Something In Between Masterlist

Something in Between Masterlist

Summary: Y/N is Sebastian’s stylist, personal assistant and friend, but what is Y/N going to do about her feelings for him.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

boyfriend!harry in japan

boyfriend harry tingz ✨

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Heart Rush | Series Masterlist

In which they’re rival CEOs, and Y/N just wants a friend while Harry runs his judgement faster before his mind could even comprehend it.

//

Loathing

• “I like your suit. Makes your eyes pop and those tattoos that are peeking from your wrist look more mysterious.”

Harry hears this voice from behind him on the chair right next to his at the circular dining table, a gentle yet still exclaiming one and he likes to think it’s not directed to him because all the people that tries to talk to him in functions like these always ask for a collaboration with his company with theirs that he deems aren’t even half as successful to be worthy of it.

It definitely perks his interest because all he’s been doing for the past ten minutes were to scroll through his phone and look at the extravagant yet empty podium in front of him, his actions being unexpected because he always rolls around late because it seems to attract more attention to him and gain him some more cool CEO points, which he actually did for this — but it was definitely later than him.

Harry chuckles, presses his tongue against his cheeks and spares a look to the people beside him to see that they weren’t being the one talken to.

“Should I thank you for that?”

He smirks as he combs his hand through his hair, shifting his body now that he’s directly facing the voice and he swears to himself to not do that again.

“Y/N?”

It’s his rival.

It’s literally his rival grinning at him in adoration and he is beyond confused to why she isn’t being all hateful to him; even if you’ve never done anything remotely close to being unkind to him, ever.

Coincidence

•   “Are you following me?”

   The words are just bubbling on Harry’s throat to be said after he sees the sliver of the color of your hair on his eyes again, wanting to think he’s imagining things but he’s about sure that it’s you.

   He’s in an art gallery for fuck’s sake, in a weekly and specific exhibit that just has it’s curator email the regulars who come in here to actually invite them because the promotion for this one is on its minimum to filter the amount of people to come here.

   He’s definitely seen some pairs of eyes land on him a bit more long than usual, even if he’s dressed in this blue coat that covers his tattoos the public haven’t seen much yet are in love with it that sometimes it’s his trademark as a CEO for the mystery in them, and he still gets noticed.

  But there’s just this figure that comes a bit later than the opening time and is dressed in a coat too and he’s actually bothered by it, considering the fact that he’s never seen one in it here besides him, or the fact too that the figure just trails and stays around in front of the pieces a few feet away from him.

   And if he thinks more about it, Harry’s bothered by a person who’s wearing a coat and does exactly what a person would do in an exhibit.

   “Are you following me?”

   The words in his throat actually spill over when the figure just stands a few feet behind him, seeing it from his peripheral vision and he just turns around and his suspicions are correct.

   It’s you, literally the one in a coat in the time when it isn’t even that cold yet and you looked beyond appalled when the person in front of you just turns and speaks their mouth, definitely seeing the figure looking at you from your own peripheral vision.

   “Harry?”

   “Y/N?”

   Both parties are just shocked and have their eyebrows knitted together, completely mirroring each other with their jaws agape and either didn’t know whether they should be happy or not.

   “Got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

Familiarity

•   “Mitch and Sarah are engaged.”

   The other side of your call which was Harry’s sounded only of his breathing, giving him a little chance to assuming that he just woke up since it’s twelve midnight on a Saturday.

   “How did you get my phone number?”

   He asked and it immediately made you groan not only by the confirmation that this is truly his number but by the fact that your assistant and his, both two of your closest friends, are engaged and he dismisses the information to ask on how you got his personal number, was shocking but not at all surprising.

   “Mitch gave — are you serious right now? Mitch and Sarah are engaged!”

   “Yes, Y/N. I heard you. Did he wear the Gucci suit I gave him? With the little Mickey Mouses on the cuff of the suit jacket? Playful, but still endearing to Sarah.”

   The words he said immediately made you regret calling him this late, or calling him anytime for that matter, because he always decides to shift the topic elsewhen like what he did when you asked him about his car, and ended with Harry reciting the only phrase in French he’s fluent at saying that has something to do with going to the cinema.

  “Harry!” 

  The scold makes him sit up even if you can’t see him, chuckling as he props himself so he’s leaning against the headboard while his other hand knuckles his eyes.

   “Sorry, wrong question. Did he give the ring with the diamond or the ring with Sarah’s favorite stone which was my suggestion?”

Selfishness

•   “So Niall, who do you have the hots for?”

   Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he pairs it with the exaggerated fall of his torso momentarily, being backstage as his long-time friend invited him to come with him so they could hang out after as Sarah is with him, rolling his eyes at his boss.

   “S’Ellen serious right now?”

   He rhetorically asks and not that he hates the host, in fact he loves her, but it’s the fact that questions like these still get asked to people like him, more specifically CEOs because he swears the moment he either says a name or not when he’s asked that, there’s a full-blown The Sun article about it five minutes later.

   There’s this pattern on her guests, and he could swear Bill Gates was just here a week ago from what he’s heard and now, there’s the head of Horan & Co. out and about, laughing his ass off on whatever Ellen’s conversing to him about.

   Or this game in where you pick people out over the other, and he knows this because his face has been put on it a dozen times, but he still can’t be bothered to know what it’s called, much more know if it has a name.

   Harry’s watching them through the screen, arms crossed across his chest as he chews on his gum and he’s snickering on how Niall is flustered by the question.

   The answer was open to people he knows either business-wise or celebrity-wise as she urges him, shoving his face in his hands as he combs his hand through his hair.

   “Uhm-…”

   That seems to be their innate reply when someone asks that but the cheers when he started off roused him to say the truth somehow, and before he knows it, he’s suddenly coughing out his gum.

   “Think Y/N’s cute and all. Perfect, actually.”

Fondness

•   “Got them two weeks for honeymoon, all expenses paid, and the private jet life to wherever they choose.”

   Harry smugly smirks as he leans into one of the pillars which was the starting point too of the red carpet the entourage and most importantly, where Mitch and Sarah will walk on, which was incessantly suggested by him for them to agree.

   He’s scolded immediately by you who pulled him from his leaning figure to it, saying something about it being ruined because it’s too delicate, as he just follows where you go.

   A clipboard’s being held by your hand while you’re still dressed in the silky white button-up shirt and just some shorts since it’s still about four hours before the wedding, and as per your suggestion, you offered that Harry and yourself would go down to the church and the reception venue to see if everything’s in place.

   But that seemed like it was only your job because he’s been smirking all morning, dressed into a silky button-up shirt too because Ayae insisted all the people (which is Mitch’s groomsmen and himself) wear something easy to get out of since she’s the principal hairstylist and didn’t want any product landing on their designer suits.

   In all honesty though, the silky white shirts were Harry’s idea originally since it would look good on the photos and it would be their uniform that he’d be proud of once he sees the same-day edit later on, and he spreads that idea to you too, so naturally, almost everyone’s wearing a silky white shirt as their scrap shirts.

   “You’re no fun today.”

   He then declares once you’re still fussing over and ignoring him so he snatches the clipboard and the pen away from you, taking it as his mantle now to be the one to fuss over and scold the people that aren’t doing their jobs they’re supposed to do, being like second instinct for the both of you since being CEOs are very much similar to what you’re doing now.

   A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you momentarily put your hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention as he’s now waiting for your reply to his remark.

   “Got them a brand new house. Fully furnished, all expenses paid — and you got them a fourteen-day vacation; but by all means, go off.”

Unity

•   “Why does our hotel suite smell like me?”

   Harry groggily asks you as he just woke up from his sleep and his scent is the first thing that reaches your nostrils instead of yours, rubbing his eyes as he’s tired a bit, crawling on the covers to get his clothes from the night before laid on the chair near him, but he decides against it. He bought a ton of clothes anyway.

   He’s only answered with a chuckle, making him sneak in a kiss to your cheek while you’re doing something he doesn’t even notice, digging into his suitcase as his only goal was to find a pair of boxers and a thicker shirt to warm him up because he’re pretty sure the airconditioning’s turned up into the maximum.

   “S’that my perfume?”

   His head snaps to you, because even though he’s well-aware that the room smells like him, he wasn’t aware until now that his eyes caught the sliver of the familiar black bottle in your grasp you’re being hunched over.

   You don’t answer because you now that it would give you away no matter how monotone you make your voice sound, Harry by your side in an instant.

   “S’that my Styles shirt?”

   His look’s unexplainable and he doesn’t know what to feel about what he’s seeing, much more on how to react when he sees you throwing your head back in pure joy as you take turns on spritzing his perfume to the silky shirt and moving it around the air so it wasn’t as harsh.

   “Easy with the my’s there, H.”

   He only look speechless and distraught because his mouth is slightly agape too, making you nudge him jokingly as you offer an explanation.

   “The perfume’s yours but this Styles shirt I’m holding is mine. Had one custom-made to match yours.”

   Harry looks surprised and amused, chuckling as he analyses your actions before crossing his arms across your chest, brow still raised to probe you into speaking more, which he became successful at.

   “We both have the last name Styles and we’re both married now anyways.”

Distance

•   “Mate, Sarah checked. Y/N isn’t there.”

   Mitch decided to be straightforward instead of leaning in to sugarcoat the information his wife just called him about to his boss, saying it somberly and he has Harry swirling his chair in an instant.

   “W-what do you mean my wife isn’t there?”

   He stutters, fingers anxiously tapping against his table as your assistant’s just standing in front of him in all his honesty, the CEO’s mind in shards as he’s trying to piece it all out.

   “She’s not there at the living room? O-or in our room?”

   Harry desperately exasperates, the answer he’s looking for not being given yet to him but he doesn’t want to hear it either right at that second, throwing his head back to collide with the material of his chair as a lump arises in his throat.

   He backtracks on where you could be, or if his assumption whether you’re in the house and Sarah’s lying in the table too, but he just goes too far in remembering things.

   Harry’s hasn’t been going home for the past three days, comes home in the morning for the past week, and has only been saying curt greetings for the past month and it’s just whatever that time of the day is, asking what’s for dinner and mindlessly stating his love without even turning to look at you to say it.

   He inhales sharply, closing his eyes shut as he looks at Mitch for an answer, praying to God it’s what he hoped, but his distraughtness could be mirrored in his friend’s face, and he’s not looking at him.

   “She’s not there.”

Pride

•   “And for two thousand eighteen’s CEO of the year!”

   The emcee yells and the lights dim and the room just falls into collective cheers, some yelling their name out and some just going with the yelling to uphold the drama.

   Harry rolls his eyes on how cliché that this happens every year, wondering on what it would be like if there’s no drumroll to be done for suspense and something better than a trophy is given to the winner.

   You throw your head back in laughter as your husband just yells over the screams and cheers, nudging your shoulder as he does so.

   “S’gonna be you!”

   “No, s’gonna be you!”

   The back-and-forth you have with him ranges from different categories, most of them on who’s gonna win the playful competition between the two of you, whether it’s on who finishes their slide first or who makes the better french toast, some being the sexual innuendo in their sentences that they don’t even notice until their love points it out.

   And this happens to be the humble back-and-forth, the type of arguing that the other’s gonna win instead of their self.

   The both of you collectively roll your eyes that makes you chuckle when you feel that the drumroll’s getting too long now and the lights are getting dizzying, but when it all halts and the spotlight turns to someone, that’s when Harry becomes the first to stand up and cheer, hollering that rouses everyone as he brings his arms up to make them longer.

   “Y/N Styles!”

TIME

•   “Proud of us.”

    Harry turns at your whisper, squeezing your hand as you’re both sit next to each other getting prepped for this shoot, smiling at you words.

   Ayae and Lou has been brought by both your personal requests to the magazine itself in which they agreed upon, and even Helene that you met through one of the parties to be the photographer.

   He scrunches his nose when the fluffy brush comes in contact with his nose again, complaining to you to tell Lou to stop doing it but you don’t do so because it’s that amusing to see your husband looking like a big baby whining for her to stop putting powder in his face already.

   You look at the backdrop and it’s the classic dark gray background of TIME Magazine the both of you happened to be the cover of for this month as their special issue.

   Harry then looks down on his clothes after you returned your gaze to him, a matching pair of bold suits being worn by the both of you that he knows is gonna pop on the cover.

   They’re in a large studio, some being interns and some being the ones that are actually assigned to this, giving you and Harry some looks here and there, and a sheepish smile when they get caught.

   He gets momentarily flustered by the cool liquid of the nail polish he just knew now that would be applied on him, looking at your hands to know that it would be indeed matching again.

   Harry smirks to himself, a chuckle leaving his lips as they curl upwards.

   “Most Influential CEOs and Couple of the Year, yeah?”

Heartbeat.

•   “S’gonna be okay. Y/N’s strong. Need you to be calm and not freak out, and you need to remember that she needs you, okay?”

   Anne’s voice only gets half-heartedly understood by Harry as he’s freaking out, pacing around the hallway and he’s in tears, he swears to God.

   “W-when are you gonna be over here?”

   “Your jet’s just getting all prepared and I’m gonna be near. Harry, please angel, deep breaths, okay? Just pray for the best.”

   His mum’s comforting her but she’s in need of comfort herself too, her heart dropping on the state of her daughter-in-law.

   Harry was with you all throughout the labor and the delivery, about to kiss you when you’ve delivered the final push but then suddenly he feels your hand limp on his grasp and the next thing he knows is that his missus passed out and he didn’t even have the chance to look at his baby daughter because he’s being pushed out for that emergency.

   His hands are trembling and he says goodbye to his mum, putting it back in his pocket as he’s still in his scrubs and he’s just rocking himself back and forth.

   Harry’s scared.

Why do you gravitate towards brooding, conflicted, and repressed characters?

I’ve always liked those characters in movies. Anti-heroes to me are people who are flawed, or always dancing on a fine line between good and bad.