, seductive language. Without a word, you push up on your knees, hovering over and inviting him back inside of you, where you want him the most. One of his hands holds his cock steady as the other remains on you, helping you to lower back down onto him. In this position, you can feel him ever more, much to your surprise considering he filled you so well just moments ago.

"Then fuck me how you've been wanting to." You state, your focus still fully on him.

As soon as he's given that permission, both palms squeeze tighter to your body, pulling you down on his cock as if to meld your bodies together.

"Oh god." He exclaims, throwing his head backwards to rest on the sofa, dropping his mouth open as you begin to bounce.

Almost instantly, with the new depth he's hitting, you feel your body reignited and a release drawing near.

"Harry, this is…" You mumble, the pleasure hindering a complete coherent sentence. "It's… how…"

"Tell me, baby." He replies, holding you down as he starts to thrust up into you, leaving you unable to feel anything other than him.

"This is how… oh my-… I've been wanting you… to fuck me, too…"

"F-... fucks sake!" He exclaims, no longer holding back his vigor as he goes as fast and gets as deep as he possibly can, causing moans to burst out from both of you.

"Harr-... I'm gon-..." You whine, trying to plead with him to get you over the edge and fall into a pool of ecstasy. The sight of his hair becoming messy with sweat, the feel of his hands holding you down, the taste of his skin on your lips, the smell of his cologne exuding off his chest, the sound of his breathy moans in your ear. He has completely taken over all of your senses, and you know this is the best experience you've ever had.

"Say it, YN. Look at me and say it." He growls, and as your eyes find his, the amount of lust in his begins to push you off the ledge.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Where?"

"On your cock!" You blurt, the level of volume coinciding with the intensity of your desperation. "I'm gonna cum on your cock."

"Do it." He commands, and with his permission, you immediately let go, completely melting into him as that desired ecstasy rips through your entire body.

Your face falls into the crook of his neck, only leaving enough room to draw in some shallow, labored breaths. You can feel Harry squirm beneath you, his stride becoming less rhythmic with each stroke into you, his chest rising and falling in the same, unsteady way.

"YN… if I can't cum inside you, tell me now, 'cause I'm… fuck, I'm so close."

Your head lifts and pulls away, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, pupils blown and a glaze covering them. You lean down to his ear, letting your breath puff gently over his skin.

"Cum inside of me, Harry." You whisper, placing a kiss right below his ear.

"Y-yeah? You want my cum?" He fumbles, his breathing becoming more random with every sloppy thrust. "I'll give you… f-fucking all of it!"

Harry grips tighter, bouncing you on himself with a determination you aren't sure if you've ever seen before. He lets out a moan so gritty you know it originated deep in his chest. The sound alone could have you orgasming again if it drew out a few seconds longer. It's accompanied by one last thrust of his hips and a powerful, pleased throbbing of his cock, as his cum coats your walls.

If the dj wasn't blasting anything through the speakers, the sound of your synchronized, labored breaths would be enough to fill the room. You sit up straighter, still straddling Harry's lap, and you finally take in the mess of a man in front of you. His head still rests back on the sofa, his eyes now shut, and a blissful smile stretched across his face.

"That's one way to finish a tour." You chuckle, pushing your palms against the fabric of the shirt now sticking to the drizzle of sweat on his chest.

His palms shoot up to your face, holding it so gently, but with an untapped passion behind his eyes. They flicker to your lips and he dives in for a taste, running his tongue along to part them, and sighing as your own tongue dances along. A pop sounds out as you pull apart, with just enough room for an inhale of air, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"And cheers to the next one."

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narrycherries · 5 months

Text

✹ Perfect ✹ one-shot / Fluff

Harry addresses an issue you’ve been hiding from him..

masterlist

word count: 3k

warnings/tags: harry x reader, soft!harry, sweet, fluff, mention of weight gain/loss, mention of sex

A heavy sigh slipped past your lips as you walked into the living room. Harry was sitting in his desk chair in the middle of the living room, his eyes fixated on the television as he played a video game. He had a headset on, talking to his friends while they played. You had just finished blow drying your hair after your shower - your plan was to go to bed.

You approached him from behind, and trying not to scare him, you tapped his shoulder and appeared at his side.

“Hold up.” He said into the headset before he pulled it off and laid it on the ground. He twisted the chair to face you, his big hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you closer. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah..” You mumbled, giving him a soft smile. “Just gonna tell you that.. I’m going to bed.”

He furrowed his brows, he had just checked the time a few minutes ago so he was slightly confused. “This early?”

“Yeah.. m’tired.”

“Feel okay? Not feeling sick, are you?”

You shook your head. “No, just sleepy.”

He pursed his lips for a moment as he looked at you, trying to catch any signs of sadness or maybe pain, but you were just being honest. You seemed tired. He snaked his arms around your body and pulled you close.

“I was gonna bake some cookies for you when I got done.” He was slightly frowning, but you tried to ignore it.

Your arm went around his neck, your fingers curling into his hair. “That’s so sweet, bubby.. but m’so tired.”

“I’ll make them tomorrow then.” He gave you a grin.

“Sounds perfect.” You ran your fingers through his scalp, pushing his hair back.

“Do you want me to come to bed early? I can get off this.” He slightly nodded his head toward the television.

“No, no.” You pulled at his roots. “You’re okay. I’ll be fine. I’m so sleepy.”

He sighed, but gave you a gentle nod. “Okay.. if you need anything at all.. call me, alright?”

“I know.. I will.”

“You always come first, babe.” He reminded you like he always did whenever he was with his friends or playing the video game or in any situation where he thought maybe you’d need extra attention.

“I love you.” You leaned down to kiss his lips, which he returned.

“I love you more, sugarplum.”

Harry was always so sweet and caring towards you, and that pet name was one of your favorites. It was reserved for when he was concerned or worried about you, and right now you knew he was unsure about everything. He could tell you weren’t feeling well, not in a physical sick way but in some sort of way. He just didn’t know why and he didn’t want to push you to tell him. If you wanted him to know, you’d tell him.

“Keep the bed warm for me, hm?” He said as you took a few steps back, trying to walk away without being rude.

“I will. Warm and cozy.” You promised while his hands fell from your sides and you created a wider distance. “See you in the morning, bubby.”

“Sunday mornings mean the best breakfast spread.” He gave you a wink.

“Y’know I love your pancakes.”

“Sleep tight, lovey. I’ll handle breakfast.”

“Alright, ‘night.” You softly said as you reached the doorway.

“Goodnight.”

It didn’t take you long to get in the bed and try to get situated. You laid there for a while, trying your best to fall asleep naturally but it was hard. Your mind was racing with thoughts and you were unable to stop them. Even your heart seemed to beat a little faster than normal.

Eventually, you pulled up a video on your phone and let it rest on the pillow beside you as you listened to it with your eyes clothes. You were hoping it would just slowly allow you to drift to sleep. Of course that wasn’t working for you tonight. Usually, Harry was in the bed next to you. If he wasn’t going straight to sleep, because most of the time you fell asleep first, he was either reading on his phone or cuddling you. Right now, you missed his warmth. You felt lonely, yet you were somewhat glad he wasn’t here. There were things in our mind that were bothering you, and you feared his presence would only worsen them. It had nothing to do with him, it was all your own issue.

You weren’t sure how long you had laid there when the door creaked open. Harry saw your phone on the pillow, and the light from the screen lit up your face. He sighed softly to himself and walked over to your side of the bed, which actually was his usual side. He didn’t mind, but he knew something was up. Your eyes were barely opened, but you were awake. He leaned down, his hand touching your shoulder.

“Baby, I thought you were sleepy, hm?” He whispered, watching your face closely.

Your eyes opened a little more. “I am.”

“You.. went to bed two hours ago.. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“M’fine.” You quickly said, closing your eyes.

“I’m done in the living room.. I’ll cuddle you in just a minute, okay?”

You swallowed a small lump that was forming in your throat, but you didn’t decide to say anything back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking off his clothes and walking to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Part of you was upset that he was about to be in the bed with you. You didn’t want him to be near you right now, you had no desire to touch him or feel him against you. Then, the other part just craved him so bad. You needed him next to you to sleep, and if you finally fell asleep then the thoughts lingering in your mind would fizzle out. It wouldn’t be that easy, no matter how hard you tried..

When Harry laid down behind you, a heavy feeling began to form in your stomach. You felt extremely nervous, but you hoped that you could push it all down and just ignore it. As Harry’s arm slid under your neck and his warm hand touched your hip, your throat began to go dry. You shifted slightly, moving your butt away from his crotch. He noticed, but didn’t say or do anything.

“Mm, got it all warm under here, honey.” He said with a chuckle as you readjusted the blanket over your shoulder. Him moving around had messed it up a little.

When you didn’t reply, he furrowed his brows and moved his hand closer to your butt. You started to chew on your cheek, a wave of nervousness was flooding through your veins. Harry definitely could tell something was going on.

“Baby, do you want to.. get extra tired?” He began to knead your ass, slow and hard like he knew you liked.

“No.. not.. not tonight.” You said through a heavy exhale as you gently shifted your hips, trying to silently tell him to move his hand.

“Sure? I can make it quick.. tire you out.” He had a smile laced in his words, and any other time you would be up for it - but not tonight.

“Harry, no.”

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You quickly huffed back.

He moved his hand to the side of your thigh, still trying to be affectionate without making you uncomfortable. “You.. you haven’t wanted to do anything.. the past three weeks.”

The reminder of that made your heart drop and your eyes begin to water. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, not over this, but it seemed like that’s where you were headed. Harry was rubbing your thigh slowly, creating a nice heat against your skin. That usually calmed you down easily, but you were not breaking out of this mindset anytime soon.

“Have I done something to make you upset?” He asked in a gentle voice.

“No.” You shook your head. This had nothing to do with him.

“Okay.. I wish you’d tell me.”

You stayed silent, not wanting to admit to him what was on your mind. You had been thinking about the same thing all week, and before then it was on and off the previous two weeks.

He put his hand back on your hip, and you let out a huff. “Harry.”

“What?” He sounded confused again, and he honestly was. It wasn’t like he was doing anything crazy.

“Just.. stop.”

“You don't want me to touch you here?” He said while sliding his hand down to your stomach. You immediately felt your chest tighten. “I won’t mess with that spot.”

“No, stop!” You suddenly yelled.

Harry hissed as your nails sunk into his skin and you ripped his hand away from your stomach. You shoved his arm back and scooted away from him. He was baffled by your sudden actions, and it was very alarming to him. He was so unsure of everything. Did he do something wrong?

“Baby, what’s wrong? I.. I didn’t.. mean to..” His voice trailed off solely because he didn’t even know what to say.

“I don’t want you to touch me right now!” You were crying now, tears slipping down your face as you tried your best to pull yourself together. It wasn’t working.

“Darling, what’s going on?” Harry asked as he pushed himself up on his elbow, trying to get a better look at you. You were covering your face with your hands. “I don’t understand what I did.”

You groaned into your palms and moved them so you could speak. “You didn’t do anything!”

“Then what the hell is going on?” His voice was louder now, but you could tell he wasn’t angry - he was simply confused and worried.

“My stomach, Harry! I.. I’ve gained weight.”

As the words sunk into his brain, he let out a deep exhale and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he had to address the topic of your weight with you, and it’s not going to be easy. He licked his lips and swallowed harshly. As he stayed quiet for a few moments, you feared that he was disgusted, that he was holding back his anger and disappointment in you.

You started to whisper softly, your words barely audible to him. “I don’t want you to see it.. It’s gross and nasty and.. and I hate it. I hate the.. the way i look..”

“Baby, don’t say that.” He closed the space you shared and put his arm around your body.

“M’gross, Harry. It’s gross!”

You tried to push him away, not wanting him to take notice of where this weight gain was. But he wouldn’t budge, he wasn’t going to let you lay there and think you were gross. He leaned over you a bit, just so that he could kiss your temple and cheek while he whispered to you.

“Baby girl, you are not gross.” His warm breath made your skin melt, but it wasn’t helpful enough to calm you down.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is this why you haven’t.. been wanting to have sex?”

You tried to shrug him off of you, but once again, you failed. You recalled all the times he’s tried to get you in the mood these last few weeks, all the attempts at teasing you and kissing you and touching you.. none of it worked. You were always tired, but you were just faking that.

“I.. I don’t w-want to disappoint you.” You finally spoke back, your words were like daggers to his heart.

He maneuvered your body so that you were now on your back and he was leaning up to see you. His hand slid underneath your head and the other went to your cheek. You couldn’t resist wrapping your hand around his wrist, pressing his hand even harder against your skin.

“Don’t you ever, ever think you could do that, honey. Never, ever.” He shook his head, and you felt your own heart break at the frown that was covering his pretty lips.

You looked at how nice his collarbones and shoulders were, not fit his chest was, how tight his abdomen was.. how strong and fit and handsome and perfect he was. You felt worthless.

“You.. you’re so.. strong and.. and you have the perfect body.. I don’t.. want people to look at me and.. think that-“

“Hey, no, don’t even say that.” He interrupted you quickly.

“Harry, I can’t.. stay.. healthy or.. or beautiful, I’m sorry.”

“Where is all this coming from, darling? You are the most beautiful, perfect woman on this planet. I adore every little inch of you. Why are you.. you acting like I would hate you all of a sudden?” His brows were stuck in a furrow, and you just knew he was upset.

“I dunno.. I.. I just don’t.. like.. how I look now.”

He moved his hand down to your jaw, this thumb began to rub against the corner of your mouth. “Where do you think you’ve gained weight? You look no different to me.”

You closed your eyes and squeezed them as tight as you could. Harry watched as a few tears were pushed out from the corners of your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hoping and praying that would help. He wasn’t sure if anything could actually help right now.

“My.. my belly.. I.. was layin’.. on the bed the other night and.. and noticed.. how much further it.. comes over my panties.”

Harry immediately knew what you were referring to. That part of your body has always been one of those iffy spots for you. Sometimes you didn’t care, other times you hated it.

“Your tummy is perfect, darling.”

“No it isn’t.”

Harry sighed, and that caused your eyes to open. You were so worried that he would get angry with you, whether over your attitude or over the fact you had gained weight. He shook his head gently and leaned down to rub his nose against yours. You pouted your lips out, your heart was aching.

“Can I.. see?”

“No, Harry.”

“Let me see.. or let me feel it.” He said in a calm voice while slowly pulling his hand away from your face.

You kept hold of his wrist and allowed him to move his hand under the covers. You hesitated at first, but soon laid his hand over the area. Harry pressed down, then started to rub circles into your stomach.

“I love every piece of you. Every inch, every spot.” He said while continuing the gentle rubs.

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I feel nasty.”

“You aren’t, though. You look perfectly fine to me, baby. So beautiful and perfect.”

Even though you knew he was being honest and serious with you, because he never, ever lies to you about anything, you just couldn’t believe it. How could he be okay with this? You wondered, how could he want to have sex with you? How could he tolerate the changes? It wasn’t as serious as you thought.. but of course telling you that would be impossible.

“You know that I love you, right?” He said with a serious lift of his brows. You grunted, but gave him a nod anyway. He licked his lips. “Let me hear you say it.”

“I.. I know you love me, bubby.”

“Then why are you so upset over this?” He pressed down on your belly again. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I dunno, Harry.”

He pressed his lips to yours and you whimpered as he pecked your lips a few times, not trying to overdo it, just simply loving on you. He pecked your cheek, too, before he started to move. You grunted as he pulled away, but watched as he moved down to your belly. He pushed the blankets away and slid his hand to your waist. You felt big tears forming in your eyes, these were different from the sad tears, as he started to kiss a trail over your tummy. His hand had made your skin warm and somewhat calmed you down.

“I don’t ever want you to think you’re gross. That.. that hurts me, baby. Makes me think m’not doing something right.” His lips were brushing your skin as he spoke, making you tingle.

“You do everything right.” You told him as you sat your hand on his head, your fingers slipping into his hair. “I.. I love you so much.”

“I love you so, so much.”

He stayed down there for a few minutes, just kissing and rubbing your skin. You felt a lot better with his attention being showered on you. It was a relief. You had spent so many nights just wishing you could cut away the weight that had appeared.

“Hey, I know one thing..” Harry said as he leaned up. He returned to where he had been before, his hand was still on your waist though. “This is why you haven’t been eating a lot lately, hm?”

You frowned, not thinking he noticed that. You tried to be subtle with it, clearly that failed. He gave you a gentle smile and you could see the love in his eyes as he stared at you.

“I don’t want you to starve yourself.. A couple pounds is perfectly normal for anyone and not eating is worse for you than gaining weight.”

“I know.. I’m sorry.”

He sighed softly. “You don’t have to apologize for this.. but please, don’t be mean to yourself, okay?”

You nodded, whining lightly as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I won’t anymore, I promise.”

“If.. and only if.. you want to lose weight.. we can cut back on some things.” Harry said with a smile, he could tell you were feeling better. “But.. I don’t want you to think I want you to or that you need to, okay?”

“I know.” You smiled back. “I.. I just felt so bad.”

“And there’s no need for that, is there?” His smile grew. “You know I love you. And you’re perfect, even if you won’t admit it.”

You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down, your arms going around his strong back. You felt so safe under him. “Thank you for being the sweetest man, bubby.”

He chuckled in your ear. “Anything for you, baby girl.”

#harry styles #harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles stuff #one direction #harry smut #harry styles smut #oneshot #fluff #harry styles fluff #sweet #soft Harry

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Text

childhood sweethearts (12) II a.russo x reader

playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven

childhood sweethearts (12) II a.russo x reader

"took your time!" you stepped aside as the two taller boys pushed inside making you roll your eyes. "please, come in!" you gestured sarcastically, slamming the door shut behind you. "get off russo." you huffed, smacking away gio's hand as he ruffled the hair you'd just finished doing.

"that was not an hour. that was forty minutes you're lucky i'm ready!" you warned them both, kicking harry's feet off your coffee table with a glare. "forty minutes is an hour in guy time, you'll learn." your brother dismissed with a wave.

"nice place shortstack, teachers salaries must be better than i thought." gio whistled as he wandered around your living room. "not really." you chuckled honestly with a shrug. "she's just good at saving money, squirrels it all away like a little mouse." your brother teased pulling a face.

"i had to! you and lil were always stealing it from me." you shot him a filthy glare as he held his hands up. "you have no evidence of that." he grinned with a wink. "hang on. you're not wearing that are you?" gio narrowed his eyes and pointed at you accusingly.

"yeah. why? whats wrong with it?" you frowned, playing with the hem of your jumper. "it's sky blue!" gio groaned without explaining as your frown deepened. "oh he knows the color wheel! good job buddy." you mocked sarcastically with a clap.

"manchester city are sky blue you idiot. we support arsenal, go find something red!" harry chimed in pointing away as you scoffed. "sorry i didn't know there was a dress code for a football game." you rolled your eyes.

"no it's fine we'll just get you a jersey from the armory. go find a hoodie or something, but not blue!" gio dismissed, shooing you off toward your room. "all this over a stupid fucking football match." you mumbled to yourself as you left, both boys yelling at you for the comment.

"can we go now?" you sighed, gesturing to yourself as the boys nodded, dressed in distressed blue jeans, a black hoodie and a black puffer vest on over the top, harry hauling himself to his feet.

"yes we can now you no longer support the enemy. so are you still allergic to football or have you actually grown up?" gio threw his arm over your shoulder guiding you away as you grabbed your keys, leaving the lights on and locking up.

"oh she's still deathly allergic, pretty sure she thinks the ball is a square." harry grinned as you flipped him off and buckled up, gio immediately beginning a rambling recount of all of the rules and history as harry started the car and you sat in the back with a sigh.

you contemplated texting alessia to let her know you were coming but the first moment your fingers touched the device to pull it from your pocket it was snatched from your hand.

"you're a teacher shortstack you should know better than to have a phone out in class, football school is in session and there will be a test." gio grinned wolfishly dropping your phone into the front console and ignoring your protests to have it back.

the three of you split up as you arrived to the emirates and your eyes almost bugged out of your head at the amount of people wandering around. "they're all here for the match?" you asked in disbelief, harry disappearing to get some food as gio dragged you off to get a jersey, again ignoring your protests.

"yeah! you've clearly been living under a rock if you don't know how big womens football is." the boy chuckled with a shake of his head, the two of you waiting in line. "didn't you literally go to the world cup? and you still can't believe how many people are here?" he laughed as you looked around in awe.

"in my defense the last match of alessia's i attended that wasn’t a world cup semi had about fifty people watching!" you frowned, only making him laugh harder, patting you on the back and shaking his head. "well, times have changed kid." he grinned, again ruffling your hair as you shoved him away and you moved closer in line.

"so. you and my little sister, worked things out then?" gio asked, leaning in to practically whisper at you as you frowned, unsure what he was asking. "please. don't play dumb with me i know you far too well to be fooled by that!" the boy warned with an amused smile as your eyes widened.

"she told you that we..." "yeah. i went to visit her at college a couple of months after she moved, she got quite drunk and babbled everything." gio smiled somewhat sympathetically.

"everything?" "yeah, everything. i had your back though she should have told you her plans and i made sure to let her know how stupid she was to mess everything up." gio shrugged.

"christ did both of our families know?" you huffed with a scowl, forever under the impression your relationship with the striker had been a well kept secret, though as time passed it seemed more and more people had been clued in than you thought.

"not the parents. dunno how they didn't catch on given you and less were hardly subtle, luca and i had our suspicions long before less told me i can promise you that." gio chuckled with a wink making your face heat up as you arrived to the front of the line.

"we're just friends though." you quietly answered his previous question as he gave you a look and nodded, turning toward the cashier with a dazzling smile.

"could i please get a red gunners beanie and a russo home jersey in a size..." he glanced to you clearly waiting an answer as you shrugged cluelessly, never having bought a jersey before. "large." he answered for you and rolled his eyes at how you looked like a fish out of water.

"better too big than too small." he shrugged, pushing you away with a firm shake of his head as you tried to pay, tapping his phone and grabbing the bag with an appreciative smile. "gio!" you hissed with a scowl, punching his arm as he whined and rubbed it.

"a thank you would have sufficed!" he mocked, waving at harry who was wandering about with a confused look a hundred or so metres away.

"put it on we haven't got all day." gio waved impatiently as he handed you the bag and you sighed, stripping off your puffer vest and pulling the jersey on over your hoodie, shrugging the vest back on.

"perfect! now you at least look the part even if you're still as clueless about football as a newborn baby." the boy grinned, yanking the beanie down on top of your head and spinning you around. "i have not missed you." you grumbled as he smacked away your hand from pulling off the beanie.

"aw my little sister in law i love you too." he pinched your cheeks as the two of you caught up to harry, your face going almost as red as your beanie as you were squished between both boys. "did you not get me anything?" you poked your brother accusingly as he handed gio some food but not you.

"you didn't ask for any!" he defended as you all squished into an elevator. "you didn't ask me if i wanted any." you rolled your eyes at his thought process, tuned out by the rumble in the elevator.

"they sometimes have food in the box." gio shrugged as your head whipped toward him and the doors opened, the boy gesturing for you to step out. "the box?" you questioned with a suspicious frown.

"friends and family box." harry answered with a grin, the pair of you following after gio. "he comes with me and luca sometimes." gio answered with a chuckle before you could even ask.

"most of the time mum and dad or some of the extended family come too but they've got some swanky lunch they can't get out of." he shrugged, handing you and harry a lanyard as you only nodded, at a loss for words.

having gotten over your initial shock and now settled in your seats waiting for the match to begin you nodded as both harry and gio seated either side of you attempted to debrief you on everything they felt you needed to know for the game.

you of course were still clueless, focused more on trying to spot alessia as they lined up for the team photos, noting her right away as you hummed, gio and harry sharing a look over your head and rolling their eyes.

it wasn't until half time when you felt like you could finally exhale, a familiar but unwelcome sensation settling in your stomach, worry.

this match had been particularly aggressive, yellow cards hardly in short stock as you winced every time alessia's body went tumbling down onto the pitch, just like you used to all those years ago when you watched her you still worried.

you accepted the drink from gio as he returned with a grateful smile, the older boy just chuckling at the blatant worry in your eyes. "she's fine! she's a big girl she can take a tackle or too, and dish them out." he assured you as you nodded, falling into conversation with harry about lily's upcoming baby shower.

your panic came in a different form the second half, the score locked 1-1 with only injury time remaining you bounced your knee anxiously amusing both boys either side of you who hadn't hesitated to tease you all match about it.

you held your breath as again alessia went down, this time not getting back up as a few of her team mates waved for the medics and she slowly sat up, your grip on your cup tightening.

"hey, she's okay." your brother noticed your discomfort and squeezed your knee, draping his free arm over your shoulder.

"this is sort of insane." you breathed out, having been taken aback all match by the chants and passion of the spectators filling out the stadium, all 59,000+ of them which sent your brain spinning. "yeah next match we'll teach you some chants!" gio grinned, nudging you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"or at least alessia's. she'll be horribly offended if you don't know her chant at least!" harry chipped in, both boys clearly doing their best to distract you as alessia was looked over by the medics.

you exhaled as finally she got back to her feet rewarded with a thundering cheer from the supporters, a free kick given for the poor tackle as the stadium exploded in support.

"speaking of!" harry laughed as alessia's name echoed around the pitch. you shook your head with a smile of utter disbelief, you knew she was clearly famous you weren't that naive, but seeing how many people were yelling her name with a clap had your heart bursting with pride.

"so less doesn't have to take the kick right, and they can get their players in front of the ball?" you questioned for clarification as harry nodded, explaining roughly how it would work and what arsenal would try to do to force man city to concede.

you held your breath as two of the arsenal girls lined up for the kick, watching as alessia was shoved and pushed around, repeatedly yanking away hands and arms which jostled and poked at her.

you watched frozen to your seat as the kick was sent in, a mad panic exploding in the box as a flurry and fight of heads, limbs and feet flailed around to try and make contact.

then finally there was a swish as the ball hammered the back of the net, the whistle blew and the stadium exploded.

"oh my god!" your eyes almost bugged at of your head as alessia sprinted away from the goal with her hands in the air, tackled to the ground by her team as you jumped up to your feet alongside nearly every single person in the stadium, cheering loud and proud for the blonde.

"she's still got it." you grinned at gio who laughed and nodded, shoving your head playfully as alessia was announced as the goal scorer and the crowd went mental at a replay of her goal.

"now they just need to park the bus for six minutes." harry whistled, turning and explaining to you right away what he meant before you even had to ask, the three of you settling back into your seats.

you weren't sure quite how but you were near certain you didn't breath for those next six minutes, your eyes widening in shock as with three to go alessia was shown a yellow card and walked off with a roll of her eyes.

"told you she gives as good as she gets sometimes short stack!" gio beamed, full of pride only making you chuckle quietly. "you'd know, she used to beat you up!" you teased the boy who shushed you and pulled the beanie down over your eyes.

you finally let out a deep exhale as the full time whistle sounded, the crowd erupting into cheers of victory as you watched alessia do her laps of the pitch clapping the fans.

"she'll be a fair while, she'll sign some stuff and go shower then come up." gio explained as you all returned inside the box to escape the cold, the weather well and truly taking a turn for the worst as thunder started to rumble in the far off distance.

meanwhile alessia had finally returned to the locker room, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she laughed and sang along to the music leah had blasting all around.

"hey less did your brother get a girlfriend? ben said he was all over some girl he brought with him to the box." beth laughed as alessia pulled a face, grabbing her slides out from her cubby and tying her wet hair up into a bun.

"no? that would be news to me." the blonde frowned with a shrug, shoving her belongings into her bag, now one of the last ones left. though sure enough as she tiredly made her way into the box flanked by vic and kyra her frown returned seeing her brothers arm draped over a girl, both of them with their backs facing her.

but right before she could reach them the girl spoke and shrugged his arm off, making a beeline for the toilet as alessia charged toward her brother. "did you bring a girl to my game and not tell me you were seeing someone!" she accused with an annoyed frown poking at his chest.

"did i what?" he laughed in disbelief, an annoyingly smug grin curling on his lips as he realized where his sisters thoughts were. "yeah actually i brought a little date!" he grinned, knowing the moment you returned everything would fall into place for the striker.

"gio!" alessia huffed punching him in the arm, temporarily distracted as a few of the girls and their family members wandered over and pulled her into conversation. "those bathrooms are so nice!" you marveled, your brother pushing you away as you shoved your hands into his face demanding he smell how good the soap smelled.

gio smirked as at the sound of your voice alessia spun right around, ignoring the questions fired toward her by the small group of people she was with as she finally noticed you, smacking about your brother as he wrapped you into a choke hold.

"i never said who the little date was for." gio smirked as he appeared at alessia's side, the blondes cheeks flushing bright red as she hurried to smooth her jumper out, suddenly wishing she'd made an effort with her hair.

"go on lovergirl, she's even wearing your jersey. you're welcome!" gio whispered, pushing her in your direction as she stumbled slightly and shot him a filthy look over her shoulder.

catching gio's eye harry let go of you and pushed you away, shooting over to the other boys side before you could tell him off, turning around and practically running into a body.

"you're here!" was all alessia managed to get out with wide eyes as you nodded. "i didn't know you were coming." she added on with a nervous smile, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

"not of my own free will. thing one and thing two kidnapped me!" you pointed to your brothers over her shoulder, not missing the strange look which crossed the taller girls face.

"hey, less i'm only joking. you had a great game!" you were quick to make amends, hoping your comment hadn't rubbed her the wrong way. "that volley? class!" you complimented, the blondes lips curling into a surprised grin.

"well well well, look whose been studying her football jargon." alessia teased, nerves melting away as you bumped her with your shoulder and a playful roll of your eyes as the two of you chattered away, everyone else in the room ceasing to exist as you only had eyes for one another.

"i see old habits die hard. will you ever learn?" you sighed dramatically, reaching a hand up to tuck away a loose strand of wet hair out of her eyes. "when have i ever listened to you?" alessia smirked, you having forever warned her against not drying her hair or at least leaving it out.

the two of you so engrossed in conversation alessia failed to notice a few of her friends eyeing the two of you off, laura and leah looking especially pleased as they gave the two of you some space, just sending you a friendly wave from a distance which you returned.

alessia also failed to notice a few of them creeping closer, jolted out of the little bubble with you as an arm slung around her waist with a squeeze. "hello!" vic addressed you as kyra and teyah appeared on alessia's other side and she withheld a groan.

"and who is this?" the dutch girl smirked as alessia shot her daggers briefly. "this is my..." she struggled for a moment giving you a glance. "my y/n." she answered awkwardly, wishing the ground would swallow her up as she shot kyra and teyah a firm glare at their giggles.

"well hello lessi's y/n. pleasure to meet you! i am lessi's vic, this is lessi's kyra and lessi's teyah." vic beamed as you couldn't help but laugh, alessia shoving vics arm away and moving to stand protectively by your side as the three younger girls all began to speak at you.

"oi! lay off she's not a performing monkey." alessia warned, hand settling on the small of your back as you struggled to keep up with the three different accents, lines of conversations and questions. thankfully leah noticed and swooped in, quickly ushering away the three troublemakers as alessia mouthed a thank you.

"they seem fun." you grinned up at the blonde who groaned quietly. "that's one word for them." she sighed. "seem to remind me of a certain outgoing outspoken loud mouthed young striker." you paused to look away contemplatively as alessia cracked a smile, harry and gio joining the two of you, the tall girls hand remaining on the small of your back.

"hey how did you get here?" alessia asked as the boys ducked off to use the toilet, the box clearing out. "i told you, kidnapped!" you teased, alessia's stomach clenching strangely as you smiled up at her and her knees went a bit wobbly.

"would you like to come over for dinner? i'll cook." alessia asked before she could talk herself out of it, nervously playing with the strap of the bag still slung over her shoulder.

"are you asking me on a date?" you asked quietly, smile growing at the slight blush which coated alessia's cheeks. "yeah. is that okay? or we can do something else!" she breathed out, corners of her mouth curling upward as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

"dinner sounds lovely." you agreed, trying to ignore the butterflies swooping and diving around in your stomach as alessia seemed to relax a little. "i'm gonna get a ride back with less." you spoke up as the boys returned, the four of you falling into conversation for a bit before parting ways.

"uhh, stay here for a second. please!" alessia stopped you suddenly after taking you down the back of the stadium, disappearing around a corner as you crossed your arms and waited, eyes roaming the photos of past teams and their victories on the wall.

"okay!" you jumped as alessia suddenly returned, the blonde apologizing with an amused smile nodding for you to follow her again. she lead you out to the back lot, having moved her car away from prying eyes where a few fans were still hanging about.

she wasn't quite ready to have to explain that aspect of her job to you just yet.

"nice jersey, your favorite player?" alessia grinned as the two of you arrived to her place, parking out the front as you rolled your eyes. "don't flatter yourself your brother bought it and forced me into it, and this!" you gestured to the beanie on top of your head which alessia found absolutely adorable.

"ouch, my poor ego!" the blonde sighed dramatically clutching at her chest as you rolled your eyes. "it could use the humbling. we've got, lessi russo! we've got-" you clapped as alessia's cheeks went red and she shoved you mumbling for you to shut up.

"we might need to sprint for it, my umbrella's in the boot." she shifted tones, the rain now hammering down against her car as you hummed in agreement.

"on three?" you nodded as both your hands hovered by the door handles. "three!" alessia announced as you both flung your doors open and made a dash for it, your laughter lost into the mid afternoon air as alessia almost sent herself flying down her stairs.

the two of you collapsed into one another laughing once you were in the safety of her front porch. "whose got wet hair now!" alessia teased tugging your beanie down over your eyes and scrambling for her keys.

"might have to bin this jersey since its all wet, shame." you yanked off the beanie and tousled your hair with your hand, stepping out of your soaking wet shoes as alessia slipped out of her slides both pairs left by the door.

"i can get you another one, even sign it for you if you like." she winked making you roll your eyes as she wasted no time pulling off her sopping wet jumper and gesturing you do the same. "mmm would up the resell value for ebay. have you got a pen handy?" you teased.

"do you want a shower?" the blonde offered kindly, biting her lip to stifle her laughter at both of your soaking wet states. "just some dry clothes if you don't mind." you replied with a somewhat shy smile, alessia nodding and sprinting off before you could say another word.

she returned mere seconds later, a pair of joggers and a hoodie in hand, nodding for you to change and give her your wet clothes so she could put them in the dryer. as the bathroom door closed with a click alessia went into panic mode, racing around her house tidying as well as she could in the small window of time she had to do so.

you couldn't help but inhale once you were changed, now drowned in the familiar smell of your ex girlfriend, though for once it wasn't accompanied with a weird stab of guilt, you allowing yourself to just enjoy the sense of safety and comfort which settled on your shoulders.

what alessia hadn't anticipated was you exiting the bathroom right as she rushed past with a basket piled high of dirty washing she intended to hide, her body slamming into yours and sending the two of you to the ground and her laundry into the air.

"i'm so sorry!" her face paled as she winced and gently peeled off her training shirt from where it had landed on your head, the two of you buried in a mountain of her dirty clothes as alessia wished the ground could swallow her up.

"if this is a way of you telling me to do your washing for you, you could have just asked!" you laughed and rolled off of her, alessia relaxing a little at your reaction, quick to her feet and helping you up to yours.

"two minutes." the striker promised still red with embarrassment, hurrying to shove her clothes back into the basket, grabbing your wet ones from the bathroom floor and darting off into the laundry, yelling out for you to help yourself to anything in the kitchen.

alessia took a moment once her washing was safely in the machine and your clothes in the dryer to collect herself, gripping the bench and taking a few deep breaths, nodding firmly and exiting the room.

an affectionate smile curled onto her lips to see you sat up at the island bench of her kitchen, your legs just a little too short to touch the ground you'd tucked one beneath you and were absentmindedly swinging the other to and from.

alessia would be lying if she didn't something settled over her which could have maybe been described as a sense of possessiveness seeing you sat in her house in her clothes once again. though she quickly tried to shake that off, giving herself a firm reminder the two of you were taking things slow and you were far from being hers anymore.

the large black adidas hoodie she'd given you to change into was big on alessia so it hung down to your mid thigh, and the blonde grinned in amusement seeing you'd had to roll and cuff up the ends of the joggers given her legs were a fair bit longer than yours.

"so whats on the menu chef russo?" you smiled sending her stomach into knots again as she joined you in the kitchen. "what do you feel like?" alessia questioned, washing her hands and rolling up the sleeves of her jumper with a raised eyebrow.

"anything. just no pineapple!" you teased, alessia laughing dryly and flicking water at you from her wet hands before wiping them on a tea towel. "pasta?" you nodded happily.

"just no tomatoes." alessia now teased your own eating habits as you mocked her and pulled a face. "wait, from scratch?" your eyebrows shot up in surprise as alessia breezed around the kitchen pulling out ingredients.

"obviously. did you forget i am italian!" she grinned and you smiled softly seeing her tie an apron around her waist, resisting the temptation to tease her for it and instead settling for enjoying how cute it was that she had one handy.

"half italian." you reminded earning yourself a glare and a middle finger in your direction as a cutting board and knife appeared on the bench in front of you. "make yourself useful would you." alessia smirked, placing down some peppers, onions and carrots on the board and tugging playfully on your ear.

"you know typically when you ask someone on a date and offer to cook them dinner, you don't force them to be your sous chef!" you shook your head but rolled up the sleeves of alessia's hoodie.

"aw you think you're at a sous chef level, that's adorable babe." it was a simple slip up, so much to the point alessia didn't even clock what she'd said but you did, your face burning bright red as you focused your energy into prepping the vegetables as she busied herself making dough.

the two of you fell into conversation about your upcoming weeks, alessia filling you in on her training schedule and commitments as you explained your lesson planning, both of you hanging off the others words, fully engaged in making an effort to show your sincere interest in what the other had to say.

"only you would just casually have things laying about to make pasta from scratch on a sunday night!" you grinned, now stood by the stove keeping an eye on the sauce at alessia's request. "if its not better than anything you've made pre-made i'll retire tomorrow." alessia challenged confidently, moving to take her hoodie off leaving her in joggers and a singlet, not wanting to get flour all over herself.

you wrenched your eyes away from her bare arms as she expertly kneaded the dough, muscles flexing as you turned back to the sauce, stirring it occasionally as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

"come here." you glanced up to see alessia wipe away a few small beads of sweat on her forehead, nodding for you to join her. she leaned over and flipped the stove top to the lowest heat it could so the sauce wouldn't burn.

"a pasta making lesson with a real life italian? should be charging." you teased as alessia demonstrated how to fold and roll out the dough, shaping it into spirals melting you a little as she made a point to note she knew they'd been your favorite growing up.

"christ you make this look easy." you credited her as you struggled with the dough, tensing up a little as you felt her body settle in behind you, her front pressed to your back as her bare arms wound around you.

"like this, push with your palms." she murmured, maneuvering your hands with hers on top as she helped you to roll out the dough and shape it like she'd shown. you thought once you started to get the hang of it she might move away but she stayed pressed against you.

"is this okay?" she checked quietly as her hands settled on your waist and her chin rested on your shoulder and you nodded, a little lost for words as waves of emotions you refused to overthink crashed into you, alessia starting to very gently sway the two of you.

"perfect!" the blonde beamed proudly as you finished rolling out and shaping your half of the dough. "had a decent teacher i guess." you smiled, craning your head back to gently kiss her cheek as alessia's hairs stood on end and she pushed herself away from you, moving to quickly finish off her half of the dough as you returned to the sauce.

on her orders you had a pot of water waiting to boil, leaving the sauce to thicken on low as you moved to watch her finish off the pasta. "do you want a pro tip?" alessia smiled as you nodded, gesturing for her continue.

"always flour your board." you gasped as her finger reached out and rubbed flour all over your nose, the taller girl grinning clearly quite pleased with herself. not even waiting to speak your hand darted out into the leftover flour, your hand pressing against her cheek leaving a white hand mark on the side of her face.

that seemed to open the floodgates as you chased one another around the island flicking and smacking flour against one another until alessia called for a truce, wincing at the flour which now coated her once clean floors.

however as the two of you retreated back toward the stove in typical alessia fashion, she slipped.

"less!" you cried out as she grabbed out for you to steady herself, instead taking you down with her, your body landing on top of hers as you both groaned.

"i'm beginning to think you do this on purpose now!" you tutted, hint of a smile on your lips. hyper aware of her large hands resting on your back an odd sense of deja vu settled over the pair of you, neither of you paying attention to anything than one another when you suddenly found yourself admiring and studying over ever little feature of her face, alessia doing the exact same.

just like clockwork the longer you maintained eye contact the smaller and smaller the room seemed to become, alessia's eyes flickering down to your lips just for a fleeting second.

"would it be too fast if i kissed you again?" the girl whispered, eyes still locked with yours as you gave a small shake of your head. "please." was all you managed to breathe out.

your hand moved to brush a few strands of her golden blonde hair out of her face, leaning in ever so slowly.

just like last time your hands moved to tangle in her hair now brushed out and dry again, and in turn alessia's own hands came to rest on either side of your face, thumbs tracing soft circles on your jaw, ever so gently guiding your mouth within millimeters of her own.

you both sighed as your lips met, the kiss slow and calculated and tender. alessia kissed you like you were made of glass, terrified that one wrong move and you'd break, her lips soft and inviting as they moved against yours.

you parted your own slightly as her teeth ever so gently tugged at your bottom lip, her tongue slipping into your mouth as the kiss became just a little less sweet.

though you hissed and pulled away at the feeling of something burning your neck, the blonde underneath yours eyes widening as she tightened her hold on your face and sat up taking you with her.

"what's wrong? was that too much? too fast? i'm so sorry." she rambled out, chest heaving with worry as you were quick to shake your head. "i think something bit me!" you gently moved her hands off your face and turned your head, moving your hair out of the way as alessia frowned and glanced at your neck.

but everything suddenly made sense as she heard a strange noise and looked up to the stove, realizing exactly what had happened.

"shit the water's over boiled!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thirteen

our cute little lovers seemingly all happy but will it last?

what do we think is going to happen? what do you want to see happen?

#woso x reader #woso #alessia russo x reader #woso community #engwnt #alessia russo #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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madhatterbri · 8 months

Text

Unwanted Assistance | K.M.

Summary: Kol isn't particularly fond of you helping an ex.

"You're going with him? That's just marvelous. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?" Kol asked while pouring himself a drink. He took a big gulp before pouring himself another. The vampire turned to look back at you. Your scared ex standing in the doorframe.

"Kol," you started seeing the look of anger wash over his face. You just told him the plan that you cooked up to gain the werewolves trust. The plan wasn't the best but all bets were off when your ex-boyfriend entered the room. The Mikaelson siblings tensed at seeing him. "It's going to be fine,"

"Which part is fine exactly, darling," he stressed. Dark brown eyes glared at the man you once called your lover. Kol could easily break him. A little wizard man was nothing compared to Kol.

"The werewolves want to talk. They agreed to tell me their terms. We have to build their trust after they were persecuted for years by the vampires," you reminded them. The hot headed vampire glared at your ex.

"Then we will build it another way. He can't protect you. Hell, he can barely protect himself," he mused while scanning your ex up and down. Your ex was a little battered. His face was scratched along with his arms showing he was in the defense. Ever since there was talk of trying to make amends with a pack of wolves, those not in the peace talks were restless.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking" your ex chuckled dryly. Kol gritted his teeth and broke the glass in his hands. Alcohol and shattered glass fell on the ground. Your ex jumped yet quickly regained his composure. Niklaus smiled yet looked down trying to not laugh. Elijah shot a glare at his younger half brother.

"Kol, please, we need your support on this as well," you begged. Your fingertips touched his cheeks softly. You kissed him. Kol's eyes stayed open and looked at the jealous, scared man behind you. He winked and leaned into the kiss.

"You and Harry Potter have twenty minutes. I don't hear anything from you I am going in. Do you understand me?" He asked. You took it as a win. That was the closest you were going to get to him agreeing.

"Thank you," you smiled. "I'll see you soon,"

You left with your ex leaving Kol alone with his brothers.

"Only one broken glass and no broken bones. My word brother you are maturing," Elijah complimented. Kol rubbed his neck. Black lines surrounded his eyes. He muttered that he was going to kill the wolves and the wizard boy before leaving. "On second thought maybe not,"

"I guess not all of us can change brother," Niklaus shrugged while pouring himself a drink. "Care to join me?"

#fanfiction #imagine #the originals #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson fanfiction #kol tvd #kol the originals #kol mikealson x reader #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson x reader

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justabigassnerd · 4 months

Text

moments from Traitors that are permanently etched into my mind in preparation for tomorrow's final

beware of spoilers

'..but Ross is'

'go get that traitors guys'

'oh my diddly days'

'do you reckon there's two traitors going at each other?'

Andrew contemplating literally everything when he got the recruitment letter

Andrew just being the definition of the shocked face emoji when he saw Paul and Harry were the Traitors

Harry's spelling of Charlotte

someone FLINGING a chair across the room out of excitement when Paul was revealed to be a Traitor

Paul's bow

Miles' reaction to seeing Diane alive after poisoning her the night before

Diane getting a whole ass funeral without even knowing it was for her until the end

Ross winking at the camera while everyone was jokingly claiming to be Diane’s child

Ross being recruited as a Traitor, plotting to take Harry down and then IMMEDIATELY being voted out at the round table

Ross revealing he is Diane's son

the group always freaking out whenever Claudia walks into the room

Jaz being the only person suspicious of Harry and being unable to vocalise any of his thoughts because everyone is so convinced he's a Faithful

Zack taking the bag of money with him into a trap

'so it turns out, Diane is my mum' - Ross hun were you unaware?

'can I have a selfish moment' - NO BRIAN HUSH NOT NOW

Harry just running right into a huge mud puddle

the shots of the Faithfuls in their rooms while the Traitors are discussing who to kill

Zack telling people not to go for the shields and then immediately doing that himself

Brian being voted most sheep-like and that singlehandedly causing his downfall

the first mission - nothing else I just really liked it

the Doctor Who scarecrows

Claudia slagging off the Faithfuls when they fail to banish a Traitor

there might be more but these are the ones I think of the most

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd rambles #bbc #bbc traitors #the traitors uk #the traitors #traitors uk #traitors season 2 #uk traitors season 2

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onlyawhim · 5 months

Text

Our Secret - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Draco Malfoy is a boy you should not associate with.. which makes your secret meetings all that more exciting.

(smut!!)

You sat taking in the unmistakable buzz of the Great Hall, watching heaps of food pass from one person to another and hundreds of mumbled conversations occur in between bites of food. The first breakfast after Christmas break was always a hectic one - the grand stories of Christmas and the dread of the re-starting classes buzz through the room.

Your gaze began wandering around the room - listening to the various brags of gifts wasn't quite as entertaining as Draco Malfoy. Perhaps he thought the same thing, as his cold eyes met yours from across the dining hall. Draco shot you a smirk and wink before returning to his regular Slytherin gossip session. Your gaze remained on him, though.

Draco Malfoy is bad. He is cocky, smug, and rude. So why could you never take your eyes off of him? Perhaps his sharp eyes, strong hands, confident nature..

What only you had the pleasure of knowing was how soft he was in private. How he kissed your forehead, stroked your hair, blushed at your compliments - but he didn't want anyone to know these things. So, you stayed private - always jumping at the chance of an empty classroom or dark hallway for secretive meet-ups.

You rip your gaze away from him, being caught staring at the dark, broad man sitting across the room of you one too many times. You're supposed to hate Draco Malfoy. You return your attention to your own table, now seeing that plates are starting to clear and seats are starting to empty.

"Ready to go to class?" Hermione asks, already standing from her seat, books under her arm. Her excitement to return to school was impossible to miss.

"Oh, very." grumbles Ron, also beginning to stand. Harry grumbles a similar sentiment.

You follow along, walking in the huddle of Gryffindors unexcitedly heading to History of Magic. Halfway through the trek, however, you recognize the lightness you feel - your bag is still in the Great Hall.

"Ugh, I forgot my stuff. I'll catch up with you guys."

Your friends throw their "okay"s as you turn around to walk all the way back to the hall. Your curse yourself for being so distracted by Draco that you forgot your things...

Of course, at the thought of him, Draco appears with his posse of slightly stupid and incredibly large sidekicks. Without taking his eyes off you, he sends them orders to keep walking to class without him.

"Y/N, Y/N", he smirks once Crabbe and Goyle are a small distance away, "comin' back for me?"

"You wish, Malfoy." Your blush betrays you.

"I do wish, actually. Was a very long break without you." Luckily your blush wasn't the only traitor - his gaze breaks yours as he drops his head a bit, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. His long, slender hand...

"Well?" you ask, awaiting the usual tradition of entering the nearest empty classroom.

Wordlessly, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the nearest dark room. Shutting and locking the door behind you, he crashes his lips against yours. He pushes you against the door, hands roaming your waist. You moan into the kiss, having missed the taste of him. It was a very long break without him.

Draco pulls you away from the door and moves you to the nearest desk without breaking the kiss. You sit on the desk, pulling him closer with your legs. You can feel him through his pants, already hard. He moves down to your neck, spreading wet kisses all along it, down to your collar bones. He pulls at your shirt, signaling you to take it off.

"It's 8 in the morning" you grumble, pretending to complain as you pull your shirt off.

"I'll take you any chance I get, babe." Draco says, smirking, before meeting your lips again.

You let out a small hum as his hands meet your breasts, tweaking your nipples and kneading the skin. You reach down to his bulge, matching the kneading of your breasts to the kneading of the outline of his cock. He lets out a small moan. Draco pulls at your bottoms now, taking them off himself. Now fully exposed, you recognize how clothed he is. You pull at his shirt, and he accepts your wordless command, pulling his shirt off before reaching for his belt.

"You want me?" he asks, always needing an ego boost.

"Of course not" you mutter, returning to the kiss. He smiles into it as he pulls his belt off, dropping it onto the floor.

He brings his hands to the top of your thighs, switching between caressing the skin and gripping it. You spread your legs further, needing him incredibly bad. He brings his right hand to your center, sliding up and down the slit with your wetness.

"All for me?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"Always, Draco" you answer, moaning at the feeling of his rough hands.

At this, he applies more pressure, now focusing on your clit. Rubbing in circles, you let out a whiny moan, dropping your head to his shoulder. He chuckles, removing his hands from you to unbutton his pants.

Pulling out his large cock, you smile at the bright red tip that's already dripping precum in anticipation. He pulls you to the edge of the desk, wrapping your legs around him. His tip meets your slit, a feeling that you had thought about all through break.

Draco rubs his tip over your dripping hole and your aching clit as you let out a small moan.

"Please" you whimper.

"Yes ma'am" he smirks, guiding his tip to your hole once again.

He slowly enters you all the way to the hilt. Draco lets out a groan as he rests his hand around your neck, as you let out a whimper at the feeling of being so full.

"Feel so good" he praises quietly.

He picks up the pace as he begins gripping at the hair at the base of your neck. You moan at the feeling. He meets his lips at yours once again, giving you sloppy and intense kisses.

The sound of your wetness makes the feeling even more intense - only he could do this to you. You moan a bit louder as he hits your g-spot.

"Right there" you gasp.

He continues his menacing pace, now aiming at that small button inside you.

"Right there?" he asks cockily, pulling your hair so that your eyes meet. His other hand drops to your clit, rubbing fast circles.

You let out a louder moan, throwing your head back as you feel your release build.

"Please, please, please" you start chanting.

"Cum for me baby" he says, continuing his hard thrusts and rough circles on your clit.

You do - all for him. You feel it snap inside you, the pleasure overtaking your body. Your legs begin shaking as you whine and moan. This sight alone is enough to send Draco over the edge, pumping his cum into you. He slows his pace as you both come down, the hand that was on your clit now on your thigh.

Panting, you drop your head to his shoulder again.

"So good" you mumble. He just smiles, bringing a hand to the back of your head, stroking your hair.

After a moment of peace, reality re-enters and the panic of having missed a majority of your first class begins.

"Draco! You made me miss History of Magic! Now I have to come up with an excuse" you grumble, reaching for your clothes.

"Poor thing" he mocks. "At least you'll be able to go into your next class with my cum dripping out of you. Bringing me with you..." he laughs.

You playfully slap his arm. "I hate you".

"It seems like it" he says, leaning in for a peck before putting on his own clothes.

You both wordlessly scramble to make yourselves presentable again - a routine both of you were both used to, and a bit fond of. You stand in front of each other as you reach to smooth his shirt, as he reaches and smooths your hair. He smiles a bit before leading you to the door.

"Have fun in the rest of History of Magic" he says sarcastically.

"Oh, always" you agree, smiling at him.

Draco kisses you once more before peaking outside the door and walking to class. You also look both ways before rushing to the Great Hall for your bag - retuning to your original mission. Once grabbing the bag that was sitting under your seat, you sling it onto your back and rush to Professor Binns' room.

You approach the door, take a deep breath, and enter the room. Luckily, Binns is so wrapped up in the fascinating topic, you were able to slip right in and sit at your usual table with Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

Harry shoots you a questioning look, while Hermoine takes the less subtle route. "Where have you been?!" she whisper yells.

"You get lost or something?" Ron says sarcastically, looking at you confused.

"It's a big school" you smile, shrugging.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #harry potter smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy blurb

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ellecdc · 4 months

Text

The Drink Snob (part 3)

mafia au!Remus Lupin x fem!reader - 3.1k

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4

CW: attempted drink tampering, attempted human trafficking, a lot of swearing because it's Remus and reader (obviously)

Synopsis: You take Elle's advice, Remus returns the favour.

You waited at the end of the counter for your mocha to be called through the café. You were feeling pretty good about yourself; you had an interview lined up at a nice restaurant at the end of this week, you’d guest lectured for Minerva and got great feedback from both her and the students, and you’d found time to facetime Elle twice more.

The café was fairly busy with a fair number of students trying to get their caffeine fix between classes. The barista apologized to you for the wait, but you waved him off; “I’m not in any rush right now, take your time.” You had said to him.

“That was quite polite of you.” A voice to your right commented.

You turned and raised your eyebrow at the dark-haired man. His hair was an array of curls pulled back into a low bun, and he kept his onyx gaze fixed on you.

“And that surprises you?”

He smirked at you. “From a yank? I’d have to say a little.”

“Right,” You scoffed, “I’m not American.”

He looked at you strangely at that. “You sound like an American.”

“Maybe I’m just practicing for a part.” You shot back.

He hummed in response. “A budding actress, hm?”

Before you could respond, your name was called at the counter.

“Peppermint mocha for Y/N!”

You picked up your cup and turned back to the man. “As nice as this was, I have to take my leave.”

“Come to dinner with me.” He interjected quickly. You stared at him incredulously.

“I’m sorry?”

“Come on, I want to hear more about this budding acting career of yours.” He said as he winked.

Your immediate thought was hell no. But then you thought of The Man ™ from the pub last week, and how surprising and nice it was to finally connect with someone. Wasn’t this exactly what Elle was saying you should be doing? It went against every part of your better judgement, but this opportunity had been placed in front of you twice, were you really in any position to ignore it?

“What’s your name?” You asked. You were met with a victorious smile.

“Tan.”

You considered him for a moment.

“Fine, one dinner.”

He clapped his hands together. “Wonderful, how about tonight? There’s a Spanish fusion restaurant that just opened downtown that I’ve been dying to try. I could pick you up. Say 7?”

You looked the man up and down; you may be stepping out of your comfort zone agreeing to a date with a stranger you met at a coffee shop, but you weren’t suicidal.

“I’ll meet you there.” You offered. Tan seemed to deflate a little, but the emotion passed quickly over his face.

He gave you the address and then actually kissed you on the hand before you turned and exited the café.

Were all Brit’s this bold? Was this just an English thing? You walked back to the faculty building hoping this was a meet cute opportunity you could tell Elle about.

“It’s kinda smart, really.” James commented, taking another drink from his water.

“What is?” Remus asked, not looking up from the salad he was pushing around on the plate in front of him.

“Scouting near the universities.”

Remus looked up at his mate then, his black hair as wild as ever as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His knee was bouncing under the table, and Remus knew he was just trying to make conversation while they waited for Lestrange to make his appearance, but James could be so thick sometimes.

“Yes, James. It’s almost as if the traffickers have a method that they follow to find young women they can pick up.” Remus muttered quietly, finally shifting his gaze up to the door.

“Sorry.” James muttered as he ran his hand through his hair again. “I just hate waiting.”

Remus chuckled. “I can tell.”

James made it through at least a minute and a half of silence before Remus finally took pity on him. “Harry’s so close to walking now, eh?”

James’ face lit up as he began a long tangent of his son’s different methods of movement which ranged from scooting, crawling, shifting, and rolling. “And Moony, yesterday he stood at the coffee table and walked around it all by himself! He was holding the coffee table, but still!”

Remus smiled at his friend’s happiness just as he noticed their target entering the building.

“He’s here.” Remus muttered into his collar which hid his speak piece.

“Greasy bastard, how do they manage to look creepier and creepier every time I see them?” Sirius muttered darkly into Remus and James’ earpiece from his car parked out front.

Sirius hated not being able to join on some stakeouts on account of his family. For example, Rabastan Lestrange is technically related to Sirius through marriage as he is the brother-in-law of Sirius’ first cousin Bellatrix. Sirius and Bellatrix, both Black’s by birthright, and the Lestrange’s have historically held ties to the mob boss Tom Riddle who had his followers call him Lord Voldemort. Pretentious fucks at best, but at worst they were prejuidiced, racist, bigots who were involved in human trafficking, which meant it was very important that they get caught and stopped, not the other way around. Which meant Sirius had to play back-up.

Remus was fine with that. James could be a little annoying on account of his ADHD, but he’d take that over Sirius’ inner rage any day.

Remus got it, he really did; Sirius had been surrounded by this his whole life – born and raised to carry on the Black line of arseholes, and he’s seen things many people haven’t. His family was awful and what these women and children went through at their hands was horrible, but being hot-headed in the field didn’t save them.

Remus figured Sirius would probably make a good police officer if they weren’t so corrupt, though he would struggle playing by the rules.

Maybe in another life.

“He’s got a seat in the far left. It’s secluded and near an emergency exit. Reg, are you able to get eyes back there without being caught?” James asked into his own speak piece.

“On it.” Was Reg’s response.

Remus watched the door as James watched Rabastan. People came and went but James never mentioned a change in our target, so Remus disregarded them.

Suddenly, Remus’ breath caught in his throat. No. Not her.

“We should try the croquettes.” James said - their code.

No.

“No.”

James looked up at Remus. “What?”

“It’s...” Remus started, but he didn’t know how to finish. James kept his eyes on Rabastan as you walked past Remus’ line of sight.

“Wait, is that-” James started but they were interrupted by Regulus.

“I’ve got eyes on the emergency exit.”

“Copy.” James muttered and looked back to Remus. “What is it?”

“What’s going on?” Sirius interjected in their earpieces.

“Is that the girl?” James whispered to him, causing Remus to scrunch his eyes shut.

“Wait, what?” Reg called.

James sighed. “Remus’ girl from The Drunken Sailor, it’s her.”

“Wait.” Sirius yelled causing both men to wince. “The girl Rabastan is meeting, it’s Remus’ girl?”

“She’s not my girl.”

Sirius called out the wrong name. “Right?” Sirius carried on over top of Remus.

“Y/N.” Remus corrected.

“Oh my God,” James said wide eyed at him. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I do not.” Remus started before changing gears, “fuck off, Prongs. Now is not the time. We’ve got to get her out of here.”

“Easy, Remus.” Regulus encouraged him quietly.

“Tell us how you want to go about this.” James added.

Both Black brothers shouted a what over the earpieces.

“The plan stays the same, Prongs. Same as it always is – get her out.” Sirius barked.

“No, Padfoot. This has taken on a new element. If Remus isn’t careful, he could be accused of nefarious actions himself. She’s scheduled for an interview at the restaurant in a few days.” James chided. “It’s your call.” He said to Remus.

She wasn’t supposed to get caught up in this.

She was supposed to go back to school and stay away from dingy bars – and dingy men. She was so clever; how could she have gotten swept up with Rabastan?

No.

Don’t be an arse, Remus.

These men were smart. They knew how to come off completely charming, and targeted women, well, women exactly like her.

She was a student, she was foreign, and she was probably alone when he approached her. She was their perfect target.

Remus just hoped she had kept her wits about her; she had noticed so quickly that his drink had been tampered with, hopefully she’d be just as alert tonight. Remus knew from the staff at the café that she had declined his invitation to pick her up, hopefully she didn’t give him her number, either.

“Do you want me to swap, Remus?” Regulus queried over our earpiece.

Did Remus want him to swap?

What did Remus want?

Remus kind of wanted to be the one to be sitting over there with you.

He turned to look at your table to see you place your jacket on the hook of the booth beside you. As your head was turned, Rabastan’s hand hovered over your glass of water which began to fizz.

“Moons?” James asked quietly again.

But before Remus could respond, you looked back up and your gaze found him. Your eyes and nose scrunched a little as you considered him as if you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You finally shook your head slightly and offered Remus a small smile before turning back to Rabastan.

Well, you knew Remus was here now.

So much for keeping her out of this.

“Now.” Remus said as he stood from his place at the table.

The world had to be fucking with you at this point, right? You weren’t actually seeing The Man™? He must just be a figment of your imagination?

Apparently, he was not just a figment of your imagination because he was suddenly standing at the end of your table as if he was about to take your order.

“We really must stop meeting each other like this.” He said with a smirk.

You chuckled nervously as you stared at his beautiful face. “Uhm, yeah. Haha. What are the odds?”

“Uhm, do you mind?” Tan said as he considered The Man ™ and you with furrowed brows.

“I do, actually.” He said severely, before a second man with a mop of curly black hair sidled up behind him looking far more pleased than his counterpart.

“Rabastan, my man, it’s been too long.” He said entirely too loudly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you offered the people around you a nervous smile.

Tan seemed to pale at the sight of the newcomer. Suddenly, his glass of water was turned over in front of him as he scrambled to stand. Before Tan could get anywhere, the curly headed man embraced him in an aggressive looking hug that involved an arm around his neck.

“You bastard, I can’t believe we let it go this long without catching up. Why don’t we have a little family reunion, hm? I know some cousins of yours who are just dying to see how you are.” He announced to the entire restaurant as he man-handled Tan to the emergency exit behind your booth.

You watched with your mouth hanging open as the door closed behind them and the restaurant returned to its appropriate volume.

You turned your head towards The Man ™ as he slid into the booth Tan had just been dragged out of for all intents and purposes.

“What?” was all you could manage to mutter.

“Don’t drink your water” was his response.

You looked down to see the table – now pooled with Tan’s water – and sat there in front of you was your water with a filmy layer on top.

“What the fuck just happened?” you muttered more to yourself than anything.

“I returned the favour.” The Man™ replied with a shrug as he mopped up the water on the table that was starting to spill onto the bench of the booth you were seated on.

“What? Were you following me around waiting for some guy to drug me?” You asked incredulously.

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s not that deep.”

You scoffed in outrage. “Do not tell me to relax you fucker, I was nearly drugged, and lord knows what else.”

“I know exactly what else.” The man snarked back. “He would have brought you out to a van that his buddies would have pulled up upon his command, they would have dumped your purse and all of your belongings in the dumpster behind some business a few blocks away, flown you to Portugal and sold you to the highest bidder, and that’s ignoring everything that would have happened in between. I can assure you, darling, that there was only one fucker here and he was just dragged away by my mate there. So please for all that is holy, relax.” He pressed the end of his sentence as he dumped your glass over as well just as a server came by.

“Oh, let me clean this up for you!” The server exclaimed at the mess just as The Man apologized in faux embarrassment. “I’ll get you two new glasses. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”

Completely stunned, you decided to field the question to the infuriating man across from you who, fucking damnit, looked just as handsome as the first time you’d seen him.

“Just the waters for now, thank you.” He said with a smile which flashed his dimples, the bastard.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly which was in stark contrast from his demeanor before the server came.

“I’m fine.” You muttered probably more aggressively than you should have. “Fuck, I’m going to kill her.” You growled as you leaned your elbows onto the table and shoved your face into your hands.

“Who’s that now?”

You groaned, hands still covering your face. “My friend, the bitch. This is all her fault.”

“How so?”

“This was her idea! Going out with him, I mean.” You answered miserably as you leaned back against the booth and crossed your arms.

“Your friend knew that guy?” He asked somewhat alarmed.

You snorted a laugh. “No. She just thought I should get out more. Was so worried about me being all sad and lonely in this new city. This’ll teach her.” You muttered as you picked imaginary lint from your skirt.

The man was mirroring you; leaning against the back of his booth with his arms crossed as he seemed to consider you.

“Is that why you started handing out your CV?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “My what?”

The man dramatically rolled his eyes. “Oh, my apologies. I meant your resume.”

You nodded your head in understanding before slamming your hand down on the still damp table. “How do you know I’ve been handing out resumes? Are you actually stalking me?”

“No, even your luck doesn’t seem to be that bad. Though, being nearly drugged twice is not a good track record.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you were the one nearly drugged last time.”

The man smiled at you and something about it felt far softer than you felt the moment called for. “You applied at my mum’s restaurant – the one on 72nd. She was going on about finally having live music in the joint; I saw your CV.”

“I didn’t apply as a musician.” You shouted somewhat panickily. You cleared your throat before correcting yourself. “I mean, I just...I was just looking for a job as a server.”

He squinted his eyes at you before responding. “Well, good luck trying to say no to my mum.”

“What are the chances of me getting drugged if I work at your mum’s restaurant?”

This surprised a bark of laugh from him. “Actually, your chances would be quite a bit lower.”

“I don’t know...” you said suspiciously. “Every time I’ve been with you, drinks have been drugged.”

He hummed as he squinted his eyes. “Hazard of the trade.”

“And what trade is that?”

“Crime.” He said simply. You chuckled, but as you looked back up at the man, you noticed he wasn’t laughing.

“Oh, you’re serious?” You commented.

The corner of his mouth seemed to quirk at your word choice, but he offered you one quick nod.

“But...you’re the kind of criminal to have your drinks drugged and to stop other people from getting drugged?”

He moved his head side-to-side as if to say sort of.

“And you’re telling me this...because?”

“Because” he said as he seemed to square himself, “you ought to know that before you accept the position.”

The Man stood and left some bills on the table. “Are you safe to get home on your own?”

Still reeling from this whole ordeal, you nodded dumbly at him. He offered you a soft smile.

“Take it easy, Y/N.” He said as he left through the emergency exit.

It was only at his use of your name that you realized you still haven't caught his.

Remus was kicking himself. He should have just asked if you were okay and went about business as usual. He shouldn’t have sat with you, he shouldn’t have confessed about his mother’s restaurant, and he definitely shouldn’t have told you about the nature of his career. But he couldn’t let you walk into that interview without knowing what you were potentially getting yourself into.

And what would have happened if you had taken the job and then seen him there? Then you really would have suspected him of stalking.

Well, Remus has technically stalked before, but not in like a stalkery way, you know? It was like...

It was surveillance!

Fuck, he was grasping at straws.

It just seemed like the world was hell bent on shoving you in Remus’ path. And when Remus first met you – he was insistent on keeping you away from him, from this.

But you just had to drop your resume off at his family’s restaurant.

And you just had to get picked up by a human trafficking sociopath.

So, if you were going to insist on walking this dangerous line Remus calls life, you might as well know where the line is.

He didn’t know what he was more worried about: that you’d take his warning or that you wouldn’t.

Continue to part four here.

#marauders era #marauders au #reader insert #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #self insert #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fanfiction #background jegulily #Sirius black being a little shit #mafia au #remus x reader #remus lupin fic

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justmystyles · 1 year

Text

Now You're In My Life- Part 2

part 1 here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down.

warnings: some curse words, but other than that it's tame.

a/n: i definitely didn't expect to have part 2 done so quickly, but this story is just flowing out of me. thank you so much for all of the likes and comments from part 1. i honestly didn't even expect anyone to read it. 🥰

already planning on a part 3. i think after that it becomes more of a collection of one shots than a straight storyline. but you know i had to set it up all nice and cute.

i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

a quick tag for those of you that asked for part 2, so you don't miss it! @thechaoticjoy @cute-as-ducks420 @iceebabies

As the opening notes of Golden began to play, the screams from the crowd quickly came to a crescendo. Before long, Harry was being lifted up from the stage floor. As he moved around the stage, guitar strapped around him, it looked like he was searching for something… or someone.

Then his eyes landed on you, and your breath hitched. He was looking for you. His smile widened, and he shot you a wink before moving to his microphone stand. You watched with rapt attention, bobbing your head slightly and mouthing along to the words.

The show went on, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of Harry. It seemed as though he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you either. They would move in your direction frequently, it seemed particularly calculated during a couple of lyrics. Especially when he was singing ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. You had never listened to One Direction, so you weren’t familiar with the song. You knew you had heard it around before, but that was the extent. Even still, the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach tonight were going positively wild throughout that entire song, feeling as though Harry was singing directly to you.

At one point, while he was speaking to the crowd and reading signs, he turned to your direction, locking eyes with you before asking if everything was okay, and offering a questioning thumbs up. You smiled back shyly, offering a thumbs up in affirmation.

“Then why aren’t you dancing around and screaming your head off?” He asked with an arched brow.

Your eyes went wide, recognizing your comments from that morning being repeated to you.

By Harry.

Onstage.

In front of thousands of people.

Despite the house lights being down, you were certain that he could see the bright red blush that spread across your cheeks. You immediately buried your face in your hands. He laughed and frolicked away, continuing the show.

“Thank you Boston!” He shouted before placing his microphone back on the stand. He bowed and waved, blowing a few kisses along the way. As he moved up the runway in your direction, he locked eyes with you again, lifting his hand to his mouth and blowing a kiss directly at you. Your eyes dropped to your feet, feeling your cheeks heat again.

You jumped slightly when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you spun around wide eyed to see Jeff looking at you apologetically.

“Sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just coming over to bring you backstage.”

“Backstage?”

“Yeah, to see Harry?” He said with a question in his tone, as if you should have known this was part of the plan.

“Oh… right.” You nodded and followed behind as Jeff led you to the backstage area.

As you walked through the space, you saw the hustle and bustle that came with the post-show rush. It was fun to see, you had closed out many clubs, watching bands and roadies break down, but to see it at this extent was infinitely more fascinating.

Jeff stopped in front of a closed door, a sign with Harry’s name hanging on the front. He opened the door and signaled with his hand for you to walk in. As your eyes traveled the space, you noticed a couch, across from a mirrored counter and directors chair. A large wardrobe was set up against the wall. You were in Harry’s dressing room.

“He’s just taking care of a couple of things. Make yourself comfortable, and he’ll be right in.” Jeff said with a smile before leaving you alone.

In Harry Styles’s dressing room.

You step over to the wardrobe, looking through the outfits, admiring the sparkle and flair of his stage clothes. You realized you’d probably look creepy if he walked in and saw you going through his clothes, so you moved to the couch, taking a seat and fiddling with the feathers that adorned your shoulders, thanks to Harry.

The sound of the door opening pulled your attention, and you stood to your spot on the couch, taking a deep breath as Harry stepped over the threshold. His eyes caught yours instantly, and his smile widened.

Once the door was closed, he stepped up to you. “I knew it.” You give him a confused look. “The black definitely suits you.” He grabs the ends of the boa, wiggling them back and forth. You chuckle, and swat his hands away.

His eyes meet yours again. “So, what did you think of the show?”

You purse your lips, raising an eyebrow pretending to be deep in thought. “I definitely got my money’s worth.” You joke.

Harry furrows his brow. “But you didn’t pay any money.”

“I know,” you smirk.

“Just as cheeky as this morning.” He chuckles.

“It was an amazing show, Harry. I was truly blown away. Thank you so much for the invitation.”

“Thank you so much for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.”

There was a brief silence as you stared into each other’s eyes. You felt an electricity between you two, but you brushed it off as post-show adrenaline.

“I should probably go, I’m sure you’ve g-”

“No,” Harry interrupted you. “I’d like you to stay, if you can.” He looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You had told yourself that you would need to kill time to avoid crowds on the train. “Well, I suppose sitting backstage with an international superstar beats drinking alone at Banners.” You shrug.

“Do you want a drink? I can get you a drink.” Harry offered.

You chuckled at how quickly the words spilled out of him. If it had been anyone else, you would have thought it was out of nerves, or desperation to keep you there. “I’m good. The drink was just to kill time, I can just kill time talking to you instead.”

Harry wiped an imaginary tear from his eye and pouted at you. “That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” You laughed, and he smiled. “You have a lovely laugh.” He said, his expression turning more serious.

“Oh… uh thanks.” You mumble, taken off guard by the earnest comment.

“Wait right here,” he placed his hands on your shoulders as if to lock you into your spot. “I’m just going to run and change real quick.” He grabbed a pile of clothes off the counter and moved toward the bathroom. He paused in the doorway and turned back around to face you. “Seriously, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

You dropped your hands to your side, standing perfectly straight and nodding your head solemnly. He smiled and shook his head before stepping into the bathroom.

“What do we think?” He stepped out of the bathroom with a flourish, showing off his hoodie and sweatpants. He spun around before hitting a pose, crossing his arms over his chest.

You chuckled and applauded. “Very nice. Soooo haute couture.”

Harry joined in the laughter and led you to the couch. You took a seat on one end, and Harry took a seat beside you, your thighs grazing ever so slightly. The contact sending a shiver up your spine.

“So, you enjoyed the show?”

“Ahh, that’s why you asked me to stay.” You nodded expectantly. “You needed someone to tell you how amazing you are.”

“No, no no no, I swear!” He insisted. Pausing with an arched brow. “Wait, you think I’m amazing?”

“Ugh,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized. “Honestly, I just wanted to talk. Maybe get to know you a little.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Me? But why?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, I saw you this morning, you were dressed all proper and business-like, but then I saw that,” he tapped your lip ring. “And I just said to myself ‘I need to know her’.”

You feel that familiar heat rush your cheeks again and you drop your gaze, staring at your hands, which were sitting in your lap.

“So far, I know that you have an impeccable fashion sense, and you're quite adorable when you blush.” He leans to the side, bumping his shoulder against yours. “But I know there’s more in there, and I plan on finding it.”

Your nerves are at an all time high, you don’t understand why he’s so desperate to know you. You’re nobody. But you feel strangely at ease, like you want to open up to him. The two of you talk for hours, though it seems like no time has passed. You talk about your families, you tell him about your job, and your hobbies.

“Wait a minute,” he stops you as you’re telling him about the dance studio you’ve been attending since you were three. “You’ve been taking dance lessons for nearly thirty years and all you did out there tonight was nod your head politely?”

“I don’t dance,” you shrug.

He looked at you curiously. “So you’ve just been going to this studio for thirty years to press play on music so other people can dance?”

“No, I mean I don’t like,” you wave your hand trying to come up with the words. “When there’s choreography, I’m fine. If you just play music and tell me to dance, it’s not going to happen.”

Harry smirked. “I’m going to take that as a personal challenge.” You roll your eyes, but deep down, his words excite you. “So, if you go to a wedding or something, you don’t dance?” You shake your head. “Not even a slow dance?”

“No, I like to slow dance. My last boyfriend, whenever we went to a wedding, he would allow me one slow dance.”

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. “Only one? He didn’t want to take every possible opportunity to hold you as close as possible?” His tone had darkened, almost as if he were picturing the two of you pressed together. His words definitely made you think about it.

“Nope, guess not. Probably one of the reasons we broke up.” You shrug.

He could tell that bringing up your ex made you uncomfortable, so he quickly redirected. “So do you ever do the choreographed dancing in public?”

“Yeah, we uh… I have a dance recital every May. But my mom’s the only one that I ever let come.”

One thing Harry noticed as he got to know you was that you seemed to keep most people at a distance, you put up walls. He could see it in the way you spoke with him. You used humor and sarcasm to avoid letting people in. Harry included. But he was determined to knock that wall down.

As you two continued to talk, he would intently to everything you said, asking questions to get as much information as he possibly could.

You eventually ended up talking about music, you told him about the artists you listen to, the ones that everyone knows you listen to, you had also mentioned that you had a sizable collection of guilty pleasures that you kept to yourself.

“Okay, so tell me one artist on your guilty pleasure list.” Harry goaded.

“Yeah right!” She scoffed. “I just met you.”

“C’mon pleeeeeaaaaaasssseee,” he begged, widening his eyes and giving you a childlike grin. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his desperation.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. “But just one.”

He smirks with excitement, reaching for his water bottle and raising it to his lips as he watched you intently.

“Harry. Styles.”

Harry chokes on his sip of water, covering his mouth with his hand to stop himself from spitting all over you. Your eyes go wide, afraid you may have just killed an international pop sensation. You pat his back as he coughs more.

“Jeeze, I’m sorry,” you say in a panic. “It wasn’t even that funny!”

He waves his hand in front of his face as the coughing subsides. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting that.” He said, his voice raspy. You imagine that’s how he would sound first thing in the morning. You quickly shook off the impossible thought, and turned your attention back to him. “So, if I’m one of your guilty pleasures,” he enunciated the term and winked at you. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell anyone about tonight?”

“Like anyone would even believe me,” you scoffed.

“We can make sure they do.” He holds his hand out. “Phone, please.”

You look at him curiously, but hand over your phone as requested. He swipes up, quickly turning the screen to face you. Once your FaceID registers and the phone unlocks, he taps the camera icon and holds the phone up.

His free arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close. You inhale his scent and sigh, even though he just spent an hour sweating onstage, he smelled amazing. You wanted to make that scent into a candle. He pressed his cheek against yours. “Smile!” He said, displaying that wide, childlike smile once again before snapping a picture of the two of you.

When he was done taking the picture, he pulled away. You were so disappointed in the lack of contact that you didn’t notice Harry tapping away at your phone.

“There,” Harry’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked down, and he was handing your phone back. “Not only do you now have your very own Harry selfie, but I texted it to myself, so now we have each other’s numbers.”

You smile at him, okay he’s definitely hitting on you. How did you even get here? You look down at the phone and your eyes go wide. “Shit!”

“Are you alright? If you don’t want my number you can delete it I-”

“No, sorry.” You interrupted him, you definitely wanted his number. You’d never have the guts to actually use it, but it would be nice to look at to remember tonight. “I just realized the time. I missed the last train! Shit, I’m going to have to take an Uber back to my car.”

“No you won’t,” Harry placed an arm on your shoulder to calm you down, it worked. “I have a car to take me to the hotel. We can just take a little detour and bring you to your car.”

“But it’s so out of the way for you, I don’t want to put you out.”

“Nonsense.” He stood, extending a hand to help you off the couch. When you placed your hand in his, a spark of electricity ran through you. It was as if your hands were made to fit together.

“Well, thanks.” You shrug, looking down and realizing you’re still wearing the boa. “Oh here, this is yours.” You place your hands on either side, but Harry’s hands are on yours before you can lift it off.

“Keep it,” he smiled. “It looks better on you anyway.”

Your eyes drop to the ground again, Harry places his index finger under your chin lifting your gaze to meet his. “You look down too much, Y/N. Your eyes are too beautiful to hide from the world.”

You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips briefly, causing your breath to hitch. A knock on the door startled you apart. “H, the venue is kicking us out. We’ve gotta go.”

Harry opens the door, holding it for you, he bows to you and signals out the door. “M’lady.” You step out of the dressing room and into the hallway.

You spent the thirty minute ride to your car chatting away with Harry in the back of the SVU that had been hired to chauffeur him around. It was almost three in the morning, you knew you should be tired, but you didn’t feel it at all. You were just savoring every second you got to spend with Harry.

You arrived at the parking garage that housed your car, the SUV pulled up to the gate. You took a deep breath and turned to Harry. “Well, thanks again.” You began the goodbye you had dreaded since the second he stepped into the dressing room.

“Nope, not done yet.” He shook his head. “What kind of gentleman would I be to let a lady wander a dark parking garage at all hours of the morning?” He hopped out of the car and ran around, opening your door for you.

You stepped out, and he walked with you into the payment vestibule. You pull the ticket from your wallet and hand it to the attendant. You notice Harry reaching for something out of the corner of your eye.

“Eight fifty,” the attendant announces.

You reach into your wallet, but Harry beats you to it, handing over his credit card.

“Harry, what are you-”

“I invited you out, you shouldn’t have to pay for a thing.” He said as he signed the receipt and returned the card to his wallet.

“Okay, but I did have to pay for my train ride.”

“I guess I owe you, then,” he smirked as he led you into the garage.

You lead him to your car, clicking on the key to unlock it. “That’s me.” You stand by the driver’s side door, Harry comes up beside you, placing one hand on the window and leaning down to stare into your eyes. “I had a lot of fun tonight Harry, really. Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he smiled. Then his face started moving closer to yours.

Your nerves got the best of you, and you pulled your head back. “Wha- what are you doing?” You stutter.

“I’m kissing you.” He responds simply.

“Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful, and I really enjoyed getting to know you tonight.” He studied your face. He looked so deeply into your eyes that you swore he was looking straight into your soul. “And if we’re being honest, I think you want to kiss me too.”

“But I… what… I…”

“Y/N, do you want to kiss me?” He asks.

“Yes, very much I do.” You nod.

“Then stop overthinking it, and let it happen.”

While still leaning on the car with one hand, the other reached up and cupped your cheek. You shivered slightly, you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold metal of his rings against your face, or the intensity of the moment, Maybe both.

Finally, his lips met yours. The kiss was tentative at first, but as your hands wrapped around his neck, you felt his tongue slide across the seam of your lips, pausing to play with the lip ring on your left side. You quickly granted him access. Your tongues took a moment, slowly exploring each other’s mouths.

This was something you had both thought about since you first locked eyes this morning, and you wished it would never end. Unfortunately, after a few moments, you pull apart for air. Your eyes remained closed as your foreheads pressed together, his hand still cupping your cheek.

“Wow,” you breathed out.

“Yeah, definitely wow.” He said with a chuckle.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” His thumb stroked your jawline softly. “You have my number, please use it?”

You nod, so overwhelmed by the moment that you were unable to speak. Reluctantly, he steps back. You sigh, instantly missing the warmth of his body against yours. He places his hand on the door handle, opening it for you.

You get into the car and buckle your seatbelt as he closes the door. You start the car and put it in reverse. Harry backs away, smiling at you softly. Before you can take your foot off the break, you come up with a way to spend another few moments with him. It’s not much, but you’ll take all the time you can get. You roll down the window and he looks at you curiously.

“You know, it’s late. You probably shouldn’t just be wandering around a dark parking garage by yourself.” You say, followed by the clicking of the door locks. “Get in, I’ll drive you back to your car.”

Harry smiles, that smile. At that moment you realize just how much trouble you’re in. When he smiles at you like that, you are putty in his hands. He runs around to the passengers side and hops in.

“Drive slow.” He says as he closes the door.

You chuckle and back out of your parking spot. As your car moves at a crawl through the garage, you notice out of the corner of your eye that Harry’s gaze never leaves your face,

“What are you even looking at?” You ask.

“You have a lovely profile.” He sees your face scrunch at the compliment. “I mean it,” he laughs defensively. “You’ve got that cute little nose, and those pouty lips.”

“They’re probably extra pouty right now.” You say, alluding to the kiss you two had just shared.

“Do you regret it?”

“Not at all. You?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ sound. “Thinking about how much I want to do it again, actually.”

You instinctively pull your bottom lip in between your teeth as you begin to blush again.

“Mmm,” Harry groans. “You’re not playing fair, Y/N.”

As you reach the gate at the front of the garage, you scan your payment receipt. The barricade lifts and you drive out, pulling up beside Harry’s ride.

“Well,” you sigh. “I think we’ve officially put it off as long as we can. This is where we part ways.” You turn to face him, your heart sinking at the thought of parting.

Harry leans across the console, pulling you into another kiss. You savor every second of his lips on yours, knowing that he’s off to a new city in the morning, and you likely won’t see him again for a very long time.

You separate, and he looks deeply into your eyes again. “Get home safely, yeah?”

You nod. “You too, I mean tour safely, I guess.” You shrug, silently chiding yourself for your stupid response.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says with a sad smile.

“Goodnight, Harry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you try to control your emotions.

You watch as he gets out of your car, and opens the backseat door of his SUV. He waves one more time before getting inside. As the car drives off, you follow behind it toward the exit. His car moves to the right lane, yours to the left, preparing to go your separate ways. You notice the back window roll down, Harry waves at you one last time as his car takes the right turn. You watch it until it is out of your sight. Once your light turns green, you put your foot on the gas and head home, returning to real life.

Your life without Harry.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles meet cute #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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justlemmeadoreyou · 9 days

Text

meet-cute

okayyyy so here is something short n shitty on these new pics that my brain whipped up! tell me if you like this!

words: 1.3k~ish

warnings: flirting, fluff.

***

You loved coming out to this little nook to capture scenes of the city on canvas. Today felt especially inspiring with the beautiful spring weather.

You begin laying out your brushes and squeezing out vibrant shades of paint onto your palette. Losing yourself in the simple motions, you barely notice the passersby around you. That is, until a very familiar voice pipes up from behind.

"Excuse me, miss? Your paintings are absolutely lovely."

You freeze, brush hovering in the air. No, it couldn't be... Slowly, you turn around and your jaw drops. There, flashing his signature dimpled grin, stands Harry Styles himself. Your ultimate celebrity crush in the flesh, mere feet away.

"H-Harry? Harry Styles?" you stammer out, eyes wide.

He chuckles softly. "The one and only. I'm out on a morning stroll and I couldn't help but stop to admire your work. You've got a brilliant talent there."

Your cheeks flush bright pink. "Oh my gosh, thank you! You're—you're really here. I can't believe it!"

Trying not to completely fangirl and scare him off, you take a deep breath to collect yourself. Harry Styles is complimenting your art. This is actually happening.

"Sorry, I'm just—wow, I'm such a huge fan of yours. Your music means so much to me."

He smiles warmly. "I'm glad you enjoy it, love. Say, would you maybe be interested in doing a little commission for me? Painting my portrait?"

You nearly drop your palette right then and there. "You want me to paint you? Like, really?"

"If you're up for it, yeah! I'd be honoured."

Nodding fervently, you scramble to set up a fresh canvas on your easel. "Yes, absolutely! I'd love to! Just...just tell me how you'd like to pose."

As Harry arranges himself into a relaxed seated position, you take a moment to study his striking features. From the soft chestnut curls framing his face to those entrancing emerald eyes, he is perfect subject material. Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest.

"Okay, perfect, just like that. Stay right there and I'll get started!"

You take a steadying breath before putting brush to canvas, carefully mapping out Harry's form in broad strokes. The two of you fall into an easy back-and-forth conversation as you work, chatting about everything from his latest album to your shared hometown.

"I've gotta say, your Cheshire accent is pretty damn charming," Harry remarks at one point with a playful wink.

You giggle shyly. "Why thank you, kind sir. Yours isn't too bad either."

Harry throws back his head with a deep, raspy chuckle that has your toes curling in your shoes. "Is that so, darling? Well in that case..." He leans in close enough for you to smell his intoxicating cologne, voice lowering to a sultry murmur. "Perhaps later you'll allow me to read you a bedtime story?"

"Harry!" you gasp in flustered exasperation, half-heartedly swatting his arm as he cackles victoriously. The two of you are so caught up in your playful banter that you barely notice the small crowd starting to gather, whispering and snapping photos as word spreads that the one and only Harry Styles is getting his portrait done.

Harry waves jovially at his fans but remains focused on you, keeping up the easy banter.

"How's it looking over there, Picasso? Doing me justice?"

Glancing up, you smirk. "Well, it's hard to improve upon perfection, but I'm giving it my best shot."

He smiles, and swears he felt his heart skip a beat at your words. "Such flattery! And here I thought you were just a pretty face with those big doe eyes."

You roll said eyes dramatically as your cheeks flush. "Oh, stop trying to put me off, you flirt!"

Over the next little while, you alternate between studying Harry's striking features with lazer-like intensity and flushing furiously whenever he catches you staring. At one point, he pointedly clears his throat.

"You know, most artists usually start on the face when doing portraits," he remarks with a teasing lilt.

Cheeks flaming again, you force your gaze away from the rippling muscles of his forearms where you'd been fixated like a teenager. "Hush you, I'm simply taking my time with the background work first."

"If you say so," he chuckles but obediently returns to stillness, allowing you to slowly build up brushstrokes on the canvas.

Time seems to fly by as your brush strokes bring Harry's image vibrantly to life on the canvas. The swarm of onlookers grows steadily bigger, phones clicking away to document the scene. Several times you have to politely ask people not to get too close and obstruct your view.

With one last few delicate strokes to bring out the shine in Harry's eyes, you finally lean back with a satisfied smile.

"Well, Mr. Styles...what do you think?"

Harry rises from his pose and steps over to admire your handiwork, lips parting in an impressed grin.

"Wow...Y/N, this is incredible! You captured me perfectly!"

You beam proudly, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his praise. "I had some pretty gorgeous subject matter to work with."

Chuckling, Harry carefully plucks the canvas from the easel. "You've definitely earned your payment and then some. Name your price, love."

After some back-and-forth haggling that has the crowd laughing, Harry hands over a generous sum of cash and pulls you in for a warm hug.

"Truly, thank you for this. I'll cherish it forever!"

You bite your lip shyly as he pulls away. "You're more than welcome. Can't say I mind immortalizing that handsome face on canvas."

Harry tosses you one last wink before turning to greet his clamoring fans, the sea of people quickly engulfing him and carrying him off down the street.

As he's shuffled away, Harry feels a pang of disappointment that he didn't get a chance to ask for your number or make plans to see you again. He spent the whole time shamelessly flirting and getting flustered by your adorable blushes and quips. Now he may never get the opportunity to take you out on an actual date.

Once he's finally escorted into his awaiting car, Harry lets out a frustrated huff and runs a hand through his tousled hair. He'd been so wrapped up in your captivating presence that he didn't even think to get your contact information before being mobbed. Rookie mistake.

"Stupid, stupid," he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Just as he's resigning himself to having let a potential connection slip through his fingers, something catches Harry's eye. He glances down at the canvas you had been painting him on, safely tucked onto the seat beside him, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

There, just peeking out from the backside wrapped around the frame, is a scribbled set of numbers. Hurriedly, Harry flips over the painting to inspect further. He lets out a delighted laugh at what he finds.

It's a phone number! Trailing below it in your handwriting are the words "In case you need your portrait updated ;) -Y/N"

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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novelizt · 6 months

Text

EXPECTO PATRONUM I ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 13.7k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'my dearest vexation'. prefect! lockwood. (i also headcanon him being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader), love potions (misuse of magic), dragons on the loose, wizard duels, and a lot of unpolished dialogue.

NOTES ➺ it's been a long time coming. i hope this finds you when you need it 💙 happy nanowrimo !!

this was originally a one-shot that got split in two. please read part two after this to see their happily ever after 💙

For every Gryffindor came a Slytherin waiting to trouble them. You thought you were in the clear after you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw four years ago. So, you questioned how you had the misfortune of being vexed by a serpent such as Anthony Lockwood.

He boasted the status of being the sole muggle-born Slythern in your year, as well as a colossal thorn in your side. He made it routine to test you. You knew his M.O. well enough to recognize the sound of his footsteps before he even reached you.

"We're learning advanced protective charms in Defence today," he announced like you didn't speed through the syllabus already.

You didn't have to look at him to know he was sporting that lilted smile of his. If you were in a bitter mood, you might have even slung a hex at him.

Luckily for him, you just wanted to get through the day. You quickened your steps. He followed like a parasite.

He even had the gall to bend at the knees to be at eye-level with you, the right side of his mouth curved higher than his left. "Come on, sweetheart. Not even a nod of acknowledgement?"

"If it will get you to leave me be..."

You granted his request and even offered a stiff nod, hoping that would suffice.

You hoped too much because all he did was grin and return to his regularly scheduled goading by matching your stride.

"Away with you," you shooed.

You threw your arm out, aiming for his shoulder. He caught your hand before it even made contact—giving your knuckle a quick tap just to aggravate you.

"I know that trick, sweetheart." He unfurled fingers from yours, slow and deliberate. "Let me walk you, at least. I am a gentleman. Oh– Don't make that face. I really am!"

"If you are such a gentleman, you'd pay attention to my request and leave."

"Suddenly, I'm a barbarian." He shot you a wink that made you wish the floor would swallow you whole. "I could do much worse, you know. Have you heard of oobleck—the stuff muggles are raving about? Bet you'd have a jolly time finding out how to get a non-Newtonian fluid out of your hair."

He feigned a yawn, dropping an arm over your shoulders and giving your arm a subtle squeeze to drive home the fact that he had no intentions of letting you go.

"Arse," was your gracious response.

"Oh, don't be like that. If you are going to play that game, I do have a divine rump. So do you," he said without missing a beat. He played a fool to your slack jaw and widened eyes. "And would you look at that! We've arrived to your classroom. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

If only looks could kill.

Your systems stalled when he dipped his head and planted an ever-cheeky kiss on your temple.

It was futile to throw out a fist to dent that pretty face of his, because he caught your hand before you could even land a hit.

"Cheeky," Lockwood crooned. He tapped your nose before letting you go. You made a show of flicking off the invisible mites he gave you. "Nice try though, sweetheart."

"You—" When you tried to stomp on his foot, he veered out of the way, finessed as a Chesire.

At that point, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. You lifted your chin and crossed the threshold into Potions, ignoring the exorbitant waves and kissy faces he made at you.

Your classmates levelled you with looks of intrigue but you ignored them, too.

Of course, Lockwood had to have the last word. "Remember not to mix up your asphodel and lavender. Wouldn't want another smokey incident, would we? You basically handed me that perfect score."

You tried not to shrivel when a ripple of giggles disrupted the stillness of the classroom.

You threw a nasty look over your shoulder and turned sour when he left, his laugh echoing down the hall. You estimated that he'd be a few minutes late to his class, even if he had to run to make it. Poor chap.

Finally, you were rid of him, but the newly realised smell in the room replaced his slot as your morning vexation. The smell of old parchment, clipped grass, and (much to your bereavement) the Lockwood Stench viscerally assaulted your senses.

You blanched, falling into your seat. "Heavens, did he leave his perfume in here? It smells awful."

As if seeing his face wasn't bad enough, he managed to be the subject of your irritation even if he was absent from the room.

James Potter II, your seatmate and friend, laughed. Eyes crinkling like he knew something you didn't. "He, meaning Anthony Lockwood?"

Your lip curled at the name. Even while preoccupied by your review notes, the smell clouded you. Your attempts to wave away the stench only made it stronger.

It wasn't the worst smell in the wizarding world but you'd rather go through the only class you don't share with him without the incessant thought of him. A huff left you as you came to peace with the fact that your nose would lose its sense eventually.

James's most devious grin stretched across his face. "That's Amortentia over there."

Your breath caught. He jutted a finger at the cauldron that sat at the end of your two-seater desk.

Surely enough, the brew had a pearlescent sheen with curls of peach smoke spiralling into the air, infecting the room with its fragrance. Now that you'd been made aware, your ribs felt too right for your lungs.

Your laugh came out stiff. You coughed, hoping it sutured the cracks in your façade. "I was mistaken then. I only smell the Quidditch Pitch."

James hummed, unconvinced.

—

Time passed slower when you were dying to forget the incident at Potions. Your eyes kept jumping to your watch before the middle of the day had even passed.

Classes had come and gone, and a certainly foul smell clung to the walls of this classroom—as was always the case for Defence Against the Dark Arts. For a moment, you missed smelling the amortentia, then jolted at what other thing that implied.

You knew class started when your peers fell silent, listening attentively on tipped toes. It was every man for himself on days the tables and chairs were pushed to the side of the room.

"On this fine day, we are covering a very tricky, but very utilised charm." The Professor circled the room, inspecting posture and wand grip as she passed.

For a moment, her eyes fell on you, and you stiffened under her gaze. Her lip quirked, like she found comfort in scaring you.

You were made aware that she was a rival of your grandmother's, back in their heyday. You surmised that because she couldn't get one up on your grandmother, she transposed her efforts onto the next best thing: You, and she wasn't afraid to show it.

Her heels clicked, grating your ears as she went on to terrorise a few more unfortunate souls in the way. The vast majority were daft to her impartiality.

She went on a lecture about the charm's importance in the Battle at Hogwarts. You were about to doze off when she slapped her wand against her palm. "Now that the lot of you are in your fourth year, I feel that it is important to know how to cast it in light of grave circumstances."

She waved her wand and muttered a few words before a silvery line jumped from her wand, spinning in the air and illuminating the room before taking on the shape of a rabbit.

The silvery manifestation hopped along with great speed, passing you briskly and making you stumble.

A hand caught your arm before you hit the floor. You were quick to retrieve yourself when you realised that it was Lockwood. You tuned out his mild laugh as you turned away without thanks.

The patronus then skidded to a halt at James's side, speaking in the Professor's voice. "I expect you to know this, Mr. Potter."

It dispersed and a vicious applause shook the room. Even you found yourself wide-eyed in exhilaration. Fighting the fact that the professor was rude, the patronus charm was something you'd been dying to learn way back when.

In the midst of the celebration, your eyes caught Lockwood's, only to find him already staring. There was a pinching sensation in your gut. It forced you to look away. You missed his smile completely.

The Professor ordered the class to break into pairs. Lockwood glued himself to your side before you could blink. He was shooing people away before you could even shoo him away.

"She's got a nasty temper, that one. Wouldn't want her patronus to lunge at you."

"I will have it bite your head off," you murmured, watching a nice Hufflepuff back away. Thus, leaving you alone with the bane of your existence.

"You're too nice for that," Lockwood replied, tapping your side with a half-smile.

"You just said I have a temper."

"With me, yes. But I can handle you."

You had a lot to say about that. The Professor spoke before you could.

"Now," Professor mused. Her voice bounced off the walls in higher vibration. "Using the instructions in your books, attempt to cast your patronus. Remember! The lighter the memory, the more efficient the patronus."

A chorus of turning pages echoed. You and Lockwood withdrew your wands, already knowing which spell to use.

His lips quirked. "Did some advanced reading, did you?"

"You know me so well."

You shook in anticipation, but, after shortly regarding your partner, you refrained from looking too eager.

"Dunderheads first," you urged with false cheer.

The insult flew over Lockwood's head. "Gladly. I like to think my patronus would be a lion."

You couldn't help but snort. "I assume yours would be a housecat with a lot of overgrown hair."

"That would be you."

You had an inkling that he found joy in watching you frown.

After a long while and a generous amount of griping, his wand moved, and he muttered, "Expecto patronum."

A silvery burst of light exploded from his wand. Wisps spun in the air before the dust settled, revealing a crane. It stretched, showcasing several inches of its incandescent neck and wingspan before Lockwood waved his wand once more. The motion sent it in a circle around the room.

It was so majestic, you couldn't pry your eyes away. Other students stared in envy as the crane weaved past other patronuses, nipping at them playfully before soaring back to you.

Wait, not to you... At you.

You found your feet, ready to duck before the silvery bird crashed into you, but it never did. It dispersed before it even touched a hair on your head.

It was an explosion of silver sand. It brushed your cheek with unexpected warmth. The cold seeped into your robes as the darkness veiled you.

"Shame." Lockwood clicked his tongue. "Thought I could freak you out a bit. I couldn't hold it for too long, though."

"Truly a shame," you simpered.

Professor's applause rang out from the other side of the room. Likely for Lockwood's expert execution or his taunting you. Mayhaps both.

"Good work, Mr. Lockwood! Keep practising and your patronus could glide over the Atlantic one day."

"Hear that?" He brightened at the compliment, standing taller as he leaned toward you. "It's your turn, dunderhead."

The number of hexes you could have used . . . You didn't need them. You needed happy thoughts to conjure up a patronus. It was hard enough standing in the same room as Lockwood and Professor Loathes-Your-Guts.

Your inspirations were of holidays and golden scores; your parents' approval; Lockwood falling on his face during Quidditch (your lips twitched at the memory); and the muggle fantasy novels you hid in your room.

A warm feeling shot down your arm, heartening you to mutter the enchantment. The feeling wrapped around your body like a blanket, and when you opened your eyes, your own patronus stared back at you.

It stood metres above the rest, towering over students and patronuses alike. Wisps of silver waved to and fro its body. The only apt description for it was 'colossal'.

"Is that a giraffe?" Lockwood muttered.

"No, It's a pelican." You smiled at his frown. "Of course, it's a giraffe, Lockwood."

You'd never seen one so pretty.

It glowed so bright that Lockwood looked blue in its light. He spared you a look of resignation.

You win.

A swell of pride came to the surface before the patronus wilted away. The space it stood turned black.

Hollers rung out, shaking the bricked walls. A new wave of excitement seized the room. You didn't even glance at the Professor but you could feel her heated gaze on the back of your head. That was victory enough.

—

Three years following that day, you're harrowed by the thought of leaving this place behind. Hogwarts felt like home, more so than the one you shared with your parents.

It was difficult to imagine life without the sky above the dining tables or the constant presence of Prefects scolding lower years.

Soon, your rivalry with Lockwood would fade to the black, too. As far as you knew, the fool was gunning to be an auror. Becoming one yourself wasn't a path you were inclined to take.

You passed the hourglasses of House Points and watched as more trickled into Slytherin's glass, and you felt nothing. The fact that you came to peace with having less points should have been concerning. Your mother would scorn you if she ever caught you thinking that way.

Not wanting to linger, you turned for the dining hall.

You didn't flinch when a weight fell over your shoulders and Lockwood's pretty face invaded your periphery. You should have known he couldn't leave you alone for too long.

"Lockwood."

He grinned. "My dearest vexation."

Your nose scrunched, irritation injected with the smallest feeling of familiarity. "Don't call me that."

"Copy that," He smiled, dragging you closer by the arm around your shoulders. "sweetheart."

It was a lost cause to correct the priss.

"I thought you would've matured by now. Disappointing, really."

"I could be mature, or I could point out the fact that we have fifty points above Ravenclaw."

"I don't mind."

He stalled, and you stopped with him. You didn't really have a choice when he had you under his wing.

He searched your eyes, bewildered. Unsettled, even. "What's on with you?"

You tried to shrug him off but he held fast, fingers practically melded to your arm. "I'm fine, thank you very much. I just don't see the point of upholding this... this–" What was this? You didn't finish the thought before swaying the conversation elsewhere. "We're graduating this year. Might as well set an example for the first-years."

"Our squabbles make it fun for them." On the brink of being offended, he insisted, "They have plenty of examples as is. Kat Godwin sucks the life out of everything, George is best friends with Moaning Myrtle, and Lucy is off talking to the illusive Gray Lady."

You groaned. "That isn't the point."

You made an attempt to shove him, but he caught your hand.

"You have got to start thinking of better ways to express yourself other than hitting or shoving. You should know I always see it coming."

"I can express myself just fine," you respired, yanking your hand away. "But do go ahead. Indulge me. What, pray tell, does that make us?"

Lockwood flourished his free hand as he spoke. "We are 'the arch rivals who makes their problem everyone's problem'. The lower years adore it!"

"Do they?"

In time for your asking, a group of second-years waved at Lockwood, and then to you. He waved back whilst you offered them a terse smile.

One of the girls elbowed her friend. As whispery as her tone was, everyone still heard her. "See? Told you they suit each other."

"They are a couple. Of course, they do," the friend replied.

"Not a couple," you corrected swiftly.

They scurried faster. Before they left the hall, one yelled out, "Just kiss already!"

Despite his matching flush, Lockwood turned to you with a cheeky grin. "You heard them. Let us kiss." He advanced, lips puckered.

You blocked the way with your palm, spreading your fingers until you could push his head back by his forehead. "Yeah– No."

You pried yourself free from his grip to sit with your friends. He didn't fight it, but you weren't surprised that he shouted after you. "But I was right! We have to give the audience what they want!"

"Mr. Lockwood!" Professor McGonagall stood to reprimand him.

You turned away to hide a laugh.

—

The day was lovely. The previous day's rain left a dewy haze in its wake. It was chilly but not cold, and the sun and clouds looked remarkably friendly that morning.

Even then, you didn't know what it was. Your stomach churned for a reason unseen. In the stillness, you could hear a pin drop. You could hear yourself think for once.

Not long after the nagging feeling arrived, you came to the horrific conclusion that Lockwood's absence felt off-putting. You were walking to potions class alone, for the first time in years.

There was no Anthony Lockwood galloping behind you, throwing his arm around you and messing up your hair when you shrug him off. There was no warning as to what your class would be covering that day or a passive-aggressive jab about the most recent Quidditch match.

And, bizarrely, you missed the chaos. You shuddered as the thought struck you.

You held your books tighter and quickened your pace to get to class. When you arrived at Potions, Lockwood-less, your classmates stood to verify the emptiness of the doorway for themselves. Even they were puzzled.

James cocked a brow as you sat and laid out your items without a noise. "Where's lover boy?"

"Using his brain and finally leaving me alone," you responded, wincing at the hint of exasperation in your tone. You didn't mean to sound so dejected, and you definitely didn't intend to slam your things on your desk either. There's a lot of things you didn't intend to do today and 'mentioning Lockwood' was now at the top of that list.

"Mhm," James leaned back in his seat, eyeing you warily. "You don't look too happy."

"I stayed up late doing that essay about counter-potions," you reasoned, having a hard time getting the words out.

James looked pained when you mentioned it. Seconds later, you stifled a laugh when he admitted to forgetting all about that assignment.

Contrary to what you'd promised yourself, Lockwood remained in the back of your mind the entire period.

—

When had Anthony Lockwood ever been interested in Oriana Cai?

That's the first question that popped into your head as you watched him kneel before her with a bouquet of the reddest roses you'd ever seen.

The display was so unexpected, it knocked the air out of your lungs. Your jaw fell slack. James had to pick it up off the ground before you came back to your senses.

In that time, Oriana squealed and clapped, throwing herself forward and strangling the bane-of-your-existence in a hug he enjoyed a little too much. The flowers ended up discarded on the floor.

You had more sense than to gawk. Your chest constricted when Lockwood didn't even acknowledge you as you passed. You shook off the feeling along with the sense of dread you felt from earlier.

His affairs were none of your business, yet, you found yourself thinking about it when you didn't intend to. It's a stake to the heart that his scheduled banter and crude comments were put on hold for whatever that was.

Lockwood had forsaken his seat across from you in favour of sitting with Oriana and her clique. They laughed all through lunch break, his teeth on display, stuck in an unmoving smile.

He looks like a clown, you thought as you skewered a floret of broccoli onto your fork.

You glanced at the professors' table to see if they'd caught onto Lockwood's bizarre behaviour, but they were daft to it.

To any normal person, Lockwood was being a silly boy with a crush. To you, it was abnormal.

Lockwood didn't have the balls to be that forward. How could you say that without sounding obsessed with him?

"If you stare any longer, you might actually burn a hole through his head." James nudged your side and you returned it with a harder shove. "Woah! Cool down, smarty pants. I'm on your side here. I'm just saying, glaring daggers at him won't do much."

"He's being odd," you whispered petulantly.

"I know!" James set his elbow on the table. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Me? Why would I do anything?"

Your eyes landed on Lockwood again. You sucked your teeth before looking away.

James snapped his fingers, forcing you to look up as he pointed an accusatory finger at you. "That. That's why you would do something."

"I don't meddle in Lockwood's affairs. He can do whatever he wants," you said tersely. "If he's so immersed in his romantic life, I might as well get ahead and score more points for my house."

"It bothers you, doesn't it?"

"No." Another unfortunate vegetable faced the wrath of your fork. James flinched. "It doesn't bother me in the slightest."

"If you need me to help, just give me a bell." James vacated his seat, gave your shoulder a firm pat, then went off to check on his cousins, praying none of them caught whatever Lockwood's got.

You stewed in your own thoughts before you gave into temptation and looked at Lockwood for the last time. For lunch, at least.

He blinked rapidly, like there were stars stuck in his eyes. The distorted look on his face dissipated when Oriana popped a wad of gum into his mouth. He chewed and chewed until the colour returned to his face. Redder than before.

You tried to shovel your conspiracies down with your lunch. You even chewed slower to put your focus elsewhere, but you couldn't shake off the dread that roiled in the recess of your mind.

—

"I can extend my essay by three paragraphs," you said to Lockwood in the library, attempting to coax him out of his stupor. "I'd beat your record."

"Yeah." He sighed, daydreaming. He hadn't written anything in his scroll. His competitive spirit died somewhere between his confession and now.

You slid into the seat across from him and waved in his face. He looked right through you, staring at the wall. When you followed his gaze, your expression fell flat.

He wasn't staring at the wall, he was staring at Oriana Cai, again. She wiggled her fingers at him, giggling behind her hand.

The moment she saw you, she didn't even attempt to hide her disdain. Suddenly, the library felt colder than before. For the first time in forever, you couldn't find the right words to explain it.

—

You watched Lockwood's change of behaviour with a scrutinising eye. You managed to pick up on a few things that changed.

First, he was infatuated with Oriana Cai. You caught them snogging the other day and you had to hold your breath to keep your lunch down. So much for decorum.

Second, he'd lost all interest in everything other than his girlfriend. He hadn't mentioned Quidditch in the past week, and he didn't have a modicum of concern for his plummeting scores. It was a scenario you never thought possible.

Lastly, Lockwood had a newly acquired addiction to bubblegum. Not just any type of gum. It was Bombarda of Flavour: Berry Kiss.

With a bit of research, you discovered that BOF was a brand run by Oriana's family. Any sane person would assume that Lockwood was an avid fan of his girlfriend's family business, but you were everything but sane.

When you presented the facts to James, he continued to chew on his liquorice. "And? Where is this going?"

"The sweets are infused with Amortentia," you concluded.

James stopped, stared at his liquorice with distrust, then threw it into a bin. "How can you be so sure?"

"Cai's family runs a gum business. Lockwood's been acting weird since he started chewing the gum Cai brought him. It can't be simple coincidence."

"So, not only are you accusing Cai of spiking gum with amortentia, but her family of being an accessory to misuse of magic as well?"

"They've got to be aware of what she's doing, at least! And they're not stopping her, are they? They're just as guilty," you said fervently.

"Fine," James relented. "How are we going to prove that and save your guy?"

"He's not my guy."

"Sure."

You cleared your throat before sitting down. "We need to steal from the potions classroom."

"You are... insane."

There was a bated silence that followed. You raised your brows at him.

He cracked a smile. "I'm in."

—

Potters had a speciality for breaking rules. You came to that conclusion after James, Albus (James's younger brother), and Scorpius Malfoy managed to steal the ingredients you needed without being caught. They looked quite proud of themselves too.

You wasted no time laying out your theory scrolls and recipe book.

"What's she doing?" Albus asked.

"Saving Lockwood," James answered as-a-matter-of-factly.

"I knew something was wrong with him," Scorpius rasped. "Knew something was up with them too."

You silenced him and ordered James to escort the boys back to their dorm. They didn't go without a fight, but James was experienced enough to wrangle them away.

—

"Lockwood—"

He passed you without a second glance.

Your heart flatlined, but you fought against the feeling and recalled why you were there. You steeled your resolve.

With shining eyes and pulled shoulders, you pivoted and captured his arm. The indifference in his eyes was an arrow passing straight through you.

You had to swallow the lump in your throat to find your voice. "Could you try this for me?"

There was no readily available remedy for amortentia, leaving one with the mere hope that its effects diminish over time. The problem was that Oriana Cai had a continuous supply of bewitching gums intentionally keeping him under her enchantment.

You used all your potions knowledge to concoct a solution that would—cross your fingers—work. It was blended into a scrumptious looking cookie thanks to the expertise of culinary enthusiast, George Karim.

You were worried that he wouldn't even give it a try, but he took the package from your hands.

"Thanks."

He walked away without a second thought. It tore your heart in two, but he accepted the cookie! You raised your arms in triumph, stopping short when he tossed the cookie and its cute wrapper out of the nearest window.

Your excitement plummeted along with it.

—

You took a chapter out of Lockwood's book and persevered. He no longer competed with you to answer the professors' questions, but you took every chance to goad him into a debate. All for naught. He barely did anything anymore.

You tried to cure him several more times with the same anti-Amortentia solution. Three times to be exact: ice cream, soup, and—your most desperate attempt yet—gum.

In the end, he'd throw them all away.

All he would put in his mouth was anything Cai spoon-fed him. It made you want to throttle him.

Lockwood was a capable wizard, and the witch had reduced him to something short of being a man-baby.

On your worst days, you'd reluctantly admitted to missing the banter. Even his annoying grin; the one that rose higher on the right side. The same one that had eluded you since the beginning of term.

The seasons changed. Oriana Cai still had Anthony Lockwood under her thumb.

You melted into the velvet blue couch, sighing to the starlit window of Ravenclaw turret. Even the sheer beauty of the common rooms did little to console you.

You draped your arm over your eyes. "Who knew things were this boring without that pest?"

James, who wasn't even supposed to be allowed into the tower, grasped his chest. "Ouch. What of the rest of us?"

"Rowena!" shouted George. You jumped when he slammed his book shut. "I thought your raving about your books was bad enough. Just tell him you miss him already,"

He was done with you sneaking James in to concoct whatever else you were thinking up. He had lost the plot. At that point, even he was versed in anti-amortentia theory.

"She doesn't miss him," James sighed, bored. "apparently."

"I don't," you said promptly. "Karim, you should be more concerned. Your friend is being spelled into being a muppet."

"I am concerned," George retorted hotly. "But I am so sick of staying up 'till Merlin knows when to find out what you're going to spin into a dish next. I can't even study in peace!"

"We're not that bad, are we?" Looking for backup, you propped your chin over the back of the couch, shooting your most precious smile at your youngsters, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander.

Lorcan shook his head, and Lysander nodded his.

"It's a draw," James chuckled.

Frustration poured from George. "Can you please just find somewhere else to scheme? I want to study and not hear 'Lockwood' every bloody second."

"Fine." You hugged your pile of recipe pages to your chest. "We'll go somewhere we're appreciated."

"Oh, please. Don't go too far. The end of the world doesn't actually exist," George nipped.

James snorted, amused.

You closed the door behind you, finally giving Ravenclaw Tower some much deserved silence.

—

Another crumpled up piece of paper rolled on the rim of the bin before unceremoniously falling out.

You knew your onions, but this was getting tedious. After wasting hours relishing in the staleness of your coffee and the soreness of your fingers, you were just about ready to throw in the towel.

James had left you a bit ago, something about helping Lucy with setting up the flying lesson for the first-years.

They were probably done with it by then and you were still there, trying to brainstorm a method that would knock some sense back into the tosser you called a rival.

About a metre of wasted scroll and dried ink were the results of your efforts. Even then, you didn't reach a plausible solution to your problem.

When you succumbed to your headache and glanced at the clock, the lateness kickstarted your bloodstream. When you stood, you swayed from the dark spots that danced in your vision.

You didn't allow yourself to stay in a haze for too long. You had already missed two and a half classes by the time you broke out of your reverie.

The halls were all empty. You were bound to be in trouble.

You were a punctual student, an excellent student. You were miffed that all it took for you to slip was the absence of a boy. Pathetic. Then again... The boy was what made winning fun.

Your brisk walk quickened to a jog, dreading the inevitability of explaining your tardiness.

"Sweetheart?"

You paused, opening your ears.

Silence.

You scoffed and picked up your stride. Then you heard him again, saying your name. It was odd — odd enough for you to realise that it wasn't a figment of your imagination.

His voice was a trap and you submitted to it too easily. You spun back around to trace the voice and stopped short of the bend. Anyone would have stalled at the rare sight of Oriana Cai angry, her nails sinking into Lockwood's cheeks.

Bile rose to your throat.

Lockwood's back was pushed flush against the wall, he was fervently shaking his head like he was shaking the daze out of his system.

"Quiet!" she commanded him. "Darling, I'm only doing this for us."

His hand closed around her wrist but whatever the potion had done to him left him fatigued. "No, my—" He licked his bottom lip, correcting himself. "She's—"

"Not here! How many times am I going to tell you?"

To your relief, she retracted her nails from him. Your heart started back up when she produced a pack of gum.

"You're better off with me, Ant. I love you, not her. She's nothing but a bitter wench who didn't realise what she had until someone took it from her. See how she only looks for you when we're together? She's selfish!"

"You don't understand," he tried to slap the gum from her hand but she was more sober than he was. For the first time in a long time, the right side of his mouth tipped up. It wounded you. "She needs me. She just won't admit it."

Oriana didn't take it well. Her face bursted in shades of red. Her beautiful features twisted into a grizzly scowl. "None of her!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Your hand quivered as you casted, but your magic did what it was meant to. The gum flew from her hand.

Her glowering face turned to you with killer intent.

"You!" She flew at you. Her billowing robes a thing plucked from your worst nightmares.

Your hand flicked instinctively. "Expecto patronum!"

She shrieked. Your silvery protector crashing against her face.

None of you saw what form it took, but the burst of silver straight into her eyes stunned her long enough for you to run around her and take Lockwood by the arm. His hands quivered; less from adrenaline, more from pure exhaustion. You could almost feel his pulse under your palm.

You coaxed him to muster his strength. "Come on, you barbarian. We need to get help."

The chuckle he let out was pathetic, but it's familiar enough to make you crack a smile. There's your Lockwood after all. He wasn't all gone.

"Knew you'd save me," he rasped. You held him tighter when he stumbled. He held on with what strength he could muster. "You always do."

Not the time to disarm you with a statement like that. An angry stupefy soared overhead, quickly followed by what you assumed was the cruciatus curse. You grunted when an angry zap nicked your side.

You held onto Lockwood and he held onto you, both clattering down the longest steps of your lives. An inspired, deranged girl at your heels.

"Give me my boyfriend back!" She shrieked, casting a fury of spells at you. The echo of the halls amplified her bellows. "He's mine! I earned him!"

He tripped on a lifted tile, leaning on you as you rushed for the landing.

Your heartbeat made it's way to your ears. Every breath felt forced. You pushed ahead, dragging Lockwood's weight down every winding twist in the moving steps.

A very explosive bombarda forced you to stagger back and reconsider your escape route. Only, there was no escape route. The changing stairwells had you and Lockwood trapped on a landing.

Oriana descended like an angel made from her own delusions.

Your lungs struggled to take in air with an unbearable stitch in your aide. Lockwood collapsed to his knees, drained of energy. As his eyes fought to stay open, he clung to your hand like it was his lifeline.

You shifted to hide his crumpled form from Cai.

"You've had your chance, Scarecrow." Cai laughed, on the brink of tears. In her eyes, she was as innocent as a girl who simply had something swiped from her. "He was at your knees for years! Why can't you let him be happy with me? Give him to me, please..."

Your jaw tensed. The lick of anger in your chest stoked to a fire the longer she spoke.

"He's not an object," you managed without spitting flames. "He can feel what he wants, when he wants. If he wishes to walk away from me after all this... I wouldn't blame him. But casting a spell on him? That's not love, Cai. It isn't love. You're trapping him."

Cai's nose flared. "What a saint! Sorry, should I let him grieve something he never had with you? You're blind to not see it. You ruined him! This is the only way. I can help him if you just let me—"

Something moved in your periphery. A mop of black hair, the best wingman in Hogwarts.

You were on the verge of a smile, feeling your adrenaline decrescendo. "Your family, they know what you're doing?"

She grinned. "My family supports my decisions. Contrary to yours, I hear. They agree that you're a heartless witch, and a dose of amortentia should fix him for me."

Your breath hitched. Lockwood clenched your hand, bringing you back.

"For your information," your lip twitched. "I'm an Eagle, not a Scarecrow. Get your house representatives right."

You collapsed the moment a barrier surged around her, her screaming muffled by the incantations.

James came down the steps in stride with Professor Flitwick.

"Not 'your guy', huh?" James taunted, crouching beside you. You offered him a tight-lipped smile.

Professor Flitwick fortified his barrier before he addressed you. "Splendid patronus. You're the first to project your voice and have it travel as far as it did. I expected no less from our ace student. As for Ms. Cai..." He looked at her with pinched brows.. He wasn't sure what to do, really. There had never been a situation that drastic before. "She will be penalised accordingly."

The weight on your shoulders lifted, but a new one came just as quick. You straightened your back to support Lockwood's limp weight.

The warmth of his breath fanned your neck, a feeling that made your stomach churn for all the wrong reasons. He still smelt like the berry-flavoured gum that got him into this mess in the first place.

The same mess that had made you miss a few classes for the first time in six years.

With the last of your energy, you raised a trembling hand. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Are we considered tardy?"

He pushed his glasses higher up his nose before replying. "That should be the least of your troubles, you." Professor Flitwick turned to your friend. "James Potter?"

James saluted. "I've got them, prof."

"Please refrain from calling me 'prof', Mr Potter."

"Yes, prof."

—

Madame Pomfrey had a lot to say about the unforthcoming mess that was Lockwood, post-Amortentia.

For the better part of the appointment, Madame Pomfrey concluded that Lockwood wasn't severely altered by the prolonged exposure to love potion. For the worse part, he was advised to sit out of anything too physically demanding until he felt like himself again.

"But how can I feel like myself without Quidditch?" he agonised, as if you beheld all the answers.

You were forced to hear it, seeing as you were roommates until Madame Pomfrey declared you both stable enough to go free.

You buried yourself into the stiff pillows of the medical ward. "A week of rest and observation isn't as bad as the months you were bewitched, honestly."

"Pray, how can it be worse?"

You lifted your head. "Ever read out a lengthy love poem in the middle of the dining hall?"

"No..."

Your lips tipped up. "Yes."

He shut his eyes and splayed his hand over his head, trying to wash out the visualisation of actually doing that for all of Hogwarts to see.

"End me," he rasped.

"If you insist," your smile stretched. "You recited one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every. Single. Day."

He slapped another hand over his face. "Oh... what have I done to deserve this?"

"Caught the eye of a loony, apparently. It was horrid. I felt sorry for you."

"Don't patronise me."

You jerked a finger at him. "I earned the right. I got a nasty laceration in my side for you. Unwillingly, might I add."

His arms fell away, honeyed eyes set on you. "Please, if you were unwilling, you wouldn't have tried so hard to save me."

"If I left you for dead, I would be a monster."

"A very pretty one," he chimed.

"So you can still pull that drivel out of your arse. Good to know we didn't lose you."

"Say what you will." He crossed his arms behind his head, smiling like a jester. "I know you have a place for me in that shrivelled, darkened heart of yours."

"My heart isn't shrivelled or darkened," you said defiantly.

He quirked a brow, smirking. "You correct that but not the fact that I have a place in it?"

"You—" You opted to chuck your emptied juice carton at him.

In classic Lockwood fashion, he caught the carton in his hand and waved it triumphantly. "Try again, sweetheart. I know your habits like I know the back of my hand."

You raised a not-so-friendly finger and slid your curtain to hide yourself from his view. Still, you heard his laughter, loud and alive.

You weren't aware of how much you'd missed it until you caught yourself smiling.

—

Anthony Lockwood was the kind of child who would climb up the slide. Not because it was fun, but because he liked the thrill of breaking the rules.

Some things never changed, because he had convinced you to accompany him on a night fly while Madame Pomfrey was off collecting herbs from the green house.

You had flown through the worst weather while playing Quidditch, but it struck you that you'd never been out this late. Not one-on-one with Lockwood, at least.

It was a terrible, unsafe idea, but he had a way with words. He made it seem like a once in a lifetime opportunity. You weren't sure whether that was true, since he did use his prefect status to sneak into places he wasn't allowed into.

You knew that turning around was crossed off your list the moment he broke into the closet and extracted your broom for you.

"I have a hard time believing you've never done this before," you whispered as you took in the sight of the Quidditch Pitch, void of life and light.

It was a haunting sight, but Lockwood had been right about it being a once in a lifetime scene. The moon was the only guiding light, drowning everything in a seductive mauve colour. It brought out the beauty of sparse light and silhouettes, you almost believed you stepped into one of your fantasy novels.

He flashed his teeth at you before he vaulted over the partition and traipsed across the grass. His trusty broom already levitating by his side. "I've never done this with you before, if that's what you're asking."

It wasn't, but you didn't want to know who else would join Lockwood in his idiocy.

You followed suit and mounted your broom, allowing yourself to rise several metres to feel the bite of the nocturnal chill.

"It's an amazing feeling, isn't it?" Lockwood shouted, his two feet still on the ground.

"I'm not going to admit that I enjoy breaking the rules," you responded, flying modest circles while taking in the scene.

While the wind whistled in your ears and tousled your hair, he wheeled a box out of storage and flipped the latches.

You squinted, trying to see what he was doing but his back was covering the contents of the box.

"What's that?"

A golden streak of light veered away from him. Even as the breeze bellowed in your ear, you could hear its tinkling wings.

The Snitch.

"Can't have fun without a challenge," Lockwood said. His boisterous laughter echoed in your ears as he hopped onto his broom and zoomed up, up, and up, already chasing the golden menace.

He passed you, his robes grazing your elbow. You didn't think twice. You gave chase, following the direction you had seen the Snitch blitz to.

Lockwood's curls fought against velocity. You were almost tempted to comment on it before you saw a glimmer in the corner of your eye.

You and Lockwood swerved at the same time. Waves of black, blue, and green flagged through darkness as you bent forward, urging your trusty broom to overtake Lockwood's. You were closing in on the Snitch, stretching your hand to reach for it.

It's buzzing crescendoed in your ears, forcing your blood to pump as Lockwood did the same.

Oh, so close.

The Snitch brushed your fingertips before it zagged. Spinning in the air before rushing right at you.

You bent your body, narrowly missing a Snitch to the nose. The same couldn't be said for Lockwood.

You heard the thump of the collision before you saw him clutching his mouth. It was futile for you to hold in a laugh.

"You alright?"

His glare only made you laugh harder.

"Ouch," he hissed, taking his hand away from his mouth.

You snorted after seeing the damage.

Luckily, nothing was broken, but there was a faint pink smudge across his bottom lip and cheek.

You raised a brow. "You wear lipstick?"

"It's lip balm," he said haughtily, wiping away the smudge. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," You held a laugh long enough to reach across to wipe the smidge he couldn't quite swipe away. He stiffened at your touch. You did your best to hold in a reaction of your own. "I just didn't expect you to be a lip balm sort of guy."

"Do I look like a lipstick guy?" he inquired, regaining himself. "Thank you for thinking so, but you can keep your pigmented cosmetics to yourself. They look better on you anyway."

"Complimenting me now? You're sure your noggin's alright, chap?"

"Don't 'chap' me, sweetheart. It makes me feel old."

"I thought you liked the seniority," you taunted. "'Being in seventh-year means the youngest look up to us' and all. Your words, not mine."

"You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

You gasped, clutching your chest. "How can you say that when the moon is out?"

"Oh, bother." He bristled. "You've shown greater concern for the moon's feelings than you have mine for the past six years. You wound me."

"That's because the moon listens. You never do," you pointed out.

"I do," he replied. "Only for things that matter."

"So, the camel-llama debate didn't matter?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "You're still on that?"

"I always will be. What muggle can't tell those animals apart? You should be ashamed."

"We were eleven!"

"Old enough for you to have admitted defeat, but no! You kept getting them wrong and saying you were right." He pinched his nose as you went on. "Then you started bothering me because you couldn't admit defeat. Now look at us. Six years later and I'm still right."

His eyes met yours, creased with an impending smile. "When we passed the hourglasses, Slytherin was ten points above Ravenclaw."

"You prat—"

Your head was thrown sideways as a flit of gold smashed into you. Your lip pulsed. Luckily, you had the mind to stretch your hand and catch the golden bugger.

The Snitch fought in your grip. Eventually, its wings tucked in. Then, a bated silence. Only for a moment. Lockwood snorted as you massage your jaw.

You gave him a nasty glare. "Not a word."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he lied. "Except, your lipstick smeared."

"Rowena..."

"Here, let me."

He sported a boyish grin as he reached across, mirroring your actions from earlier. You swatted him away and he simply laughed in response.

—

With your feet on the grass, you were glad to be done with your excursion; More relieved that he let you take the win.

You're not sure a bleeding lip was worth it though, but, at least, it was over.

After packing up the Snitch and putting away your brooms (plus making it seem like you two had never been there at all), you started the walk back up to the castle's medical ward.

Somewhere on the cobblestone path, Lockwood had drawn a curious notebook and quill from his robes. "So," he flipped to a page that had been sectioned into two, scored by stick lines. "What have I missed while I was bewitched?"

You eyed the notebook. "Is that... a tally?"

"Yes," he replied. "Now, what did I miss? I had one up on you before my memories went hazy."

"Just start a new one," you urged him.

Thinking of what you achieved while he was out of it was in the same league as winning a race against a slug. There was no fulfilment.

"C'mon," Lockwood cajoled, stepping closer to you. "I've been tallying since fourth year."

You raised a brow. "Fourth year?"

"The class on the Patronus charm inspired me," he replied. "Since we're always butting heads, having a tally made it feel official."

"How do I know you haven't picked your wins and excluded mine?"

"Have you no faith in me?"

"Do you want a real answer?"

He pursed his lips, earning a laugh from you.

"I respect you, you know. Even if you are the way you are," he told you, turning the notebook to show you the tally.

The first column was his score. The second one beheld 'vexation' instead of your name. The scores were neck-and-neck, save for the singular tick on his side that put him in the lead.

He quickly drew one more stick under your column, putting you two at a draw once more. "I'll count this impromptu Quidditch match, on the condition that you won't tell a soul that it was me who snuck out first."

"You must be dedicated," you chortled. "Just count from here on out. I haven't done much, honestly."

He quirked a brow, speaking slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why are you talking like that?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised." He closed the notebook and pocketed it with his quill. "You're usually more competitive."

"That's when I don’t spend an afternoon running for my life, Lockwood."

"You make a fair point."

You were making your way into the thresh of the castle now. The torches warmed the air, thawing the chill as you flounced forth.

There was a peace in the silence and a sweetness in the solitude. You felt Lockwood's hand brush yours and found that you enjoyed it more than you thought. Not that you would say anything about it.

You're not sure whether he caught on to the lilt of your lips before he threw his arm over your shoulders, just like old times.

This time, it felt different. The heat he let off was a juxtaposition to the bite of the night, and you found yourself melting into him even more.

You would have been fine in the quiet, but Lockwood had never been friends with it.

"George told me you were scheming to cure me. How were you planning to do that exactly?"

He kicked a pebble out of your way. You withheld the urge to smile.

"It was an amplified version of a regular love potion reversal. Same one we did research work on last year."

"What did you change?"

"Thrice the dose of rosemary and dried salamander. I also added a touch of pig tongue."

"Wouldn't doubling the wormroot do the same thing?"

"No," you scoffed. "That would expel the fragrance, but it wouldn't counteract the effects of the love potion."

"Doesn't the dried salamander do that?"

"Rosemary thins out the viscosity of the love potion and the dried salamander washes down the magic that messes with your thought process."

He smiled but there was no commitment in it. "Apologies, I'm no love potion whiz."

"Next thing you know, you'll be telling me crushed jasmine will cure insanity."

"I get it, sweetheart. That doesn't explain the pig tongue."

"I was hoping the horrid taste would wake you up from your delusions."

"I think it would have worked."

"It would have," you boasted, "if you had any sense in you to try."

He chuckled, apologising in smiles. Lockwood closed the distance by ruffling your hair. You waved him away, but that did little to stop him.

"You got the higher mark on that research paper," he recalled.

"I did." You glowed with pride. "As is always the case for Potions, and Transfiguration, and Charms—"

"What are you planning to do when we're done with Hogwarts?"

His expression turned dire, like he had been agonising over when to ask the fated question. It might have been a trick of the light, but his eyes glazed.

You considered his question for a moment. "I'm expanding into healing magic." Just envisioning how far your knowledge could go brought a smile to your face. "I'm good at the cardinal subjects for healing. I enjoy them enough to see myself heading in that direction."

"That's serious," he said, genuinely taken by your answer. "You have to be recommended by a professor to take on a role at a hospital or ward, don't you?"

You tried to keep your smile humble. "I already have a recommendation."

He tilted his head so you could see the surprise on his face. "Really? Who?"

"Madame Pomfrey. I'll be her apprentice next year. Hopefully, I'll move to St. Mungo's in a few years."

"Funny," he jested, bumping your hip with his. "What would she say to the bludgers you've batted at me?"

"Your insults about me are tantamount to nothing in her eyes. She adores me."

"Because you're a kiss-up?"

You stopped, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Because I have wit."

His lips lilted into that smile you knew so well. The right of his mouth rose higher than the left, short of turning into a smirk. "You have a lot more than wit, sweetheart."

Your heart did unspeakable things. For a heart-stalling moment, you forgot to say something back.

You looked at him, he looked at you. He was closer than you'd thought. Lockwood was unfairly dashing in torch light. Windswept hair, sweat on his brow, and everything.

He seemed to drift closer and closer, but it's you who inched forward. The lesser the distance, the more honest you felt.

His eyes dipped to your lips and—

A shriek, high and shrill, broke the spell. Both you and Lockwood leapt apart. You dusted off your cloak and he rubbed his nape.

The shrieking voice returned. "Dragon!"

Dragon?

You lurched for the entrance. You couldn't see much in the mouth of the castle. Neither could Lockwood, but you felt it. The buzz before the chase, the stacking of adrenaline and the thrill of trouble creeping up on you.

Your eyes locked with his, and you knew you're thinking the same thing.

When the winds of a Romanian Longhorn flattened the trees and blew out the torches, it was the flag at the beginning of a race. You and Lockwood were running for it.

—

You found that sprinting in the dark was akin to swimming upstream. You'd tripped over several roots and rocks, and you still haven't found which pocket you hid your wand in. It was a humbling experience, being in the throes of losing something with extension charms in your robes.

After furiously tapping himself down, Lockwood found his. He flicked his wand and yelled into the air, "Accio Brooms!"

"Why didn't we do that earlier?"

Lockwood flashed a smile. "We have an excuse to destroy the storage room door now."

You were on the verge of yelling. "How would we explain why we're out here?"

"Don't think too hard, you'll hurt yourself." He made another gesture with his wand before a glow illuminated from the tip of it — lighting up the path. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, sweetheart. We have a dragon to catch."

As the Lumos rose in intensity, the path turned treacherous. The cobbled walkway was turning into pointed stones and angry branches. The trees began to move, contorting into all sorts of grotesque shapes and snares.

Lockwood had taken the lead, taking the brunt of their greedy clutches. You had to grab the back of his robe to make sure he didn't get snatched away by the foliage.

You would have buckled at the wooden stakes that bent toward you if your brooms hadn't snapped through their grappling, snapping inferior splinters before you found your grip.

The uptake was sharp, desperate to get away from the furious trees. You clung to your broom and swallowed down the urge to retch.

Lockwood, who had levelled beside you, looked fine. You would have thrown a rock at him if you weren't turning green.

He set a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he surveyed the area. You appreciated the gesture.

"It's heading for the Quidditch Pitch. If we get there fast enough, we can trap it there. Easier to manage in a controlled area."

"It's a dragon, Lockwood. It would burn the place down." You straighten up ever so slightly. "On top of that, it's a Romanian Longhorn."

"I know. Endangered species. We'll have to be cautious. She could turn us into a kebab." His lips tilted into a smile. "I wager we can tame her in less than an hour."

You exhaled the last of your nausea. A grin forming on your face. "Think half."

"Ambitious, aren't we?"

You flew forward, seeing the whiskers of fire curling in the distance. "Scared, serpent boy?"

There were flames in his eyes as he sped ahead, robes soaring behind him. "Never!"

—

"You distract her. I stun her," Lockwood prompted as soon as the Quidditch Pitch came into view.

Metres above you, the Longhorn huffed plumes of smoke down on you. You tried to be quiet, but you did have qualms with Lockwood's plan.

"You're the faster flyer, why am I the distraction?"

He pointed at his chest, like that was the answer. "I'm still recovering."

"That's rich!" You still haven't found your wand and the tosser was playing sick. "You dragged me out here to fly thirty minutes ago. Don't give me that."

"What? I can't hear you!" He veered further from you. "You're the most capable witch of our age. There is no one else I'd do this with!"

He was gone from sight before you could bump him off of his broom.

Then again, you'd rather die fighting than die a sitting duck. You angled your broom up, zooming into the beast's sight before it spotted Lockwood.

Its breath was sulphur against your skin, fighting the chill but lighting a spark of fear. Its pondering yellow eyes circled on you before its mouth creaked open.

"Lockwood, work quickly!"

In a dragon chase, one must remember three things: your size advantage, the dragon's breath hurt as much as its fire, and the dragon can and will play dirty.

You were an agile flyer, ducking whenever the strokes of its inner fire hurled for you, but even you had to exercise all of your flyer's knowledge to evade its claws. A swipe, a lick of flames, a swipe, another swipe — it was practically toying with you.

The only good thing that came with it playing with its food was the fact that you had lured it right where you wanted it.

The Quidditch Pitch was gargantuan compared to the juvenile specimen. You just hoped the place wouldn't go up in flames.

You hadn't seen Lockwood in a good minute, almost believing he'd shirked you, but then you glimpsed a flicker of serpent green in your periphery and ease up.

Before long, the dragon grew tired of the play and decided that she wanted to sink her teeth into something real.

You felt a nip at the end of your broom and zagged in the air. You steadied your mount before feeling your blood rush faster.

She was snapping at you. You chanced a glance and found the black in her eyes flattened to slits, hunger dancing in the embers of them.

"Lockwood!" you cried, narrowly dodging an eager claw. "Double time!"

"I found a soft spot! Give me a minute!"

"We don't have that much time," you surmised based on the increased momentum of the beast's strikes.

After a full turn-around to swing her tail at you, you dove. Nose aimed right down to the grass. You didn't even want to look back and see how close she was.

Gravity would be on her side but pulling up now could mean flying right into her furnace of a mouth. You didn't know which gruesome death was the lesser of two evils.

In the distance, you heard Lockwood. "Stupefy!"

The dragon nipped on your broom once more before you felt a tug on your robe. Your grip slipped, your broom flew in the opposite direction. Leaving you to crash and roll into the grass, ignoring the pain of carpet burn as you helped yourself onto your feet.

You didn't get far before your legs collapsed, your whole body weight crashing on your shoulder. You were never the type to go down without a fight. You kept kicking in a desperate attempt to escape the giant.

"Lockwood!"

"Wait for me!"

You felt its breath. Molten and fear-rushing, melting the hair on your legs as you watched your own reflection in its eye.

And then, its head hit the ground and its jaw lulled. Craning open but never snapping, just barely missing your foot as you pulled your limbs towards yourself.

The lines on Lockwood's face were deeper when you laid eyes on him. When he saw that you were alright, his expression flipped like a switch. A smile formed on his face, like you didn't almost lose your life.

He hopped off of his broom and approached.

"I didn't know you could look scared."

"I was almost a dragon's dinner," you spat.

You didn't fight him as he hooked his arms under yours and hauled you up. He kept an arm around you while the feeling returned to your legs.

He chuckled in a way that could make anyone believe he was faultless. "Sorry. It was a bother finding a soft spot. This big girl has pretty solid armour for a juvenile."

"That is the last time I ever follow your instructions. I knew getting mixed up with you was a death sentence."

"Yet," he chirped, brushing off the soot remains of the edges of your hood. "you're standing here, alive."

"I regret trusting you."

"No, you don't." He flourished a hand at the slumbering beast. "Just look at what putting your heads together did."

"It won't stay asleep forever," you whispered.

Just standing there, right at the alcove of its jaw, felt like standing on the tightrope of death. Suffice it to say, you wanted to be elsewhere.

You tasted the sweet, cool air as you replenished the oxygen in your lungs. Annoyance crept in as you realised that, despite your best efforts, you were still heaving. Adrenaline refusing to crest.

You tried to shove Lockwood but he had caught your arm. "Had to wait 'till the last minute, didn't you?" you nipped.

"I just told you, it's not easy to look for a chink in a dragon's scales. Be optimistic. I could have let her take your legs."

"You wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't, but it's nice to imagine that I could be spiteful."

You snorted, trying not to flinch as the beast blinked its bleary eyes at you. "Let's put the big guy to sleep. Whoever takes care of him must be worried."

"She's a lady," Lockwood corrected.

You forced a smile. "My apologies, I didn't have the time to check in the midst of my near-delimbing."

"Easy mistake." He shrugged. "How about we tie up those loose ends?"

"We would've had it done by now if you stopped chattering."

"Last I checked, you were chattering back."

"You—"

The dragon blew out a warm breath, chilling you. You would've crumpled if Lockwood wasn't holding you up.

"Never you mind," you rectified. "You know the Sleeping Trance Charm, don't you?"

He balanced you on one arm, his hold snaking around your waist. With his free hand, he raised his wand at the dragon. "How to Pacify A Dragon 101. Of course, I do."

"Semi-circle motions," you reminded as the giant gold eyes blinked at you.

"I know that already, sweetheart. You know," Lockwood trailed off. His eyes landed on you. You ignore it for the sake of your already racing heart. "We make a pretty good team."

You allowed yourself a smile. "When you're not being insufferable."

"You always think I'm insufferable."

"So, you are self-aware."

"Oh, shut up." He didn't sound like he meant it.

The world must have been pitted against you, because the drowse in the dragon's eyes disappeared before Lockwood could even mutter the spell.

Its jaws widened, and Lockwood pulled you back just before they snapped. Half a foot from taking a chunk out of you and Lockwood.

"That's not good," Lockwood grunted. He accioed his broom closer. By how hard he was pulling you, you assumed he was trying to get you to clamber on as well.

That would be dooming the two of you. Being a singular target was like turning yourselves into a barbeque.

You pushed him away, catching the panic in his eyes for a moment.

You threw your arms out, signalling him away. "Go!"

Lockwood stalled, hand on his broom. "But—"

"Go!"

He mounted reluctantly. Taking off to grab the Longhorn's attention while you were squabbling for your broom.

When you found it, your worst fears were confirmed. The world really did want you dead.

Your broom was snapped clean in two after colliding with the base of the highest hoop. Mourning your trusted companion wasn't an option, because the dragon had spotted you. Its neck craned, rearing like a snake before it struck.

You tapped your pockets, desperate to find your wand. Not in that pocket, not in that one—

At long last, you fished it out of your most unused pocket. You pointed its end at the beast but a flash of green and silver disrupted your vision.

A tug on your arm and the feeling of rising winds brought you to the present. Lockwood had grabbed you and given you a seat on his broom, saving you from a very fiery end. The patch of grass you were standing on was charred to a crisp.

"Calm down, sweetheart. I can feel you shaking." His mouth was at your ear. You shrunk even more to hide from his view.

Your heart lurched as the Romanian Longhorn roared. You leaned closer to Lockwood, feeling the steady lub-dub through his shirt. It sang your anxieties to repose.

"We need a new plan," you told him, trying to keep your mind in one place. "I don't think she'll fall for another one of our two-person schemes."

"We're one broom down, so, how do you suggest we do that?"

You two watched as the Longhorn stretched its wings, kick starting your panic.

Lockwood leaned forward and tapped your leg. "Hold on tight."

Your hands on the broom fastened until your knuckles turned bloodless.

With renewed determination, he said, "We have to try the Sleeping Trance Charm again."

"While it's wide awake?"

"I'm sorry, would you like to ask her to sit and make it easier for us?"

You pinched his arm in response. The gesture was returned with Lockwood twisting his broom to have you two dangling upside down. One hand jutted out and grabbed Lockwood by the cloak.

"Lockwood, you prat!"

"Say sorry."

"You — Gah! Sorry!"

He smirked as he righted the broom.

Given a new perspective, you wheezed. "We have to do something before it burns down the whole pitch."

"We could summon the rest of the brooms," Lockwood suggested.

He flew higher as the Longhorn swiped for your legs.

"That would just make a mess. She can burn them. Then we'd have a bigger mess to clean up, plus a debt to whoever owns those brooms."

"Well..." Lockwood looked down at the dragon. "I could offer a special deal on pens to rack up enough pounds to pay it back."

"Pens?"

"A muggle writing device. Better and cleaner than ink and quill," he quipped. "I sell them to earn a few pounds. Don't give me that disapproving look, I gave you one for your birthday."

You reeled. "That's what it was? I didn't think 'pens' looked like that. They're supposed to be made of metal, no?"

"The archaic ones, yes. Now, there are plastic, ballpoint pens."

"Why are we talking about this? We can be turned into crispy bacon at any second now."

"Sweetheart, it's either we sacrifice the brooms or we turn into bacon, as you so nicely put it."

Your heart lurched. "My mother would kill me if we fell into debt, Lockwood. Thinking about it now, she'd behead me if she finds out about this mess."

He was genuinely perplexed by the fear that laced your voice. "I thought you were from a pureblood family."

"I am!" You trilled, sounding like you needed to prove something. "But things aren't that easy. Things are earned."

"They would understand. This is a life or death situation here!"

"No, I– Just– We can't."

"Okay..." He did his best to calm you down. It didn't help that he could practically feel the dragon's breath at this distance. "We ditch that idea. How's a firework charm?"

"Yes! Good idea."

You readied your wand. Only to stop short as silver-blue figures circled the dragon. It didn't take a genius to spot a patronus, a handful of them. You spotted a silvery cat crash into the dragon's side.

A non-corporeal patronus materialised at your side, speaking with the voice of Professor Flitwick. "Do your best not to use explosives. Her caregiver's orders."

More patronuses rose like shrouds of smoke and magic, disorienting the dragon in the midst of them. Some were fully manifested, some were faint — like they had been casted by a novice.

One look down confirmed your thoughts. Students and teachers alike were casting patronuses to keep you and Lockwood from turning into Dragon Dinner. Others were busy casting a large-scale protego to isolate the creature.

The Romanian Longhorn's only choice was to fly higher and higher. Lockwood followed, strategically hiding behind patronuses as they passed.

"You have your wand?" Lockwood inquired as the air began to thin. Breathing was a task you had to do consciously to stay awake.

"Of course, I do."

"This is our chance," he told you. He poised his wand.

You raised yours, too. "I'll cast a patronus to hide the glow of the Sleeping Trance Charm."

"Here's to hoping we keep all of our limbs."

He eased closer. You readied yourself, going through all of your best memories. You didn't go back to thoughts of your favourite books or your academics—No. Your mind kept circling back to your earlier moments with Lockwood: the sneaking out, the snitch, that moment at the threshold...

Blue sand trickled from the tip of your wand. Kicking up magic that twisted into the form of a crane. Your brows furrowed as you muttered the enchantment again, only for the patronus to stretch its wings and soar towards the dragon.

You threw a glance at Lockwood from over your shoulder. "I told you I would cast the patronus."

"You are," Lockwood quipped. He did a terrible job of hiding his smile, voice pressed like he was using the last of his air to say it. "That's your patronus."

"No, it's yours." Your tone lacked conviction, and substance — seeing as the crane did burst from your wand.

Lockwood chanced a glance at you, giving you a glimpse of that smirky smile that you'd recognize even in another life. "Have something you need to tell me, sweetheart?"

"Piss off," you said. You pulled his cheek forward, forcing him to face the winds of the dragon he was supposed to be charming. "Focus on what you have to do!"

"We'll get back to this."

He aimed at the dragon and muttered, "Dormitus."

Its eyes were locked on your patronus, following its path, unaware of its eyelids drooping and its waving wings slowing.

Slowly, the dragon began to lose altitude. Closer and closer to the ground as students and professors scuttled out of the way.

The winds dissipated as it laid its scaled head on the grass, finally quelled.

You expelled a breath you were holding in. Lockwood did the same, you felt his chest flush against your back as he laxed.

Lockwood landed a ways away and dismounted first, helping you off but never actually letting you go. Your connected hands dropped between you as you both took the time to calm your heartbeats.

A deranged laugh slipped from your lips. "If you weren't such a danger magnet, you'd have a promising future as an auror."

He looked at you, a confusing mix of disbelief and hope on his face. "You mean that?"

You shrugged with a lipped smile. Not even his habit of looking at the floor could hide his smile from you. You could see it clearly as the sun rose higher.

The moment of peace was interrupted by the furious shuffling of boots on grass. You raised your heads and spotted the unmistakable figures of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Hagrid.

"There you are." Lockwood said charmingly, casting a smile to match. "We were just about to come and ask what we should do about this—"

McGonagall called you both by name. Even you flinched at her vehemence.

"Why, I never!" She looked between you, clear aggravation carved into the lines of her face. "In all my years, I have never seen such a display of recklessness! You could have died. How could we ever explain that to your parents?"

You watched Lockwood's smile widen. A precursor to him saying, "Professor, with all due respect, my parents are dead."

Professor McGonagall was speechless, momentarily at a loss.

You took the chance to fill in the silence. "And I do believe Mr. Harry Potter has done worse."

Her eyes hardened as she wound her cloak tighter around herself. "I apologise for my earlier statement, Mr. Lockwood, but this kind of disobedience and endangerment cannot be tolerated. I expect you both to know where this is leading."

"Cleaning the toilets?" you two said in sync.

"Worse," Professor McGonagall looked quite proud of herself. "Detention."

You and Lockwood sobered.

"Professor, I'm a prefect," Lockwood reasoned. "And still in recovery."

"And I'm your best student," you chipped in. "Certainly, that means something."

McGonagall tipped her chin. "Then you'll be pleased to hear that the pair of you are the first to make it to detention with those accomplishments." Her tone turned frosty. "Friday evening. You know which room. Good day."

You were still reeling when Professor Flitwick motioned to his mouth. "You two should clean yourselves up, lest some misunderstand the smudges on your lips."

Hagrid flashed you two a friendly smile as you and Lockwood disconnected arms to swipe at your lips.

—

Detention didn't last too long. After a good three debates where you and Lockwood vaulted between being friends, being enemies, and being on the brink of committing murder, the kind, ghostly professor in charge let you free for his own sanity.

—

By the time you two returned to your regularly scheduled programming, Cai had been expelled and given a fancy room in St. Mungo's. Lockwood was properly compensated by the BOF company, and the pair of you received an additional fee to assure your silence. You gave your word, but one, James Potter, never made the pact. He reported the happenings to his father and promptly had the company shut down for misuse of magic.

Best wingman, indeed.

In the aurora of a half-realised friendship, you allowed Lockwood to keep his arm on your shoulder as a form of gratitude. He took every chance he got to practise his privilege.

He pulled you closer, practically nuzzling your hair. "You do appreciate me, after all."

"Barely," you replied.

The admission was enough to bring a smile to his face. If you got too soft, he'd assume you transformed into someone else entirely.

Lockwood, himself, had returned to his usual self; disputing you in class, outdoing your word counts, and (a recent development) stealing your quills to replace them with pens. How the professors didn't notice was beyond you.

You missed the banter and the thrill of the competition, but not the dingy smell of the DADA classroom. It was as pungent as always.

"Seventh years." The Professor's tone was different compared to the hundred lessons you've had before this. Dare you say she even sounded melancholic. There's a gaggle of students that laughed about it but she was more lenient, she said nothing to them. "This is your last year in Hogwarts and your last year under my tutelage. This year, we focus on practicality and efficiency. Using your knowledge against another witch or wizard."

She flicked her wand and the crowd parted, pulled in opposite directions by invisible hands.

Gasps rang out, friends clung closer to each other, and you grabbed Lockwood's sleeve when you were shoved aside. His arm dropped to support your weight by the small of your back.

You looked up and he was smiling down at you, the right side of his smile higher than the left. Familiar. Though, he was rather close.

You opened your mouth to complain, only to shudder at the sound of glass breaking. The chandelier above fell, and Professor proceeded to transfigure it into a glass cage of sorts.

She looked pleased with herself as the crystalline cage settled into a dome shape, resting both hands on her wand as she beamed at the parted crowd. "Today, we duel!"

You covered your ears at the sheer volume of your classmates' bellows. Several students looked forward to this day. They could finally let loose and cast spells like they were meant to. The girl to your right bit the end of her wand, looking a lot like a panther ready to lunge.

You grimaced and sent your prayers to Rowena Ravenclaw to save you from the hungry ones.

"Looking forward to it?" Lockwood asked, glueing himself to the spot next to you, chivalrously blocking you from the onslaught of moving bodies.

You could barely see him because the lights have been dimmed to bring all eyes to the duelling cage. You didn't know why you were even searching for his eyes in the first place.

"No," you finally answered. Your eyes landed on the cage, catching the faint veins of blue shift in and out of existence around it. Kind of like the webs of light at the surface of muggle pools. You would have missed them if you weren't squinting. "I aspire to be a healer. This is the type of thing I advise against."

He caught on to the magic, too. "Don't stress too much. The cage is enchanted to snuff out all malignant magic to avoid injury."

"How do you know?"

"That's a large-scale protego charm. Knowing the professor, she tweaked it to limit anyone who goes too far." He nudged your side. You heard the smirk in his tone. "Not bad for an aspiring auror, right?"

"Right," you agreed.

You didn't expect him to sputter. You shushed him when several heads turned your way.

"What was that?"

He patted down his robe, like it would help him collect himself. "That was surprise, sweetheart. I didn't expect you to agree with me."

"Are you suggesting that I'm unnegotiable?"

"No," he answered. "You simply... oppose me most of the time—all of the time."

"You're very easy to oppose. I just pick the choice that has a lower mortality rate. You always seem to be doing dangerous things, Mr. Lockwood."

"I'm Mr. Lockwood now, huh?" That smile again.

"Yes, you are."

"Could you call me that more often?"

His smile made you conscious. You crossed your arms over your chest, like that would protect you. "Why?"

"I like how it sounds," he replied. "I'd do just about anything to hear it again."

"Hm..." Your eyes drifted to the sparks of spells being swished back and forth. The cage turned into a mirrorball. "Win your match."

Lockwood drew himself up to full height, rolling his shoulders back with a confident grin. "Easy."

"Really? Easier than being love-spelled by a fangirl?"

Your stomach turned. That's how you knew you'd said something wrong. Your stance changed. You almost hit yourself for saying something so uncalled for.

He opened his mouth to defend himself but the Professor's voice cut through his.

"Anthony Lockwood and James Potter versus Daria Thomas-Finnigan and..." She dragged the silence on, smirking as she finally uttered your name. Professor Loathes-Your-Guts clearly, still, loathes your guts.

The room divided into two once more; those cheering for Slytherin and Gryffindor, and those cheering for Ravenclaw. The energy could rival that of a Quidditch match.

"May the best team win," was Lockwood's cold farewell. He was gruff and unjesting—a complete departure from his usual visage that it scared you. He had never been so forbidding to you, even as rivals.

He and James entered on the right wing, and you and Daria entered through the left. The circle under you lit up blue. The Professor's magic gripped you, encompassing your whole body.

Lockwood had been right. Professor kept strict tabs on everyone in the cage, and you regretted stepping in when you looked across the way.

Both Lockwood and James were ready to kill. It was an exaggeration, but you'd never seen either look so deathly competitive.

Daria's hand on your shoulder reeled you back to the present. She graced you with a smile. "Gryffindor might have good fighters but we've got something better." You were tempted to say 'female anatomy' but she spoke over your thoughts. "We've got brain."

You drew your shoulders up and gripped your wand fiercely. You faced forward as the Professor yelled, "Start."

⚜ PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄#lockwood hogwarts au #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood angst

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watermelonsugacry · 1 year

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/finexbright/718218068573241344/absolute-penis-harry-styles-love-on-tour

How H can’t say the word ‘dick’ so he says peen peen/penis…whereas y/n says the word dick all the time…she would definitely tease him about this every time and laugh out loud whenever he says the P word!!!!😂😂😂😂

Potty Mouth

A/N: this just turned into a "yn cursing/being herself on stage for 5 minutes straight" video compilation

GENRE: 1d!yn, married!ynrry

SINCE 2010 masterlist

"Hiya, love. What's yeh name? Katrina? Katrina, your sign says my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend." YN presses her tongue against the inside of her cheek and she squints her eyes in contemplation as the stadium full of fans let out a "oof!"

"Are yeh still with him? Yes. Ok. Huh? You don't know what to do. And you want my advice. Okay, Katrina here it is," She leans forward, resting a hand on her knee to help get her point across. "Fookin' dump his ass. And that so-called best friend of yours."

...

"Dublin! How are you lads feeling tonight--oh shit!" YN's arms flail out beside her as she almost trips over a stuffed bear that was thrown out on the catwalk. She continues her walk with a laugh, looking over her shoulder at the item in question.

"Damn, I almost ate shit for a second. Anyways..."

...

When YN sings Only Angel, she passes by a fan who holds up a sign that reads YN, let me have your man!

She gives the fan a playful curl of her lip and flips them off before she walks off laughing with a shake of her head.

...

"And I just want to say how incredibly grateful I am for everyone here tonight-"

YN's eyebrows shoot up when the crowd begins to scream out of nowhere. She takes out one of her in-ears to try to hear if she missed something. It isn't until she looks behind herself to the massive screens on stage when it finally clicks. A woman in the midst of the sea of fans shamelessly holds a sign above her head that reads MOMMY!

YN looks back to the audience again, putting a hand above her eyes to try to spot the source. Once she makes contact with the fan, she casually says, "I'm right here, baby. Did y'need something?"

...

"Yeah, I would love to do a shot with you."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, the stadium full of fans erupts in excited screams. YN crouches down at the edge of the stage and gets passed the plastic cup the fan brought.

"Huh? 'What do you mean how do we do this?'" She chuckles at the bashful girl at the barricade. "You just shoot it back, love. Is this your first time?"

The entire stadium lets out a collective 'awww' when the massive screens on stage display how the girl nods with a mix of excitement and nervousness written all over her face.

"Wha's yeh name, beautiful? Lilly? Lyla? Lyla, okay. Shot virgin, huh? Don't worry Lyla, I'm a gentle lover." YN throws her a wink and she doesn't think the fan's face can get any redder. She raises her cup, the fan following suit, "Salud!"

...

"Well, that's fookin' huge," YN says, blinking in disbelief when a fan in the crowd shows her the big 1D logo tattooed on his arm. But she's quickly leaning back with a smile tugging on her lips when the fans begin to scream out from the double meaning of her words.

"Alright, gets your mind out of the gutters. Yeh nasties!"

...

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to our very special guest for tonight. He's an indie artist, probably never heard of him before, very underground artist. Please give it up for my husband, Mister Harry Edward Styles!"

The stadium goes absolutely crazy, screaming at the top of their lungs before she could even finish the small introduction. Harry walks out onto the stage with a wave of his hand as he holds his microphone with the other. He gives his wife her favorite dimpled smile of his before he pulls her in for a hug.

He blows the audience a kiss before putting a hand over his heart as he mouths the words 'thank you so much' as they continue to go crazy. He even lets out a bashful laugh as they continue to scream their heads off.

"Okay. Alright, alright," YN playfully scolds. "Calm yeh fookin' tits."

...

While YN has a finger to her lips the other tries to get the crowd to settle down and be as silent as possible. Somewhere in the massive sea of fans, a girl screams out I fucking love you, YN!

"I love you, too but shut up."

...

"I just have one question, Norway." The audience can't see what the little item she picked up from the floor is, but they erupt when the concert cameras show her holding up a condom packet in the air. "Who the fook threw this? I'm a married woman, leave me alone!"

"Whot? It's for me to give to Harry?" She turns the packet around in her hand to read the back. "No, it's too small for him anyways," She says before tossing it back to the crowd.

Before she can get out another word, YN can't hold back her laughter when the fans scream out at her comment. She puts her hands on her knees as her eyes squeeze close with a scrunch of her nose. Eventually, it becomes too much for her as she drops to her knees and lies down on the stage floor holding her stomach.

...

"San Jose, I have a confession that I need to share with all of you. Literally since the show started, I've been needing to take a massive fookin' piss."

...

As soon as she finished singing her song and the lights went back to normal, YN quickly makes her way down to the side of the stage to read a fan's sign that caught her attention earlier.

"Hello! Hi. So you have a fun sign. It says Your husband called my boyfriend an 'absolute penis' the other night."

The two girls in question get displayed on the massive screens behind YN. They hold up their phones by their heads as they record the interaction.

"Well, let me just clarify a couple of things before yeh start to spread these false accusations," YN laughs, putting a hand up as she begins her little rant. She holds up her index finger, "First of all, I was at that show and my husband didn't directly call yeh boyfriend a 'penis,' okay? So calm yehself. Second of all, the only reason he even alluded to calling your man a 'penis' and didn't call him...the other word, was because our mums were there."

"Everyone, please make some noise for me mum, my mother-in-law, and Harry who they're all here tonight!" She happily points to the section at the corner of the massive pit full of fans reserved for family and friends. In the center of a team of security guards, her family can be seen happily waving back.

Anne blows kisses to her daughter-in-law, alternating her hands with each one. Penny jumps up and down, both of her arms straight up in the air as she waves her hands excitedly. And her husband sticks his fingers in the corners of his mouth as he blows out a whistle loud enough to be heard from her spot on the massive stage.

"Which brings me to me third and final point: this is my show yeh? So then I just have one simple question to ask you, lovely lady. Is yeh boyfriend being an absolute dick?" A sly smirk makes its way onto YN's lips when the crowd goes wild.

"No? Good. Well, if he ever is, let me know and I'll kick his ass meself."

taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterfiles @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @obsesseddd @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunkown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02 @fdl305 @tiaamberxx

#1dbandmember!yn #harry x 1dbandmember!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #1d!yn #famous!yn #famous!reader

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be-with-me-so-happily · 11 months

Text

Not Another Time

ONE SHOT

[ or Part 2 of Could We Not ]

<< Request >> "I loved could we not. Can you maybe also write when that guy came running on stage and he maybe pushes reader out of the way or something like that😅" - anon

<< Request >> "Omg PLEASE could you do more parts or ‘could we not’ literally loved it!!!" - @loza--may

Summary: Harry is used to things getting crazy on tour. What he wasn't ready for is how much he misses YN during the Latin American leg of his tour. But at the Rio de Janeiro show, he needs to expect the unexpected.

AN: Highly requested part 2, which I wasn't expecting but am so honored to have written for you all. Sorry it took me FOREVER to write and post this. I hope you like it.

Warnings: Some explicit language, attempted attack by a fan, mild head injury

Not much can shake Harry when it comes to wild moments on tour, throughout his entire career. There once was a fan hiding in a trash bin, dildos thrown at his face, wedding proposals, canceled shows due to illness, and there was even a time when a girl tried to dolphin her way onto the stage, back in the early days. But he still loves it, loves it all. It's titled 'Love On Tour' for a reason.

Now, he's in Latin America. Any and every performance here has such a special place in Harry's heart. He has a 'brasil' tattoo on his thigh, after all. However, the time is a little different.

The horn players have not accompanied the band for these shows. No trombone, no saxophone, and no trumpets. Which means no YN. No sweet but subtle winks onstage, no flirtatious comments backstage, no seeing her bright smile, no hearing her pure laugh, or getting lost in her beautifully deep eyes. No gazing at her lips and wishing so desperately that he could kiss them again.

Unfortunately, their first kiss was their last. Harry hopes that's not forever. But after it happened, he got sick, putting a crimp in his plans to further things with her. When he recovered, their time was taken up by those last few shows in Los Angeles. Then he was off to Mexico. And she wasn't.

Needless to say, her absence is very apparent. To him, at least.

So, like he has done every show since Guadalajara, Harry checks his phone after getting dressed. He wants to make sure he hasn't missed any 'good luck' texts before going on stage, but a disappointed sigh releases as he sees that he has no new messages.

"Alright, H. Ten minutes." The stage assistant announces.

Harry nods, handing his phone over and grabbing his mic pack from the sound tech. The band gathers around for a little pre-show ritual and Harry feels the tug on his heart, wishing there were four more members in their huddle, so there could be one particular member tucked under his arm. But he commits to staying focused on his performance, to put on a good show for the people of Rio de Janeiro.

Despite a few fans fainting in Bogota, things have been relatively smooth so far, and this night should be no different. All he has to do is get out there and get through it.

"Do you know the words to this one Rio?" Harry shouts to the crowd as the band begins to play 'What Makes You Beautiful'.

Despite his efforts, this song always makes him miss YN. The trumpets in the backing track just don't do this song, or any of the songs, as much justice as when she is there, with him, playing live. The other three too, of course, but he has always been able to distinguish her trumpet from the other horns, and he would always dance near her while this song played. Without that, without her, it's just not nearly as exciting.

As he begins the second verse, Harry moves to his left, twisting around to tug on the mic cord that feels as if it's caught on something.

"I don't know why you're being shy…" Harry's eyes shoot up and then around as a security guard strides past him, settling his gaze on a figure charging towards him. "And you turn away when I look into your eyes."

It's like a flash. He is walking, then swiveling around, moving over, and then backing up into another security guard. All within a matter of a few seconds. It takes a moment for him to fully understand what's happening, as multiple crew members grab hold of the man.

Watching him be dragged offstage, Harry moves back to the center mic, still in shock of what happened but still wanting to continue the song.

He glances over to each side of the stage, shaking the disbelief away when he meets the gazes of a few of the band and crew. Each one reciprocates the sentiment, yet seem to keep their caution, as a few of them motion over that way. Harry turns back, just for a quick check, and notices a small group of people gathered in a huddle. He turns back to the crowd. He trusts his team, he knows they are handling whatever it is, and he won't let this one moment take away from the show. It can't stop him. It won't stop him.

As the song ends he takes a quick moment to gather himself and take a breath before turning to the crowd.

"Well that was different…" He states sarcastically, though truthfully. It's probably one of the more accurate ways to describe that moment, especially if he's trying to keep this a 'family show', as he always claims. "Is everybody okay?"

The fans laugh and cheer, seeming to answer his question with the same disbelief he feels.

"I'm shooketh… I'm shooketh!" He exclaims, receiving another laugh from the audience. At least they are recovering and feeling good. Now he can recover and feel good too. He twists around, looking from one side of the stage to another, meeting the gaze of a few security guards and crew as he does so. "Thank you, thank you. You saved me!"

That's when he catches it. The glimpse of a familiar face, of YN's face, off to the side of the stage, among the small group he had noticed earlier. However, her expression is not one he's seen before. Well, only once before. It's pained, again, but this time it looks worse, and Harry feels his stomach drop.

He transitions into a quick acknowledgement of his band members, his mind wanting to focus solely on the one who wasn't even scheduled to be there, but as soon as he's done, he takes advantage of what's next.

He uses the band mic to let everyone know he'll be off to the side while the extended introduction to 'Late Night Talking' plays on the screens, and once the lights dim he swiftly makes his way over.

"YN. What's-... what are you-… umm, hi." He fumbles, his thoughts racing with so many questions. He didn't even know she'd be in Brazil, or at the show, let alone on the side of the stage, and now she's standing there in front of him, with an ice pack on her head.

"Hi." She chuckles minimally, hurting Harry's heart with the lack of usual enthusiasm and joy. "I came… to surprise… everyone."

"Well, you did that!" He exclaims, managing as best of a smile as he can. His gaze travels from her eyes, to her lips, and then up to her head, and his expression immediately drops. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." She attempts to play off, much like the last time he saw her injured. "Don't worry about me."

"That's impossible." He retorts. "What happened?"

"The guy… the fan, just… knocked me down… on his way out with security." She shakes her head, scoffing, though Harry feels as if she's directing it towards herself more than anyone else.

"Okay. Umm… go backstage and get checked out." He states, his ears picking up on the music, knowing he'll have to return to center stage in just a few moments. "I'll… I'll see you after, yeah?"

"Harry, I'm fi-"

"Just do it!" He exclaims, immediately wincing as he watches her eyes widen with surprise. He's never talked to her like that, never even raised his voice even remotely in her direction without it being out of excitement or flirtation. But he cares about her, and now he will only worry more seeing her there in pain. "Please."

She nods, opening her mouth with a reply, but seemingly deciding against it.

Harry gives YN a quick kiss on the cheek and hustles back over to his mic stand, shooting his gaze to the side for one last glance of her as she walks out of sight.

It's not as if he's going to stop worrying, but maybe it'll be a little less than it would if she were still there watching him. He knows she'll be taken care of, and he'll see her when it's over. Right now, he needs to get through the rest of it, preferably without any other issues.

"... on a Summer evening, what is happening? An-... you're the end of… we are going to stop the song."

Technical difficulties. During 'Watermelon Sugar'. Of course. As if Harry's mind wasn't already somewhere else. He knows it's an easy fix, hopefully, but it's just another thing added to the existing thoughts already causing chaos in his mind. He's a professional, sure, but everyone has a limit and he just doesn't want to find out where his is.

Get through it. That's all he has to do, just get through the next song, the show, and the night. Just get through it and then get to YN.

'Love of My Life' is next. Thankfully it's a slow song, so he can calm his mind and body down, even just a little, before the break in the set. And at that point he can finally regroup.

It works, for a moment, until he notices that some fans need help, and despite making his team aware, they are still there struggling. He lifts the mic stand up and turns his head back, motioning with his finger, with some intensity, for someone to help them and get them out of there.

He feels himself spiraling, just a bit, and has never looked forward to the end of a song as much as he is tonight.

As Harry waves to the crowd, with a mouthful of water, he impatiently waits to spit it up in the air, thank the crowd, and get the hell off stage.

The crowd continues to applaud and cheer as he says goodbye, turning around and using the last bit of energy he has to run backstage.

He stops among the hustle of the crew, realizing he isn't sure where to go, or where to even start looking for YN. The most likely place is his dressing room, so he swiftly shuffles his way there, doing his best to acknowledge anyone he passes by that congratulates or compliments him. He feels bad, he usually takes time with each person, always grateful for their work and feedback. But not tonight. He only has one person on his mind. One person he wants and needs to see.

He swings the door open and takes a quick scan of the room, finding no one. Not anyone. Not her. He runs his fingers through his now very sweaty hair, inhaling deeper to catch his breath and figure out where to go next, where to look next.

He takes a seat on the couch, elbows resting in his knees, and glances over to the table in front of him to find a note that wasn't there before. He grabs it immediately, blinking the salty moisture out of his eyes as he looks over the words.

"Hey H.

Went back to the hotel.

Hope you had a great

rest of your show!

- YN"

"Fuck." He mumbles, suddenly remembering how he yelled for her to go backstage. Well, he could argue that he only raised his voice, but in that moment, that hectic moment, it didn't matter. He shouldn't have done it at all. And truth be told, it would've made the entire night better if she had stayed. But he yelled, and sent her away. Now all he wants to do is go to her and make it better, make her feel better.

After the fastest shower and outfit change of his life, Harry found Jeff and discovered that his manager helped YN get there, so he knew which hotel room was hers. At least Harry didn't have to spend countless hours searching all of Rio for her.

He stands in front of her door and takes a deep breath, nerves on edge as he knocks, and fully prepared for her to open the door and ask him to leave. Immediately.

"Harry?" He hears, causing his gaze to lift from his shoes to the woman in front of him. She's dressed in cotton shorts and a t-shirt, looking comfortable and yet more beautiful than he's ever seen her. He just wishes she wasn't also holding another ice pack to her temple.

"YN." He breathes out, unable to form any other words as he looks her over, hopefully more subtle than he fears it might be. "Are y-... how… I mean, umm…"

The sweetest sound grabs his attention and he watches her step aside as she lets out a small giggle.

"Come in."

He nods, and without hesitation steps into the room. The sound of the door closing causes him to swivel on his heel, and his eyes stay fixed on YN as she motions him over to the edge of the bed.

"What's up?" She asks, casually, removing the ice pack and placing it down beside her.

"I, umm, wanted to check on you." He answers, not convinced his volume was even loud enough to be heard. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." She swiftly responds, and he cringes at the lack of emotion with it. Even though it was only one word, he feels as if he knows her well enough to know that's not her normal tone. "Hit my head when the guy knocked me to the ground."

"I'm so sorry, YN. I didn't know you were there tonight, or I would've…" He pauses, looking down to where his nails pick at each other. "I don't know… I could've done… something…"

"No, Harry, I'm sorry." She states, causing his gaze to shoot back up to find hers filled with, what looks like, embarrassment. And maybe even regret. But definitely with insecurity, which is not something he's used to seeing from her. "I shouldn't have come."

"Oh." His heart drops.

"I feel like I may have been in the way. Well, I was for that fan…" She states, the smallest smile lifting the corners of her mouth, despite the roll of her eyes and shake of her head. "But I definitely didn't want to be in yours."

"No! I'm glad you're here!" He replies, without hesitation, and watches as her eyes widen, now allowing him to see the depths at which they usually take him to.

"You are? Because it seemed like…" YN clears her throat, confirming for Harry that she is in fact nervous. Not confident. And it seems to be his fault. "It seemed like you were upset when you saw me."

"No! Not at all." Harry replies, his frustration with himself appearing in the crease between his brows. "I wasn't upset seeing you there, I was upset seeing you hurt. Really upset. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, H. I'm alright."

"I know. I know that. I just… I was worried for the rest of the show, wondering if you were okay. It was torturing me."

"I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm really sorry." She lets out a sigh, and it almost breaks Harry's heart as she drops her gaze and squeezes her eyes shut.

"No, don't-... that's not-..." Harry lets out a low growl in frustration. He doesn't know how to express what he means, and if he even should. But at this point, he doesn't know if he can hold back. "It was torture because all I wanted to do was fix it for you. Like last time."

"Like last time?"

He hears her breath hitch, and his heart races more, feeling each beat thump against his chest. They had shared a kiss the last time she got hurt. They spent the rest of the night together, hanging out and talking until the sun was almost rising. But then nothing. Was that it? Was it just a one time thing, just a momentary thing after an adrenaline-raising show? No, it wasn't. Not for him. And she needs to know.

"I… like you, YN. A lot. And that night… meant a lot to me." He fully turns his body towards her, gaining a fraction of the confidence for himself that he has always seen in her, and since she is now there in Brazil, he won't waste another minute without sharing his heart. "We didn't really get to talk much afterwards, or see each other even, but I just need you to know that… I want to be with you. If… if that's something you want too."

Harry watches as she pulls her lips inward, hoping that the expression he sees underneath is pleasant. Pleasant for him. But he suddenly realizes that if she doesn't feel the same, he doesn't want to lose her. For the band.

"If it's not, no problem. We can move past it." He swallows the lump caught grasping against the walls of his throat. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, and don't want you to leave the band over it. You're very talented, YN."

"Thank you." She replies, looking over at him with those gorgeous eyes and a tenderness she's never given him before, and despite him offering to move past his feelings, for the sake of his heart, he desperately hopes that she feels the same. He wants her to only look at him like that from now on. "And that night meant a lot to me as well."

"Yeah?" He responds, shifting in his spot at the edge of her bed, with all the giddiness of a lovesick school boy.

"I want to be with you too, H."

His palms fly up to her cheeks, receiving a warmth from them that flows right to his chest. His gaze flickers to her lips, yearning for them, desperate for them.

"Are you going to kiss me or not?" She chuckles, and his heart swells from the self-assurance that she always expresses, that he has fallen for.

He grins, wider than he ever has, but only for a moment. He's not going to wait any longer. He leans closer, and her eyes close, pursing her soft lips to meet his in a gentle kiss.

Her hands run up his arms, applying pressure as they move over his shoulders, and connect behind his neck. She pulls him closer, and his tongue teases her lips before she parts them, each sighing as they deepen the kiss.

His chest tightens, this time out of need for air, so he pulls back, only leaving enough room for a breath, and smiles as he hears her release her own, happy exhale.

"How are you feeling now?" He asks, resting his forehead against hers as one hand strokes over the hair covering her temple.

"Much better. I do need to rest now, though." She whispers. "But, you know, I may have a concussion…"

"That's not funny."

"No, it's not. It's very serious." She pulls away more, hands still behind his head, and his mind fills with worry. Worry and confusion, as he watches her smile reappear through her solemn expression. "I should probably have someone stay with me tonight. To make sure I'm alright, of course."

"Of course." He smirks, feeling his heart burst, following as she scoots up the bed and rests her head on the pillow.

He does the same, laying down to face her, and sees her eyes begin to flutter shut. It's been an exhausting day for the both of them.

"Come here." He whispers, opening his arms for her to settle in, wrapping them around her body, and pulling her to his chest. "You doing okay?"

"More than okay." She utters, drowsiness now coating her words. "Thank you, for fixing things."

"Anytime." He replies, placing a tender kiss on top of her head. "I'll fix things for you anytime."

A silence falls between them, and as he hears her soft breaths leave her even softer lips, Harry hums in contentment, allowing his own body to succumb to the rest it now needs too. He shuts his eyes, and one last thought appears as he feels himself happily drift off to sleep.

Despite all the chaos, this night didn't turn out so bad after all. With YN, it's been the best one yet.

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