Niall groans when she rejects another idea, this one involving her biting her lip or something after saying some lust-filled, naughty pick-up line that would only work if she were too hot for anyone to care if she said something stupid. “You’re delusional, and not the fun kind,” Niall says it like an insult, rolling his eyes, “Anything you do or say will be hot, he’ll be drooling over himself trying to get at you. Honestly, what’s stopping you from just looking at him and saying you want to fuck?”
“Humility,” she replies quickly, “Shame. A general sense of insecurity that’s hovered over me since I hit puberty.”
“Well, fuck all of that,” he answers just as easy, “Tell him to come over and hang paintings for you or something. Or – wait! Wait, say that you want him to teach you how to make those custard tarts I had in Portugal last year. Adam had mentioned something about Harry knowing how.”
or
Harry is jealous, and Y/N is delusional (derogatory)
(19k+ words)
